Player Season: The Pickup Artist Who Hacked Nike (9 page)

Best of all: they were all aware of each other's actions and they didn't care! I put a new meaning to the word "Timeshare".

All good things must come to an end and believe me I was heartbroken walking out the door. It was like losing a puppy or walking away from a loved one before going to war. I gave them hugs, shed a few tears (not really) and drove back to Bourne.

Walking back onto the field with my old team was a bittersweet moment. Two months prior to this day, they tried to send me packing and told me to go home. Now, they were asking me to come back. I went from being a disposable liability to a worthy asset – believing in yourself is key.

I printed out a list of pitchers with the lowest ERA in the entire league before our first game. Although I hadn't pitched enough innings to be on the list, I edited myself in at the #1 spot and taped it to the dugout. All the pitchers on the team were pissed off about it, but my coach thought it was funny so he let me pitch again, against my old team Y-D.

After catching 8 innings, I was on the mound for the 9
^th
. The first batter I faced was Tony Sanchez, the only guy to catch for me in the last 10 years and he walked to the plate with a huge smirk, flashing the hand signal for change-up mid stride. Remember, pitching is all about throwing what they least expect so I threw Tony three straight fastballs and he popped the third up to the left fielder. The next two batters also popped up and this was my last time on the mound. I finished the season with three scoreless innings.

"You know, if we can't get you signed professionally as a catcher, we might be able to do it as a pitcher," my coach told me after the game.

"Oh yeah?" I said, with a smile.

"I think so. By the way, tomorrow is scout day but we're going to let the other guy catch," my coach informed me.

Scout day is when over 100 professional scouts come to watch the game. I wasn't upset about not playing; besides, my coach was talking to them about signing me as a pitcher. I thought I was set up for success; nothing could go wrong now, could it?

After spending the night with one of the timeshare girls in Y-D, I awoke the next morning knowing I wasn't playing, so I decided to smoke some weed on my lengthy drive to the field.

When I walked in the dugout, eyes blurred, I looked at the lineup card and I was not catching but I
was
the designated hitter, batting 5
^th
.

Great. I was stoned out of my mind and I was about to hit in front of scouts from every major league team.

Somehow, I went 3-4 with a ground rule double it was my best game of the summer. Who knew weed would help me hit better?

If it isn't broke, don't fix it. So I packed up another bowl of weed on my way to the field the very next day. I was expecting more success but I was in for a disappointment.

My coach and general manager asked to speak with me alone.

"Brad, we know you were high yesterday," my coach said, while the general manager looked into my eyes as I blankly stared at him.

"You're high right now!† We can smell it on you!" the general manager righteously professed.

"I did good though," I tried to explain.

"It doesn't matter, we have to let you go," the general manager decided, reluctant to my coaches wishes.

After being so close to achieving my goal of being a professional baseball player, I self-destructed once again. I finished the summer hitting just under .300 with three scoreless innings on the mound – my baseball career was officially over.

I wasn't even bothered, it was just weed. People are entitled to their own opinions but it doesn't mean I have to agree with them.

Anyways, I took Justin up on his offer and flew out to Arizona. Scorching hot weather, beautiful women and complete freedom awaited. I couldn't have been much happier.

Now that baseball was no longer in the running to be my career, it was time to focus my attention elsewhere. With Justin being at the field most of the day, there was plenty of time to roam the complex at his condo and seek out successful people to network with.

I figured the pool was a good place to start, so I laced up a pair of swimming trunks, grabbed a towel, threw on a pair of Oakley sunglasses and ventured downstairs.

The pool was located in the center of the complex, surrounded by multiple levels of tinted windows and gardens of greenery, which somehow survived the agonizing heat.

There was only one other person brave enough to withstand the extreme weather that day. Sitting underneath a shaded table was an elegant woman with short black hair, platinum looped earrings and dark framed reading glasses. In one hand rested a book in the other, a glass of red wine.

