However, management frowned on girlfriends and wives accompanying the players on road trips. So she had to sit at home, stewing over the image of groupies draped around Brad's neck. At times, she was nearly consumed with jealousy. She would call Brad every night to make sure he was there, alone. He was always where he should be, but she still played games.
During one visit to Reading, she manufactured an argument and threatened to leave him, her old trick from high school. He didn't respond. She said she didn't have the money to leave; he gave her $50. She stormed from the room, slamming the door, and marched to her car. Still, he didn't follow. She'd reached the turnpike before she turned around and went back, afraid that her insecurity would cost her the most important person in her life. But Brad was there waiting for her, and she never left again.
She still didn't get the point of baseball. There were too many rules, too many silly little traditions she didn't understand. Her interest was Brad. But as Lisa slowly learned how much the game meant to him, she made an effort to understand its many nuances. And she began to share Brad's dreams.
Lisa was back in Florida in June 1988, a few days before Brad's birthday, when he phoned her. He'd been with the team in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, when a call came to the bullpen in the third inning. "Moore," the bullpen coach yelled. "The manager wants to see you."
Brad had walked to the team dugout full of misgivings. His pitching had been pretty mediocre of late, and he prayed that he wasn't about to be sent down to Single-A, a death knell for his career.
Manager Bill Dancy was standing by the bat rack when Brad approached. Dancy was a stocky former player, known around the league for being a fair but hard-nosed sort of guy. His face was stoney as he said, "Brad, the organization has decided to make a move."
Since Dancy was taking his sweet time, Brad's mind raced ahead. A move that could mean up to the Phillies' Triple-A club in Maine...or back down to Single-A.
"It's not to Maine," Dancy said, as if reading his thoughts. Brad's heart sank. He would spend his last days in the game as a prop for younger players.
Then he saw the smile on Dancy's face. "You're going to the big leagues," he said, patting Brad on the back.
Brad practically skipped to the bullpen to fetch his gear and tell his friends the news. Each hoped for the same opportunity some day, but when one made it--especially a guy as well-liked as Brad--they all made it, just a little bit.
Brad was still in a daze when he grabbed a taxi to the airport. Jumping from Double-A, past Triple-A, to the majors was rare. He was going to get his chance faster than he'd dared imagine.
At the airport, Brad made a big mistake. He called his mom first to tell her the news. Then he called Lisa.
"You're kidding," Lisa yelled and then started screaming. When she calmed down, he slipped and said he had already told his mother. It was years before she forgave him.
end of part 1
