A League of His Own
By AF
John Gage strolled into the dayroom whistling off-key. He sat down at the kitchen table and grabbed the sports section from a pile of newspapers resting in front of Chet Kelly.
“Hey!” the stocky firefighter protested, but Gage only tossed him a disarming grin. Chet reached over, hoping to snatch the newspaper back, but winced as a twinge of pain flared in his shoulder. “Ow!”
“Aww, does Chet have a boo-boo?” Johnny asked in a sing-song manner.
“Shoulder still hurting?” Marco asked Chet as he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down. “Man, I knew Dwyer hit ya hard. Told you it’d be sore.”
“Aw, it’s nothing,” Chet answered as he rotated his arm. “But I still say he was out.”
Johnny looked up, intrigued by the conversation. “Who was out? What are you talking about? What happened to your arm, Chet?”
Marco grinned. “Play at the plate. Chet was catching and Dwyer ran in. Knocked Chet down and scored the winning run.”
“What winning run?” Johnny glanced from Chet to Marco, then over to his partner, Roy DeSoto, who was only mildly interested in the dialogue. “Softball? Are you guys talking about softball?”
“Yeah, Gage. Softball.” Chet looked at Marco. “Man, he was out! I tagged him before he knocked me down.”
Marco shrugged, obviously tired of the other man’s argument.
“Wait!” Johnny dropped the sports section onto the table. “I thought the softball league broke up.”
“Yeah, Gage, the one Mark Allan started, that ended.” Chet looked to Marco for confirmation. The Hispanic man nodded and the other man continued. “But Dale Johnson and Charlie Harvey started a new league. While you were recovering from that broken leg, Gage. Right, Marco? Most of the same guys play, plus a few new ones.”
“Most of the…” Johnny’s voice trailed off as he contemplated the new information. “But how come no one asked me?”
Chet and Marco looked surprised. “You weren’t asked?” Marco reiterated. “Wow, John, we just thought you had said no. Because of the leg and everything.”
Johnny frowned.
“Must be an oversight,” Marco continued. “You should call Charlie or Dale. They’ll find a spot for you.”
“Like bench warming,” Chet quipped. “Gee, Gage, I don’t know. Maybe the guys were sick of you choking at bat or something.”
Marco shook his head. “Don’t listen to him, Johnny. Call Dale.”
Johnny shrugged. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.”
Roy glanced at his partner. Ut-oh, the wheels are turning! He could almost visualize the thought processes going on in his friend’s head. Johnny was sure to take this as a personal slight, and Chet would most likely encourage that train of thought. Best to stay out of this, thought Roy as he folded his paper and stood up.
“Hey, Roy,” Johnny called.
Roy cringed, but turned around gamely. “Yeah?”
“Did you know about this league?”
Roy glanced at Chet and Marco. “Well, yeah. I had heard that some guys were playing.”
“Oh.”
“But it was no big deal, from what I heard. More like scrimmage-type games.”
“Not anymore,” Chet added. “Man, these guys are so organized. They got sponsors and uniforms-“
“Uniforms!” Johnny repeated.
“Yeah, and a tough schedule.” Chet stood up to pour himself a mug of coffee. “Next week we play the residents from Rampart.”
“The residents?” Johnny stood up, following Chet to the coffeepot. “But when I suggested we try to set those kinds of games up with the old league, no one wanted to. Now, you’re playing the residents?”
Chet shrugged. “I don’t know. This is just…a better league or something.”
Johnny opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sounds of the tones.
Squad 51. MVA with injuries. Broadhill and Hurst. Time out 11:53.
The subject was dropped as both men ran to answer the call to duty. But the matter itself was far from over.
“Turn left,” John stated in a flat affectation, his mind still on the new softball league, a league that apparently held no room for him. He didn’t notice his partner’s quick glance, let alone the eye-roll that followed. Roy knew his co-worker well enough to recognize an obsession brewing. He also understood that Johnny would most likely see the oversight as a personal slight. But the men had a job to do and it was not the time to discuss this situation. In Roy’s mind, he hoped the time to talk never happened. Perhaps he was wrong and Johnny would find other matters upon which to brood.
Within minutes, the squad reached the accident site. Johnny whistled as he observed a car that had plowed directly into a tree in someone’s front yard. Sitting on the curb next to the house was a young man of approximately twenty. He was holding what looked like a bloody dishrag against his head. A worried housewife stood next to him, apron still tied around her waist.
Gage and his partner jumped from the squad. As he collected the equipment, Roy headed over to speak to the others.
“Are you okay?” Roy asked the young man.
“My dad’s gonna kill me,” the victim replied.
“I’m Betty Watkins,” the woman interjected. “I was baking a pie for dessert, when I heard a loud crash. Scared the daylights out of me! Well, I rushed out here and found this car crashed into my tree. So I called for help.”
“You did the right thing, ma’am,” Roy responded as he and Johnny began to assess the victim. “Lost control of the wheel, huh?”
“No,” insisted the young man. “I didn’t ‘lose control.’ I was coming home and I drove into the wrong house and collided with a tree I don't have. My dad’s gonna kill me. He just bought that car for my mom. "
Roy and Johnny exchanged a slightly amused glance. “Accidents happen,” Roy assured him. “I’m sure your dad will be glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah,” said the victim. “So he can kill me.”
Roy smiled as he and his partner set to work, bandaging the gash on the man’s head and getting necessary vital signs to relay to a doctor at Rampart Hospital.
A short while later, Johnny and Roy were back in the squad returning to the station. The young man in the accident had been lucky to only sustain a minor concussion and they had left him in Joe Early’s capable hands. Now the pair rode silently, Roy enjoying the quiet and Johnny still stewing over the softball league. Finally, in a way too-casual tone that belied the importance of the matter, Johnny broke the silence.
“So, you were asked to play for the new league, huh?” Johnny glanced over at Roy then pretended to look out the window, as if the answer held little significance.
“Yeah,” Roy spoke just as casually, keeping his eyes on the road, “but it was no big deal. I think they were asking everyone then. I’m sure you’d have been asked if you weren’t injured.”
“Of course,” Johnny replied quickly, “of course. Well, I probably would have said no anyway. I mean, who has time? Right?”
“Right,” Roy agreed, secretly thinking that his partner would have jumped at the chance.
“Yeah,” Johnny stretched casually, “I mean, really, with all our shifts, and overtime, and then camping, dating, and keeping up an apartment, who can fit in a whole softball league with practices and games? No sir, not me, man. Save that gig for guys with no social life, like Kelly.”
