Once Upon a Fastball
Page 19
Seth opens the album up to the baseball card of Alpha Brazle, whose secondhand face is wizened and sunken and tan, like a battered old catcher’s mitt whose pocket has been broken in and darkened through countless innings of abuse.
“Now, Papa Sol, this is ol’ Al Brazle,” Seth says to his grandfather.
Elsie Stein and Sammy Stein and Kate Stein-to-be are watching the proceedings with great interest and find it touching to see Seth sharing old memories with Papa Sol.
Papa Sol studies the baseball card of Alpha Brazle, and suddenly an odd look comes over his face, not exactly odd but quizzical and almost enlightened.
He opens his mouth and gazes straight into Seth’s eyes and tilts his head and flashes this great big toothy smile, which wrinkles up his entire face and puffs out his cheeks, a smile that is broad and warm and piercingly affectionate, and even a little reminiscent of the old Papa Sol.
And then, looking at Seth with the most beatific of looks, eyes glistening slightly, Solomon Stein utters one single word, one simple word, one word that suggests to Seth, Elsie, Sammy, and Kate that perhaps he is beginning to snap out of it, to make the first, hopeful step on his arduous journey toward recovering his memory and resuming the happy life he had shared with his adoring family before he involuntarily abandoned them two years ago.
The word is Setharoo.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I don’t even know where to begin to thank all the people who gave me strength and support and inspiration during the writing of Once Upon a Fastball.
Actually, I do. Thank you, baseball, America’s endlessly fascinating and complex National Pastime. Since 1950, you have given me unspeakable pleasure and treasured memories. Special thanks to Sal Maglie, Dave Koslo (after whom my dog is named), Larry Jansen, Jim Hearn, Don Mueller, Monte Irvin, Whitey Lockman, Eddie Stanky, Bobby Thomson, Al Dark, Wes Westrum et al., the New York Giants for whom I rooted; to the San Francisco Giants and the Boston Red Sox, for whom I root; to the incomparable and infuriating (to us Giants fans) Jackie Robinson; to Willie Mays, the greatest baseball player who ever laced up spikes; and, last but not least, to ol’ Alpha Brazle, Sibby Sisti, Sam Jethroe, Ned Garver, Johnny Wyrostek, Erv Palica, Herm Wehmeier, Bud Podbielan, Roy Smalley, Ferris Fain, and all my other tragically jettisoned baseball cards (thanks again, Mom!).
I would like to thank all the generous and exceptional people who went to bat for me by contributing such terrific blurbs for the book jacket.
Speaking of which, to Franco Accornero for designing another grand slam of a jacket, mille grazie!
Next, great thanks to the passionate, energetic, and amazing Meredith Geisler, my MVP (Most Valuable Publicist).
I am deeply grateful to the outstanding and supportive staff at Kensington who had a hand in the production, publication, and promulgation of this book for, once again, hitting it out of the park. And especially to my extraordinary editor and friend, Michaela Hamilton, for her uncanny ability to maintain a happy balance between reining in and giving free rein; for her gentleness, grace, erudition, and unwavering support; and for the wise guidance and helpful suggestions that she proffered as we trotted merrily around the bibliobases together.
Next in the batting order is my wonderful agent, Joëlle Delbourgo. If there is a better literary agent on the face of the earth, speak now, or forever hold your peace. Thanks once again, Joëlle, for your expertise, your intelligence, your sensitivity, your encouragement, and your friendship.
A great big tip of the cap to Alan Brown, my eminent and gifted cardiologist, for helping me, well, just to keep hanging around.
Thanks to the most loving, loyal team of friends a person could have: Mary and Lance Donaldson-Evans, Barbara and Frank Fleizach, Margaret and Leo Schwartz, Phyllis Clurman, Beth and Bill Jaquith, Mark Cripps, Paula and Kenny Horn, Lynne and Seymon Ostilly, Rachel and Rony Herz, Linda and Pete Haller, Anthony Caprio, Ellen and Jim Gertz, Val Light and Bob Joseph, Joanne and David Frantz, Meryl and Hugh Herbert-Burns, Elayne and Hank Gardstein, Judith and Frédéric Bluysen, Willard Spiegelman, David Lee Rubin, Shelley London, Bernice Bernhard, Mike Appelbaum, Ann and Nat Greenfield, Bonnie Gorfin, Elise Goldman, and the Finkelstein Cousins (Ellen, Lee, Steven, and Eric).
During my life, I have had the great fortune to enjoy and benefit from the knowledge of and passion for the glorious game of baseball generously shared with me by the following devoted fanatics: Frank Fleizach, Ken Horn, Bill Jaquith, Jim Gertz, Budge Upton, David DeVries, Gert Cabaud, Marty Appel, David Harman, Ray Robinson, Harlow Parker, Morty Goldman, Mark Borteck, Jon Maksik, Lon Hanauer, Jon Plaut, Kevin O’Neill, Bob Pasotti, and Gil Feldman. Thank you, all, for your unfettered rabidity.
Special thanks, in memoriam, to Alan Gorfin, one of the truly good people in this world. Alan, you will always be in my Friends Hall of Fame.
I’d like to thank my children for continuing to make me a proud and loving daddy and granddaddy: Noah (and wife, Carol, and kids, Stephen and Gavon), Jenny (and husband, Eric), and Sarah. It’s so gratifying to see you three happy, self-assured, and independent: I guess all those years of playing catch in the driveway finally paid off!
And now…batting cleanup (actually, I occasionally do the dishes)…number one…Susan Ellen Love. Thank you, sweetie pie, for being such a fantastic wife, for being my best friend and my constant source of inspiration, and for being there at every stage of the tortuous writing process—reading first drafts, dispensing sage advice and feedback, and, above all, keeping me sane and healthy and happy.
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Copyright © 2008 by Bob Mitchell
Excerpt from “Wanting to Die,” from LIVE OR DIE by Anne Sexton. Copyright © 1966 by Anne Sexton, renewed 1994 by Linda G. Sexton. Reprinted by permission of Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2008920452
ISBN: 0-7582-4518-1