Scout's Honor

"How are you coming with your reports?"

"I've got the pitcher's all wrapped up and I'll have the outfielder's done tomorrow."

"Give me your bottom-line impression, Cory. What's your gut telling you?"

Cory Landrieu had been scouting minor-league players for twelve years which was one year short of how long it had been since he'd played in the big leagues. He tried various things after he retired or rather, was let go, at the age of 28. It had taken him until he was 25 to get called up and his rather checkered career lasted all of three years, but he'd still made a lot of money and had been savvy enough to put most of it away. Nearly every other guy he knew in his position was broke if not dead broke. Hell, even some of the better players spent every dollar they earned. He'd watched guys get million-dollar signing bonuses and seven-figure contracts for two or three years and spend it faster than it came in and leave with nothing on the way out.

Not Cory. He had close to a million dollars invested and owned his own home and a decent car. His alimony payments were behind leaving with no bills other than child support, money he was happy to spend on his 12-year old daughter, Amanda. He was otherwise able to what he loved to do. Baseball.

He'd tried running a restaurant like a lot of other former players, but he'd hated every minute of it. An old friend in the Seattle Mariners looked him up and offered him a job scouting college and minor leaguers and he'd initially turned it down because it was mostly endless traveling, paperwork and filing reports. But in the final analysis, Cory concluded it was still baseball and even if he couldn't play the game an longer, he could still be around it and that was enough. He was gone a lot, he ate and slept in a ton of small diners and motels in podunk towns, but he didn't mind too much because he was doing something he truly enjoyed. It also helped that he was damn good at it.

"Don't waste your time on the pitcher, but sign the outfielder," he said in answer to the question. "And do it soon. He's good, Tom. He's one of the best I've seen in the last two years. If we don't sign him fast, someone else will."

The outfielder was Desean Washington, a tall, lanky black kid with a strong arm, a lot of speed, and a natural hitter. He'd never hit a lot of home runs, but he had the potential to bat .300, steal a lot of bases, and score a bunch of runs. He could more than hold his own defensively, but he'd need some time in the minors to polish and hone his skills. The bottom line was this kid had a sky's-the-limit future ahead of him and Landrieu couldn't recommend him strongly enough.

Cory'd already spoken to him several times and as a 22-year college senior, he didn't need parental permission to do anything. But this kid was a clean cut, straight arrow who still lived at home with his mother. That was probably the main reason he'd chosen to play for the University of Washington Huskies, a school not know for its baseball teams. It had a very strong football program and did okay on the basketball court, but it was no Arizona State when it came to the Great American Pastime. The only reason he'd even agreed to scout this kid was that it allowed him to spend an extra week at home and see Amanda. But the first time he saw him, he thanked his lucky stars he'd agreed to do so.

Desean was eager to turn pro, but said he wouldn't sign anything without his mother's approval, and Cory was meeting with them both the following afternoon. Landrieu found himself not only enjoying the kid's talents on the field, but his company off the field as they went for dinner or did other things together to find out what kind of character he had. To his great delight, Desean had a lot of it and hanging out with him was more fun than duty.

With any luck, his mother would agree to the terms the team would offer once his report was final. That meant that young Mr. Washington would become an instant millionaire thanks to the signing bonus alone. Okay, taxes would take about 40% of it, but for a kid without a pot to piss in, that wasn't a bad start. A couple of years in the minor leagues making $25,000 a year paying his dues could well lead to a call-up to the bigs where he'd be making real money where the minimum salary was $500,000 a year.

He sent his report as an attachment to an email around 10pm and by 8am he had the approval to make the offer he'd expected. He could get a binding electronic signature as a temporary authorization before the lawyers swooped in and made it official within 72 hours.

He'd had no trouble finding the address in one of Seattle's poorest neighborhoods the first time he'd stopped by to pick up Desean. His mother worked—a lot—and Landrieu had yet to meet her. He located the tiny, dilapidated, two-bedroom house and parked the car out front as he always did. He walked up the short walkway which led to the front door and as he went to knock, it opened for him. "Mr. Landrieu! Please come in. My momma's anxious to meet you."