“Yeah,” Roy agreed again, knowing how much the idea of this softball league was eating at his partner.
“I mean, I’m a busy guy,” Johnny insisted.
“Me, too,” Roy noted. “Hey, want to stop for lunch?”
“Huh?” Johnny shook his head. “Nah, I’m not hungry.” He turned to stare at the window, lapsing again into silence.
Roy shook his head. Johnny not hungry? A sure sign that this matter was far from over…and that peaceful, happy shifts for one Roy DeSoto could be a thing of the past for quite some time to come.
As if by usual design, Johnny remained sullen for the entire shift. Since quiet-Johnny was usually followed by ranting-Johnny, Roy did not pursue the matter. He knew that when Johnny had stewed long enough, he’d erupt like a pressure cooker with the lid on wrong. Best to let sleeping dogs lie. He was surprised, though, when brooding-Johnny appeared the next shift….and the next. By the fourth shift, he was sure that Johnny would be ranting and raving about the league, but his recalcitrant partner never said another word about it. What concerned Roy, however, was that he barely spoke at all. Nor did he call and initiate any social activities in between shifts. From what Roy gathered from Chet, Johnny was equally cool towards the others. By the end of the shift, Roy decided that he needed to bite the bullet and broach the subject with Johnny, much as he dreaded the probable outcome.
Roy glanced at his partner as the men changed back into their street clothes after B-shift’s arrival. “Hey Johnny, Joanne’s volunteering at school today, so I was thinking of hitting the diner for breakfast. Want to keep me company?”
“I will,” Chet said.
“Me too,” Marco added.
Johnny shook his head. “No thanks. Not today. Got plans”
“Oh, come on, Gage,” Chet goaded. “I’m beginning to think you’re ignoring us. What, are you mad at us or something?”
Roy looked on the scene with interest, anxious to hear his partner’s answer.
“No,” Johnny protested. “I just have a lot to do. I do have a life, you know.” He emphasized this by splaying his hand across his chest.
“Calm down, Johnny baby,” Chet said. “Come on, Gage. You can spare us an hour or two.”
“An hour or two for what?” Mike Stoker asked as he entered the room.
“We’re all going to the diner for breakfast,” Marco answered. “Are you in?”
Stoker shrugged. “Sure, let me tell Cap.” He left to inform their boss of the plan.
“So,” Chet said. “What do you say, Gage? Are you in?”
Johnny hesitated. Roy spoke up quickly, hoping to pounce on this moment of weakness. “Come on, John. When’s the last time we all went out like this?”
Johnny looked at his partner, as much startled by the use of his formal name as by Roy’s tone. He acquiesced.
Truth be told, Johnny missed the camaraderie he usually shared with his co-workers. But, in the past week or so since he’d heard about the new league, he had convinced himself that his not being asked was a deliberate decision and not some oversight due to his injury at the time. And after convincing himself that his fellow firefighters did not want him on their league, he convinced himself that his shift mates also shared some vague dissatisfaction with his presence. And after a week of self-induced isolation, the paramedic was finding it hard to find that sense of belonging he usually felt around his station buddies. And so, a mere hour later, he sat quietly at breakfast, wishing that he had indeed said no. And since he stared mostly at his diner plate special of scrambled eggs, pancakes and hash browns, he missed the concerned glances the others shot each other as they tried, but failed, to draw him into their conversations.
“Okay, Gage,” Chet finally exclaimed in a slightly exasperated tone. “What gives?”
“Nothing,” Johnny said. “What are you talking about?”
“You! I’m tired of the silent treatment,” Chet answered as the others apprehensively watched the pair. “We all are.”
Johnny looked at the others’ expectant faces. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment. It just so happens I have a lot on my mind --- and don’t you start, Kelly,” he warned.
“John,” Marco said. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I think Dwyer may need to quit our team, what with his wife just having a new baby. We’re looking for a new left-fielder. Want to give it a go?”
Johnny shook his head. “I can’t, Marco. But thanks for asking.”
“Oh come on!” Chet said.
“What?”
“You know you want to play,” Chet responded. “So get off your high horse and join us. We won’t even care if you choke. It’s all good, right?”
Johnny visibly bristled. Pointing at Chet with his uneaten toast as if it were a sword, he began to defend his own honor. “I’ll have you know, Kelly, that if I DID play I’d make a great left fielder. But I can’t. I’m already committed.”
“As in mentally?” Chet chortled.
“As in busy!” Johnny retorted. “I’m busy with another league. A baseball league.”
“What league?” Stoker asked, interjecting himself into the fray.
“Just, another league.” Johnny stood up and retracted a few dollars from his wallet. “Speaking of which, I need to get out of here. We have a practice today. Thanks for breakfast.” He tossed the money onto the table and took his leave.
The others watched his retreating back. Roy sighed. Hank Stanley shook his head, but of course, it was Chet Kelly who voiced all the doubts the others were feeling.
“Man, I knew this softball league thing got to him, but I didn’t think he’d resort to making up an imaginary team.”
“You shouldn’t have teased him,” Roy noted. “Now we’ll have to live with this for awhile.”
“I always tease him,” Chet responded. “It’s what we do. I didn’t know he’d go all psycho over a softball league.”
“Well,” Marco sighed. “This is John Gage we’re talking about. I bet if we give him a week or so and let this die over, he’ll be eager to join our league. We’ll just wait and ask him again. You know, when he’s over this pride thing.
“You said yourself that it’s John Gage,” Hank responded. “Will he GET over the pride thing?” They all turned to look at Roy, who simply shrugged.
“Well,” Chet stated, “I say first step in healing is admitting the truth. We just have to get him to confess that there is no other league.”
“Leave him alone, Chet,” Roy warned. “I’m the one who has to deal with him the most and I don’t need you agitating him.”
“Roy, Roy,” Chet shook his head. “Whatever I do, it will be for Johnny’s own good.”
“Kelly!” Hank admonished.
“Okay, okay,” Chet grumbled. “I’ll cut him some slack.”
The so-called slack to which Chet referred lasted about one shift, but at least, for the most part, Johnny had returned to normal. Roy didn’t care if he never heard another word about the softball league as his partner was finally talking and joking. Since the brooding was a thing of the past, and the ranting never materialized, Roy DeSoto was more than glad to let John Gage play on an imaginary baseball team. Chet, however, couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie.
As the men of the shift were busy working clean up detail after a small house fire, Chet started. “So Gage, how’s your baseball team?”
