Chapter Fourteen: Thursday Night Victory
It was hard to think about the Panthers experiencing the high-wire thrill of playoff action without him. The high school campus was guardedly excited about the three postseason games, realizing that their JV baseball team was barely adequate.
“You guys can still get hot,” Bucky asserted. “It’d be awesome if you went all the way and brought us a trophy.” Both players thought back to the previous season when they had missed victory by the slenderest of margins.
“I don’t see it happening,” Dan asserted. “Not without you. But we’ll give it our best shot.”
Thursday afternoon the hallways of Hampton High were alive with athletic fervor. A good contingent of Panther fans were planning to accompany the team on their trip to Concord. Coach Brayshaw and squad were fired up for the contest although local sports writers had the team as underdogs.
“Even without Stone and his fractured arm in the lineup, the Panthers and red-hot Dan Litton have managed to win just enough games to slip through the radar detectors and into the playoffs,” “Big Max” wrote in his Wednesday column. “But Coach Brayshaw knows that it will take little short of a miracle to give our boys three straight victories and a championship. And the one player who seems to know most about miracles won’t be suited up for action.” Bucky read the article with a sense of wistful longing.
He was nearly finished with his two-hour shift at the bank when a sudden wave of nausea washed over him. He winced painfully, and took a sip of water, but the gurgling in his gut only intensified.
“Bucky, are you okay?” Sheila leaned over from her station. “You look kind of green.”
“I’ll make it,” he managed, trying to will the queasy feelings away. There were just two more customers, and he was able to manage their transactions with a pasty smile on his face. Moments after closing his station, he collapsed in the men’s room and lost the lion’s share of his lunch. Green and perspiring profusely, he finally mopped at his face with a paper towel, staggered to his car and drove home.
“Sorry, Litton,” he managed over the phone. “Something I ate is still jumping around down there.”
“Man, too bad,” the older player sympathized. Bucky could hear the clunking of baseball gear as his friend’s teammates began to load up on the school bus.
“Well, listen. Good luck and all that.”
“Sure thing. Hope you’re feeling better soon, man.”
“For sure.”
He collapsed on his bed and wearily accepted a comforting bowl of tomato soup that Mom brought up to him. “See if you can keep this down,” she said, gingerly feeling his forehead. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.”
The intestinal demons began to slowly subside and he managed to pull out his geometry book and attempt a couple of feeble proofs. Several times, though, Bucky found his mind traveling the fifteen miles to the Concord High stadium. Would Hampton High win, and how would Dan do? He managed a smile, thankful to the Lord for erasing the enmity that had divided the two star ballplayers the previous school year.
Mom poked her head in right at ten. “Better, honey?”
“Yeah.” He pulled off his polo shirt. “Guess I’ll climb in bed.”
As he undressed for bed, Bucky happened to glance out the window just as a familiar car rumbled onto Woodman Avenue and stopped in front of the Stones’ home. “What’s Dan doing here now?” he muttered to himself as he slipped back into his jeans.
He opened the front door just as Dan reached for the doorbell. “Hey! What’s up?”
The rugged ballplayer stood there without moving. “Sorry it’s so late,” he managed at last.
“Hey, no problem. I was just gettin’ ready for bed. Come on in.”
“Are you recovered?”
“So-so.”
“If you’re going to toss your cookies again, I want to keep my distance.” Dan managed a smile despite his bedraggled appearance. He followed Bucky into the living room and sat down, his baseball uniform drenched with perspiration. His athletic socks and stirrups drooped down around his ankles, and dirt stains covered both pant legs.
Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “Man, you look just like I did after last year’s playoff game. Pretty worn out, huh?”
Dan didn’t speak at first. Finally he took off his rumpled cap and set it down. “Yeah, about like that,” he said finally.
“What happened?”
The older boy chewed on his lip, then blurted, “We got killed! Sixteen to two!”
“What!”
