~ Chapter One ~

Statistically, the Mariners were looking good at the start of spring training.  Upper management had been busy during the offseason.  The big news in Seattle had come in mid January, when it was announced that the Mariners had negotiated a trade with the New York Yankees, receiving the Yankee's star rookie right fielder, Nick Carter. 

Nick Carter had put together an amazing first year in the major leagues, winning the American League rookie of the year award, going to the all-star game and becoming the new hero of New York City.  He was tall, he was blond, he was good-looking, and he was fairly articulate - for a baseball player. Best of all, he hit for both power and average.  He looked like he was poised to become the next superstar of baseball.

Then he had been traded. If that wasn't a shock in itself, he had been traded to the Seattle Mariners, one of the second tier teams in the league.  Sure, Ken Griffey Jr's career had been cemented there, but what else had the Mariners done in the last two decades?  They hadn't even been to the World Series - ever.

No one was sure what had possessed the Yankees to deal their best hitter away for two pitchers and a minor league infielder.  Nick's father, Bob Carter, had been a first baseman with the Yankees several years before and was now a color commentator for Yankees television broadcasts.  Some said it was that the Carter family and temperamental Yankee's owner George Rubenstein didn't get along.  Others claimed Nick was a problem in the clubhouse, that he didn't fit in with the rest of the team.

Whichever way you looked at it, veteran Mariner catcher Kevin Richardson wasn't especially looking forward to his new teammate.  Kevin had been a Mariner for the last four years.  He was the unofficial leader of the clubhouse and the official player representative.  Kevin had bounced around the league enough to realize that Nick Carter was going to be trouble.  How much trouble, that Kevin wasn't sure of, but trouble.

The other acquisition the Mariner front office had made in the offseason was trading for the Tampa Bay Devil Rays ace closer AJ McLean.  The Devil Rays, in their customary fire sale at the first of the year, were willing to work out a reasonable deal, and now Seattle was in possession of a decent pitcher in the bullpen for the first time in almost seven years. 

AJ was only 22 years old, and common sense said that his best years were still to come.  He had only been in the major leagues for a year and a half, but already had an impressive reputation with opposing batters - including Kevin, who was thankful he wouldn't have to face AJ or his forkball anytime in the near future.

The bullpen in Seattle had been a running joke for the first few years, a steady stream of pitchers coming and going, usually leaving with their ERA twice of what it had been.  The last two years, as the players and fans watched more and more leads slip away in the last innings, the bullpen was no longer funny.  With the arrival of AJ McLean, there appeared to be light at the end of the tunnel.  It would seem at times that it was a strobe light, but it was a light none the less.

On the first day of spring training, AJ had announced he thought the Mariner's bullpen was haunted, promptly whipped out a Ghostbusters T-shirt and proceeded to wear it under his uniform, even going as far as keeping a spray bottle of what he referred to as "ghost repellent" in his back pocket.  The headline in the sports section of the Seattle Times the next morning read "Mariners Bullpen Haunted" with a picture of AJ and his spray bottle.  The season hadn't even started yet, and AJ was now one of the more popular players with the fans.

Pitchers and catchers reported to spring training two weeks before position players were required to report.  Most position players showed up early anyway, eager for the season to get underway.  The entire Mariners team was already present, slowly beginning workouts, and had been for almost two days - except for one.  Nick Carter hadn't arrived in Peoria, Arizona yet.  Technically, he still had another hour before he would be fined, but Kevin had already seen enough.  His first impression of Nick Carter wasn't going to be good, no matter how it happened.

"Would you look at that."  First baseman Scott Martin murmured from across the aisle, tipping his balding head towards the clubhouse door.

Kevin craned his head and looked.  There, in all his rookie of the year glory, was Nick Carter.

"Love the clothes."  Scott drawled quietly, referring to the expensive black shirt and pants Nick was wearing.  Scott subscribed to the fashion school of "plaid shirt and jeans" which he would have worn to his own wedding, had his wife not put her foot down.

Nick pulled his sunglasses off and gave the clubhouse a long, slightly scornful look.  His gray eyes stopped when they met Kevin's rather pointed stare.  "Hey - so, can you tell me where to find Buddy?"  He said with just a touch of arrogance - just enough to grate on Kevin's nerves.

"Over there."  Kevin pointed slowly down the hallway at Mariners manager Buddy Williams office.  "So, y'all must be Nick Carter."

Nick didn't even bother to affirm this rather obvious statement, running his hand through his carefully gelled and spiked hair instead.  "Who're you?" 

Kevin had the distinct impression that if Nick had been chewing gum, he would have snapped it at that moment.  "Kevin Richardson."

"Yeah."  Nick nodded disinterestedly, obviously not caring who Kevin was.  "I think I remember playing you last year."  He turned and sauntered towards Buddy's office.

"Friendly sort, ain't he?"  Scott commented as the door to Buddy's office slammed shut.

"I've known him less than a minute and I already hate him."  Kevin said in disgust.