The Animal and the Choir Boy

One of baseball's premier hitters, Slade Stonehouse is a barrel-chested braggart who “talks the talk and walks the walk.”

Bascom Plume, owner of the Milwaukee Brewers, tolerates Slade’s unrepentant partying because the left fielder’s prodigious home runs bring fans to the park.

Despite his gaudy statistics, Stonehouse has yet to lead the team to the World Series.

“We’re going to change that,” Manager Porter Hodge says to Slade during spring training.

“You know somethin’ I don’t?” Slade asks.

“You see that man in the batting cage?”

“Yeah. Ain’t that the kid Plume’s been harpin’ about? That goody-two-shoes ain’t ready for the majors.”

The hitter rockets a ball into the stands. Slade chuffs when he does it again.

Porter reaches into his pocket for his ever-present antacid tablets and pops one. “Dash Walden has outgrown the minor leagues. The plan is to make him our right fielder and have him bat in front of you.”

Slade gives the small, slim manager a threatening look.

“You two are going to be teammates for a long time, so you’d better figure out how to play nice.”

The press quickly latches onto Slade and Dash’s contrasts – Slade loves the spotlight, while Dash hides from it. Slade is a playboy who craves women; Dash is a puritanical gentleman. Slade stays out on all-night benders, which has earned him the title “The Animal,” bragging he only needs four hours of sleep a night; Dash gets 10 hours of sleep and doesn’t drink, inspiring Slade to nickname him “The Choir Boy.”

Physically, they are a study in contrasts, too. Thirty-five-year-old Slade has an upturned nose and a broad, doughy face that gives him a look reminiscent of a rugged dock worker. Years of excessive alcohol and rich food have saddled his tall, spindly-legged figure with a paunch that hangs over his belt. Handsome, twenty-three-year-old Dash has chiseled features, rippling muscles, and abundant, wavy hair.

Their backgrounds accentuate their differences. A dropout at the age of sixteen, Slade was raised by his grandparents. His uncle, a classmate of Bascom Plume, wrangled him a spring training audition at a time when the Brewers were desperate for players. Dash, who received an MBA from Colgate, was twice named college player of the year and was scouted by every major league team.

***

Dash extends his hand.

Slade looks down at Dash’s hand as if it’s diseased. He reluctantly shakes his hand, squeezing it tightly. Dash squeezes harder, forcing Slade to pull his hand away.

Slade looks Dash over. “Let’s get one thing straight, kid. I’m the big dog here. Stay outta my shadow.”

“It’s a pretty big shadow,” Dash replies.

***

The Brewers get off to a fast start, taking first place and never relinquishing it. Slade and Dash are tied for the major league lead in home runs. Slade has more runs batted in, benefiting from having Dash on base in front of him. The pair of sluggers wind up on the cover of every sports magazine and always praise one another in interviews.

They try to be friends, playing cards on long flights. Slade frequently cheats, irritating Dash to the point where he usually walks away. They try playing tennis, but Dash blitzes Slade every time, prompting an agitated Slade to spend more time chasing the waitresses at the country club than staying on the court.

Slade watches his diet in the early part of the season, giving up drinking and late nights with questionable companions.

In July, the team flies back from Los Angeles on a Wednesday night. They have Thursday off before beginning a weekend series with the Arizona Diamondbacks. Dash and Slade have just been named to the All-Star team, and everyone celebrates. By the time they get off the plane, all the players are hammered. They go home. Slade goes out.

Slade meets Amanda Wheeler and her friend, Kelly Rucker, at Who’s On Third, a sports bar he’s frequented in the past. Amanda is a blogger who has written several sarcastic articles about “The Animal and The Choir Boy.” Slade quickly becomes determined to show the petite redhead how much of an animal he can be.

“We should move this party to my place. I’ve got all the top-shelf booze there.”

“Shouldn’t you be calling it a night?” Amanda asks. “You’ve got a big series coming up against Arizona.”

“Yeah,” Kelly adds, “Dash Walden’s probably been asleep for hours already. He’s a hunk, isn’t he, Amanda?”