I wasn't sure if I would interrupt her by approaching but I never liked being alone and I wanted to say hello, so I went in.

"Hey, I'm Brad, how are you doing?" I opened.

"Hey Brad, I've never seen you before, what brings you here?" she said, welcomingly, without giving her name.

"I'm just in town from Virginia visiting my friend, he's at work right now so I wanted to walk around and meet some people," I explained.

"Virginia? Is your friend the baseball player?" the woman asked.

"Yeah, that's him," I responded.

"That's nice. I think there are some NFL players who live here too," she said, and then finished her glass of wine.

"Oh, well you're the first person I've met," I told her.

"What an honor. I'm going back in to get another glass of wine, you can join me if you'd like," the woman offered.

"Sure." I said, and we both stood up.

We entered her place and it was extravagant; much nicer than Justin's. Marble floors stretched through the kitchen and into the living room, which was outfitted in expensive leather furniture. I knew one fact thus far; she was wealthy. I wanted to pick her brain and find out how she made this life for herself.

"What do you do for a living? What made you so successful?" I asked.

She paused for a moment, her eyes grew wider, and then she took a sip of red wine out of a crystal clear glass.

"Real estate," she eventually replied.

"You're a real estate agent?" I stupidly asked.

"Ha, no. I'm retired now but I used to buy and sell land," she explained, without going into too much detail.

"How does that work?" I pressed on.

"I used to find land in a desirable location where I knew others would eventually want to buy, and then I sold it to them," she divulged.

I can take a hint, and I could tell she wasn't too interested in talking about herself. I guess most truly successful people aren't. Nonetheless, I learned that real estate is a formidable path to wealth so I moved on to another area of expertise.

"What advice can you give me about women?" I asked, and she immediately smiled.

"They don't want to go out with you more than three times without figuring out if you're good in bed or not. You know, I could introduce you to some girls," she rapidly responded.

"Interesting," I said.

"Indeed. So what do you want to do in life?" she asked.

"I was thinking about getting into computers and starting an online business but I don't know too much about it, I would probably need some help," I explained.

"What kind of help do you need?" she curiously wondered.

"Um, computer and PR advice I suppose."

At that very moment, she got on her computer and began typing away. I didn't know what she was doing or whom she was typing to, but she was doing it with a huge smile on her face.

"Just keep networking with people like you just did with me and it'll all work out for you," were her last words.

I guess she was right, you never know who you're really talking to.

Five hours later, I picked up Justin from the stadium. He was enchanted and ultimately caught off guard after walking into his condo.

"Wow, there's a naked girl on my couch," said Justin.

"Yeah," I responded, nonchalantly.

"That's cool," he said, followed by his typical high-pitched laughter.

Then we played Halo for an hour, while the naked girl continued resting on the couch.

"By the way, when the season ends, we're going to Vegas!" Justin later announced.

The season ended, and we went to Vegas along with Chris Young.

Justin's agent arranged for the three of us to stay in a top-floor suite at the Bellagio so we hopped in the car and drove west.

A dazzling display of waterworks complimented our arrival outside the front entrance while we made our way upstairs to a luxurious two-bedroom suite; my bed was the couch.

Chris and Justin ordered pizza while I went downstairs to become acquainted with the blackjack table. A few minutes later, two young ladies joined my table.

"Are you here alone?" they asked.

"No, my friends are upstairs, they're professional baseball players," I responded with bait.

"Who are they?" one asked, as her attention noticeably grew.

"Justin Upton and Chris Young," I told them.

"I want to meet them!" she excitably responded.

"Ok, come up to our room," I told them.

"Let me get my other friends," she said.

I went upstairs to tell Justin the good news. Chris was already out visiting a girl, so we waited for what we thought would be a group of girls.

When they arrived, it was a group of four girls plus one gay dude.

