By Stoney M. Setzer
“You’re Sam Luger, second baseman for the Carolina Reapers, right?” Dr. Frewer’s thick Texas accent preceded him into the examination room.
“That’s right.” I shifted nervously. People usually didn’t recognize me away from the ballpark.
Frewer smiled. “I suppose you think it’s a little weird that an optometrist called you, instead of the other way around.”
“Yeah.” I fidgeted again, embarrassed at my inability to hide my apprehension.
He held out a pair of weird-looking goggles. “How would you feel about wearing these on the field?”
I took the goggles and studied them carefully, trying to think of something nice to say. “They’re not too bad, I guess. Didn’t Cincinnati once have a third baseman who wore something like these?”
Frewer chuckled. “I assure you, his goggles were nothing like these. Try them on.”
I did, and Frewer pulled a ball out of his coat pocket. “Now watch.”
He tossed the ball, and an arc of orange light extended from the ball toward me. The ball followed the arc exactly, as if on a wire. I put my hands in its path at the last second and caught the ball easily.
“I call it predictive vision. It shows you the exact path the ball will take. You’re an ideal test subject.”
“Why me?”
“Improving a poor player’s performance too dramatically would arouse suspicion. You’re at the fiftieth percentile in terms of ability—absolutely average.” Frewer’s Texas accent and his scientific jargon sounded weird together.
“Gee, thanks.”
“My research shows you have a good swing when you actually make contact, and you have a good throwing arm when you catch the ball cleanly, also making you ideal.”
“Are you a southpaw, Doc? Because you’re sure making a lot of left-handed compliments.”
Frewer smirked. “Before you get too offended, consider the possibilities. Your contract with the Reapers expires this year, correct?”
“Well, yeah…”
“So, improving this season might earn you more money on your next contract, right?”
That got my attention. My parents had sacrificed a lot for me growing up, and I wanted to have the funds to take care of them in their old age. “True. All right, what’s the catch?”
The doctor smiled. “As you might guess, this advantage isn’t exactly legal. My one stipulation is that you can’t breathe a word of this. Keep it quiet, and the goggles are free. Run your mouth, and I’ll sue, as per this agreement.” He handed me a tablet with an electronic document for me to sign.
I signed immediately. “What’ve I got to lose?”
“Lu-ger! Lu-ger!” the fans chanted as I stepped up to the plate. In years past, I’d never gotten that kind of a reception. Then again, I’d never hit as well as I had this year. Thanks to the goggles, I was a breakout star. It had started with three hits on Opening Day and just kept going.
My newfound fame was intoxicating. Seeing fans wearing my number, holding up signs with my name on it, chanting my name—star players got that kind of treatment, but it was all new to me. In the back of my mind, I’d started believing I really was as good as they thought, that there really was more to my improvement than just the goggles.
Today I faced a tied game, two outs in the ninth, with Jack Berringer pitching for Memphis. So far, I’d struck out every time I’d faced him, but I hadn’t faced him yet this year. I’d be seeing him through new eyes, so to speak.
I decided to toy with Berringer a bit, letting him throw a couple of pitches before I swung. The result was the first game-winning home run of my career.
Afterward, reporters swarmed my locker like bees. “How does it feel to be the big hero of tonight’s game?” one asked.
“It feels like all my hard work has finally paid off,” I replied. Why not enjoy this?
“Things really seemed to turn around for you once you started wearing goggles,” another reporter said. “How has that helped you?”
Fortunately, Frewer and I had already devised a response. “Well, seeing the ball is obviously very important. I consulted with a specialist this off-season, and now I’m seeing the ball better than ever.”
None of it was a lie, not really.
October rolled around, and so did the playoffs. The Reapers had been in the playoffs in years past, but we’d never made it to the championship. Then again, I’d never had predictive vision before. Combined with the rest of our roster, I was certain we’d be unstoppable.
I’d never been a star player before, but deep down, I knew that I was the difference, that my playing was the main reason our team was doing so well. Since my contract was up, I also knew that I’d be signing a new one for more money than I’d ever seen—more than I’d have ever seen if not for the goggles. If I could add a championship to my resume, so much the better. Maybe even somewhere like Los Angeles or New York would make me an offer.
Our opponents in the championship series were the Houston Rustlers, with the first game in their ballpark. Because of the schedule, we hadn’t faced them all year, so there was an air of mystery about them. I knew they’d been struggling as recently as July and had made the playoffs only because of a dramatic improvement in their performance.
Once the pre-game warm-ups started, I understood the secret of their success. Every single Rustler came out of the dugout wearing goggles just like mine—predictive vision goggles.
My gaze fell on the first row of seats behind the Rustlers’ dugout. There, wearing a Rustlers hat and t-shirt, sat Dr. Frewer. He saw me and shrugged.
Goggles or not, I guess I should have seen that coming.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Loved that last line! 😂 Looks like the doctor was a true entrepreneur…
Yep! Glad you enjoyed it!
you hit it right out of the park!
Thank you! Glad you liked it!
I can’t catch anything to save my life. These would be super helpful!
Ikr! Same here!
Haha I agree Zoe!
Oh wow, I did it see that coming! Great story! Thanks for sharing :)
Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it!
Such a fun story, Stoney! I loved the part that said people usually didn’t recognize me away from the ballpark. I’m a healthcare worker who wears scrubs, glasses, and a tight bun at work. My colleagues rarely recognize me outside work. 😂 The goggles were great!
Thank you! I wonder how many other people feel that way outside of work. I’m glad you enjoyed the story!
This was such a fun story!
Thank you!
The ending made me giggle 😂
Thank you!
I laughed. So hard.
And then I realized that team loyalty runs deeper than I thought…
Yep, it does indeed. Thank you!