Behind in the Count: A Portland Pioneers Novel Read online

  Behind in the Count

  A Portland Pioneers Novel

  By Micah K. Chaplin

  Cover by Stacie Ricklefs Photo + Design

  Copyright © 2017 Micah K. Chaplin

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

  ISBN: 978-1546703372 (MKC)

  ISBN-13: 1546703373

  Dedicated to anyone who believes in and supports second chances.

  Behind in the count is a situation in which a pitcher has more balls than strikes against a batter, putting him in danger of walking his opponent.

  Author’s note: There is a glossary with more baseball terms used in this story at the back of the book.

  Chapter One

  Deep breath in. Long breath out. He tilted his head from side to side, stretching the neck muscles on each side. Then he began swinging his arms in circles, feeling his shoulders loosen with each rotation. When the swinging stopped, he did a few shoulder shrugs and then shook his arms before launching into a side lunge in each direction, holding for exactly five seconds. Then a few quick butt-kickers. Head forward, head back, working the neck again. At last, he bent over, folding his six-foot-five frame in half, reaching for his toes and feeling the pull in his hamstrings.

  He straightened and adjusted his cap on top of his thick dark brown hair. He needed a cut soon. Maybe when he was back in Oklahoma he could hit up his old barber. After a few more shrugs of his shoulders to loosen up, he bent at the waist again, this time picking up the glove that sat at his feet, waiting patiently to be used.

  The glove was brand new, though he’d done plenty to break it in and get it ready for the new season ahead. Some pitchers chose leather in a team color, but Derek Beaman stayed with the traditional soft brown. The only customization, besides the fit, was the addition of three simple letters at the heel of the palm side – BEB. The initials belonged to Brynn Elizabeth Beaman, the most important person in his life. He was completely wrapped around her finger, and although his relationship with her still needed work, he wanted to take her to the mound with him for every inning and every pitch.

  He took a few steps to the small practice mound and began going through his wind-up and follow-through. He didn’t use baseballs during these first few warm-ups. He just wanted to get his muscles used to the motion again after the short break he’d allowed himself. It was time to get back in a routine.

  During the off-season, he’d maintained a diligent workout regimen of cardio and strength workouts and he’d kept his diet fairly clean too – except for a few splurge meals around the holidays. But he wasn’t going to feel bad about those. It was the first Christmas he’d been completely sober in recent years and he’d wanted to enjoy it. Considering everything he’d battled and achieved, he decided he deserved that second helping of mashed potatoes and the generous dollop of homemade ice cream on top of his apple pie. His family had been all too eager to make sure he had all the delicious food he could eat. They were just delighted to have Derek home. The real Derek. The one they hadn’t seen in more than two years while addiction, drugs, and anger had held him hostage.

  Rejecting invitations to New Year’s Eve parties had been tough but necessary. All of them were in settings that would involve alcohol and he knew he wasn’t ready for that. He couldn’t risk lapsing. Not after how far he’d come. Alcohol and drugs had cost him his marriage and precious time with his daughter he could never get back. It had almost cost him his career too, and if he hadn’t gotten help, it might have cost him his life at some point. But he’d rallied. He’d fought his way out of addiction. His counselor told him he would never be completely cured, but that he could find victory in continuing to make the right choices.

  “You’ll get better. The temptation will diminish, but a part of you might always crave that feeling,” Dr. Olsen had said.

  “So I can’t really ever beat this?” Derek had asked, feeling a bit discouraged.

  “It’s a long journey. Every day you wake up and don’t use is a victory,” she said. “It’s like your baseball season where there are 162 games. Except with addiction, there’s no off-season. It’s just one game after another. But you can do this, Derek.”

  She believed in him. And she wasn’t the only one. Derek’s family had rallied around him and stuck by him – even though he had put them through hell. His brother had singlehandedly pulled him out of the darkest moments. The process hadn’t been pretty by any stretch of the imagination, and there had been days Derek hated Mike, but now he knew he owed Mike more than he could ever repay. Without his brother’s intervention, tough love, and persistence, Derek would likely not be alive. He would have missed returning to baseball and becoming a number two starter for the Portland Pioneers. He would have missed a postseason run that included wins over the Tigers, Yankees, and even a strong showing against the Rangers, who had gone on to win the World Series. More than that, he would have missed out on holding his daughter, seeing her face light up when he came into view, and hearing her call him “daddy.” He would have missed all that and more. Thanks to his brother and others who had believed in him, he wouldn’t miss out on anything else life was ready to throw at him.

  “It’s good to see you on the mound again, Derek.”

  Kate Marks, the general manager of the Portland Pioneers, was definitely on the list of people firmly in his camp. Ms. Marks had signed him when the rest of baseball turned their backs on him. Other teams had regarded him as damaged goods and too much of a gamble, but the Pioneers had decided he was worth the risk. As thanks for their faith, Derek had given them a great season, in which he pitched 204 innings, logged 154 strikeouts, and notched an ERA of 3.84. Despite his performance, he was still surprised when the organization named him Pitcher of the Year. The applause had been deafening, and he’d lost count of the high fives and handshakes from his teammates at the awards banquet where he’d received the honor. The high had been better than any drug-induced ride he could recall.