One of the girls was, how should I put it, more excited than the rest. She immediately grabbed Justin's arm and the two of them disappeared into his room for a tour of the bathroom...I suppose.

I was busy entertaining the guests with nonsense to keep their mind off what I assumed was going on in the background. My curiosity eventually built up so I knocked on the bathroom door.

"Are you alright in there buddy?" I asked Justin.

"Yeah, one second," Justin said, before walking out while fastening his belt.

No questions were asked, but the girl remained in the bathroom and just looked at me it appeared to be an invitation. So I entered.

Apparently Justin's entertainment abilities and/or defensive skills weren't as potent as mine...her friends were banging on the door seconds later.

The girls left and we went to a strip club. Not just any strip club, it was the world renowned Spearmint Rhino.

I wondered what made this place so special, and I got my answer as soon as I walked in – the dancers were famous pornstars.

One of them I recognized in particular and her name was Devon Michaels. I was a fan of her work, which I had to research for a school project, or maybe it was just from watching porn online, I can't recall.

"You look familiar," I said to her, while handing her money for a lap dance.

"Oh yeah? You're cute!" the big-breasted brunette vixen said.

"Have you ever thought about making a profile on SugarDaddy.com?" she asked, while gyrating her hips.

"No, I'm not a girl and I'm not a sugar daddy," I responded.

"Hah, no. You make a profile and old women pay you to hangout with them," she said, as she smiled with her cute dimples.

"I'll think about it," I told her, as the dance came to an end.

Meanwhile, Justin was spending a large majority of his signing bonus in the private dance room. Fighting temptation along the way, I walked up to him and told him we should go.

"Man, shut up! I'll be done when I'm done!" Justin angrily barked at me.

Finally, he emerged and the three of us went to a normal club down the street. This is where my night took a turn for the worst.

After drinking entirely too much champagne, I lost track of Justin and Chris the last thing I remembered was walking out the front door alone.

I awoke shivering in a cold, pitch-dark room. My bare legs were numb from sleeping on concrete – I knew something went terribly wrong.

My pants were nowhere to be found, my socks were missing and my shoes were nowhere in sight. On top of this, I wasn't wearing underwear; a striped dress shirt was the last remnant of my monkey suit, literally the
only
remaining article of clothing.

The panic set in. Was I drugged? Did someone lead me here? Where in the fuck was I?

I sprung to my feet and tried adapting to my surroundings. It appeared as if I was in some type of stairwell, there was an exit door nearby. So I pushed, hoping to find the lightany lightbut it was locked.

Then the panic really set in. I pictured being stuck here forever, I knew crazy things happen in Vegas but this was too extreme it was like the beginning scene of a horror film.

I slowly descended down two flights of stairs and tried to open the exit door on each floor to no avail. Alas, I saw a phone against the wall.

As soon as I picked it up, it rang.

"Hello?" a woman said.

"Where in the fuck am I?" I frantically asked.

"You're at the Bellagio, and you're calling from the emergency staircase," she said, with a laugh.

"How in the hell do I get out?" I begged.

"You can only get in, the doors don't open from the inside. I will send someone up to get you," the woman said, heavily amused.

"Thank you!" I told her.

The door opened and two men in cream-colored suits yelled out for me it felt like I was being rescued from sea.

I walked up the stairs covering my private area because, well, I was free balling. Both of them immediately erupted in laughter.

"What happened to you?" they asked.

"I have no fucking clue, please take me to my room," I told them, still puzzled.

Once we entered the hallway, I realized it was the same floor we were staying on. My bare feet paced along the carpet floor and my hands continued covering my mid-section with my ass fully exposed.

I knocked on the door.

"What the fuck?" Justin said, confused.

"I don't know, I just don't know," I told him.

To this day I still have no idea what happened or why it happened.

After sobering up and sleeping, we drove back to Arizona. Our next destination was Florida, the Tampa Bay Rays just reached the World Series, and we were going to stay with BJ.