“They murdered us. Eight runs in the first inning. I mean, they hit and they hit and they hit.”
“Eight runs?”
“Well, with the hits plus the walks and all the errors we made, I’m surprised they didn’t get more than that.” Dan’s voice was tired and bitter. “Even with eight runs they hit into a double play to end that first inning or they might have gotten twelve or thirteen.”
“Sixteen to two.” Bucky still couldn’t believe the wipeout. “How’d you do?”
Dan slumped in his chair. “Shucks, I was the worst one there. Bases loaded and I misjudged a fly ball. That let in three more. And I couldn’t hit nothing. Had second and third, one out, and I struck out. Next time, bases loaded, and I hit it to the pitcher for a DP.” He slammed his fist down on the upholstered chair.
Bucky gulped. “Man, I’m sorry.”
“Well, that ain’t the worst of it.” Dan sighed heavily. “In the sixth inning, when we were already down by a million, their pitcher buzzed me inside and almost hit me on the chin. And I just lost it. I charged out there, tried to tackle him, their first baseman got there first, and we had a major brouhaha. Both teams on the field, people slugging each other. I got booted, district is probably gonna penalize me somehow – I dunno, maybe suspend me for a couple games starting next year.”
The younger boy tingled. “Did . . . I mean, was it a purpose pitch? Why would they throw at you when they were ahead by so much? It makes no sense.”
Dan sighed, ashamed. “I know. I was just so cranked about how they were killing us on the field. And, I mean, they were totally rubbing it in. You know how, when you’re ahead by a bunch, you don’t do stuff like steal bases and all? Well, they ran ragged on us, even when they had us by double digits. Just showing our guys up. And I was getting so hot under the collar that when that guy busted me inside, I just exploded.” He managed a crooked smile. “I literally felt blacked out. Like it was somebody else out there. I was going to kick that pitcher’s butt or die in the attempt.”
Bucky absorbed the sordid story. “Well, so you guys hit the wall. It’s just a game, Litton.”
There was a long pause before Dan spoke. “I know. But here’s the thing, Stone. I was driving home, when it just hit me.”
“What?”
His face was suddenly sober. “I’m . . . a Christian, but I’m still kind of messed up. You know?” He gave a gesture of helplessness. “I mean, I’m not supposed to have a temper like that.” He shook his head. “I cut loose with enough X-rated words to fill an HBO special, man. And driving home, I just realized how screwed up I still sometime am.”
Struggling to his feet, Dan padded over to the large picture window. Outside the cool May air was frosted with late-night fog. The street lights were mushy halos. “I guess what I’m saying is, I still don’t totally have what I think you’ve got, Stone. And I want to get there.”
Bucky nodded. The grandfather clock in the hallway struck eleven, the mournful chimes echoing softly through the living room. “You know something? When I first started going to high school, I felt kind of sorry for myself. I mean, most all my friends who were Christians went away to that Christian school up the freeway. And I was thinking, ‘Man, I’m just going to miss out on everything bein’ here at Hampton High.’”
His dirt-streaked face sober, Dan nodded.
“But then things really weren’t so bad. 1 had a great girlfriend. I got on the ball team. Even wit
h that playoff mess-up last year, we came right back and won the championship in basketball.” He smiled, remembering. “One of the guys at Christ the King was back in town for a long weekend and said to me, ‘Man, Stone, you got it made. Goin’ to high school, dating all the hot city girls, playing on the team and everything.’”
“Yeah, till something like tonight,” Dan interjected.
“That’s right.” Bucky nodded slowly. “I was thinking about it while you were at the game. ‘Cause I admit that being a Christian brings its own issues. I missed the playoffs last year. I . . . broke up with Deirdre because of – you know – church and all that. And some of the stuff that I just can’t do any longer. She wasn’t about to put up with some of my rules.”
“Yeah.” Dan shook his head, remembering. “I heard somebody talking about a party they said they’d invited you to. But you said no.” He looked at his friend with a fatigued grin. “I don’t know what you’re gettin’ at, Stone, but this isn’t much of a sales pitch.”