Johnny looked up, surprised. “Uh..good. Won our last game the other day.”
“Really?” Chet said. “A win…with you on a team?”
“I’m not on the team, Kelly,” John answered.
“Aha!” Chet laughed. “Now, we’re getting somewhere. I knew…”
“I’m the coach,” Johnny continued.
“The coach?” Chet frowned.
“Yeah,” Johnny shrugged. “Team needed good leadership.”
“And you’re it?” Chet dead-panned.
Johnny glowered at him. “As a matter of fact, Kelly, my team loves me. They respect me. And since I took over, I’ll have you know, we’ve been on quite the winning streak.”
“Oh really?” Chet chortled. “Tell you what, John. I’d love to come watch sometime…if that’s okay with you.”
“Actually, Kelly,” John answered. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea. You may scare my team.”
“Come on, Gage…” Chet began, but stopped as Roy hurried over to tell Johnny that the squad was needed elsewhere. Chet shook his head as he watched the paramedics leave. “Do you believe that guy, Marco?”
“I don’t know, Chet,” Marco answered. “You should just leave him alone. Give him an out so he doesn’t have to keep making this up. Then maybe he’d join our league and be done with this.”
“Oh no, Marco,” Chet disagreed. “This is too good. I’m not letting him off that easy.” He continued to laugh as he worked clean-up.
The paramedics call took them to a small, residential neighborhood. There sitting on the curb, they found a teenage girl, standing next to a younger girl who was sobbing as she hugged her arm to her chest. Next to her sat an abandoned bicycle.
“Thank God you’re here!” The teenage girl called out to them as she continued to comfort her younger charge.
“Looks like someone took a spill?” Johnny asked. The teen nodded as Johnny addressed the younger girl. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. What’s your name?”
“Pa...Patty,” she sobbed.
“How old are you, Patty?” Johnny asked as he noted the swelling in her wrist and hand.
“Eight.”
“Let me guess,” Johnny stated. “You fell off your bike and landed on that wrist?”
“Yes,” Patty hiccupped. “It hurts.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Johnny sighed. “I hate to do this, but I need to take a look at it and it may hurt when I touch it. Can you be brave for me?”
Patty nodded, her blue eyes still wet with unshed tears. He smiled at her and gently took he hand into his. He did a quick examination and then turned to Roy, who handed him a splint without being asked. Johnny continued to tend to Patty as Roy questioned the teenage girl.
“Are you her sister?”
The girl shook her head. “I’m her neighbor, Maureen. I was babysitting while Patty’s mom ran to the store.”
As if on cue, a car pulled over to the curb and a distraught woman jumped out. “Patty? Honey? Are you okay? Maureen, what happened?”
“She’s okay,” Johnny said. “Just a little mishap with her bike. She needs an x-ray on this arm. We can have her transported to Rampart Hospital.”
“You’re sure she’s all right?” The mother gently hugged her daughter, who sniffled loudly.
“I was really brave, Mom,” Patty said, her lip still quivering. “He said so.” She pointed to Johnny, who grinned.
“Yes, ma’am,” Johnny agreed. “She’s a very brave girl.”
“Thank you.” Patty’s mother smiled at Johnny as she continued to hug her daughter. “It’s okay. If you’re sure she’s all right, I can take her from here. Maureen, will you please put Patty’s bike in my yard?”
After having her sign the release form, Johnny and Roy watched as the mother bundled her daughter into the car and drove off. Silently, they began to put away their equipment. As they worked, Roy turned to his partner.
“Johnny, about this league….,” he began.
“What about it?”
“Well, you know Chet,” Roy continued. “He just likes to get you going.”
“I know,” Johnny looked at his partner questioningly.
“Well,” Roy shifted uncomfortably. “Look, you don’t need to prove anything to him.”
“I know,” Johnny repeated. “Wait a minute. You think I’m lying about this other league, don’t you? You think I just made it up.”
“Not lying,” Roy responded quickly. “I just think sometimes to get Chet off our backs we’ll all tell little ..untruths.”
“You mean lies,” Johnny retorted flatly. “You think I’m lying to get Chet off my back. Man, how low do you think I’d sink? I could believe if the other guys….”
Roy shifted uncomfortably again and Johnny caught on. “Wait, do you mean to tell me that you ALL think I’m lying just to shut Chet up? Well, isn’t that nice! Goes to show what everyone thinks of me. John Gage, the nutcase. Thanks a lot, Pally.” He walked angrily to the squad, yanking the passenger door nearly off its hinges.
“Johnny, I don’t think you’re lying….I just….look I wouldn’t blame you…” Roy sighed in frustration as his partner pointedly slammed the door. “Oh brother!”
Once again, for the rest of that shift and the next, Roy and company were graced with the presence of brooding-Johnny.
By the third shift, softball and baseball were no longer topics discussed at the stationhouse and things were nearly back to an even keel. Roy went out of his way to be supportive of his partner, yet a slight chill still remained in the air. Johnny had passed on the weekly poker game and gone to bed early. The others watched him leave before the commentary began.
“I’ll raise,” said Chet as he threw some chips into the pot. “Hey Roy, how long is Johnny gonna keep this baseball thing going? We all know he’s not on some league.”
Roy hesitated. “Maybe he is, Chet. I mean, why would he lie?”
Mike Stoker snorted. “Did you really ask that, Roy? I fold.” He laid his cards down before continuing. “Which of us wouldn’t lie to get that one-“ he gestured towards Chet- “off our backs?”
“Hey,” Chet shrugged. “I resent that.”
“I’ll call,” Hank Stanley said. “And Chet, you know, once in a while, you can lay off Johnny. You don’t have to go for the kill all the time. Although, I must say, the latrines have never been cleaner.”
“Speaking of that, Cap,” Chet interjected as he re-raised, “why does a little teasing get me latrines all the time? I mean, I hardly did anything this time.”
“This time,” Hank answered as he saw Chet’s re-raise, feeding the pot. “But I think you should lay off, Chet. Give the man his dignity.” He laid down his cards. “Full house! Jacks.” He began to reach for the pot.
“Cap,” Chet said. “Read ‘em and weap.” He turned his cards over to reveal four nines. “Four of a kind.”
Hank groaned as Kelly began to sweep up the chips. “Must be my night.” Before anyone could reply, the tones began to ring repeatedly, calling out the station and signaling the end to the poker game for that evening.
The call turned out to be at a warehouse which was on fire. The night watchmen ran to greet Hank Stanley.
