My heart skipped a beat when the boss stopped by my cubicle, and I'm sure I blushed when his eye caught mine. I was on the phone with a client, and suddenly very conscious of my end of the conversation - especially when the boss smiled and gave me a thumbs up as he listened - but also eager to get off the phone so I could find out why he had stopped by to see me. My position was very much an entry-level one, so even though I knew him to be a hands-on leader, it was unusual that he'd stop by a cubicle like mine. For a moment, I indulged the thought that he would ask me out, but quickly focused on work again, conscious that he was listening carefully to my phone conversation.
"Nice work, Bailey," he said, reaching out to shake my hand, "glad to hear such a professional approach with our clients over the phone!"
"Wow, thanks, Mr..."
"No need to be so formal, Bailey," he interrupted me, "please, call me Jason."
"Oh, really? Well, thanks, Jason! So, what can I do for you?"
"Well, I'm a little disappointed in you. You know we've been trying to put together a team for the softball league, and yet you don't share with me that you were a star on your college team?"
"Well, that was a few years ago. And I don't know if I'd use the word 'star'..."
"Are you kidding? We're not exactly a pro league, we need every decent player we can get! And once Laura in accounting spilled your secret, I looked up your college stats. If you hit only half as well as you did your senior year, you'd be a great addition to our lineup! Oh, and I really need a catcher I can count on."
"So you're the pitcher?" I really hadn't thought much about playing since graduating two years back and deciding to focus on my career. But the thought of being able to play with Jason - I still couldn't believe he wanted me to call him Jason - was definitely a selling point. I'd had a huge crush on this guy since the first time we'd met.
"That's me - pitcher, wrangler of new members of the team, pretty much a utility man when it comes to keeping this team running. So, are you in?"
"Sure, count me in. When do we practice?"
"Well, unfortunately I'll need you to jump right into a game - our first game is Friday. You up for it? Our next practice isn't until next Tuesday."
"Sure, what the heck. Why not!"
"Alright, I'll make sure we have a uniform for you tomorrow, and I'll e-mail you the full schedule and directions to the field where we play. Thanks so much, Bailey, knew I could count on you to be a team player - literally!"
My phone rang again, and Jason said, "Alright, back to work - see you tomorrow!"
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
I had to admit, it was exciting to be back on the field again, especially without the pressure of playing for a winning college team. A few of the colleagues I already knew greeted me when I arrived at the field that Friday evening, and I was quickly introduced to those I hadn't met. It was an odd feeling at first, putting on the catcher's gear, but I soon felt at home as I crouched behind the plate, awaiting the first delivery from Jason. I had a great top of the first, throwing out a runner who attempted to steal second, and was having a great time catching pitches again. Slow-pitch was a big adjustment from the fast-pitch I'd played in college, but I quickly remembered the pleasure of being part of a team, the joy of competition.
Jason had put me in the lineup as the cleanup hitter, a vote of confidence which I wore proudly as I marched up to the plate for my first at-bat, with two of my teammates on base. Swing, strike one. Wow, I was way ahead of that pitch. I thought I'd made the adjustment by playing catcher, but apparently I was still off. Oh well, shake it off. Swing, strike two. OK, Bailey, calm down. I called time, stepped out of the batter's box, leaned the bat against my legs, and reached up to adjust my cap, tightening the hairband holding up my long blonde ponytail. Alright, this is it. Swing, strike three. I sulked back to the bench and hung my head. I hadn't struck out swinging since, like, ever!
One at-bat was just one at-bat, I told myself. Harder to tell myself that when the game was over, and I'd gone 0-4. My teammates were fine with it - after all, it was my first game, and it was just for fun anyway! Oh, and we'd managed to win, in spite of my complete inability to hit anyone in. But my inner athlete had returned, the competitive spirit that had made me a successful college player, and I was humiliated by being unable to catch up to - or I should say, slow down for, the balloon pitches from the opposing pitcher.
Jason found me still sitting on the bench after many of the other players had already headed home. "Hey, Bailey, don't be so hard on yourself - it's just a game!" He stood above me, resting one foot up on the bench next to where I was sitting.
"Yeah, I know. I just can't believe how different it is to hit those slow pitches - guess I'm still used to the rhythm of the fast-pitch game, even after a few years away from playing!"
"Well, I can tell that you're a very talented player - so it's just a matter of getting your timing down. You need to be a little more patient than you're used to, the ball just isn't coming at you as fast. I'd be happy to stick around for a while tonight if you'd like to work on your rhythm?"
I looked up at him, was once again pulled in by his genuine smile, and nodded, smiling back, taking him up on the offer.
We hung out at the field for at least another hour, Jason or I occasionally breaking down into laughter at my ridiculous swings, until I finally started to feel comfortable, hitting a few solid ground balls, ropes out to the outfield, and even, finally, a home run over the right-field fence.
"On that note, Bailey, why don't we call it a night."
"Thanks so much, Jason, I really appreciate your taking the time to do this!"
"Hey, my pleasure. After all, we can't have our cleanup hitter swinging through every pitch, can we?"
*-*-*-*-*-*-*
What started out as a fairly innocent office crush quickly became an all-consuming passion. Not only was I seeing Jason at work, but every Tuesday night for practice, every Friday night for games. And I was in uncharted territory. Throughout my high school and college years, I'd always had guys falling all over me, always had a date - or more - whenever I wanted. I was the successful athlete with the great body, who looked equally good - and knew it - sliding into second or dancing at the club. Now, I was the one drooling over the cute, successful guy. And although we were spending lots of time together, and he was perfectly charming, he either wasn't interested, or was playing hard-to-get. And it was driving me up the wall: I had never had to practice the techniques of trying to win someone's affections, and I sucked at it!