He led Cory inside and asked him to have a seat. He did so on a very old sofa covered with a blanket. He moved around twice trying to find a spot that didn't have an exposed spring before settling in.

"My apologies, Mr. Landrieu. It's on my very long list of things to take care of."

Hearing a female voice, Landrieu stood without looking. He also smiled and extended his hand before making eye contact. When his eyes met hers he was unprepared for what he saw and compared to what he expected, it caught him completely by surprise.

"I'm Talisha Washington. It's a pleasure to meet. Won't you please sit down?" she suggested. She smiled as she warned him, "Just be careful."

Her smile was amazing. It was bright and genuine. Perfect white teeth framed by soft, full lips. Her face was nothing short of beautiful and he quickly saw that everything below the neck matched the beauty above it. Landrieu had been in the homes of more poor people than he could count and a substantial percentage of them happened to be black. He'd talked to scores of mothers over the years in homes just like this one all over the country and almost without exception, whether they were black, white, or brown, they fit a kind of profile—not in any kind of negative or stereotypical way. It was just that they tended to be average looking to well...something less...with many of them also being um...rather large. On rare occasions he'd met a mom here or there who was attractive and a time or two he'd one who was even pretty. He'd just never before run into one who was...beautiful.

And although it didn't make a bit of difference to him, the voice he heard also didn't match his expectations. He didn't follow or even care about politics, but he couldn't help but think of something the current vice president once said about the current president: "Here's a guy who speaks with no Negro dialect unless he wants to." To say he was surprised that guy was the one selected to be his running mate was an understatement in the extreme. Landrieu laughed to himself as he thought about the old saying: Politics makes for strange bedfellows. But as crass or careless as the vice-president's comments had been, they most definitely applied in this case.

He turned his attention back to this unbelievably attractive woman in front of him as he tried to square the circle by figuring out how a woman so good looking could be living in this kind of quasi-poverty. How was it she hadn't had a modeling career or become a professional in medicine, law, or some other discipline? She could have certainly married into money had she so desired because it was a fact that very attractive would could attract wealthy men. He wasn't implying Talisha, or any woman for that matter, should do such a thing, only that it was very possible to do so. Therefore, the enigma became even more intriguing as he fought to make sense of something that seemed so out of place to him.

"Mr. Landrieu?" she said in a way that let him know she'd said something he hadn't heard.

"Ma'am?" he said.

"Would you like some tea? I can have a cup ready in five minutes."

"Um, well, if you're having some, then sure. I'd like that. But please don't bother for my sake."

"I'll be right back. You two go ahead and talk while I put the water on."

He watched her walk away and couldn't help but notice she was wearing what was likely the nicest dress she had. It was made of cotton and had a kind purple floral design to it. She wore an older matching cardigan sweater over it along with a simple gold necklace and gold studs which glittered against her flawless, milk-chocolate complexion.

"Sir?" he heard in the distance.

"Sorry? What was that?" he said turning toward Desean.

"I told you my momma's real pretty, didn't I," he said more as a statement than a question.

"Um, yes, you did tell. I just hadn't noticed," he said not wanting to admit he was having trouble focusing let alone that something was causing a stir in a place that usually only happened in a bar on a weekend night. Landrieu had no problem finding 'dates' or whatever one cared to call taking one attractive, nameless girl after the other back to a nameless motel trying to fill the void left by the painful divorce six years earlier.

"Uh-huh. I can see you not noticing," Desean said with a smile. "It's cool. Everybody says my momma is fine and even though she's my momma, I can't argue with that. She is a beautiful woman."

"I heard that, Desean!" she said from the kitchen. "There's no need to butter me up, baby. You know I love you more than anything."

"I love you more, Momma!" he called back.

Desean had her smile and her looks. Landrieu had no doubt he probably had to carry a baseball bat around to beat back the flock of young co-eds and other women regularly hitting on him. Once he signed this contract, they'd have a million other reasons to like him, too.

Cory asked him about school and how things were going. "Good. I'm graduating in a month and if I don't blow any finals, my GPA should be above 3.0 for the whole four years. Not bad for a poor black kid, right?"

"Not bad for anyone, Cory. I know your mother's gotta be very proud of you."