“He’s a green choir boy,” Slade snaps. Reaching out, he takes Amanda’s hand. “You should hitch your wagon up to mine. I’m already a star. I can give you whatever you want, Cookie.”

“Did he just call you Cookie?” Kelly asks. “You really are an animal!”

Slade glances menacingly at Kelly.

“It’s okay! We like animals!”

Trying to impress Amanda and Kelly, Slade pushes his Jaguar to a hundred miles per hour.

Turning a corner and crossing the double line, he narrowly avoids hitting a truck. The Jaguar skids across the road. Jumping a guardrail, it flips over.

His knee throbbing, Slade finds Amanda bleeding from a head wound.

Kelly’s body is found later at the bottom of the hill.

***

Porter and Bascom Plume quickly respond to Slade’s distress call.

“Name your price to keep this quiet,” Bascom says, his piggish features clenched into a frown.

Holding a towel against her forehead, Amanda defiantly says, “You want to buy your way out of this? First off, Kelly was my best friend, and this dumb animal killed her. Secondly, I’m a writer and I report the facts.”

“Set your chippy straight, Stonehouse,” Bascom orders.

“Listen to me, Cookie. Did Kelly have family?”

“She had a two-year-old and a husband.”

“Well, that kid’s college education could be paid for, and her husband could retire if you keep this to yourself. If you don’t, it all goes away, and so does your ability to cover the team. But don’t worry, Cookie. From now on, I’m gonna treat you like a princess.”

“Don’t call me Cookie.”

***

Slade’s swollen knee keeps him out of action for the next two weeks. He later claims that his knee injury cost him the Most Valuable Player Award (MVP), which goes to Dash, who also wins the Rookie of the Year award. The Brewers go on to win the World Series, with Dash adding Series MVP to his growing accomplishments.

Still under the threat of losing her access to the team, Amanda reluctantly continues to see Slade when the next season begins. She also keeps Slade’s rising alcoholism and womanizing out of her articles.

Dash intrigues her. He’s quiet, respectful, and a better player. She prefers sharing hot dogs and a soda with Dash to champagne-laden gourmet meals in five-star restaurants with a loud egomaniac.

It doesn’t take long for Slade to notice that Amanda is spending a lot of time with Dash.

“The choir boy’s got nothin’ to say, you should stick with me.”

“He talks to me instead of pawing at me. He knows what’s going on in the world outside of baseball, and he’s not taking steroids in order to keep playing… That’s right, Slade, I know. And so will everyone else if you don’t leave me alone.”

***

Amanda meets Dash at Sunnydale Farm, thinking the Brewers have forced him into an equestrian-related publicity stunt. She’s surprised to see him teaching a group of children how to ride horses.

“I used to work on a farm in the summer, mucking out the stalls and feeding the horses,” he says to her.

“So, no special treatment, even though you were the best high school player in the country? How about that? Stonehouse bets on horses, and you teach kids how to ride them.”

“I believe in giving back,” Dash replies. “I’m holding a baseball clinic for Little Leaguers tomorrow.”

“You really are the ‘Choir Boy,’ aren’t you?”

***

A few days later, an inebriated Slade convinces Amanda to accompany him to a lavish birthday party held by the team in his honor, offering her exclusive quotes and photographs of the event.

Still wearing his uniform, he’s pulled over for speeding for the third time in a month.

“Don’t you know who I am?”

The police officer calmly assesses Slade. “Yeah, you’re some idiot going forty miles over the speed limit in a Brewers uniform.”

“I’m Slade ‘the Animal’ Stonehouse!”

“I wouldn’t care if you were Dash Walden. You’re breaking the law. I can smell the booze on your breath.”

Slade takes a swing at the officer. “I’ll have your badge, you stormtrooper!”

The officer grabs Slade’s arm. Twisting it behind his back, he handcuffs him.

The officer notices that Amanda is taking pictures of them with her phone.

“You planning a lawsuit?”

“No. I’m planning on writing the article that’s going to set me free.”

