Chapter 20: The Junior
The television was already on when Rafael came home from practice.
Elena had left it running in the corner of the living room while she cooked, and the volume was low enough that it sounded like background noise. Rafael dropped his bag near the door and was about to head to the kitchen when a familiar voice made him stop.
"Winning a championship at this level takes more than talent."
Rafael turned toward the screen.
A man in a dark jacket sat in a studio chair with a small trophy on the table beside him. He was in his early forties, with short hair that had started to gray near the sides. His face looked older than Rafael remembered, but the eyes were the same.
Marcus Hale.
Rafael stood completely still.
Twenty years ago, Marcus had been the nervous rookie standing next to Alex’s locker, trying to find the right words after the last game of his career. Now he was the manager of the team that had just won the world championship.
"Kuya, why are you standing there like a statue?" Lia asked, walking in with a glass of water.
"I’m watching."
"Since when do you watch interviews?"
"Since now."
Lia shrugged and sat on the couch. Elena came out of the kitchen wiping her hands, and Manuel, who had been checking bills at the table, glanced up.
On the screen, the interviewer smiled. "Marcus, congratulations. That was a hard-fought series."
"Thank you. The players earned it."
"You’ve now won a championship as a manager. Do you think about the fact that you started your career playing alongside some of the greatest names in the sport?"
Marcus laughed quietly. "Every day."
"One of those names was Alex Sterling."
Rafael’s chest tightened.
The room seemed to get very quiet, even though nobody else had stopped moving. Marcus took a moment before answering. He looked down at the trophy, then back at the camera.
"Alex was my first teammate who made me feel small and inspired at the same time," he said. "Not because he tried to. He just saw the game in a way nobody else did."
The interviewer waited for the applause in the studio to fade.
"Since his passing, fans have asked a lot of questions. One of the most common is a hypothetical. If Alex Sterling stepped into the batter’s box today, facing the best pitcher in the league, who wins?"
The audience laughed, and Marcus grinned.
"That’s a dangerous question."
"You can take your time."
Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I’ve seen the best pitchers in the world try to get Alex out. Most of them didn’t. The ones who did, did it once, and he’d figure them out by the next at-bat."
He paused.
"So I’d say Alex. Nine times out of ten. And the tenth time, that pitcher would have to be having the best day of his life."
The audience laughed and clapped.
"But there’s something else," Marcus said. His voice was softer now. "On the night he retired, I told him I didn’t think baseball knew what to do without him. He laughed at me and said baseball would survive."
The studio quieted.
"He was right," Marcus continued. "It did. But I don’t think he knew how much we would miss him."
Rafael’s throat felt tight. He stood in the middle of the living room, staring at a man who had grown up while Alex Sterling was gone.
Twenty years.
He had missed all of it. Marcus’s career, his first championship as a coach, the gray in his hair. It had passed while Alex was on a couch in a quiet house, criticizing hitters on old television games.
You’ve come a long way, kid, Rafael thought.
His eyes stung. He blinked hard.
"Kuya."
Rafael looked over. Lia was watching him with a strange smile.
"What?"
"Do you think you can hit a home run against his team?"
Rafael frowned. "Whose team?"
"That guy. Marcus Hale. The one who just talked about Alex Sterling." Lia pointed at the screen with her water glass. "You keep saying you’re going to play in the big leagues someday. If you ever face his team, can you hit a home run?"
Manuel raised an eyebrow. "Lia."
"What? It’s a fair question."
Elena covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. "Anak, don’t tease your brother."
"I’m not teasing. I’m asking."
"You’re teasing," Rafael said.
Lia grinned. "Maybe a little."
Rafael looked back at the screen. Marcus was shaking the interviewer’s hand while the audience clapped. Somewhere in that room, people were talking about Alex Sterling as though he were a memory.
He almost smiled.
"I’ll do it," Rafael said.
Lia blinked. "Do what?"
"Hit a home run against his team."
The room went quiet. Then Lia burst into laughter, and Manuel laughed with her.
"That’s a big promise," Manuel said.
"It’s not a promise," Rafael said. "It’s just a plan."
"A plan," Lia repeated, wiping her eyes. "Kuya, you are so weird."
Rafael sat down on the couch and looked at the television one more time.
Just wait, Marcus, he thought. I’ll be back.
Daniel called a team meeting the next morning.
The players gathered in the dugout, and Daniel stood in front of them with a folder under his arm. He looked more serious than usual. Joshua whispered something to Miguel, and Miguel elbowed him to be quiet.
"I’ll be honest with you," Daniel said. "Winning the city championship was a big deal. But what’s coming next is bigger."
He opened the folder and held up a page.
"DAVRAA. The Davao Regional Athletic Association meet. Seven teams from across the region. The winner moves on to the next stage."
"How long until it starts?" Paolo asked.
"Six weeks."
The players looked at each other.
"That’s not very long," Carlo said.
"It’s enough," Daniel said. "But only if we use it properly."
He placed the page on the bench and turned to face them.
"Here’s what you need to understand. The teams we’ll face have never seen you play. That’s good. But it’s also bad, because you’ve never seen them either. Every team in this region has been preparing for this meet since last year."
Ethan raised his hand. "Are there scouts?"
"For now, no. But do well, and that changes."
Joshua leaned forward. "So what’s the plan, Coach?"
Daniel almost smiled. "Six weeks. Three parts."
He held up his fingers.
"First, conditioning. I want your legs and arms stronger. Nobody in this dugout is going to get tired in the seventh inning."
Groans came from several players.
"Second, video. We watch every team in the region that I can find footage of. Not to memorize their players. To understand how they play."
Rafael nodded. That part he liked.
"Third," Daniel said. "Practice games. I’ve arranged scrimmages with teams from outside the city, so you get used to different styles."
He looked at Rafael.
"And you, Rafael. Your batting is fine. Your fielding is fine. But your throwing arm still needs work."
Rafael rubbed his shoulder. "I know, Coach."
"Good. We’ll fix it."
Miguel raised his hand. "Does that mean we run more?"
"Yes."
"How much more?"
"Enough."
The dugout groaned again, and even Daniel laughed. He picked up the folder and looked at his players one at a time.
"Six weeks," he said. "Let’s make them count."
The first training session began that afternoon, and Rafael found out exactly what Daniel meant by conditioning.
They ran laps around the outfield until Joshua nearly collapsed. They did long-toss drills until their arms burned. After that, Daniel had them work on footwork, fielding, and throwing accuracy until the sun started to go down.
Rafael took each drill seriously. He didn’t need to be told how important it was. Alex had spent twenty years understanding what a body needed to perform. Now he was applying that knowledge to a smaller frame that still had a long way to go.
At the end of practice, Joshua dropped onto the grass beside him. "How are you not tired?"
"I’m tired."
"You don’t look tired."
"That’s because I’m concentrating on not looking tired."
Joshua stared at him. "That’s not a real skill."
"It’s a real skill."
Miguel dropped down on his other side, breathing hard. "Six more weeks of this."
"We’ll survive," Rafael said.
"Easy for you to say."
"Not easy," Rafael said, smiling. "But possible."
He looked toward the sunset and thought again about the interview. Marcus Hale, the man who was now a manager. The world was still moving without Alex Sterling, and that was fine. It meant baseball would still be there when Rafael was ready.
He stretched his sore shoulder and stood up.
"Come on," he said. "One more round of long toss."
Joshua stared at him. "You’re not human."
"You said that already."
"It keeps being true."
Miguel groaned, but he stood up too. Rafael waited until the others got to their feet, then picked up his glove.
Six weeks.
The regional was coming, and Davao Central was going to be ready.
End of Chapter 20