Chapter 48

Jim LaCross was a lot happier when he had a full infield. Fred Hartman manned third base, another first for him. Ryan Radabaugh fielded shortstop and Rafael Mendoza gave a big target at first.

LaCross led them through fielding drills, including have Brock cover first on a few bunts. He was actually fairly impressed with way the morning went, after his carrot-topped shortstop got over his euphoria and a subsequent bout of nerves.

"It's the same game you've been playing for years," Brock cautioned. "Just do exactly what you've always done."

That seemed to help and LaCross found he was actually surprised at how well the young kid could field the ball. A couple of misplaced hits probably should have made it through but Radabaugh managed to track them down and make the plays the manager wanted. He was a gamer if nothing else.

Rafael Mendoza rarely spoke. He stood like a redwood at first base and fished out every errant throw that came his way. Fred Hartman played third cleanly and would circle around behind Brock to offer tips when Ryan was getting the balls hit his way.

"Keep your shoulders perpendicular to home plate," Fred advised. "Start to shift your momentum as the ball arrives. That way you're already moving out of the range of the base runner and can get more on the throw to first."

LaCross called a halt to the drills at one p.m. to let the players have lunch. All the men were sweating despite the fact that it was February in Arizona.

"Hey, Skip," Brock yelled. "Before we break, I want to see Rafe hit one as far as he can."

The big first baseman waited for the manager to confirm his agreement then picked up the bat LaCross was using. It looked like a toothpick in his big hands.

"Yeah, after lunch," Brock joked. "He'd snap that little thing just by swinging hard."

"Last day of camp, we're going to have a Bigfoot contest between him and Duffy," LaCross remarked. "I'd suggest a sumo wrestling match but I'm sure that would violate the Collective Bargaining Agreement."

The men broke up to head to the training room where lunch was laid out. Brock fell in beside his manager.

"You know, I sort of like these guys," Brock mentioned.

"You like everyone," LaCross said.

"Yeah, I'm a real softie, aren't I?" Brock retorted. "I was actually pretty impressed with how well Fred moved around the infield. Radabaugh has some serious leather, too."

"Hartman can't hit," LaCross said. "Still, he improved his chances of making the big club today. He showed he can play all four infield spots in a pinch. He's always been reluctant to move from second."

"You didn't give him a lot of choice," Brock pointed out.

"That's because he didn't have a choice," LaCross responded. "If he wants to play for the Dodgers, I'm going to expect him to do what everyone else does. He puts the team first. Today, the team needed him to play other positions. He did that. He also gave you some tips that will prove beneficial. He might stick as our utility infielder. I can't make any promises. But he's in the running for a job he wasn't in the running for this morning."

"What about Leonard?" Brock asked, mentioning the player the Dodgers had signed in free agency.

"What about him?" LaCross asked. "He could have been here. He knows the score just like Hartman did. He got his ass in a snit when we brought Driesbach in. You can damned well bet if he thought he'd have a real chance to play second this season, he'd have been here. If he shows up thinking he's got a spot, he'll find himself on waivers or in another team's camp before his first week is out."

Brock found Zack waiting for him outside the training area. This early in camp, everyone ate together. Once more people arrived they'd eat depending on which camp they were assigned to.

The two Major Leaguers spotted Brock's three helpers sitting at a table and Brock led Zack over to join them.

"You guys mind?" he asked.

The three players shifted to make room and Brock made introductions.

"Hey, Raf," Zack said. "I didn't get the chance to see you this morning. How's first base coming?"

"It's new," the big man admitted. "I still have a lot to learn."

"You mean that's not your position?" Brock asked.

"He was a pitcher in the minors," Zack said. "He was in the Red Sox organization. I was real thankful they used the DH in the leagues where we faced each other."

"He throws hard?" Fred asked.

"He throws wild," Zack joked. The others laughed but found Mendoza only nodding.

"My fastball was 98 or 99," he said. "But he's right. My control was terrible. I tried to back the heat down but it didn't help. That's when the Red Sox moved me to first base a couple of years ago. It was the first time I made it out of Single A."

"How'd you wind up with us?" Brock asked.

"They cut me," Mendoza remarked. "I hurt my knee last year. They released me after the season. I'm from L.A., so I had my agent try to hook me up with the Dodgers or the Angels. I'm on a straight minor league deal. I figure if I don't do well this Spring, I'll be doing landscaping for my uncle by the summer."

"You turned LaCross' head today," Brock said. "Mine, too. You fielded first base like you were born there."

