by Alessandra Torre
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Baseball wasn't supposed to be a game of life and death. The summer that Chase Stern entered my life, I was 17. The daughter of a legend, the Yankees were my family, their stadium my home, their dugout my workplace. My focus was on the game. Chase started out as a distraction. A distraction with sex appeal poured into every inch of his six-foot frame. A distraction who played like a god and partied like a devil. I tried to stay away. I couldn't. Then, the team started losing. Women started dying. And everything in my perfect world broke apart.