“Is this hothead your boyfriend?”

“No, but he really is Slade ‘the Animal’ Stonehouse. We were on the way to his birthday party.”

“Not anymore.”

Slade struggles in the police officer’s grasp. “Lemme go! I didn’t do nothin’! I’m a star!”

“Happy birthday, Animal. You can bring his cake to the Thirty-Third Precinct, Miss.”

***

Slade misses his party. The team avoids a public relations disaster by announcing that Dash has established a charity to help children with cancer. The guests, mostly Slade’s well-heeled drinking buddies, immediately donate a million dollars to the fund.

Porter bails Slade out the following afternoon. The pair drives wordlessly back to his home. Porter follows him inside, the acid in his stomach churning.

“I need to shower and get some grub in me if I’m gonna make the game.”

“That’s just it. I need to bring you up to speed, Slade.”

Porter walks over to the large screen television, turning it on.

He pops an antacid in his mouth. “Let’s see what ESPN is talking about today, shall we?”

Slade’s picture flashes on the screen as a reporter says, “Slade Stonehouse’s nickname is ‘the Animal. Last night, he lived up to his moniker, getting arrested for assault, resisting arrest, and D.U.I.”

Porter turns off the television.

“It’s on every channel.”

“Why that no good, traitorous…”

“Yep. Amanda Wheeler broke the story and sold it to every news outlet. Maybe you can take comfort in knowing that you helped her get a job with ESPN… And by the way, given how much management has covered for you in the past, Bascom is understandably pissed. He’s suspended you for ten games and fined you $500,000.”

***

Slade notices how his teammates avoid him when he returns from his suspension. Hungover, he walks toward the batting cage to practice his hitting. He notices Amanda sitting in the stands, talking to Dash.

Heading toward them like a heat-seeking missile, he shouts, “You better watch yourself, Choir Boy, this Jezebel will sell you out for a better gig!”

“Sour grapes, Slade?”

“Just the truth. She was my girl until she fell for your act.”

“I was never yours, Slade. Especially after what you did to Kelly.”

Porter steps between the two players, pulling Slade away. “You need to practice your hitting, Slade. Amanda may not need you, but we do.”

***

Slade’s surly attitude progresses during the game, and he isolates himself from his teammates,

particularly Dash, who sits at the other end of the dugout with shortstop Swifty Concannon.

In the seventh inning, with the score tied, the Brewers' tiring pitcher walks two Dodger hitters, putting runners on first and second. The next hitter smokes a line drive down the left field line. Slade waddles after the ball. Swifty goes out to take Slade’s cut-off throw, surprised when Slade throws home instead. The throw goes past the catcher, allowing both runners to score.

Swifty confronts Slade at the end of the inning.

“Why didn’t you throw it to me?”

“Because I thought I could get the runner at home.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t. So, instead of being down one run, we’re down two.”

Slade grabs the wiry shortstop by the throat, shaking him.

“You useless pipsqueak! I’ve hit more homers in a month than you’ve hit in your entire career!”

Dash pulls Slade away from Swifty.

“This isn’t about a bad throw, is it, Slade?”

“Not by a long shot, Choir Boy!”

The two men tear into each other, throwing haymakers. Dash gets the better of the battle, leaving Slade a bloody mess.

After the game, Dash and Swifty refuse to talk about the dustup, but Slade is more than willing, dogging Amanda for an interview.

Amanda warily asks him what happened.

“It’s personal… You understand when somethin’s personal, dontcha? The Choir Boy and me played pretty well together last year. We brought home a championship. Our relationship works well on the field, not off it. And lemme make somethin’ clear… He may have more fans cheerin’ for him, but I been here a lot longer than he has, and I’m still the big dog.”

Porter has to pop several antacids before he can speak to Amanda. “Dash and Slade butt heads sometimes. They’re not friends off the field. But why do they have to be? We’re here to win.”

“Do you think they’ll ever resolve their differences?” Amanda asks.

“Yeah, when the one who lives longer attends the other’s funeral, just to make sure he’s dead.”