"I've played it my whole life," Mendoza said. "But it was my arm that got me drafted out of high school."

"You're pretty graceful around the bag," Fred noted. "I was impressed. Most big guys can't move."

Brock jerked his thumb toward Zack.

"This one takes 30 minutes to make it in from the bullpen," he joked. "I mentioned once that it would speed the game along if he ran in and he told me he was running."

Ryan was sitting quietly, in awe somewhat of players who had actual professional experience.

"How'd you wind up in insurance?" Brock asked to draw him into the conversation.

Rather than speak, he only shrugged. The table waited on him to explain.

"Ohio is the insurance capital of the world, I think," he said. "You have a dozen major companies headquartered there."

"Progressive Field," Brock said with a nod.

"And Great American Ballpark," Ryan added. "That's named for an insurance company, too. Erie, Nationwide, Westfield, Safe Auto. They all have their headquarters there."

"I had no idea," Brock said. "I mean, I was in the Cleveland organization for years and lived in Akron and Buffalo."

"Buffalo is in New York," Zack cut in. "All that education going to waste."

"That explains why I couldn't get my mail delivered," Brock joked. "So is that what you've always wanted to do?"

"God, no," Ryan said. "I have a degree in statistics. I planned to hit a couple of tryout camps. I figured that would give me an idea of where I stand, realistically, on playing more. If that didn't work, I planned to head over to SABR and see if I can't find work there."

"You have a nifty glove," Fred told him.

"I always did," Ryan remarked. "But I'm not much in the power department. I hit something like .360 my sophomore year at Bowling Green but it was all singles. No one takes a second look at a player if he can't pound out 10 homers a year."

"Yeah," Fred muttered. He had found himself in the same situation a number of times. His glove got him a look but his bat made sure the look was a short one.

"Still, a good fielder is going to get some looks as a utility guy," Brock said. "It might not be a quick route to the All-Star Game but it's a way onto a Major League roster."

"It's hard to let go of that dream," Rafael remarked. "My whole life I was the kid with a chance to make it big. My neighborhood is rough, you know. Kids my size get pegged for the gang life pretty early. They let me go, though. They expected me to wind up making the big time. I got to rookie ball and suddenly I couldn't throw strikes. If I did manage to get one near the plate, somebody hit it into the next ZIP code. The Sox wanted me to try first base after that first year. I wouldn't do it. I wanted to be a pitcher because I'd always been a star there. I stuck it out in A ball for two more years before they'd seen enough. They told me after the season that if I wouldn't shift to the infield, they'd have to cut me. So I moved over, banged up my knee and got cut anyway."

"That's the harsh part of this business," Zack said. "I know Fred's seen it. How many times you been released?"

"A dozen," Hartman said. "Maybe more. You lose count after a while. I left a couple of times on my own. Like this year, I wasn't going back to Indianapolis. I had a couple of offers from Japan but that didn't excite me either. I was about ready to go back home and see what sort of work I could find. I'd probably wind up working at my brother's used car lot or something. Then my agent heard about Guerra and called the Dodgers to see if there was any interest. They signed me pretty quick and I thought I had a real shot of making the team here. Now I guess I was just deluding myself."

"There's always a shot," Brock said. "Look, what you guys did today – and what I hope you'll do for the next couple of weeks – has got the attention of some pretty important people. I know that Skip is talking to the coaching staff and that most of the conversation is going to revolve around how I'm doing. But your names are going to come up. You'll open more eyes in the next few days. I promise I'll make sure you guys get a shot."

"That's not bullshit," Fred said. "When it was just him and me, he was already doing that. I know it pissed LaCross off but he kept making sure I got my look, too. It might not matter but at least I know I'm getting a fair deal here. That's more than I felt I got most places."

Jim LaCross appeared at the table as the fivesome finished eating.

"I'm sending you three back for your regular drills this afternoon," he said. "I need Brock for the afternoon. Radabaugh, did Brock tell you what we've got for you?"

"Uh, no, sir," Ryan replied.

"Straight one-year minor-league deal with the standard reserve clause," LaCross said. "That means we'll own your rights for six seasons. At the end of the season, we'll decide whether to roll you over or let you go. You'll get $2,000 to sign. If things don't work out, we'll find someplace for you in the organization. Does that do it?"

Ryan looked a bit bewildered.

"It's the standard rookie deal with $2,000 to sign," Brock explained. "You'll be paid for a full season regardless of whether we keep you on one of the teams. If we release you or you decide you don't like what you're seeing, we'll find a job for you within the organization in some capacity."

