July 29, 2019- O.CO Coliseum, abandoned raider locker room 

"I'm honestly worried about working with you Mattie." 26-year-old Roosevelt Olson commented to her brother as she began to carefully realign his back.  Her strong hands quickly made adjustments while releasing the various points of tension in his body. 

"Why?" He asked as he shifted from some pain from the re-alignment process. 

"It means I'm finally settling down, and you get grumpy when I'm around for too long." Partially a joke, partially not. She'd been on the road, playing beach volleyball tournaments with her Olympic partner, Betty Phillips, since their first Olympic run 7 years ago. She'd decided to settle down for a bit before making the call if she wanted to compete in the 2020 games. Team USA had already promised the duo a spot. However, Roosevelt wasn't sure she wanted to continue to play. Her left knee had been giving her problems since the last games where'd they taken home the gold.  Was blowing out her knee worth another gold? 

"Pfft, for the summer and potentially fall. Hardly call that settlin' down, but Chappy will be happy to have you around. And I will not get grumpy." His muffled reply caused her to smirk at the mention of the star third baseman.  Aside from her brother, he was her best friend in the Bay. They currently had a two-year snap streak going. But her mind flashed to all the other times in the past seven years where she had lingered longer than a week around her brother; while the siblings loved each other, both were stubborn and spitfires. Usually, their combined fire ended up burning down their relationship for small amounts of time. Apologies were rare for the two; it would only take look.

"Yet!" She chimed in, grinned , and confirmed, "Tis true! We get up to shenanigans. Think I'll get to peg him with a ball again?"

Both shared a laugh at the thought.

 "Ready?" She prompted as she moved to adjust his hips and lower back. 

"Ugh." Was the reply. Shrugging, she moved to perform the more uncomfortable part of the adjustment, but it'd be worth it. 

By the end of session, he felt much more limber but also slightly drowsy.
First baseman Matt Olson glanced at his older sister; he had to admit he was glad she was with him. The Bay was very different from their little hometown in Georgia. When he'd graduated high school, it was a no brainier; he'd gone straight to play baseball for the Athletics, while Rosie had gone to Long Beach, going into chiropractic and sports training while playing beach volleyball for Long Beach and then for the US. 

"I'm coming to BP; gotta see how the boys' backs are doin. Game tomorrow?" Roosevelt murmured as she packed up her table and prepped her training bag. 

"Yeah, Milwaukee." Matt confirmed with a slightly worried expression. She'd recently joined the A's organization as she and her teammate both decided that they needed a break after winning Worlds in early July. There weren't many women working for MLB teams—Oakland and San Francisco pioneering the way—and he didn't want any of the other players messing with his sister. For good or bad. 

"I know that look. Don't worry. I can take on any dude, including that 6'6 pitcher from the Dodgers." She laughed with a mischievous look in her eyes.  "Also, for the love of God, stretch! Half of your issues are from NOT stretching enough."

"I don't doubt it." He conceded with a small smile. Stretching was always her recommendation.

Every. Single. Time.

The Olson duo left the abandoned Raider locker room and headed for the field. A part of her felt stressed; she'd be head trainer for this series as the head trainer was down with a bad summer cold.  As she stepped out onto the coliseum grass and inhaled the moderately warm air, the sounds of bats cracking against cowhide reached her ears, and pings and thwacks relaxed the Olympian as she watched the various players take their turns batting. Standing near the Skipper, Roosevelt briefly heard him gruffly answer a phone call and then mutter to one of the batting coaches, "The Brewers are requesting practice time." 

"Okay, well, they can have the field after we're done." First base coach Mike Aldrete reasoned in a slightly annoyed tone.
Roosevelt moved away from the older men and began to inspect the swings of Marcus Semien. From what Mattie had told her, he was a "cool dude." He also was one of the many sufferers of stiffness. His swing was smooth, not terribly powerful. But she knew he had it in him. She'd watched plenty of games to see him hit homers. He finished his run through and then up was her Chappy. Grinning, she yelled, "Send 'em home Chappy!"  

The star third baseman turned and gave her a nod. 'Always so serious in practice.' She thought to herself with a small smile. She was proud of her Matts. Both were going to be golden glove winners; they were too good not to be. Those were dedicated to their craft, and it showed.

The sweet sound of a homerun hit brought her back to her senses. Chappy was letting the Town know what was up. Four in a row. His time ended; he trotted over and hissed, "Shoulder." Nodding, she got her table unfolded and swiftly set up. 