Bucky studied the familiar pattern in the carpet. Almost without conscious thought, he breathed a prayer for the Holy Spirit’s wisdom as he answered. “Well, I’ll tell you something.” His voice was low. “You add it all up, and being a Christian is still worth it. All the good and all the bad . . . I wouldn’t change a thing. Jesus is just such an awesome friend.”
“You mean that, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Bucky looked Dan in the eye. “All the way, man. You’ve got to follow God all the way. These last two years, God’s shown me that so times . . .”
There was a long pause. Dan seemed about to speak, then held back.
“After basketball,” Bucky continued, “when you decided to become a Christian . . .” He took a breath. “Man, that was so great.”
Deep in thought, Dan didn’t respond,
“But you’ve got to follow where God leads. And I give you a lot of credit, Litton. The Lord got you off of booze, even though you’re still living where . . . well, you know. But it’s more than just church once a week and staying alcohol-free. It’s all day, every day. It’s giving Christ your emotions and your vocabulary and your whole lifestyle. It’s your friendships and the girls you go with.” He paused. “When my mom and I finally got into serving Jesus, we felt that the best way we could live was to really know him the best we could and to live the way he wants us to. A hundred percent surrender. And now I feel like he’s asking you to do the same thing.” Bucky leaned forward. “He wants you to, and, boy, you know I want you to.”
Still dressed in the sweat-drenched symbols of his dreams of fame, Dan sat listening. Even with this night’s crushing defeat, there would be other years and other playoff games. Other Thursday night contests on brightly lit ball diamonds with pretty girls cheering in the stands. Other decision moments – tempting but deadly – fights on the field and promiscuous girls at parties. Bucky could see the thoughts flickering in his friend’s eyes, a panoply of future choices and commitments.
“It’s big stuff,” Dan managed at last, his voice husky.
“I know.” Bucky sent up one last whispered prayer. “But it’s worth it.”
The stocky ballplayer hesitated, but only for a moment Slowly he reached out his hand. Bucky took it, and the two friends shook.
“Let’s do it.”
• • • • •
Bucky Stone Book #5
Bad News in Bangkok
By
David B. Smith
Contents
Chapter One: Summer at the Bank
Chapter Two: Mission Trip?
Chapter Three: Permission to Be Baptized
Chapter Four: Traffic Jam on the Bay Bridge
Chapter Five: Journey Into Night
Chapter Six: “Man, We Are in the Jungle!”
Chapter Seven: Danger in the Rain
Chapter Eight: “R and R in Bangkok”
Chapter Nine: Thai Boxing
Chapter Ten: Cocktail Waitress
Chapter Eleven: The Last Try
Chapter Twelve: Reunion
Chapter Thirteen: Safely Home
Chapter One: Summer at the Bank
“First California Bank. May I help you?” The words came almost automatically as Bucky continued entering figures into the computer terminal even while answering the phone. He listened to the caller’s question. “No, just till noon on Saturdays. Nine to four all the others.”
Bucky made a tiny motion to his customer, as if to apologize for the delay. “Well, the ATM’s always open, of course.” He briefly described the bank’s location, then hung up after saying goodbye.
“You people are busy today,” said the short, plump woman who had waited patiently during the call.
The young teller sighed. “Yeah. Lot of calls. Sorry to make you wait like this.”
“That’s all right.” Despite the air-conditioning, she mopped at her perspiring forehead. “Once you take my money, I’ve got nothing else to do.”
The boy grinned as he carefully put her bills into his cash drawer. Initialing the deposit slip, he slid it across to her. “There you are, Mrs. Doherty.”
She folded the small piece of paper before putting it away in her huge purse. “Where’s that little red-haired girl who usually works here?”
“You mean Sheila?”
“I think that’s her name.”
“She just had her baby. A little girl. So she’s off for a little while.”
