23Baseball isn't a game, or sport, or American pastime, but rather a way of life. A way of connecting my father and me to the real world. When I was 14 my father bought the New York Yankees. I was absolutely thrilled, but my mother wasn't. She thought that it was the worst thing in the world. She hates baseball.
Martha Beauford Neil was raised in New York City, under the supervision of her stuck up parents, my grandparents, and many butlers. She went to the countries finest school and was married to her parent's choice of husband, my father. Not for love, but for money.
Timothy Samuel Neil, my father, was raised just the opposite. He grew up in a small country town outside of Birmingham and played baseball during high school. When his estranged grandfather died, he left him a fortune. My father then invested it into the stock market and made more money. Thus resulting in our very very comfortable lifestyle, and his wife.
So then I, Gabriella Beauford Neil, was born. My childhood was far from normal, except for baseball. My father taught me how to play when I took my first steps. My mother on the other hand decided to send me to the finest private schools in New York.
We lived in the heart of Manhattan in a large 3-story apartment. My father once told me that it took 11 interior designers to create the look my mother wanted. But when it came to my room, she had no say.
My mother and I were truly opposites. I really didn't like her. But my father loved her so I bit my lip and did what she said, except one thing, give up baseball.
"Darling what are you staring at?" my mother asked in her annoyed voice.
I looked up from my plate and shook my head. "Nothing mother."
She let out a frustrated sigh and rolled her eyes. I looked over at my father and saw him trying not to laugh. I stabbed a piece of steak with my fork and put it into my mouth.
My mother looked up at my hand and almost choked. "What happened to your nail?" she yelped.
"I chipped it while I was warming up with Mark." I replied.
"You were with the players?" she asked,
"Yes. Mark asked me to throw him some balls." I answered. "To warm him up."
Mark Banks was the catcher for the Yankees and one of Gabriella's best friends. She had known the team for about 4 years. She loved them all as brothers. But she really loved the first baseman Tyler Davis.
"That is so tacky!" she yelled and huffed out of the dining room.
"Martha verses Ella round one." her dad laughed.
"Daddy, come on." I sipped at my glass of water and smiled at my father.
He was the best man in the world. And I was just like him. I had his dark cocoa eyes and dirty blonde hair. We both had a stubborn chin and a cute nose. I had my mom's pouty lips which allowed me to get away with a lot of things.
Martha stomped back into the room a few minutes later, her lips pursed, green eyes slanted, and fists balled. She sat down in her seat next to my father and picked up her fork.
"You anger me so much. I don't understand why you can't be a proper lady. Do you think any respectable man would want a tomboy?" she asked.
"Mother, I'm 18! I am not looking for marriage." I replied. "I'm looking for someone to have sex with." I whispered to myself.
She looked straight up at me. "What?"
I shook my head and looked at her with a confused look. She narrowed her eyes and looked back down at her plate.
"Darling do watch your food intake. I don't want you to get bigger than you already are." she replied.
I dropped my fork. "Yes mother." I snapped. "Maybe you should watch yours since you are bigger than me."
Her eyes grew wide and she opened her mouth to speak, but closed it.
My dad cleared his throat and we both silenced. I stood and walked out of the dining room and up the stairs to my bedroom.
I closed the door and changed for the baseball game. I pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a Yankee tank top. I walked out of the room and down the stairs. "Dad, I'm going to the park, Ill see you there!" I yelled as I went to the front door.
My driver Mike Stevens was standing there. "Hello Mike." I said with a smile.
"Good evening Miss Neil, to the stadium?" he asked grabbing my black pea coat off the rack.
"Yes please." I replied and turned as he helped me into it.
I pulled my red scarf around me and followed him down to the black, ford Navigator. He opened the door and I climbed in. A few minutes later we stopped in front of the baseball stadium and I climbed out and headed into the back entrance.
"Good evening Miss Gabby." one of the guards said as I walked through the entrance.
I made my way to the locker-room and walked inside. "Hey guys!" I shouted.
"Hey Gabby!" some of them bellowed back.
I walked into the owner's office and took off my coat.
"Hey princess." a voice said.
I turned around and smiled at Mark, who was poking his head into the office.
Mark just turned 28, but he was still very good looking. He was one of the new additions to the team and a great person. "Hey Mark. Are you starting?" I asked.
"Of course." he replied. "So is Tyler..." he trailed off.
I blushed lightly. "I don't know what you are talking about."
"Hey Gabby." Tyler said stopping at the door.
Tyler was 23. Her father signed him 2 years ago when he finished college. He was gorgeous and the bad boy on the team.
"Hey Ty." I replied.
Mark laughed and walked off, leaving Ty at the door and I still in the office.
"Wanna throw the ball around?" he asked.
"Sure." I replied. "Let me get my glove." I walked around to a closet and opened it. I reached up and pulled down a dark, rugged glove. I smiled and walked with him out onto the field.
He ran over to first base and I studied his retreating figure. He was tall and had a sculpted body. The baseball pants only made him hotter. He had black shaggy hair and deep blue eyes. He wasn't in his jersey, but a tank top that revealed the tattoos on his upper arms.
She snapped out of the moment and made her way over to third base. They tossed the ball around for a little bit until a group of girls came screaming down the stands. He grinned and made his way over to them.
He was a player. All the girls looked like Playboy playmates. I suddenly felt self conscious. I headed to the dugout and back into the lockeroom. I passed a mirror and stopped. I wasn't bad looking. I was tiny actually. I wore a size 5, thanks to my mother's insistent diets. My hair was at my shoulders and my teeth were straight.
I looked down and frowned. 'I found the problem.' I said to myself. Well, problems actually. My boobs weren't small, but they weren't playboy bunny big. Maybe that's what I needed.
I sighed and made my way up to the owner's box at the top of the stadium.
When the game started I sat on the edge of my seat. Whenever a play was made towards Tyler I jumped. It was soon his turn to bat and I was just about to jump out of the window when got a full count. The ball was thrown and it swung way inside and hit him in the thigh.
I jumped up.