“My partner is inside.”
“Do you know where?” Hank asked.
The man shrugged. “He was doing a walk through. He could be anywhere. And some of these buildings store explosive material, paint and some chemical solvents.”
“Great,” Hank said. He called out to his paramedics and while he waited for them to run over, he asked dispatch to raise a second alarm. Then he addressed his men. “We have a missing watchmen. He could be anywhere. Roy, take Marco and search the buildings to the left. John, you and Chet sweep the right. Stay on the HT and be careful. We have explosive material stored inside.” Hank turned to the watchman, hoping to get more information on exactly what was stored where.
Johnny and Chet quickly ran off to the right, entering a building that had smoke pouring from it, but no visible flames. “Let’s make this quick,” Chet ordered.
“With you there,” Johnny agreed, as the two men set off, doing a quick sweep. They finished the first corridor and headed off down another wing of the warehouse. Chet tapped Johnny on the shoulder and pointed up a steel staircase. Johnny nodded and both men headed up. They had just finished the top floor when the HT came to life and Roy’s voice floated up to them.
“Engine 51, HT 51…we found our victim. Coming out.”
“Affirmative 51,” Cap responded. “Johnny, Chet, the victim’s been located….get out of there.”
“10-4” Johnny acknowledged. “Let’s go, Chet. This is gonna flash real soon.”
Both men hurried to the top of the staircase. They had made it about half-way down when a small explosion occurred above them. The stairs shook slightly and Chet found himself thrown off balance. He tried to grab the rail, but missed completely. There was nothing to stop his downward momentum; nothing…that is but his shift-mate. Chet fell directly into Johnny, and both men tumbled down the rest of the stairs, with Chet coming to land right on top of his colleague.
A few days later, Chet knocked on Johnny’s door. After a couple of minutes the door opened. Chet smiled nervously as he studied Johnny. John’s shoulder and right arm were immobilized, wrapped tightly with his arm snug against his chest. He still had some residual bruising down the right side of his face, along with some scrapes that looked worse than they had two days ago.
“Hey, Gage.” Chet held up a round cardboard box. “Bought you some fried chicken.”
Johnny shook his head as he shuffled out of the doorway, allowing Chet to pass. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” Chet protested. “Look, I’m really s…”
“Sorry,” Johnny finished as he carefully collapsed back onto his sofa. “You told me that yesterday, and the day before…and the day before that.”
“Well,” Chet shifted uncomfortably. “I do feel bad. I mean, if I hadn’t lost my balance….”
“Chet,” Johnny interrupted. “It was an accident. Anyone could have lost their balance in there. You don’t have to keep bringing me food. I mean, I appreciated the pizza, and the burgers, and the chicken. But, really, I’ll be fine.”
He stopped as the doorbell rang again. Before he could get up, though, Chet answered it. Neither was that surprise to see Roy standing in the door. He was carrying a casserole dish. “Hey Chet,” Roy said as he entered and went to place the dish into the now crowded refrigerator. “Hey Johnny, how’s the shoulder?”
“Fine,” Johnny answered. “Few weeks, it’ll be good as new. Come on guys, it’s just a bad sprain. I’ll live.”
“Yeah, well,” Roy stammered, “good. I’d hate to be stuck with Brice permanently.”
“Well, if you’re sure you’re okay,” Chet began, “I guess I’ll-“
“Wait,” Johnny interrupted. “You could do me a big favor, if you have the time, I mean.”
“Sure,” Chet smiled. “Anything.”
“I could use a ride today.”
“Where to?” Chet asked.
“My team has a play-off game. I really want to be there.”
“Sure,” Chet stood up. “Well, ready when you are. Coming Roy?”
Roy grinned. “You bet. I wouldn’t miss this. In fact, why don’t I drive?”
Arrangements decided, the three men headed out. Chet and Roy both were anxious to finally witness his league for themselves. Johnny gave directions from the passenger seat, finally directing Roy into a dirt parking lot.
Chet frowned. “What kind of league plays here?” He noted the dilapidated field conditions.
“You’ll see.” Johnny carefully climbed out of the car. As Chet exited the car, he saw three small boys of about ten or eleven years old running toward the car.
“Coach, coach!” The boys called as they ran to Johnny.
“Kids? Chet murmured to Roy, who grinned in return.
“Hey, fellas!” Johnny greeted them warmly.
“Wow!” said one little boy.
“What happened to you?” another asked him.
“Did you get hit by a bus?” the third implored.
Johnny grinned. “Nah, this is nothing. I just fell in a little building explosion.”
“An explosion!”
“Cool!”
“Wow.” His answer had obviously impressed his fan base. “Can we still get pizza after the game….to celebrate our win….if we win?”
“Well-“ Johnny looked back at Roy, who nodded. “You bet!”
“Great!” The kids called and ran back over to the field.
“Little League,” Chet stated. “You are coaching Little League.”
Johnny nodded, still grinning. “Yeah. To tell you the truth, my feelings were kind of hurt when you told me about the league. I thought maybe the guys didn’t want me to play—“
“Gage,” Chet stated emphatically. “I was just teasing you. Really, you could have played anytime.”
“I know…now.,” Johnny shrugged. “But when I was, you know, feeling a little sorry for myself, I saw this notice on the grocery store bulletin board. The local 4-H club was looking for mentors. I called and they hooked me up with the team. And I really liked working with the kids.”
“That’s great, Johnny,” Roy smiled. “But, why didn’t you just tell us?”
Johnny shrugged, sheepishly, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. “I don’t know. At first, I figured you’d laugh at me…then…it was just something I was doing for me. So, I didn’t need to mention it.” He glanced at his co-workers. “You probably don’t get that.”
Chet shook his head. “No, I think I do get it.”
Johnny smiled. “Well, I better go join the team. There are benches over near the batting cage. Enjoy the game.” With a final wave of his good arm, he headed towards his team, who quickly surrounded him.
Chet and Roy watched Johnny happily interacting with the circle of youngsters who were eager to gain their coach’s attention.
“Well, I’ll be!” Chet exclaimed. “Little League.”
“Yeah,” Roy said with a grin of his own.
“You know, Roy,” Chet noted. “I think Gage found the perfect league for him. One all of his own.”
“That he did, Chet!” Roy laughed. “Come on.” The two men headed over to the benches just as the umpire hollered.
“Play ball!”
Thanks to Mel, Cece, Carol and Tig for fun late night chats and the encouragement to take a long forgotten story starter and turn it into a story!