"I heard that, too," she called out. "And you have no idea, Mr. Landrieu. That boy is my pride and joy."

"You have every right to feel that way, Ms. Washington. He's not only a very talented baseball player, he's smart and...not too bad looking, I suppose." He smiled at Desean who laughed at his comment.

Talisha poked her head around the corner and said, "I swear those girls are gonna wear a hole in that door knocking on it asking for my son day and night. It never stops." She smiled at her son and said, "So I guess he might be pretty good looking at that."

"Momma!" Desean said. "Why you gotta bust my chops like that in front of Mr. Landrieu?"

"Because you're my baby boy and that's what mothers do."

Cory laughed and said, "Well, I can see where he gets those good looks from."

Talisha had gone back into the kitchen as the tea kettle whistled but looked back around and said to him, "Uh, oh. Another smooth-talking white man. You keep on eye on him, son," she told Desean with a big smile. "Oh, and keep an eye on my fine china and my expensive jewelry, too." The wink she gave Landrieu made him completely lose focus again.

Landrieu'd been flirted with more times than he could remember over the years and when he was playing in the majors, groupies followed the team to their motels and threw themselves at the stars and most of the starting players for that matter. Sure, it helped that he was a really good-looking guy but even the 'fugly' players—the name teammates gave to those they considered 'fucking ugly'—could get laid on any given night. But Landrieu had been married then and he'd never once strayed. Since his divorce however, he'd had more than his share of good-looking girls hitting on him and he never turned down a freebie. Okay...not so much girls anymore but women in their mid-20s and early-to-mid 30s. So why was this beautiful single mother able to do...that...to him with a wink and a smile?

She brought in three cups and asked if he'd like milk and sugar. "One sugar, please," he asked thanking her for the tea.

After a first sip, Cory opened his briefcase and said, "Ms. Washington, I've already discussed this with your son, but as you know he wanted you to have the opportunity to look over any offer before signing." He set a copy of a signing contract then turned on his iPad and produced an electronic version of it.

"I've been authorized to offer Desean a signing bonus of..." He looked at both of them, smiled then said, "One million dollars."

"Oh, my Lord!" Talisha exclaimed. "What's the catch?"

"Ma'am?" Cory asked not understanding her question.

"What's the catch? What does my son have to do in order to receive this money? He can't just sign the paper and you deposit a check. So what's the catch?"

"There's no 'catch' Ms. Washington, but there are contingencies."

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere. Such as?" she asked him.

"Well, for instance, Desean has to pass a physical administered by a team doctor."

"That's it? That's the only...contingency?" she pressed.

"There are a couple of others. Both are standard. Obviously, should Desean be arrested for anything serious, the team could rescind the offer."

"My son has never been in trouble with the law, Mr. Landrieu, and he's not going to start now. What else?"

"I wasn't implying he had been or would be, ma'am," he said feeling as though he'd offended her. "The only other contingency is tied to his ability to pass the physical. Should Desean not be able to play due to...let's say a broken leg or something along those lines, the signing bonus would not be paid. But other than those kinds of issues, it really is that simple. Desean signs and the day he shows up at training camp healthy and ready to play, the team deposits a million dollars in his bank account."

"It's not that I don't trust you personally, Mr. Landrieu," she said. "I've just learned over my life to be...careful. Especially where...men are concerned."

"Momma? Please. Mr. Landrieu's not like that. I trust him."

She looked at her son then back at Cory. "Do you have children, Mr. Landrieu?"

"Yes, ma'am. A daughter."

"So you understand why I'm so protective of Desean, right?"

"Of course. He's very fortunate to have a mother who loves him and cares about him so much."

Desean was nodding in agreement as Talisha said, "Then it's up to Desean. If this is what he wants, I support him." She looked over at him and asked, "Is it? Are you sure? What if another team comes along and offers you more money, baby?"

Desean had had one other offer from the Toronto Blue Jays and it was for half a million dollars. "Momma, this is about as good as it gets. And like I told you, the first thing I'm gonna do with the money is buy you a new house and then a car and then some nice clothes and..."

"Baby? I don't want or need your money. All I want is for you to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted."

Desean looked at his mother then at Cory. "That's the gospel truth," he said to him. "My momma had me when she was just 14 and she still raised me on her own."

