I woke up feeling hungry and groggy. I held my growling stomach and looked around. I was still in the car, but no Dad or Zeke. I heard some muffled talk and found the pair outside of the car. I unbuckled and joined them outside.
"You could have slept a little longer." Dad told me with a smile. "It's good to get some extra rest."
I put a hand over my stomach. "I woke up because I'm hungry." I said sheepishly.
"Anything in particular you want to eat?" Dad asked.
"What about the others?" I asked.
"They can eat and we can eat. It doesn't necessarily have to be together." He looked at Zeke. "You good here?"
Zeke looked at me. "Do you want to have lunch with me?"
"You want us to take you somewhere else?" Dad asked, surprised that Zeke wanted to join us for lunch.
"No." Zeke shook his head and then jerked his thumb at the stadium. "Come eat with me here. They have a good spread out for weekend games." He looked at me directly. "See the clubhouse, my locker, and stuff like that."
"Can we do that...?" I looked up at Dad, unsure. This didn't sound like it was normally allowed.
Dad shrugged. "If you want to. I think it would be a very unique experience. Even one the twins and Noah haven't done."
I scratched my cheek. "Wouldn't Noah get upset then?"
"Stop worrying about everyone else." Zeke ordered. I straightened up. "Do you want to go?"
I nodded. "I do."
Zeke went to the car. "Let me grab by bag and send a text to my Coach so he's not surprised."
Dad and I waited patiently. Dad sent a text of his own to Mom I assumed.
Zeke put his phone in his pocket when he was done and had his backpack on. "Follow me. My coach will meet us at the entrance." He looked at me. "Do you remember Coach Leroy?"
I nodded. He was a nice, beg-bellied guy. We had met a few times now thanks to Zeke. At the college visit. He had come to our house for Zeke's signing. And we've seen him from the few times we've been able to see Zeke play. He was similar to our Coach, except he was more laidback. He reminded me of Santa Claus.
The three of us walked around, getting to the home plate entrance of the stadium. Right up front was Coach Leroy, along with two other guys. I shifted closer to Dad. Dad didn't mind and even put his arm around my shoulders.
"Hey, Zeke, what's up man?" One of the guys greeted first, stepping towards Zeke and doing some kind of handshake with him. Once he stepped back, I recognized him as Bradley Thompson, one of the top players at the college level. He looked down at me. "Jake, right?"
I nodded.
He grinned and nodded back. "I almost wasn't sure. You're getting taller."
I subconsciously straightened up.
Zeke had done a handshake with the other guy and then introduced him. "This is Oliver Combs. A freshman like me. Oliver, this is my dad and youngest brother, Jake."
"Ah the home run kid." Oliver clutched the front of his shirt, acting like he was in distress. "Send me to the trainer, Brad. I think I'm having ptsd. How will I play today when my heart hurts this much?"
Zeke's lips twitched as he watched Oliver act up and play around. "Don't mind him. He's just a sore loser."
"Hey hey! Let's not pour more salt in my open wound. It still feels fresh." Oliver gave Brad a shove. "C'mon Captain, tell him to be more concerned about my feelings."
Brad shook his head. "What more do you want? An apology for beating your sorry ass? Maybe you should have hit the gym more."
"Oliver played for West Valley last year." Zeke told me and Dad, realizing that we were more than lost. The short explanation didn't help me any. I shrugged, helpless.
"He doesn't even remember my school??!" Oliver stumbled backwards, only stopping when he nearly bumped into his coach. "I can't. I can't even."
"CIF finals." Zeke elaborated.
Ohhh. I looked at Oliver. "I'm sorry."
Oliver looked stunned. He stood up and stopped messing around. He even looked a little embarrassed. "Don't apologize. It kind of feels like I'm bullying you."
"I'm sorry." I said again.
"Sorry for saying sorry?" Oliver chuckled.
"Just take what you can get." Zeke rolled his eyes. "You won't be hearing any apologies from me." /
"You jerk."
"Wayne, Jake, good to have you here." Coach Leroy ignored Oliver's antics and shook Dad's hand.