"Shirt off." She ordered as she grabbed certain oils and wraps. Obeying her orders, Chapman took off his A's workout shirt, sat down on the table, and waited for her to begin. He wasn't too worried, but he knew better than to not get it looked at by "Doc Olson." The bullpen had dubbed her that as she'd already made her rounds with them during the previous Rangers series. All of them had improved their stances and pitches. 

His eyes noted that the Athletics' players and staff began to clear the field and dark blue themed players and staff made their way onto the field. 

"Ah, the beer themed team has arrived." She murmured in a light tone as she moved a muscle.
Roosevelt was still getting acclimated to the baseball world—the vast number of players, positions, and statistics still fully eluded her. However, she was aware, from listening to sports radio that the Brewers had a number of "all stars" playing on their team. Could she name them? Hell no. 

"Ah." He hissed in response.

"Sorry." She gave him a sheepish smile. Her hands moved and pushed on him all the while scolding, "You've got soo many issues, mister."  He simply scoffed in reply.

"Hey, Matt! What happened?" The familiar voice of Travis Shaw questioned. The Brewer's third baseman noted that the Athletics had a woman trainer—she had long, dark brown hair, braided back and off to the side. He could tell that she was fit and tall. He guessed 5'11. 

'Perfect for Christian.' He mused with a smirk. Travis had been searching for a match for the MVP since the outfielder had dramatically declared that he'd never be tied down.

"Shoulder tensed up." He offered with a half shrug. Travis heard the young woman snort at his response.

 "What?" Matt followed up in a mock –upset tone. Clearly, the duo knew each other well. Smacking the back of his head like she was Gibbs from NCIS, she commented, "You were showing off, Chappy." Stepping out from behind the shirtless player, Roosevelt gave an exaggerated expression and joked, "I told him to send the balls home, and he sent them over to the next state." 

Travis chuckled at her comment; he figured Yelich would enjoy the story. Turning he shouted, "Yo, Yeli, get over here! You gotta hear this!!!" 

Roosevelt followed the third baseman's line of sight—a tall, handsome, and muscular brunette player. He gazelled over to them from right field. In her mind, he was way too athletically gifted to call his movement anything else. He was dressed similar to all the guys, baseball pants with a clingy, Brewer themed athletic top, and the quintessential baseball hat with sunglasses perched on top. 

Chapman noticed her interested facial expression. 

'Just great. Ollie's going to be pissed.' 

"Hey Matt. Trav, what's up?" Outfielder Christian Yelich questioned with a genuine smile. His eyes had quickly glanced over the female trainer working on Chapman's shoulder. The A's player partially obscured her from view. 

"She's hilarious—what did Matt do to get hurt again?" Travis motioned to her and prompted with a wide smile.  Pausing her work again, the woman moved out from behind the table, giving the players a full view of her muscular body covered in A's gear and tight workout leggings. 

Christian held in a gulp. She was gorgeous. A strong yet delicate tan face with light brown eyes that danced with mischief, "Well, Chappy didn't listen to me. I told him to send the balls home; he sent them over to the next state." Christian cracked up at the dark-haired beauty's joke. She flashed him a smile and muttered something unintelligible to Chapman. 

"Good one." Christian complimented returning a smile. He held her attention. She wondered where he had been—he was attractive with a handsome yet kind smile. His voice was light yet strong. Travis exchanged a look with Matt causing the injured man to frown. 

Chapman rolled his eyes, "You're hilarious Roosevelt. Fix my shoulder?" His tone was annoyed, prompting Roosevelt  to snap out of it, notice the awkward tension, and quickly sought to lighten it. 

"Yes, yes. I shall; I shall. Oh great one! Have mercy!" She held her obviously strong arms up in mock surrender.  Before she went back to work, she offered the new men her hand, "Roosevelt Olson." 

"Travis Shaw." 

"Christian Yelich." 

"Nice to meet you both." She flashed a smile at the two and went back to work. Her smile seemed familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place it. An image of her dressed in Brewers blue cheering his name flashed before his eyes. The scenario, in his mind, seemed so authentic and right. Yet, there she was dressed in green and gold. He'd have to find a way to change that.

Travis nudged him, knocking him out of his musing. "C'mon, Yeli. Time to go to work."

"See ya around Matt; Roosevelt." Christian stated as he picked up a bat and headed to their BP. Travis walked back with him, "I bet that's Matt Olson's sister." 

"Oh, yeah?" Christian questioned while looking back; her eyes met his. Her mischievous caramel met his dark brown ones. As her hands were obviously inflicting pain on Chapman whose face was wincing, she gave Christian a wink and smirk. 

"Yeah, they look similar." Travis explained. 

"I guess. Never really paid attention to Matt's looks."

"But Roosevelt's a different story, huh?" 

"Shut up."