Utility

Just as he was the only happy man in the clubhouse on that day last March, he was the only one unhappy this day.  As he went through his preparations for the night's game, a game that for the first time this season he was unlikely to play in, Wilson Valdez made every effort to keep focused.  That's when the unmistakable strains of “Kashmir” erupted throughout the room.  Valdez looked towards the door.  A large shadow stood in the frame, his features obscured by the blinding white light behind him.  He was back. 

While the others stood to clap, Valdez went about the business of his pre-game checklist.  But as the applause continued and grew louder, his absence became notable.  He stood and turned towards the doorway, and politely clapped.  Utley stepped into the room, and made his way around to his locker, cruelly placed right next to that of his usurper, or soon to be ex-usurper.  Every player on the way offered a hand, or a hug.  He greeted each one with the familiarity of a war buddy.  For some that was a ritualized handshake, completed with the precision of myriad repetitions, as if they had just done it the day before and not for four months.  For others, it was a simple nod, the unspoken respect of confederates in a half a decade of brutal division races. 

Valdez avoided eye contact, choosing to keep his head down as he taped his ankles.  Utley took his seat next to his steward, noting the discomfort.  “Hey,” he offered. 

“Hey,” Valdez replied, still absorbed in his ankle taping.  “How's the knee?” 

“Great.  Hasn't felt this good in years,” he said, placing his duffle bag next to his chair, and undoing his button down.  Valdez struggled to hide his disappointment.    They sat for the next minute in uneasy stillness, with the just the quiet babble of camaraderie and Robert Plant's tenor in their ears.  Finally, Utley broke the silence. 

“You're a great ballplayer, you know.  You wouldn't be here if you weren't.”  Valdez didn't respond.  He never did to platitudes.  After a minute, he spoke.  “I'll just have to get used to being the back up again…  You know it's not an ego thing.” 

“I know.” 

“I just wanna contribute.” 

“I know.” 

“I just…  I just don't know how I can do that backing up second.” 

“There's lots of ways.” 

“Like what?!” 

“Well…  Can you pitch?”

PHOTO BY FLICKR USER PHOTOBYLOVE

Comments

[batgirl]

Well done, Mr. Cairney

[Tom Cairney]

Thanks.