By AF
John Gage strolled into the dayroom whistling off-key. He sat down at the kitchen table and grabbed the sports section from a pile of newspapers resting in front of Chet Kelly.
“Hey!” the stocky firefighter protested, but Gage only tossed him a disarming grin. Chet reached over, hoping to snatch the newspaper back, but winced as a twinge of pain flared in his shoulder. “Ow!”
“Aww, does Chet have a boo-boo?” Johnny asked in a sing-song manner.
“Shoulder still hurting?” Marco asked Chet as he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down. “Man, I knew Dwyer hit ya hard. Told you it’d be sore.”
“Aw, it’s nothing,” Chet answered as he rotated his arm. “But I still say he was out.”
Johnny looked up, intrigued by the conversation. “Who was out? What are you talking about? What happened to your arm, Chet?”
Marco grinned. “Play at the plate. Chet was catching and Dwyer ran in. Knocked Chet down and scored the winning run.”
“What winning run?” Johnny glanced from Chet to Marco, then over to his partner, Roy DeSoto, who was only mildly interested in the dialogue. “Softball? Are you guys talking about softball?”
“Yeah, Gage. Softball.” Chet looked at Marco. “Man, he was out! I tagged him before he knocked me down.”
Marco shrugged, obviously tired of the other man’s argument.
“Wait!” Johnny dropped the sports section onto the table. “I thought the softball league broke up.”
“Yeah, Gage, the one Mark Allan started, that ended.” Chet looked to Marco for confirmation. The Hispanic man nodded and the other man continued. “But Dale Johnson and Charlie Harvey started a new league. While you were recovering from that broken leg, Gage. Right, Marco? Most of the same guys play, plus a few new ones.”
“Most of the…” Johnny’s voice trailed off as he contemplated the new information. “But how come no one asked me?”
Chet and Marco looked surprised. “You weren’t asked?” Marco reiterated. “Wow, John, we just thought you had said no. Because of the leg and everything.”
Johnny frowned.
“Must be an oversight,” Marco continued. “You should call Charlie or Dale. They’ll find a spot for you.”
“Like bench warming,” Chet quipped. “Gee, Gage, I don’t know. Maybe the guys were sick of you choking at bat or something.”
Marco shook his head. “Don’t listen to him, Johnny. Call Dale.”
Johnny shrugged. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.”
Roy glanced at his partner. Ut-oh, the wheels are turning! He could almost visualize the thought processes going on in his friend’s head. Johnny was sure to take this as a personal slight, and Chet would most likely encourage that train of thought. Best to stay out of this, thought Roy as he folded his paper and stood up.
“Hey, Roy,” Johnny called.
Roy cringed, but turned around gamely. “Yeah?”
“Did you know about this league?”
Roy glanced at Chet and Marco. “Well, yeah. I had heard that some guys were playing.”
“Oh.”
“But it was no big deal, from what I heard. More like scrimmage-type games.”
“Not anymore,” Chet added. “Man, these guys are so organized. They got sponsors and uniforms-“
“Uniforms!” Johnny repeated.
“Yeah, and a tough schedule.” Chet stood up to pour himself a mug of coffee. “Next week we play the residents from Rampart.”
“The residents?” Johnny stood up, following Chet to the coffeepot. “But when I suggested we try to set those kinds of games up with the old league, no one wanted to. Now, you’re playing the residents?”
Chet shrugged. “I don’t know. This is just…a better league or something.”
Johnny opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sounds of the tones.
Squad 51. MVA with injuries. Broadhill and Hurst. Time out 11:53.
The subject was dropped as both men ran to answer the call to duty. But the matter itself was far from over.
“Turn left,” John stated in a flat affectation, his mind still on the new softball league, a league that apparently held no room for him. He didn’t notice his partner’s quick glance, let alone the eye-roll that followed. Roy knew his co-worker well enough to recognize an obsession brewing. He also understood that Johnny would most likely see the oversight as a personal slight. But the men had a job to do and it was not the time to discuss this situation. In Roy’s mind, he hoped the time to talk never happened. Perhaps he was wrong and Johnny would find other matters upon which to brood.
Within minutes, the squad reached the accident site. Johnny whistled as he observed a car that had plowed directly into a tree in someone’s front yard. Sitting on the curb next to the house was a young man of approximately twenty. He was holding what looked like a bloody dishrag against his head. A worried housewife stood next to him, apron still tied around her waist.
Gage and his partner jumped from the squad. As he collected the equipment, Roy headed over to speak to the others.
“Are you okay?” Roy asked the young man.
“My dad’s gonna kill me,” the victim replied.
“I’m Betty Watkins,” the woman interjected. “I was baking a pie for dessert, when I heard a loud crash. Scared the daylights out of me! Well, I rushed out here and found this car crashed into my tree. So I called for help.”
“You did the right thing, ma’am,” Roy responded as he and Johnny began to assess the victim. “Lost control of the wheel, huh?”
“No,” insisted the young man. “I didn’t ‘lose control.’ I was coming home and I drove into the wrong house and collided with a tree I don't have. My dad’s gonna kill me. He just bought that car for my mom. "
Roy and Johnny exchanged a slightly amused glance. “Accidents happen,” Roy assured him. “I’m sure your dad will be glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah,” said the victim. “So he can kill me.”
Roy smiled as he and his partner set to work, bandaging the gash on the man’s head and getting necessary vital signs to relay to a doctor at Rampart Hospital.
A short while later, Johnny and Roy were back in the squad returning to the station. The young man in the accident had been lucky to only sustain a minor concussion and they had left him in Joe Early’s capable hands. Now the pair rode silently, Roy enjoying the quiet and Johnny still stewing over the softball league. Finally, in a way too-casual tone that belied the importance of the matter, Johnny broke the silence.
“So, you were asked to play for the new league, huh?” Johnny glanced over at Roy then pretended to look out the window, as if the answer held little significance.
“Yeah,” Roy spoke just as casually, keeping his eyes on the road, “but it was no big deal. I think they were asking everyone then. I’m sure you’d have been asked if you weren’t injured.”
“Of course,” Johnny replied quickly, “of course. Well, I probably would have said no anyway. I mean, who has time? Right?”
“Right,” Roy agreed, secretly thinking that his partner would have jumped at the chance.
“Yeah,” Johnny stretched casually, “I mean, really, with all our shifts, and overtime, and then camping, dating, and keeping up an apartment, who can fit in a whole softball league with practices and games? No sir, not me, man. Save that gig for guys with no social life, like Kelly.”
