by Guy Franks
“It’s kaput,” replied Shake matter-of-factly.
“Sorry to hear that… I think”
“We dated for three years. It was a good run.”
“It wasn’t a Broadway show, bub. So what happened? Wait, don’t tell me. Your screw-buddy suddenly got serious and wanted to get married, so you broke it off?”
“’Screw buddy’. Jeez, where’d you get that? Rick, you need to limit her late night television… So, yeah, smartass. That’s pretty much it.”
“Shake shakes another one.”
“At midfield and on in for the touchdown.”
“Only you don’t go in for the touchdown. You go home to an empty bed. But don’t get me wrong. She wasn’t right for you. I’m sure you found that whole witch thing campy and cool but you don’t marry a woman like that. She’d turn you into a toad.”
“Good thing I didn’t marry her then. I don’t want to be a toad.”
“But you need to marry someone. But I shouldn’t say it that way. You need to fall in love with someone.”
“Got anyone in mind or can I choose for myself?”
“Quiet and listen. I used to think you had something against marriage, maybe even women, but I figured it out. You’re against love. I even told Rick that. You have something against love. You got burned once and now you’re all against love. Such a tragic figure. So tell me coach, when you struck out the first time why didn’t you quit baseball.”
“I love baseball.”
“My point exactly. It’s time for you to get back in the batter’s box there, sweetie, and fall in love. Get married, have kids.”
“I’m too old to have kids.”
“Never say never… Did I just quote Yogi Berra? No, he’s the one who said, ‘It ain’t over till it’s over’. Right? Anyhow, never say never. Who knows what life has in store for you.”
Shake chuckled at this. He could see she was enjoying herself. She was a little drunk and having her fun. He thought maybe he could turn the tables a bit to get the heat off.
“So, you two,” he said affably. “What’s the secret to a successful marriage? Like yours. What’s the secret?”
“Love,” said Rick.
“That’s no secret,” she said. “He wants to know the secret. So let me ask you this… what’s the secret to a successful manager—to the marriage between a manager and his team. Like what you have?”
“I knew you’d find a way to turn this back around… Okay, I’ll tell you. Tommy Lasorda said it the best. He said, ‘Managing is like holding a dove in your hand. Squeeze too hard and you kill it; not hard enough and it flies away.’”
“There you go,” she cried with delight. “That’s the secret of a happy marriage. Couldn’t have said it better myself. Who says baseball managers are all knuckle-draggers.”
“Yea, who says?”
Across town in a motel room, Dane and Delia were lying in bed together. Dane was spent and wanted to sleep but Delia felt like talking. For Dane, the same cycle had repeated itself yet again. The ancient Greek punishment. The evening had started with dinner and small talk, then a fight, followed by quiet small talk again, desert and sex. What was one to do? It was cruel fate.
“Dane.”
“Hmm.”
“You were going to tell me something. Something important. What was it?” She nestled her head deeper into the crevice of his shoulder.
Dane roused himself out of sleepiness. He knew what “something” meant to her. She hoped to hear him say he loved her or wanted to marry her or some such nonsense.
“It was about my father,” he said.
“Your father?”
“My father isn’t really my father. He’s my step-father… My mom finally told me who my real father is.”
“What?” she said coming up on an elbow. “What do you mean your father isn’t your father? Who’s your real father? What did your mom say?”
“Shake Glover.”
“What! Your manager? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I just found out myself.” And with that he proceeded, sleepily, to give her the entire back story, even the part about the ghost in the cemetery. Her big, sad blue eyes danced over his face as he talked.
“Does he know?” she asked. “Have you told him?”
“Not yet. It’s complicated… One minute he’s my manager and the next he’s my father. Plus my mom’s not sure she’s ready to see him again. She’s afraid. They were lovers in college… and she still loves him, I think, but she’s afraid of his reaction when he learns he’s had a son all this time and she never told him… It’s complicated.”
She was on top of him now looking straight down into his eyes. “It’s not that complicated,” she said. “Tell him. Tell him tomorrow. It’s not that complicated.”
“We’ll see.”
She kissed each side of his forehead and said, “You think too much” and then nestled her head back into the crevice of his shoulder. They laid there awhile in silence.
“Dane.”
“Hmm.”
“Are you happy he’s your father?”
“I don’t know yet. I suppose.”
“Dane.”
“Hmm.”
“Are we getting married?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, resigning himself to cruel fate. “I suppose we’ll have to at some point.”
Love and marriage, sings the blue-eyed crooner, is better later rather than sooner.
24
CHAPTER
Baseball is a ballet without music. Drama without words.
Ernie Harwell
It was mid-August and Hank’s torrid play had not let up. In the three game series against the Pirates in Nashua, Hank went eight for ten with four walks, swiping eight bases including a steal of home in the first game. In Shake’s favorite moment of all, Hank had three legs of a cycle in game three—a homer, triple and double—and on his final at bat he hit another double. His teammates yelled at him to stop at first but he ignored them and hustled into second to set up another run in a tight game. He was now batting .328 with an OPS of .855. Shake in his time had seen great players get on hot streaks—Willie Mays, Dick Allen, Joe Morgan—and it was always a wonder to behold. Hank’s hot streak was no less wondrous and Shake believed that Hank had a damn good chance of being included in the September call-ups.
