Chapter 55

The season hadn't started and the Dodgers couldn't get healthy. Joaquin Betancourt, the team's best starter, felt a twinge in his elbow the second full day of camp. A day later he was diagnosed with torn ulnar ligament and was scheduled for the dreaded "Tommy John" surgery. He would miss the next 13 months rehabilitating from the injury.

To add insult to injury, Erik Teeter, the No. 2 starter, tore a knee ligament covering first base during Pitcher's Fielding Practice. The team doctor announced he wouldn't return until after the season was over.

Still smarting from letting J.C. Michaels go the year before, the Dodgers pitching staff was decimated by Betancourt's injury. The team's top starter would have found himself at No. 3 on the list on almost any other team.

Four days later, John Milton broke his hand when he was hit by a pitch in the first Cactus League game. He would miss the better part of seven weeks. The killer came two days before the season started. The Dodgers were in Los Angeles to play the Angels in their last Spring Training games. In the third inning, Al fouled a ball onto his left instep, breaking a bone in his foot. He would be out of action until early June at the earliest, meaning he would miss the first two months of the season. Two of the team's starting outfielders would miss the first 50 games of the season due to injury and its two top pitchers wouldn't return until next year.

Jim LaCross didn't know which way to turn. The team had shipped two of its top prospects to Houston for a starting pitcher after Betancourt's injury. Now the cupboard was bare when he needed outfielders. There was no help on the waiver wire. A few teams had offered up players but the teams in front of Los Angeles had plucked them before it came the Dodgers' turn to make a bid.

As the next-to-last Spring Training date arrived he found himself staring forlornly at his lineup card. The batting order was simple. Brock Miller moved to the third spot; Wade Watson dropped to fourth in Al's place. Tony DeLeon was already playing left field and hitting leadoff in Milton's spot.

"Who in the fuck do I put in center field?" LaCross asked himself. He looked over his list of reserves and felt nothing that made his heart go pitter-patter. Fred Hartman had made the roster, although Edmund Cruz hadn't been made aware of it yet. It was a shame to send Cruz down because he and Hartman were neck-and-neck in the battle. The only kicker was Hartman as able to play third, too. Rick Leonard, signed in the offseason, had been shipped to the minor league camp when he reported 20 pounds overweight. He refused the assignment, became a free agent and wound up signing with Kansas City.

LaCross needed outfielders. He didn't need another infielder. Unless...

With a loud sigh, he looked up to see who might be in the locker room. Seeing the man he wanted to talk to, he walked out. There were only one or two other players in the room. It seemed like a funeral parlor, as the players mourned Al's injury.

"Brock, can I see you for a minute," LaCross yelled.

Brock was working on his glove but he set it aside and went to the manager's office. He figured that LaCross wanted to let him know he'd be batting third in the lineup.

"Sit for a minute," Jim said. Then he sighed again. "Do you think you might be willing to give left field a look?"

"What?" Brock asked, frozen half-way into the chair. "Left field? Seriously?"

"Seriously," Jim confirmed. "I don't want you there full-time. I figured I could play you there two or three times a week until Al or John comes back. You're athletic enough. You have a plus arm and you have good instincts. It'll just be a matter of getting you some reps."

"What about second?" Brock asked. He had spent his entire spring figuring out the nuances to a new position. Now the season was about to start and his manager was asking him to move somewhere else.

"Hartman and Cruz can handle that," Jim said with a confidence he didn't feel. "Honestly, if I had known Hartman was such a team-first guy, I probably would have blocked the trade for Driesbach. I told Steve I would have no trouble going forward with you at short and Hartman at second if he could flip Driesbach for an outfielder. So far, no takers."

"Surely to God we have other outfielders," Brock muttered. He couldn't remember playing the outfield since Little League.

"We traded our best prospect to Houston for Jimenez," Jim lamented. "It's who they insisted on having. Two days later, we lost Milton. Now we lose Al. The thing is, I can shift DeLeon to center. I've seen you goofing around out in the outfield during batting practice. I really think you can do this."

"Is this to get back at me for not agreeing to a deal without a no-trade clause?" Brock asked. "You just plan to jerk me around until I get fed up and ask to be sent somewhere else?"

"Christ no!" LaCross said angrily. "This is about putting the best God-damned team on the field night-in and night-out. I don't give a flying fuck about contracts. Honestly, I didn't think you did either. I thought you were like me: you cared about winning."

"I do," Brock insisted. "And I wasn't worried about a contract until we couldn't work things out. Then I started to get concerned. You really think this is a good idea?"

"I think this is the best chance we have to win ballgames," Jim said. "But if you're not comfortable with it, we'll figure out something else."

"I'll try it," Brock said. "I mean, shit, you know this team better than I do."

"I want you to field that position all through warm-ups," he said. "Don't play grab-ass with Duffy or Hart like you normally do. I want you in left field and I want you to let me know how uncomfortable you are. I'll talk to Milton and see if he can give you some pointers."

Brock nodded and left the office, shaking his head the whole way. He met Fred Hartman on the way out.

"Hey, congrats on making the club," he said, putting his own thoughts aside to focus on his teammate.

"Not how I wanted it to happen," Fred remarked.

"You had your spot before Al got hurt," Brock confirmed. "Cruz is the one who'll benefit. Well, I guess you might, too."