"Sorry to impose on game day, Coach." Dad said. "Thanks for letting us join in."
"It's no problem at all." Coach Leroy smiled at me. "Besides, it's game day for Jake as well, I see." He stated the obvious with me still wearing my uniform. "Tell me, how did you do at the plate today?"
I cleared my throat. "Two for three, plus a walk."
"Home run to start off the game." Zeke added. "The walk was intentional in extra innings. Made the bases loaded for Garret Knudsen."
Coach Leroy let out a whistle. "I couldn't imagine having to walk the number one player to face the number two. That's a tough one."
I looked away, feeling embarrassed. I mumbled. "We played a school from a different county. They had good players too."
"So modest." Oliver laughed. "I bet you guys crushed it."
"It was University Prep." Zeke told him. "They won 3-1."
"Which 'they'?" Oliver started to shake Zeke. "You mean 'they' as in U.P. beat your brothers, right?"
I let out a small laugh. U.P. You pee. I wonder if Noah and the twins noticed.
"My brother's team won. My alma mater. The same school that beat yours in the finals." Zeke was ruthless.
"Good school." Coach Leroy told me. "Good performance against them. Their pitching is always top tier. We look at them frequently."
I froze.
"Have any come to Stanford?" Dad asked, mostly for my benefit I'm sure.
"Not in the last decade." Coach Leroy shrugged with a smile. "Maybe my recruiting skills are a little weak."
I glanced at Zeke and then Bradley. "I don't think it's weak." Not at all. Zeke was determined to go pro. It was an absolute until we visited Stanford. Heck, even Bradley could have gone pro last year but he was set on finishing his college career.
"Thanks, kid, I appreciate it." Coach Leroy waved his hand. "Come on in. Let me show you two what it looks behind the scenes." He took the lead with Dad and I following right behind. Zeke and his two teammates trailed in last, starting to talk about last night's game and this afternoon's game.
"Klein Field is one of the most beautiful fields at the college level." Coach Leroy said. "But what I like the most about it is how close it can be to the school buildings. Mostly everything is a ten minute walk. Twenty if you're Oliver."
"I heard that!" Oliver yelled from the back.
I grinned. Oliver probably has a problem taking his time or showing up late.
"Some schools require a drive to their home stadium and that could be difficult to arrange for freshmen and sophomores. Some schools don't let underclassmen bring their cars to college." Coach Leroy went on. "And with being a big division one school, we get a lot of funding. Which is pivotal in how we can afford the best equipment."
We had gone down some stairs and a big hallway. He flipped on a bunch of lights showing off a full on gym through glass windows. "Weight-lifting stations. Cardio machines. Anything to make our players better and give them the ability to succeed." He looked back at me. "Have you been lifting, Jake?"
"I'm not very good at it, but we go to the gym at my school once or twice a week." The gym Jeremy had paid for. It was also good, but nowhere fully equipped like this. This looked like it belonged in some catalog for how to open up a franchise.
Coach Leroy took us to the club room next. Every player had his last name over a small cubicle with a folding chair in front of it. Inside the cubicle, it was like a full closet, holding so many different types of uniforms and Stanford items.
Zeke took me to his specifically. "Home jerseys. Away. Specialities. Warmup shirts, shorts, long sleeves, sweatshirts, beanies, and hats."
Hats. He had nearly ten. All with the Stanford logo.
I gulped. "How do you know what to wear on what day?"
Zeke pointed to a wall with a whiteboard. On it, there was a field drawn out and players names at each position. Pitchers were on a list beside it. Bench players. Injuries. On the upper right of the board it said the date and that they were wearing white.
"Food is ready!" Oliver rubbed his hands together and practically skipped to the far side of the room. There were two folding tables set up, holding giant takeout pans.
"That's why he's here early." Bradley gestured to Oliver.
Oliver had already grabbed a plate and started to load up on pasta, putting two different sauces on it. "They remembered the parmesan this time!" He was done in record time. Not even bothering to sit before eating.
"You have to have a salad before you get seconds, Oliver." Coach Leroy paused his conversation with Dad to say to his player.
I smiled as Oliver pretended to be deaf.