Nashua was part of a lengthy road trip that started on August 11 and ended on the 21st. During the road trip, the Kingsmen clinched first place in league and home field advantage for the play-offs. There was no champagne celebration in the clubhouse. Shake came into the locker room with his coaching staff and formally congratulated the team, reminding them that they still had twelve games left in the season with the play-offs to follow. That night Shake treated his coaches to a steak dinner.
It was past midnight when the team bus rolled into New Britain on Friday the 22nd. They had a game that night and Shake cancelled batting and infield practice and told everyone to get a good night’s sleep. It was a sleepy but cheery bunch that got off the bus and headed home.
As Shake walked to his car in the dark parking lot, Dane walked up next to him. He had his bag slung over his shoulder. “Yo, coach,” said Dane. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“Sure thing. Now?”
“No, after the game tomorrow.”
“You got it. By the way, great road trip. Hitting, fielding, all of it. You look like a ballet dancer around second, and you’re a smart player—probably be a manager one day, God forbid. One more double play and you tie the league record held by some knucklehead named Shake Glover… Who taught you to play second? Your dad? He did a helluva job. You can say so from me.”
Dane nodded with a weird look on his face and veered off to his car. Odd duck, thought Shake with a chuckle to himself. Wonder what he wants to talk abo
ut? Probably the volcanic eruption in Cameroon or Reagan’s policy on the Sandinistas.
When Shake got into his office the next day he got on a conference call with coaches and directors from the big club to talk about potential call-ups come September 1st. On that date, major league teams were able to expand their roster from twenty-five to forty players. Most call-ups came out of Triple-A but Shake could always count on a handful of his players, especially pitchers, getting the nod. The big club was entrenched in third place and actually having a good year, but they had no shot at catching the Astros in first and wanted to finish strong and hopefully overtake the Reds in second place. Pitching was at a premium and the Kingsmen’s top three starters and ace reliever—Basset, Santiago, Ellsworth, and Cappadona—were the topic of lively discussion. There were also three position players the big club was looking at—Prince, Estrella and Hamilton.
Call-ups were a balancing act. The big club, everybody in fact, wanted to give deserving minor leaguers a shot at the big time. But big league teams, depending on their situation (in first place versus last place or fighting for a play-off spot), all had different ideas as to what they needed to finish out the regular season. Whatever the need, it had to be filled without decimating their minor league teams who, like the Kingsmen, were headed to the play-offs. Triple-A and Double-A teams were always left short-handed come the play-offs in early September. It was normal and expected, but the drive to win a league championship never wavered. So, it was a balancing act as to who went and who stayed. Shake would have been genuinely happy to see all seven of his players get called up.
The brass really wanted to know about Hank Prince, and Shake told them. He repeated the numbers, especially over the last month (which they knew) and talked about his work ethic. The kid was a serious ball-player and a major league talent. Gone were the missed signs, the missed curfews, the missed opportunities. But he couldn’t take credit for the turn-around, Shake told them. It was their own man Chili Leonard. It was really Chili who set the kid straight.
When the call wrapped up, the players were beginning to wander into the clubhouse. The Pittsfield Cubs were in town for a three game set. Friday night was Scout Night and the stands would be filled with Boy Scouts, Cub Scouts, Girl Scouts and Brownies, all in uniform showing off their achievement badges. After the game they’d get to run the bases.
In the top of the fifth inning in a tight game, with a man on first, Hoffman fielded a grass-cutter while Dane waited at second for the throw. The double play would tie the league record. The throw came just as the runner barreled into second with his spikes up and Dane danced out of the way to avoid serious injury. There was no throw to first. Shake watched the next ten seconds closely. The runner at second was out and he got up to dust himself off. Dane said something to him and the Cubs runner glanced at him, began to jog off, then said something back at Dane over his shoulder. Shake was pretty sure the exchange went something like this:
Dane: “Come in like that again and I’ll take your head off.”
Cubs Player: “Screw you. That’s how I play.”
Shake had never seen Dane lose his temper on the ball field but he could see his second baseman was seething about that slide when he came into the dugout. He didn’t blame him—he’d have felt the same. The offending Cubs player also happened to be their second baseman. That made it even worse, thought Shake. That was like a cop giving another cop a speeding ticket. It simply wasn’t done. It was an unwritten rule.
Dane was due up second. With one out and no one on he pulled a pitch through the hole on the left side for a hit. It was a single but Shake, watching from his spot in the dugout, had a feeling and that feeling became certain when Dane cut the bag at first and charged for second. Yep, he thought, here we go. The left fielder came in to field the grounder and got ready to throw to his cut-off man when he suddenly realized that Dane was trying for second. He turned and reloaded and fired to second. The throw was high and the second baseman leaped for the throw. Dane, sliding hard, caught the second baseman’s foot with his raised knee, causing him to summersault and land flat on his back. The impact knocked the wind out of the Cubs player. The ball rolled out of his glove and the second baseman lay there gasping for air. Dane stood on top of second with his hands on his hips and watched as the Cubs coach and trainer ran out to assist their player.
