10. Hudson

10

HUDSON

I t’s amazing. Time.

It’s the most deceitful scientific measurement of reality. Quantifying your irreversible timeline in seconds, yet somehow our own awareness of time can easily alter its basic mathematics.

How is it that something so scientific, so matter-of-fact, can feel so different in defining moments?

Two hours on a plane with the most captivating woman I’d ever met felt like nanoseconds. Two hours on the plane flying back home, every minute getting further away from her—both physically and mentally—felt like a life sentence.

And in the last three days, the minutes have gone by painfully slowly, even though the days have felt fast.

Before flying to Vegas, I got, potentially, the most exciting news of my career. I flew to Seattle for a meeting with the Smashers’ coach. Apparently, something came up, and he had to cancel. That sent me flying directly to Vegas with only a sliver of hope that a trade could happen.

Leaving Vegas on a dreadful, and terribly boring, plane ride with a seatmate that held no comparison to Ember. I finally made it back home, just to be told by my coach that he booked me a plane ticket back to Seattle for a rescheduled meeting. That would have been the highlight of my week, if not for meeting Ember.

So, I went home, packed a majority of my belongings and jumped on a flight back to the airport where I had first laid eyes on her.

I didn’t need to pack everything, but I couldn’t help but hope that I was leaving San Diego for good. Not that I dislike San Diego. It’s one of the best cities in the world.

But I’ve been ready. Ready in all the ways I could ever be ready for this change.

I could get traded back to the major leagues. Finally . Something that I’ve been waiting for, for what feels like forever. Years of training, growing, rebuilding, and dreaming for an almost impossible opportunity. Along with years of dread that it may never happen. And now? Now, I have a chance, and it feels like my injury was yesterday. I can’t recall anything I’ve learned or healed from during that time.

Again, time —the best magician in the world.

Fast forward to today, Wednesday, the day I meet Coach Raymer. He’s the coach for the Seattle Smashers and has the reputation of a total hardass. When I flew here before the bachelor party, I was a nervous wreck. So, when I was told something came up and he had to reschedule, it was devastating. I believed he truly had an emergency and wasn’t just being a jerk. But I have to admit, there was a small part of me that felt discouraged, like he changed his mind about meeting me and I missed my opportunity. So, needless to say, I’m glad he actually rescheduled and I’m here now. Nerves completely faded. Confidence on full alert.

My coach said this is truly an interview, that he wants to meet all the players he was considering before making his final decision. But I refuse for this to turn out any other way than me leaving as a new catcher for the Seattle Smashers.

I take in a commanding breath as I sit in the cab of the truck I picked up yesterday, leaning my head against the headrest with my eyes closed and all my insecure wounds open. I always thought I was good enough, until one day, I just wasn’t. In the blink of an eye, my injury defined my life and everything changed.

Another amazing fact about time. They say “time heals all wounds”, a common misconception. Time doesn’t heal, our memory of the situation just fades over time. It doesn’t hurt as much, but the pain is engraved in your subconscious, questioning your own perception of yourself and your trust in others.

Time fades pain, yes, but people heal themselves. If they allow it.

I guess I’m still working on that.

Treating this moment like the biggest game of my life, I open my eyes, take in the stadium that will be my future home, and exit my truck. I straighten out my tie and button my suit jacket. The fancy getup isn’t required, but I’m here to impress and take back what I lost.