Grand Slam

When we graduated from college, my friends and I made a pact that we would only play Truth or Tequila five more times—at each of our bachelorette parties. Tonight's number four and it couldn't come at a worse time. I have a meeting with a new client tomorrow. I can't be hungover. I'm already at a disadvantage with the client. I'm not much of a sports fan. I don't even know who the players are, but I guess I'll worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, it seems that, once again, I'm destined for tequila and bad decisions.

I haven't spent much time with Sophie since we were kids. When we started high school, we headed in different directions and never looked back. She invited me to her wedding this weekend. I don't want to go because despite all our years apart, I know one thing hasn't changed: her mission to find me the perfect man. I've told her I don't have time for dating, but she never listens. I'm guessing she's going to be pushing some guy at me the minute I get off the plane.

For me, the worst part about being a professional athlete is the fame. Hands down. Nothing else even comes close. I'm a quiet guy. I'm even a little bit shy. The attention is overwhelming at times, but I deal with it because it's part of my job description. But now my fame is affecting Sophie. People are starting to harass her. And that can't happen. She's more important to me than anything—baseball included. I've told her I'll quit playing the second she tells me it's too much—that very second. Even if it's in the middle of the World Series.