“Wish I had a video of that,” snorted Larry.
“Looks like you standing out there,” Rick commented to Shake.
Shake rubbed his chin in thought and smiled. That’s the way to do it, he said to himself. Wait for the moment, seize it and deliver payback. No one is really hurt but the message is delivered. Bravo, kid.
The Cubs got their own payback by winning the game 5-2.
The pitchers were done running foul poles and Luis Santiago sat at his locker getting dressed. Chuck Davis was also getting dressed on his left. Steve Basset’s locker was on his right but Basset was still in the shower. So was Cappadona.
“I heard they had a big call today about September call-ups,” said Chuck.
“Oh, yeah? What you hear?”
“Just rumors. From Speed. They’re looking at pitchers. I’m sure you’re on the list along with Basset, Cap, and probably Ellsworth. If I had to guess I’d say they’ll probably go with two—Basset and Cap.”
“Why Basset? I got as many shut-outs as he does. My record’s the same.”
“Get real, bro. He leads the league in ERA, plus he’s on a fast track… And Cap leads the league in saves. So those two make the most sense. But they might go with three.”
“Hmm,” replied Luis thoughtfully. He went on with the mechanics of dressing as he brooded on this possibility—the possibility that he would get passed over once again for a call-up to the big leagues. And as he brooded, a poison herb of a plan sprouted in his mind and he manured it with his ambition. He looked around to make sure Basset wasn’t approaching.
“You still have that locket?” he asked Chuck.
“Shit yeah. I never found a chance to slip it back to her. Why?”
“Let me have it. Cap won’t know. You missed your chance to get it back to her and you’ve got no more use for it. So what’s the big deal? I’d like to have it.”
“What for? Another war trophy?
“I’d just like to have something to remember her by. They’ll get married and raise a family and I’ll never see her again. Kind of corny, I know, but I’d appreciate it.”
“It’s yours. I don’t want it,” said Chuck as he reached into his locker. “I never liked having it in the first place.” He pulled out a small box from the back of his locker and opened it to take out the chain. He looked around first before giving it to Luis. “Don’t let Cap know,” he said.
“I won’t. Promise.”
Both Basset and Cappadona came back from their shower and the talk was all about September call-ups. Chuck finished dressing and left, but Luis sat half-dressed at his locker and chewed the fat with Steve and Phil and some of the other pitchers, speculating about which of them would get a call-up. Everyone agreed that Steve would go for sure. After a while it was just Luis and Phil. A couple of position players like Dane Hamilton lingered by their lockers across the room. Finally Phil took his brush and comb and went into the shower room to finish his grooming.
In a kind of silent film pantomime, Luis pretended to lose the handle on a roll of athletic tap and it rolled over to Phil’s locker. He scooted along the bench to retrieve it. Now in front of Phil’s locker, he stood up and pretended to stretch. Phil had an extra pair of cleats he kept on the top shelf of his locker and Luis quickly lifted one and slid the locket into the toe. He walked back to his locker and finished dressing, immensely pleased with himself.
Shake was in his office working on his postgame report when there was a knock on the door. Most of the players were gone so Shake was a little surprised to see Dane pop his hea
d in until he remembered that Dane wanted to talk to him.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Come on in, have a seat. What’s up?”
“Thanks,” replied Dane as he sat down and rubbed his chin in thought. Shake waited for him to speak. “Remember the other day when you mentioned my dad? He died when I was ten. Just thought I’d tell you.”
“Crap, sorry about that.”
“No biggee. How were you to know?”
Shake nodded at that and waited. It was obvious this talk wasn’t going to be about baseball. That didn’t bother him. It was part of the job. In his office over the years he’d talked players off the proverbial edge, administered intense psychoanalysis, and even held crying men in his arms. Nothing fazed him.
“What was it you wanted to talk about?”
Dane took a deep breath before answering. “You said you wanted to meet my mom—the Shakespeare fan?”
“Is she out there? Bring her in.”
“No, no, she’s not here. She’s in town but she’s not here… I was wondering if you could meet her tomorrow? She really wants to meet you.”
“You bet. Bring her in the clubhouse before the game.”
“Well, I can’t. She’s not staying for the game. I was wondering—and I know this is kind’a weird—but I was wondering if you could meet her earlier in the day. Our game isn’t until 6:00. So it’d be earlier in the day. Downtown.”
“Downtown?”
“Yeah… At The New Britain Museum of American Art. Ever been there?
“Sure.”
“We’ll be there around noon.”
Shake thought quickly. He didn’t normally socialize with players outside the ballpark and meeting a guy’s mom in a museum was kind of odd. Was Dane trying to set them up, he wondered, and that thought triggered another one—Linda’s advice to find someone and fall in love. Who was this woman then? She was a widow who liked baseball and Shakespeare. Well there you go. And the chances of her being good-looking were probably pretty high since Dane was a good-looing kid. The whole thing piqued his curiosity.