“Yeah,” Roy agreed again, knowing how much the idea of this softball league was eating at his partner.
“I mean, I’m a busy guy,” Johnny insisted.
“Me, too,” Roy noted. “Hey, want to stop for lunch?”
“Huh?” Johnny shook his head. “Nah, I’m not hungry.” He turned to stare at the window, lapsing again into silence.
Roy shook his head. Johnny not hungry? A sure sign that this matter was far from over…and that peaceful, happy shifts for one Roy DeSoto could be a thing of the past for quite some time to come.
As if by usual design, Johnny remained sullen for the entire shift. Since quiet-Johnny was usually followed by ranting-Johnny, Roy did not pursue the matter. He knew that when Johnny had stewed long enough, he’d erupt like a pressure cooker with the lid on wrong. Best to let sleeping dogs lie. He was surprised, though, when brooding-Johnny appeared the next shift….and the next. By the fourth shift, he was sure that Johnny would be ranting and raving about the league, but his recalcitrant partner never said another word about it. What concerned Roy, however, was that he barely spoke at all. Nor did he call and initiate any social activities in between shifts. From what Roy gathered from Chet, Johnny was equally cool towards the others. By the end of the shift, Roy decided that he needed to bite the bullet and broach the subject with Johnny, much as he dreaded the probable outcome.
Roy glanced at his partner as the men changed back into their street clothes after B-shift’s arrival. “Hey Johnny, Joanne’s volunteering at school today, so I was thinking of hitting the diner for breakfast. Want to keep me company?”
“I will,” Chet said.
“Me too,” Marco added.
Johnny shook his head. “No thanks. Not today. Got plans”
“Oh, come on, Gage,” Chet goaded. “I’m beginning to think you’re ignoring us. What, are you mad at us or something?”
Roy looked on the scene with interest, anxious to hear his partner’s answer.
“No,” Johnny protested. “I just have a lot to do. I do have a life, you know.” He emphasized this by splaying his hand across his chest.
“Calm down, Johnny baby,” Chet said. “Come on, Gage. You can spare us an hour or two.”
“An hour or two for what?” Mike Stoker asked as he entered the room.
“We’re all going to the diner for breakfast,” Marco answered. “Are you in?”
Stoker shrugged. “Sure, let me tell Cap.” He left to inform their boss of the plan.
“So,” Chet said. “What do you say, Gage? Are you in?”
Johnny hesitated. Roy spoke up quickly, hoping to pounce on this moment of weakness. “Come on, John. When’s the last time we all went out like this?”
Johnny looked at his partner, as much startled by the use of his formal name as by Roy’s tone. He acquiesced.
Truth be told, Johnny missed the camaraderie he usually shared with his co-workers. But, in the past week or so since he’d heard about the new league, he had convinced himself that his not being asked was a deliberate decision and not some oversight due to his injury at the time. And after convincing himself that his fellow firefighters did not want him on their league, he convinced himself that his shift mates also shared some vague dissatisfaction with his presence. And after a week of self-induced isolation, the paramedic was finding it hard to find that sense of belonging he usually felt around his station buddies. And so, a mere hour later, he sat quietly at breakfast, wishing that he had indeed said no. And since he stared mostly at his diner plate special of scrambled eggs, pancakes and hash browns, he missed the concerned glances the others shot each other as they tried, but failed, to draw him into their conversations.
“Okay, Gage,” Chet finally exclaimed in a slightly exasperated tone. “What gives?”
“Nothing,” Johnny said. “What are you talking about?”
“You! I’m tired of the silent treatment,” Chet answered as the others apprehensively watched the pair. “We all are.”
Johnny looked at the others’ expectant faces. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment. It just so happens I have a lot on my mind --- and don’t you start, Kelly,” he warned.
“John,” Marco said. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I think Dwyer may need to quit our team, what with his wife just having a new baby. We’re looking for a new left-fielder. Want to give it a go?”
Johnny shook his head. “I can’t, Marco. But thanks for asking.”
“Oh come on!” Chet said.
“What?”
“You know you want to play,” Chet responded. “So get off your high horse and join us. We won’t even care if you choke. It’s all good, right?”
Johnny visibly bristled. Pointing at Chet with his uneaten toast as if it were a sword, he began to defend his own honor. “I’ll have you know, Kelly, that if I DID play I’d make a great left fielder. But I can’t. I’m already committed.”
“As in mentally?” Chet chortled.
“As in busy!” Johnny retorted. “I’m busy with another league. A baseball league.”
“What league?” Stoker asked, interjecting himself into the fray.
“Just, another league.” Johnny stood up and retracted a few dollars from his wallet. “Speaking of which, I need to get out of here. We have a practice today. Thanks for breakfast.” He tossed the money onto the table and took his leave.
The others watched his retreating back. Roy sighed. Hank Stanley shook his head, but of course, it was Chet Kelly who voiced all the doubts the others were feeling.
“Man, I knew this softball league thing got to him, but I didn’t think he’d resort to making up an imaginary team.”
“You shouldn’t have teased him,” Roy noted. “Now we’ll have to live with this for awhile.”
“I always tease him,” Chet responded. “It’s what we do. I didn’t know he’d go all psycho over a softball league.”
“Well,” Marco sighed. “This is John Gage we’re talking about. I bet if we give him a week or so and let this die over, he’ll be eager to join our league. We’ll just wait and ask him again. You know, when he’s over this pride thing.
“You said yourself that it’s John Gage,” Hank responded. “Will he GET over the pride thing?” They all turned to look at Roy, who simply shrugged.
“Well,” Chet stated, “I say first step in healing is admitting the truth. We just have to get him to confess that there is no other league.”
“Leave him alone, Chet,” Roy warned. “I’m the one who has to deal with him the most and I don’t need you agitating him.”
“Roy, Roy,” Chet shook his head. “Whatever I do, it will be for Johnny’s own good.”
“Kelly!” Hank admonished.
“Okay, okay,” Chet grumbled. “I’ll cut him some slack.”
The so-called slack to which Chet referred lasted about one shift, but at least, for the most part, Johnny had returned to normal. Roy didn’t care if he never heard another word about the softball league as his partner was finally talking and joking. Since the brooding was a thing of the past, and the ranting never materialized, Roy DeSoto was more than glad to let John Gage play on an imaginary baseball team. Chet, however, couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie.
As the men of the shift were busy working clean up detail after a small house fire, Chet started. “So Gage, how’s your baseball team?”