“Oh, that’s nice!” the woman beamed. “Tell her congratulations for me. I’ll have to bring her one of my special baby powder sets. I get them half-price at work.”
“She’d like that.”
A few moments later Bucky glanced up at the wall clock – 3:45. Outside it was a hotter - than - usual Bay Area afternoon and without a cloud in the sky. He leaned over the counter to see a little boy standing there. “Hey, mister. Can I help you?”
Taking the child’s fistful of dollar bills and coins, he showed him how to add up his deposit. “What are you saving up for?”
“A bike.” The third-grader’s eyes shone.
A buzz of conversation over near the front door distracted him. “Sheila!”
The diminutive redhead strutted proudly into the bank, protectively holding her new baby. “Just had to come show off,” she announced to the bank employees gathering around her.
Mr. Willis poked his head out of the manager’s office. “Did I hear that our latest dependent has made her debut?”
Sheila beamed. “Here she is. Andrea.” She pronounced the name very carefully, with the second, accented syllable rhyming with “tree.”
“What a pretty name!” Veronica, the assistant manager, gently ran her finger across the newborn’s soft cheek. “Did you pick it out?”
Sheila laughed. “Well, Jeff and I went round and round, and I finally won.”
“How was . . . you know, the hospital and everything?” Bucky wanted to know.
The teller made a face. “Twenty hours. Just awful. It went on and on. I swear I thought I’d die.” She glanced down at her child. “But soon as Andrea showed up, I didn’t mind anymore.”
One of First California Bank’s regular customers poked his head into the little group of bank employees. “So this is the famous baby we heard all about during that bank robbery a few months ago.”
“Yeah.” Sheila gave the baby an affectionate kiss. “But thanks to Bucky here, we got through that one, too.”
The teenage boy laughed. “Poor kid’s been through two pretty tough experiences even before the ink’s dry on her birth certificate.”
“Yeah, she’s a sturdy little thing. To get through that labor, she had to be.” Sheila grimaced, “Jeff and I were in there for seventeen hours, and I was still only at six centimeters. Doctor began to talk about C-sections, which I for sure didn’t want. But all of a sudden, everything began to break loose. Three hours later, this old thing finally showed up.”
She shifted the infant in her arms. “Bucky, could
you watch her for just a second? I have to get some things out from the back room.”
“Sure.” Bucky grinned as he carefully and awkwardly took the baby girl from her. The tiny bundle squirmed in his arms. Look cool, he thought to himself. You’re bigger than she is. Don’t be afraid of her. She won’t break.
“She’s so light,” he murmured. A new emotion fluttered through him. What would it be like to be a father someday?
“Well, we better get to work again,” Mr. Willis observed casually. “Bucky, I guess you know all about banking with one hand. If you can manage with a cast, you can make do with a baby for a couple minutes.”
“That’s true.” The 6-foot-4 boy looked down at the gurgling infant. “Come on, Andrea, let’s go wait on some customers.”
He nestled the baby in his arms and went back to his teller station, where a gray-haired woman stood patiently. “Can I help you?”
“Well, young man, I need this check cashed. And if you’re handing out free babies with every new account, maybe I’ll open one. That one sure is a sweetheart.”
Bucky laughed. “They used to give out toasters, but they don’t even do that anymore.” He counted out the bills for his customer.
“Is she yours?”
“Oh, no. I’m still in high school.” Turning, he looked around to see if Sheila was coming back yet. “One of our employees just had her last week.”
“Here I am.” The young mother picked up Andrea and nuzzled her. “Did Bucky treat you all right?” She pretended to listen for a response. “She says you did fine.”
The last customer left, leaving him and Sheila alone for a moment. “She’s pretty,” Bucky murmured.
“Yeah, she’s special.”
Thoughtfully Bucky slid his cash drawer shut. “You know, Sheila,” he began, “I just want you to know . . . I’ve been praying for you.”
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 42