"I'll try," Fred said. "I'm going in to see if Skip wants me to take some time in the outfield. I haven't played it in a long time but I'll do it if it helps."

Brock chuckled.

"I think he'll say you're more valuable in the infield," Brock said. Fred shrugged and knocked on the manager's door. Brock went back to sit at his locker and ruminate. He found Wade Watson waiting for him.

"Do you think Mendoza's ready?" Wade asked without preamble.

"Glove-wise, he's pretty good," Brock answered. "He still has flaws with his bat, though. What about Broderick? Don't tell me he's hurt, too."

"No but I figure Mendoza might be able to work in his place," Wade answered. "I'm going to offer to move to right field. Davis can play left and DeLeon can handle center. It's not ideal but I've played right field before."

Once again, Brock laughed.

"Skip has another idea," Brock related. The willingness of his teammates to shift position made him feel selfish. "I'm going to give left field a shot for the next couple of days. Fred's going to get the start at second base if I can play out there."

"They've already moved you once," Wade pointed out.

"Well, I guess they figure another time won't hurt me then," Brock said with a chuckle. "If I fail, I'm sure you'll be next. But for now, I think Rafe needs to stay in Las Vegas for a while."

Jim LaCross sat and looked at Fred Hartman, shaking his head the whole time.

"Did Miller put you up to this?" he asked after Fred made his offer.

"Up to what?" Hartman asked.

"Agreeing to try left field," the manager clarified.

"Uh, no," Fred replied. "He tried to talk me out of it. He said I was more valuable in the infield."

"You are," LaCross confirmed. "In fact, if today was Opening Day, you'd be my starting second baseman."

Fred's eyes widened.

"Brock's not hurt, is he?" he asked.

"No," Jim answered.

"He's doing fine at second," Fred added hurriedly. "I mean, he's not going to win a Gold Glove there but he's still plus-defensively given the short amount of time he's played there. I'm not saying I don't want to start but he is clearly a better player. He earned his spot."

"He has," Jim said. "He's going to play left field until Al or John returns. It's not the most difficult position to learn and he'll be fine. I told him and I'll tell you. If I had to make the Driesbach trade today, I wouldn't do it. I would install you at second and leave Brock at shortstop. When our outfield returns to normal, I might just do exactly that. Are we good?"

Fred smiled broadly.

"Yeah, Skip," he confirmed. "We're good."

Meredith, Randi, Zoe, Jen, Mel, Susan and Emmy were all at the game that evening. They were surprised to see Fred Hartman trot out to second base to start the game. They figured this close to the start of the real games that the starters would play.

"What the hell?" Emmy wondered. She had glanced to center field to see who was playing her uncle's position. When she saw DeLeon, she turned to see who was in left field. She blinked when she recognized the guy out there.

"What?" Jen asked.

"He's in left field," Emmy said, gesturing down the line.

"Left field?" Meredith asked, leaning forward to see for herself. Brock had been watching his friends as he loosened up by playing catch with the ball boy. He gave a brief wave when he saw them all leaning forward in their seats to get a glimpse of him.

The game went OK. Only one ball was hit to left field and Brock fielded in cleanly. The only problem he had was figuring out which base to throw the ball to. He picked third base because it was closest and almost brained Josh with the ball because Josh expected the ball to be thrown to Driesbach at shortstop.

Fred had a good game. The Dodgers pitcher liked to work the ball off the plate and there several grounders to second. Fred sucked them up like a vacuum cleaner and even added a double at the plate.

Brock struck out three times before hitting a ninth-inning homer. The game was already decided but he celebrated anyway since it was his first home run during Spring Training.

Brock's phone was already ringing when he got to the clubhouse. He picked it up without looking at the number.

"What in hell are you doing in left field?" Stan Balsam asked loudly.

"They said they had to put someone out there," Brock answered. "I drew the short straw."

"Do they plan to start you there until one of the outfielders gets healthy?" Stan asked, aghast at the prospect for any number of reasons.

"I think so," Brock answered.

"You realize if you start there on Opening Day it will fuck your All-Star chances, don't you?" Stan asked. "Unless the Dodgers request a special exemption, you're going to be on the ballot as an outfielder. You stand a great shot of being voted to the team at second. But outfield is a whole different ball of wax. Hell, you'll be splitting votes with Al Perez, for God's sake."

"Can you deal with that for me?" Brock asked. "I don't really care but I can understand your concern. Truthfully, I doubt I stand a much better chance at second base. Handle this however you think is best."

"OK, I'll call you after I chew Steve Morris a new asshole tomorrow," Stan said. "This is bullshit. They can't just jerk you from position to position."

"It seems they can," Brock said with a smile. "Look, I don't know if Steve was even consulted about this. Jim pulled me aside when I got here and asked me if I'd try it out. I told him I would. Stan, I asked him if this was the team's not-so-subtle way of telling me that they were pissed that I didn't sign their last deal. He said he didn't give a shit about my contract. He wanted to win ballgames. Well, I want to win ballgames, too. If Jim is comfortable with me out there, then we'll do it. I have to go. I have calls stacking up. This was a surprise for almost everyone, I think."

Meredith was next and started the conversation in the same manner that Stan had. He gave her the same explanation and had just hung up when Al came in on his crutches.