Johnny looked up, surprised. “Uh..good. Won our last game the other day.”
“Really?” Chet said. “A win…with you on a team?”
“I’m not on the team, Kelly,” John answered.
“Aha!” Chet laughed. “Now, we’re getting somewhere. I knew…”
“I’m the coach,” Johnny continued.
“The coach?” Chet frowned.
“Yeah,” Johnny shrugged. “Team needed good leadership.”
“And you’re it?” Chet dead-panned.
Johnny glowered at him. “As a matter of fact, Kelly, my team loves me. They respect me. And since I took over, I’ll have you know, we’ve been on quite the winning streak.”
“Oh really?” Chet chortled. “Tell you what, John. I’d love to come watch sometime…if that’s okay with you.”
“Actually, Kelly,” John answered. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea. You may scare my team.”
“Come on, Gage…” Chet began, but stopped as Roy hurried over to tell Johnny that the squad was needed elsewhere. Chet shook his head as he watched the paramedics leave. “Do you believe that guy, Marco?”
“I don’t know, Chet,” Marco answered. “You should just leave him alone. Give him an out so he doesn’t have to keep making this up. Then maybe he’d join our league and be done with this.”
“Oh no, Marco,” Chet disagreed. “This is too good. I’m not letting him off that easy.” He continued to laugh as he worked clean-up.
The paramedics call took them to a small, residential neighborhood. There sitting on the curb, they found a teenage girl, standing next to a younger girl who was sobbing as she hugged her arm to her chest. Next to her sat an abandoned bicycle.
“Thank God you’re here!” The teenage girl called out to them as she continued to comfort her younger charge.
“Looks like someone took a spill?” Johnny asked. The teen nodded as Johnny addressed the younger girl. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. What’s your name?”
“Pa...Patty,” she sobbed.
“How old are you, Patty?” Johnny asked as he noted the swelling in her wrist and hand.
“Eight.”
“Let me guess,” Johnny stated. “You fell off your bike and landed on that wrist?”
“Yes,” Patty hiccupped. “It hurts.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Johnny sighed. “I hate to do this, but I need to take a look at it and it may hurt when I touch it. Can you be brave for me?”
Patty nodded, her blue eyes still wet with unshed tears. He smiled at her and gently took he hand into his. He did a quick examination and then turned to Roy, who handed him a splint without being asked. Johnny continued to tend to Patty as Roy questioned the teenage girl.
“Are you her sister?”
The girl shook her head. “I’m her neighbor, Maureen. I was babysitting while Patty’s mom ran to the store.”
As if on cue, a car pulled over to the curb and a distraught woman jumped out. “Patty? Honey? Are you okay? Maureen, what happened?”
“She’s okay,” Johnny said. “Just a little mishap with her bike. She needs an x-ray on this arm. We can have her transported to Rampart Hospital.”
“You’re sure she’s all right?” The mother gently hugged her daughter, who sniffled loudly.
“I was really brave, Mom,” Patty said, her lip still quivering. “He said so.” She pointed to Johnny, who grinned.
“Yes, ma’am,” Johnny agreed. “She’s a very brave girl.”
“Thank you.” Patty’s mother smiled at Johnny as she continued to hug her daughter. “It’s okay. If you’re sure she’s all right, I can take her from here. Maureen, will you please put Patty’s bike in my yard?”
After having her sign the release form, Johnny and Roy watched as the mother bundled her daughter into the car and drove off. Silently, they began to put away their equipment. As they worked, Roy turned to his partner.
“Johnny, about this league….,” he began.
“What about it?”
“Well, you know Chet,” Roy continued. “He just likes to get you going.”
“I know,” Johnny looked at his partner questioningly.
“Well,” Roy shifted uncomfortably. “Look, you don’t need to prove anything to him.”
“I know,” Johnny repeated. “Wait a minute. You think I’m lying about this other league, don’t you? You think I just made it up.”
“Not lying,” Roy responded quickly. “I just think sometimes to get Chet off our backs we’ll all tell little ..untruths.”
“You mean lies,” Johnny retorted flatly. “You think I’m lying to get Chet off my back. Man, how low do you think I’d sink? I could believe if the other guys….”
Roy shifted uncomfortably again and Johnny caught on. “Wait, do you mean to tell me that you ALL think I’m lying just to shut Chet up? Well, isn’t that nice! Goes to show what everyone thinks of me. John Gage, the nutcase. Thanks a lot, Pally.” He walked angrily to the squad, yanking the passenger door nearly off its hinges.
“Johnny, I don’t think you’re lying….I just….look I wouldn’t blame you…” Roy sighed in frustration as his partner pointedly slammed the door. “Oh brother!”
Once again, for the rest of that shift and the next, Roy and company were graced with the presence of brooding-Johnny.
By the third shift, softball and baseball were no longer topics discussed at the stationhouse and things were nearly back to an even keel. Roy went out of his way to be supportive of his partner, yet a slight chill still remained in the air. Johnny had passed on the weekly poker game and gone to bed early. The others watched him leave before the commentary began.
“I’ll raise,” said Chet as he threw some chips into the pot. “Hey Roy, how long is Johnny gonna keep this baseball thing going? We all know he’s not on some league.”
Roy hesitated. “Maybe he is, Chet. I mean, why would he lie?”
Mike Stoker snorted. “Did you really ask that, Roy? I fold.” He laid his cards down before continuing. “Which of us wouldn’t lie to get that one-“ he gestured towards Chet- “off our backs?”
“Hey,” Chet shrugged. “I resent that.”
“I’ll call,” Hank Stanley said. “And Chet, you know, once in a while, you can lay off Johnny. You don’t have to go for the kill all the time. Although, I must say, the latrines have never been cleaner.”
“Speaking of that, Cap,” Chet interjected as he re-raised, “why does a little teasing get me latrines all the time? I mean, I hardly did anything this time.”
“This time,” Hank answered as he saw Chet’s re-raise, feeding the pot. “But I think you should lay off, Chet. Give the man his dignity.” He laid down his cards. “Full house! Jacks.” He began to reach for the pot.
“Cap,” Chet said. “Read ‘em and weap.” He turned his cards over to reveal four nines. “Four of a kind.”
Hank groaned as Kelly began to sweep up the chips. “Must be my night.” Before anyone could reply, the tones began to ring repeatedly, calling out the station and signaling the end to the poker game for that evening.
The call turned out to be at a warehouse which was on fire. The night watchmen ran to greet Hank Stanley.