***

Amanda and Dash get married at the end of the season, another successful campaign that sees the Brewers win their second World Series in a row. Dash is named MVP.

Slade tells himself he’ll be the better man when Dash asks him to be his best man. Only Dash never asks, choosing Porter instead. At the wedding, Slade sulks at his table, downing several bottles of champagne on his own. Even the lusty model who escorted him can’t console him. She ends up leaving with Swifty.

Amanda and Dash fly off to Paris for their honeymoon, leaving Slade to smile with gritted teeth at the paparazzi, lying when he says, “They’re good kids. I wish them all the luck in the world.”

***

Before the start of his third season playing with Dash, Slade marries Veronique Sassoon, a twenty-two-year-old fashion influencer with 200,000 followers.

Dash and Amanda aren’t invited to the wedding.

The marriage collapses within a month, with Veronique claiming Slade is a spendthrift, an alcoholic, and a deviant. He gives her all of his money in the divorce, and the accusations stop.

Slade shows up to spring training out of shape and out of control. He’s put on fifty pounds, which contributes to his hitting a paltry .147. When asked to pose for a photo with Dash, he refuses, throwing a bat at the fan who dared suggest it. He pulls up lame while running the bases late in spring training and begins the season on the disabled list.

Dash begins the season where he left off the previous year, hitting game-winning home runs in the Brewers' first three games.

Slade finally gets into a game three weeks into the season as a pinch hitter.

Buddy Berg, the catcher for the Cincinnati Reds, takes his mask off to look at Slade as he shuffles toward home plate. Slade’s face is red and puffy, and he reeks of alcohol.

“Aren’t you Slade the Animal Stonehouse?”

“I used to be.”

Slade strikes out.

***

Two months into the season, Slade is hitting a miserable .118 with no home runs and more errors than runs batted in.

“Sure, he’s off to a slow start,” Porter says to Amanda in an interview. “But he’s Slade, the big dog, the Animal. And we’ve still got Dash. We’ll be okay.”

Then the unthinkable happens.

Dash’s batting average plummets from .348 in June to .318 by mid-July. He feels weak and listless, like he’s playing in quicksand.

When asked what he thinks is wrong with his teammate, Slade quips, “He got married last year. Too much home cookin’.”

Dash suddenly disappears from the Brewers’ lineup. Not even his teammates know where he is.

He’s in a hospital with Amanda by his side. It takes two grueling weeks of tests to diagnose what is wrong with him. He has Creutzfeldt–Jakob disease and is given six months to live.

When the news breaks, Bascom Plume organizes “Dash Day.” A humbled Dash thanks the fans, saying, “My career and marriage won’t last long. But these have been the best years of my life.”

When called upon to speak, Slade, with tears in his eyes, says, “The Choir Boy’s a good lad. He’s our MVP… Our most valuable person.”

Porter pulls Slade aside. “Did you really mean what you said?”

“Nah. I’m just a good actor.”

***

Hitting .179, Slade announces his retirement in September, getting a “Slade Saturday” in celebration of his accomplishments.

Dash is too weak to attend, and Slade never mentions him in his comments.

***

Slade buys a sailboat, intent on sailing around the world. The press laughs at his inexperienced crew, citing that they’re all young women who don’t know a jib from a gibe.

Ten days into his sojourn, Slade’s battered boat drifts into Port-au-Prince. The harbor police find half a dozen starving women on board. Slade’s moldering corpse is wrapped in a sheet in the boat’s hold. He died from a heart attack a few days into the voyage, and his crew was too scared to report it.

One of Slade’s last acts was to write a letter of apology to Dash. It’s found on his desk in his cabin next to two empty bottles of whiskey.

Dash slips into a coma two days before Slade is found. Amanda would later say that a smile crossed Dash’s lips when she whispered in his ear that Slade was dead. He faded away a week later.

The team erects a statue of the two men outside the Brewers’ stadium. The caption reads: “Slade The Animal Stonehouse and Dash The Choir Boy Walden. Friends and teammates forever.”