“Logan...” Dad pauses and I raise an eyebrow. Dad’s the one who convinced me to give baseball a try after the initial diabetes diagnosis when I was seven. It was his attempt to prove that I could do anything, even with type 1. I often wonder if he regrets that conversation. Bet he never thought his son with type 1 would become a daredevil.
Dad reboots and starts the conversation again. “Logan knows when to test and has been giving himself his insulin for years.”
It’s a politician answer. The truth without admitting the truth. Dad doesn’t think I’m responsible. Not with my diabetes and not with my life.
Coach Reynolds accepts Dad’s answer with a wave of his hand. “Sounds good. We’ll hold a team meeting if he decides to join. Explain the situation to them. Maybe if you have a pamphlet—”
“No.” I cut him off and his eyes snap to mine.
“What?”
“If I join nobody but the coaching staff knows.”
Coach Reynolds warily flicks his eyes to my parents. He’s searching for support but ends up on his own. “I’ll admit to not understanding your condition, son, but from what I understand, this is serious.”
It is. I crashed once on an ER table. Shit doesn’t get much more real and serious than that. “Outside of doctors’ offices, there are a handful of people who are aware of my diabetes. My last team won back-to-back state championships and my teammates never knew their catcher can’t produce enough insulin.”
My two best friends didn’t know and still don’t.
“There’s no shame in telling—”
I cut him off again. “Would you run headfirst into a guy whose body doesn’t work right? Would you purposefully hurl a ball full force at a guy if you thought he was broken?”
Coach Reynolds circles his wedding ring on his finger and my stomach bottoms out. Bet he’s got kids and he’s confusing his feelings for them with the idea of putting me on the field. “Should they? I have to admit, I’m questioning if this choice is wise.”
I rest my arms on the table and lean forward, never breaking eye contact. “I stood between your biggest guy and home plate in the championship a few weeks back. He hauled ass in my direction for home. I caught the ball, took the charge, and tagged his ass out. I’m sitting here and from what I hear, he’s still nursing a broken leg. I am not weak.”
Dad pulls a letter out from a folder and slips it across to the coach. “It’s a letter from his doctor. Logan’s cleared to play. He has to test more when he’s practicing and during games, but there’s no reason for his diabetes to hold him back.”
When Coach Reynolds’s eyes stop the back and forth proving his reading, he simply stares at the bottom of the page, weighing his need for a catcher over the burden of responsibility of having a kid with diabetes on his team.
He knocks the table two times and finally meets my eyes. His desire for a championship team won. “I just saw and heard passion. You sure you’re done playing ball?”
A hundred-mile-per-hour fastball being thrown at me or taking the brunt of a guy in his hunt for home as I tag him out? That’s some crazy shit and I need a dose of crazy—daily. There’s something wrong with my brain. There’s a constant itch under my skin, a twitch in my mind, and if I don’t find a rush, then I feel like I’ll go insane.
Am I done with baseball? Who knows. But... “I need the summer off.”
Coach nods with a victory smile on his face. “All right. I can respect that. Fall ball practice starts the first week of school. I expect to see you on my field.”
A waitress drops a tray full of food, the entire restaurant gawks, and when Coach Reynolds returns his attention to the table, Mom starts telling him about an herbal tea at the organic foods store she manages that would be great for the team during training.
“You sure about this?” Dad mumbles in my direction.
He’s used to me following whatever path I like at the moment. It’s predictable that he’ll second-guess and ask me if this is what I really want. Has nothing to do with baseball. Me playing ball—that’s not what’s important to him. My health is. My mental stability.
“Just need the summer.”
Dad shoots me a look that suggests later he and I will discuss everything I’m not