  “It feels good to be here again,” Derek said, smiling at his boss. “What are you doing here, Miss Marks?”

  She smiled at him. “You know I’m here every day, even in the off-season.”

  “I do. I’ve seen it for myself the last few months,” Derek said.

  “You’ve been working hard. I like to see that. And I’m looking forward to seeing what you bring out there this season,” Kate said.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I am too,” Derek said.

  “Just make sure you give yourself a break from time to time,” Kate said. “I don’t want you to burn out.”

  “You don’t need to worry about that,” Derek said. “I love my job.”

  “I love mine too, but a little time off doesn’t hurt. In fact, sometimes it can help,” Kate said.

  The advice was a bit surprising as the GM had a reputation of being a bit of a workaholic. He wondered if she was speaking from experience or merely offering advice out of concern for his arm. Before he had much time to wonder, he was interrupted.

  “Are you done gabbing, Beaman?”

  Derek turned to see Carson Slater stepping into a familiar spot 60 feet and six inches away behind home plate.

  “Yeah, just waiting on you to get out here,” Derek said. “What took so long?”

  “Erika sent me the cutest video of Camden,” Carson said, smirking. “I had to watch it a few times.”

  “How many is a few?” Derek asked, smiling.


  “Three or four,” Carson said.

  Derek stared at him.

  “OK, more like ten or twelve,” Carson said.

  “That’s what I thought,” Derek said.

  “I can’t help it. I miss the little guy already,” Carson said.

  Derek simply nodded. The catcher had agreed to come to Portland for a few days to work out. It was a significant sacrifice since Carson had a six-week-old baby at home in Maryland. Derek knew first-hand how hard it was to be away from his child, and Carson had willingly left his wife and son for a few days to help Derek start building his mound sessions.

  “Good to see you again too, Carson. Congratulations again on the new addition,” Kate said. “I’ll let you boys get to work.”

  Carson grinned at Kate’s comments and then turned back to Derek once the boss was gone.

  “Ready to do this?” Carson asked, punching his glove a few times.

  Derek nodded and picked up a ball. He gave it an easy toss to Carson, and they played catch for a few minutes, both just wanting to get loose. When they were ready, Carson crouched behind the dish and held his glove out.

  “Bring it, Beaman,” he said.

  Derek twirled the ball in his hand until he found the right grip. Then he brought the ball and glove up to his chest. He took a deep breath then went through his wind-up and delivery, sending the ball hurtling toward Carson’s waiting glove. It landed there with a satisfying smack. Both men smiled and Carson nodded and stood to throw the ball back.

  “Not bad, not bad,” he said. “Keep it easy just like that for now.”

  Derek nodded and grabbed the ball as it sailed back to him. Both men knew the limitations of this session. The pitching coach had given specific instructions about what and when to throw as he resumed his workouts. They would leave for Arizona in two weeks, and then he could truly start ramping things up. As much as Derek would love to throw some heat, he knew he needed to ease his arm into it.

  For now, it felt good just to be pitching to Carson again. The catcher had been behind the dish for most of his starts last season, specifically the complete game shutout he threw during the postseason. He was relieved his buddy was back on the roster. In fact, most of the players from last year were still with the club, which was encouraging. There was never a guarantee in the off-season that everyone would be back, but the Pioneers had only made a few moves during the winter, which told Derek that Miss Marks was happy with the roster as it was. She had faith in them. That felt good.

  After a few dozen pitches, Carson stood up and pushed his mask back on his head. He walked out to give Derek a high five.

  “How did that feel?” he asked.

  “It felt good,” Derek said. “Really good.”

  Carson grinned and patted Derek’s shoulder. “Ready to run?”

  Derek nodded and pulled off his glove. He set it down carefully and reached for a sweatshirt so he could keep his arm warm while they ran. Carson ditched his catcher’s gear, and they left their stuff, heading up to the field level. When they surfaced, they discovered they weren’t the only ones working out at the field this morning.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” Reid said, smiling up at them from where he sat in a v-stretch.

  Last season, Reid Benjamin had served as their hitting coach after getting dumped by the Mets. Reid had been a great mentor, but anyone could see he wanted to be on the field. He never let it affect his job as hitting coach, but he also didn’t make any secret about his desire to play again. This year, he’d be back with the Pioneers as a teammate.

  Hopefully.

  Kate Marks had only promised him an invitation to spring training to try and make the roster, not a permanent spot on it. But Derek was confident Reid would earn one of the 25 spots. For one, they had a hole in the outfield after the departure of Collin Ellwood. Secondly, he’d seen Reid in the batting cages and in his workouts. The man was determined and talented. There was no way he wouldn’t make the roster. Derek was sure of it, and he needed it to happen.