“My partner is inside.”
“Do you know where?” Hank asked.
The man shrugged. “He was doing a walk through. He could be anywhere. And some of these buildings store explosive material, paint and some chemical solvents.”
“Great,” Hank said. He called out to his paramedics and while he waited for them to run over, he asked dispatch to raise a second alarm. Then he addressed his men. “We have a missing watchmen. He could be anywhere. Roy, take Marco and search the buildings to the left. John, you and Chet sweep the right. Stay on the HT and be careful. We have explosive material stored inside.” Hank turned to the watchman, hoping to get more information on exactly what was stored where.
Johnny and Chet quickly ran off to the right, entering a building that had smoke pouring from it, but no visible flames. “Let’s make this quick,” Chet ordered.
“With you there,” Johnny agreed, as the two men set off, doing a quick sweep. They finished the first corridor and headed off down another wing of the warehouse. Chet tapped Johnny on the shoulder and pointed up a steel staircase. Johnny nodded and both men headed up. They had just finished the top floor when the HT came to life and Roy’s voice floated up to them.
“Engine 51, HT 51…we found our victim. Coming out.”
“Affirmative 51,” Cap responded. “Johnny, Chet, the victim’s been located….get out of there.”
“10-4” Johnny acknowledged. “Let’s go, Chet. This is gonna flash real soon.”
Both men hurried to the top of the staircase. They had made it about half-way down when a small explosion occurred above them. The stairs shook slightly and Chet found himself thrown off balance. He tried to grab the rail, but missed completely. There was nothing to stop his downward momentum; nothing…that is but his shift-mate. Chet fell directly into Johnny, and both men tumbled down the rest of the stairs, with Chet coming to land right on top of his colleague.
A few days later, Chet knocked on Johnny’s door. After a couple of minutes the door opened. Chet smiled nervously as he studied Johnny. John’s shoulder and right arm were immobilized, wrapped tightly with his arm snug against his chest. He still had some residual bruising down the right side of his face, along with some scrapes that looked worse than they had two days ago.
“Hey, Gage.” Chet held up a round cardboard box. “Bought you some fried chicken.”
Johnny shook his head as he shuffled out of the doorway, allowing Chet to pass. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” Chet protested. “Look, I’m really s…”
“Sorry,” Johnny finished as he carefully collapsed back onto his sofa. “You told me that yesterday, and the day before…and the day before that.”
“Well,” Chet shifted uncomfortably. “I do feel bad. I mean, if I hadn’t lost my balance….”
“Chet,” Johnny interrupted. “It was an accident. Anyone could have lost their balance in there. You don’t have to keep bringing me food. I mean, I appreciated the pizza, and the burgers, and the chicken. But, really, I’ll be fine.”
He stopped as the doorbell rang again. Before he could get up, though, Chet answered it. Neither was that surprise to see Roy standing in the door. He was carrying a casserole dish. “Hey Chet,” Roy said as he entered and went to place the dish into the now crowded refrigerator. “Hey Johnny, how’s the shoulder?”
“Fine,” Johnny answered. “Few weeks, it’ll be good as new. Come on guys, it’s just a bad sprain. I’ll live.”
“Yeah, well,” Roy stammered, “good. I’d hate to be stuck with Brice permanently.”
“Well, if you’re sure you’re okay,” Chet began, “I guess I’ll-“
“Wait,” Johnny interrupted. “You could do me a big favor, if you have the time, I mean.”
“Sure,” Chet smiled. “Anything.”
“I could use a ride today.”
“Where to?” Chet asked.
“My team has a play-off game. I really want to be there.”
“Sure,” Chet stood up. “Well, ready when you are. Coming Roy?”
Roy grinned. “You bet. I wouldn’t miss this. In fact, why don’t I drive?”
Arrangements decided, the three men headed out. Chet and Roy both were anxious to finally witness his league for themselves. Johnny gave directions from the passenger seat, finally directing Roy into a dirt parking lot.
Chet frowned. “What kind of league plays here?” He noted the dilapidated field conditions.
“You’ll see.” Johnny carefully climbed out of the car. As Chet exited the car, he saw three small boys of about ten or eleven years old running toward the car.
“Coach, coach!” The boys called as they ran to Johnny.
“Kids? Chet murmured to Roy, who grinned in return.
“Hey, fellas!” Johnny greeted them warmly.
“Wow!” said one little boy.
“What happened to you?” another asked him.
“Did you get hit by a bus?” the third implored.
Johnny grinned. “Nah, this is nothing. I just fell in a little building explosion.”
“An explosion!”
“Cool!”
“Wow.” His answer had obviously impressed his fan base. “Can we still get pizza after the game….to celebrate our win….if we win?”
“Well-“ Johnny looked back at Roy, who nodded. “You bet!”
“Great!” The kids called and ran back over to the field.
“Little League,” Chet stated. “You are coaching Little League.”
Johnny nodded, still grinning. “Yeah. To tell you the truth, my feelings were kind of hurt when you told me about the league. I thought maybe the guys didn’t want me to play—“
“Gage,” Chet stated emphatically. “I was just teasing you. Really, you could have played anytime.”
“I know…now.,” Johnny shrugged. “But when I was, you know, feeling a little sorry for myself, I saw this notice on the grocery store bulletin board. The local 4-H club was looking for mentors. I called and they hooked me up with the team. And I really liked working with the kids.”
“That’s great, Johnny,” Roy smiled. “But, why didn’t you just tell us?”
Johnny shrugged, sheepishly, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. “I don’t know. At first, I figured you’d laugh at me…then…it was just something I was doing for me. So, I didn’t need to mention it.” He glanced at his co-workers. “You probably don’t get that.”
Chet shook his head. “No, I think I do get it.”
Johnny smiled. “Well, I better go join the team. There are benches over near the batting cage. Enjoy the game.” With a final wave of his good arm, he headed towards his team, who quickly surrounded him.
Chet and Roy watched Johnny happily interacting with the circle of youngsters who were eager to gain their coach’s attention.
“Well, I’ll be!” Chet exclaimed. “Little League.”
“Yeah,” Roy said with a grin of his own.
“You know, Roy,” Chet noted. “I think Gage found the perfect league for him. One all of his own.”
“That he did, Chet!” Roy laughed. “Come on.” The two men headed over to the benches just as the umpire hollered.
“Play ball!”
Thanks to Mel, Cece, Carol and Tig for fun late night chats and the encouragement to take a long forgotten story starter and turn it into a story!