“There is a time in every young whackstick player’s life that they must experience the power of strength,” said Terry Collins to a curious Juan Lagares, during a break in Mets throwing practice at Cobble Hill Park. “The time for you is now, Juan, I am giving you a residency in being a good hitter.”
“Cool,” said Lagares, as he watched Daniel Murphy receive a
throw from behind a cement dolphin. “I definitely don’t understand.”
“Think of it as a retreat, like when people go into the
woods to paint stuff for like two weeks,” Collins explained.
“I’m good on that concept,” said Lagares. “Never tried it
myself, except for a certain incident in which the spirit of yage commanded me
to make the mark of my soul on a tree above a wasps nest several hundred feet above the
ground, but I don’t think that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Well,” said Collins, leaning forward, “I’m glad you had
that experience. There is no doubt in my mind it will help you with this. I’ve been
talking with Sanderson and the others, and we all agree that you are the best
fielder in the world. Actually, it’s between you and this Tibetan lady, but she
doesn’t play baseball. Anyway, we are going to have you be a superior hitter
for a few weeks to see if it takes.”
Lagares lowered his glove and snagged a baseball that had
darted his way. He signed it with the name of his favorite sandwich, then threw
it over the park fence to Lucas Duda, who was standing next to Ted and Honey. Duda abided, and went
into Ted and Honey to get Lagares his lunch of choice. He also picked up some artisanal
honey and expensive yet irresistible crackers. The cashier mentioned to Duda
that those crackers inspired him to come up with his own spread, which is a
combination of several nut butters and habanero paste.
“I’ll take three jars,” said Duda.
Back at the park, Terry Collins was looking at birds and
saying stuff.
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Collins, “because you
just told me while Lucas ordered your sandwich. If you could suddenly become a
better hitter, you would do it. But—and not that many people know this—that’s
not how baseball works. You can always try being someone else for a little
while. We call it the Agbayani Project. You don’t have to do anything. In fact, most teams don’t even tell their
players about their residencies, but we’re trying to be ethical about it. Which
reminds me, we’re also going to give you a silver fingernail to scuff up the
ball whenever you catch a fly. It makes the pitches bend more, and no one
suspects the centerfielder.”
Lagares nodded, for this last he knew to be true. No one ever suspects the centerfielder.
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