  Not long after Reid joined the organization, he became one of Derek’s best friends. Reid understood Derek in ways no one else could because Reid had endured his own off-field struggles. The two had bonded over steak dinners while navigating bumps in their respective roads. Reid had kept Derek from making potentially disastrous decisions more than once. Derek had tried to return the favor, but he hadn’t been completely successful. He’d been a bit too late to keep Reid from drinking, and while the night wasn’t a complete disaster, it sure hadn’t been pretty. Derek still lamented that he hadn’t gotten to his friend sooner. He felt indebted to Reid and believed their friendship was the foundation of his personal and professional success. He needed Reid on the roster.

  “Hey man,” Carson said. “Guess we’re not the only ones getting in some early workouts.”

  “Early? I’ve been here all winter,” Reid said.

  Derek could verify Reid’s statement. While most players had scattered at the end of the previous season, Derek and Reid had been among the few exceptions. Except for a handful of extended trips to Oklahoma to see his family, Derek had remained in Portland to continue his counseling and workouts. He liked the stability and focus the city had provided him. Derek and Reid had crossed paths often at the ballpark and even had dinner together a few times when their schedules allowed.

  “Man, must be nice. I’d love to stay up here all year. I’ve tried convincing Erika to move, but she says she wants to stay close to family,” Carson said. “At least she’ll be here during the season. Cam too.”

  “I look forward to meeting the new Slater,” Reid said, getting up from the ground.

  Carson smiled brightly and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “You have to see this video Erika just sent me.”

  Reid leaned over his teammate’s shoulder to indulge Carson, but Derek interrupted them.

  “Are we going to stand around and chat or are we going to run?” he asked impatiently.

  Reid and Carson both looked up at Derek. Carson looked a bit hurt and Reid just looked confused.

  “I have some things to do this afternoon,” Derek said. “I need to get this workout done.”

  “Sure, OK,” Reid said. “Show me later, Carson.”

  Carson nodded and tucked his phone back into his pocket. The three players started a jog around the perimeter of the park. After one lap, they went to the outfield and did some sprints.

  While they worked out, there was little chatter, which was a relief for Derek. Hearing Carson talk about his new son, Derek felt a stab of envy and regret.

  Brynn had only been a few days old when Derek had stepped out to pick up formula and groceries. During the errand, he’d met up with a “friend” for a fix and promptly disappeared for three days – though at the time he hadn’t been sure how much time had passed. When he finally returned home, the apartment was empty. Keely had left a note telling him she was done. She couldn’t count on him and she needed help with the baby, so she was moving in with her parents. She asked him not to contact her. He ignored that part, of course, and began calling her incessantly. When she wouldn’t answer, he’d driven three hours to her parents’ home. Keely’s father met him at the door and wouldn’t let him in. He made it clear Derek was not welcome there.

  “You can’t keep me from my wife and daughter,” Derek had shouted.

  “I’m not. This is Keely’s choice and we support her,” Chet had said. “You can leave peacefully or we can involve the police. It’s your choice, Derek.”

  Derek lingered, shouting a few more times for Keely, hoping she’d come out and see him. His father-in-law pulled out his phone and Derek, still a little strung out from his bender, knocked it out of his hand. In the process, he also struck Chet. A scuffle ensued and ended with Derek in handcuffs and booked into the local jail on assault charges. Derek was able to bond out, and his brother picked him up from jail and took him home.

  “I don’t know who you are anymore,” Mike
had said, breaking the silence that had prevailed during most of the drive.

  Derek said nothing.

  “You were the good one. Prom king and honor roll. All-state baseball. You got top grades at TCU. You were drafted and quickly made it to the majors. You had everything going for you,” Mike listed. “I know getting injured was rough, but I knew you’d battle back. Even through the lapses I witnessed, I knew you’d make it. Maybe no one else did. But I knew you. I knew how you tackled challenges. You never let anyone say you couldn’t do it. I knew you’d be back in the big leagues. But that guy is gone. I don’t know where my brother went.”

  “I’m right here,” Derek said.

  “I don’t know who you are right now,” Mike said. “You’re the Derek I know right now. You’re not the good kid, star athlete, or devoted husband and father anymore.”

  Derek fisted his hands, feeling anger and sadness at his brother’s words.

  “Do you even want to play baseball again?” Mike asked.

  “Of course I do,” Derek said.

  “Well, there are eight months until a new season officially starts up, and right now, you are not a major league pitcher. That guy is lost,” Mike said. “I think he’s still in there, and I want to help you find him again. But Derek you have to help yourself. Can you do that? Can you let me help you?”

  The car fell into silence again for a long time. Derek mulled his brother’s words, letting them roll around in his brain along with the hazy memories he had of the past few days. They were a blur. Little more than a week earlier, he’d been standing next to his wife in a hospital room, waiting to welcome Brynn into the world. He’d chosen their daughter’s name, waiting for the day he could hold her. It was the most exciting day of his life. The thrill should have lasted, but he’d messed up. He chose drugs over fatherhood. Over his family. How had he gotten this low?