"That's what I said," LaCross groused. "Look, kid, the pay is shitty. It's $1,200 a month in rookie league – before taxes. You find your own place to live. You get $20 a day on the road to eat. So if you sign on, try to make that two grand last, you hear."

Ryan couldn't help the smile that broke across his face.

"I'll sign," he said.

"Do you have an agent?" LaCross asked. Contract negotiations weren't part of his job description.

Ryan laughed.

"Yeah, dumb question," LaCross replied. "I'll ship you over to legal. They'll get you set up. We'll pay for you to share a hotel room while you're in camp. Someone will let you know where it is and who you're rooming with. It won't be the Ritz but you won't be expected to sleep in your car either. We provide lunch and $20 a day for meals while you're here. I'm going to keep you where you are for the next couple of weeks then we'll move you to our minor league camp for assignment when we get a full house."

"Good enough for me," Ryan said. Brock pulled Zack aside while LaCross was filling in Ryan on the details – or the details the manager knew about.

"Can you go to my locker?" he asked.

"I guess so," Zack replied.

"I have some sunscreen in my bag," Brock explained. "That poor kid is going to spontaneously combust if he's not careful. I'll jot down the combination to the lock."

"Thirty-three, twenty-three, thirty-eight," Zack said. Brock looked up with his mouth open.

"Come on, its Meredith's measurements," Zack laughed. "You don't think we all know that?"

"You kill me," Brock said. "It's my last three uniform numbers. But wait until I tell Meredith you said she had 38-inch hips."

"Hey, wait," Zack said, "Don't tell her that."

Zack had zero interest in earning Meredith's wrath. Who knew what sort of retribution that could lead ... and if Tara found out. He just cringed.

"Too late," Brock said. "You already said you think I'm dating a pear. You'll just have to take whatever punishment she dishes out – or whatever she convinces Tara is appropriate."

Zack's face fell and Brock burst into laughter.

"Just get him set up," Brock said. "I'll keep the secret of what you really think of Meredith."

"No problem," the pitcher said. Brock gave his small group fist bumps when they left and he pulled Ryan aside for a minute.

"Zack is getting you some sunscreen," he said.

"Thanks," the kid replied. "I got a late start this morning."

"You can store your stuff in my locker until they get you straightened out," Brock added. "Zack has the locker combination. That way you won't have to tote your stuff all over the complex."

"Skip said they'll have a locker for me as soon as I sign the paperwork," Ryan told him. "But, really, thanks. I can't wait to call my Dad to tell him the news."

Brock gave the new player a pat on the back and headed off to join Jim LaCross in his office.

It took Brock a minute or two to get his bearings but he soon found Jim and Steve Morris in conference with a woman he didn't know.

He rapped on the doorframe and was ushered in.

"Brock, this is Julie Archer," Steve Morris began. "She is one of my assistants."

Brock extended his hand to the woman and took a chair.

"What's up?" he asked. He remembered the last time he had sat across from Steve Morris and Jim LaCross. It had ended with him in the hospital several months later.

"We want to talk to you and make sure we're all on the same page," Steve began. "I guess the first thing I'd like to address is some of the rumors we've heard."

Brock glanced at Jim LaCross for a clue but got nothing in return.

"Some people are saying that what happened in October has left you wanting to leave Los Angeles," Steve began.

"You can tell 'some people' they should keep their damned mouths shut if they don't know what they're talking about," Brock cut in quickly. "I've never said that and I've never felt that way. I like it here."

He saw a look of relief cross his manager's face.

"I'm glad to hear that," Steve said. "I really am. I would understand completely if it had left you disillusioned but I'm happy that this is where you want to be. We want you to be here. That leads me to the second thing that's been going around. We've heard that you aren't entirely happy with the move to second base and that the position change will affect our ability to keep you long-term."

"Well, the second part is false," Brock said. "The first, I guess it's partially true – although I don't recall every saying it publicly."

"But you're not happy about the move?" Jim asked.

"Not entirely," Brock admitted. "Today helped to alleviate some of my concern."

"We want to address your concerns fully," Steve said. "I know the move might affect your Super Two status. That's why I have Miss Archer here. She's our arbitration specialist. She's put together a proposal we want to submit to the union and to the commissioner. First off, it is not our intention to send you to the minor leagues for any reason. I do not foresee that and it would take an extraordinary set of circumstances for that to happen. But if it does, we're willing to offer you arbitration at the end of the season regardless of your accumulated Major League service time."