The Draft

Morning starts early for us. I guess that’s for everyone, though I haven’t really ever understood why. It’s not like we’re better, fitter, smarter, or stronger when we’re sleep deprived, but I guess that’s not what they want from us anyway.

And it’s no earlier for us than the elites — the Scholars, who by status, money or talent, have skipped this part of training and gone right up into the game. Down here, you have to earn your place. I don’t want to sound bitter. I’ve heard of Scholars losing their place, if they were really a problem. Then they drop down into what’s called “the minors” although I don’t know why, since the majority of people end up there. My Grandma used to call it the “bush leagues” but she couldn’t explain that one, either. I still don’t know what a “bush” is.

Morning comes, we fall out, line up, go for a run, then calisthenics, take a class on field strategy, then they let us eat. First meal is always the biggest. We’re encouraged to load up our plates. They tell you to chew slowly, really taste the food, but we’re so hungry most of us wolf it down. I don’t know what I’m tasting anyway. It all tastes like salty and sweet to me, just with different textures. I like crunchy, I don’t like chewy, we all like soft. Cold, hot, soft and smooth is always the favorite. When we come back with jaws broken and throats swollen from the hits, soft and smooth is all we can tolerate, so it’s comfort to us.

After our first meal, we’re back outside doing exercises. We’re watched carefully, measured, timed. Folks who are at the top of the rankings get extra attention, but also more pressure. You run…