Going the Other Way by Billy Bean

Author:Billy Bean
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Baseball
ISBN: 9781615192649
Publisher: The Experiment
Published: 2014-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

11

The Big Show

ONLY IN AMERICA ~ THE PASSION OF FARSI ~ TRADE YOU TO SAN FRANCISCO ~ BRAD AUSMUS AND MY FEAR OF FAGGOT BOMBS ~ TONY GWYNN’S TEAM ~ A BOXER, NOT A BASEBALL PLAYER ~ FIRST BIG-LEAGUE HOME RUN ~ THE ROXY ~ SAD MANTRA OF MY DOUBLE LIFE

SAM WAS SUPPOSED to be a mere dalliance. But just one week later, I found myself on the way to the San Diego airport to pick him up. We had spoken on the phone twice since I had returned to train with my new teammates that January.

He didn’t even know my real name; I’d introduced myself as “Bobby.” I was so used to lying about my identity that in my hasty exit on that snowy day, I’d forgotten to tell him the truth.

The reality of what I was doing hit me as I walked through the airport.

I reminded myself that I should be in my hotel room, resting and focusing on my training in hopes of making the big-league roster. But here I was, complicating my life in ways I couldn’t foresee.

I was patrolling the baggage-claim area when I felt him tap me on the shoulder. I was so happy to see him that I dropped the cool demeanor I’d practiced on my way there.

On the drive home, I owned up about the lie. It was the first time I’d told another gay man the truth about my identity—Billy Bean. I held back the ballplayer wrinkle. But once we got to my hotel room, he saw bats, gloves, cleats, and workout gear strewn everywhere. Even a sports innocent like Sam could figure out what I did for a living. He wasn’t impressed.

“They pay you to run around the bases?” he laughed. “Only in America.”

~

AFTER SPENDING THE 1992 baseball season in the Far East playing for the Buffaloes, I’d signed a minor-league contract that winter with the Padres. From the moment of my arrival in San Diego, I was on a mission. This was my big chance to get back in the bigs, and I wasn’t about to screw it up. At the age of twenty-nine, time was running out.

Maybe I couldn’t control the bounces, the speed, or movement of the pitches or whether my name appeared on the lineup card. But I could control the shape my body was in. While being fit might not help me get around on a 95-mile-per-hour fastball, it certainly wouldn’t hurt. If I lined a pitch toward right field, my athleticism and strength might help propel the ball into the gap, allow me to take an extra base, or even hit the ball out of the park. With my position on the cusp of the majors, I was going to give myself every conceivable advantage. I’d seen too many guys lose their edge by becoming content and lazy.

I got up at the crack of dawn each morning, consumed a breakfast of oatmeal, toast, and orange juice, and headed to Jack Murphy Stadium.

I got to

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