"Your grandmother did more than her share, God bless her soul," Talisha said. "I couldn't have done it without her. Don't you ever forget that, son."

"I know, Momma, but you worked two and sometimes three jobs just to keep a roof over my head. I just wanna give something back. You know I love you, but I want to show it, too."

"We can talk about about that later on. Right now, you've got something to sign."

"Can I get you some more tea, Mr. Landrieu?" she asked him as he showed Desean where to sign the electronic copy using his finger.

"No, thank you," he said smiling. "This was very nice, though. I appreciate it very much."

Desean swirled his index finger then dotted the 'i' and crossed the 't' in his last name and pushed it back toward Cory who stood up and shook his hand. He held out a Seattle Mariner's jersey with the number 31 on it and his last name sewn on the back and handed it to Desean. "Congratulations and welcome to the Seattle Mariner's organization."

"Where do you think they'll start me out, Mr. Landrieu? Double A? Triple A?"

"That's not up me, Desean. You'll get a tryout with one of the Mariners' farm teams and from there it's all up to you. My best guess—and this is nothing but a guess—is you're good enough to start out in AA ball. My sense is you'll spend a year before moving up to AAA but that's where the rubber meets the road. Very few players—even those who get to AAA baseball—ever get called up the big leagues. It's all a matter of performance, timing, and even a little luck. Speaking of which...good luck, Desean."

He closed up his briefcase and thanked Talisha again for her hospitality. She picked up the cups and took them to the kitchen. Desean said, "Excuse me for a second, please," as he followed his mother.

"So can I?" he asked her.

"Child? I told you not to bring that up. You know how I feel about dating..."

"Momma, please."

"Not so loud."

Landrieu couldn't hear all of the conversation, but he did hear her say, "As far as white men go, he is a nice-looking man. But I'm looking to meet anyone right now black or white." Her voice trailed off and Landrieu stood there feeling foolish and very out of place.

Desean came back in first along with his mother and said, "Sorry about that, Mr. Landrieu. I just needed to see if my momma needed some help. You know, with the dishes and all."

Landrieu accepted the explanation without question and extended his hand again to both of the Washingtons. He shook both of them before saying, "Okay, so the team will be in touch with you regarding your physical."

He got to the door and asked Desean, "How many games does the university have left? Three?"

"Yes, sir. All three here at home," Desean told him.

"Well, good luck. And remember, even though I'm not watching, your stats still matter. Hits, stolen bases, RBIs, errors. They all count. So keep churning out the numbers." He turned toward Talisha and thanked her one last time before Desean showed him out.

He walked with him down to his car and said, "I hope you didn't hear too much of what we said in the kitchen."

"No, not too much," he said not wanting to admit what he actually had heard.

"I never knew my father and my mom has trust issues with men. They hit on her all the time, but she almost never goes out, you know? It's all about work and money and...me. So that's why I want to help out and give something back, you know what I'm sayin'?"

"I do," Cory assured him. "She really is a beautiful woman, Desean. I just don't think I'm um...your mother's type, you know?"

"I don't know if she has a type, Mr. Landrieu. I don't think she's been on one date a year since I started college. I've kind of been her whole world and it's gonna kill her when I leave home this summer. I just want her to be happy, you know?"

"I do, Desean. Trust takes time to build and unfortunately, I don't think I'm going to have a chance to do that with you mom."

"But you'd go out with her if she'd say 'yes', right?" he asked hopefully.

Landrieu smiled and said, "Desean? I know you care deeply about your mother, but I'm not in her...league," he said choosing his words carefully.

"But you are!" Desean told him. "Look, I've tried to set my momma up with a lot of guys the last few years and regardless of what you might have heard, I saw her look at you. And she doesn't look at many men that way, black or...whatever."

Landrieu laughed and said, "Under different circumstances it might be very different. But I also know a lot about women, Desean, and there's no way to get my foot in the door where your mom is concerned. Again, she really is a very attractive woman. But without some way of getting that foot inside, I'm afraid this is it. Thanks for looking out for me, though. Knowing how much you love her and how protective you are of her, it means a helluva lot that you'd even consider me."