[legendsport]

April 22, 1919: Springfield, MA:

For the umpteenth time in the past year, Jack Barrell wondered what the heck he was doing.

For his "stubborn refusal" to bow to the will of his hockey overlords, Jack was not allowed to train with the Toronto Dukes prior to the 1918-19 hockey season. He refused to report to the City League for another season, telling the Dukes he was "done with hockey." Feeling sad and lonely after Vera's death, his resentment at the Dukes' heavy-handed attempt to control his life had boiled over.

In the end, he had ended up reporting to the Tomcats of the City League, and played 10 games. He scored 14 goals, but also tallied 22 penalty minutes as his anger seeped into his on-ice performance.

He was still bitter when he showed up for the 1919 baseball season. The Minutemen had assigned him - again - to Class A Springfield. While he didn't mind the Middle Atlantic League (for one thing his father was able to check in on him periodically, which he normally would have resented a bit, but now welcomed).

Of course, he was still not an everyday player either. This had been made plain to him by manager Peter Hackett on the first day of "boil out" as the baseball community called its spring workouts.

"Jack, I'll have you coming off the bench... at least to start the year. Things may yet loosen up, so don't be downhearted about this."

Jack knew Hackett's heart was in the right place, even if the decision was one with which he was genetically incapable of accepting thanks to his Reid-Barrell bloodline. The skipper was a Canadian; he and Jack had bonded over some hockey stories as Hackett had played "a bit in the wild & woolly '90s." Hackett also - of course - knew Rufus Barrell. Like Rufus, Hackett had started as a pitcher, until an injury caused him to shift to the outfield. He had been a regular for several teams over several years before he hung up his cleats in 1895.

Now the season was underway and Jack was again sitting behind Billy Nash. Jack had written a letter to Rollie, bemoaning Nash's continued presence on the team and wondering why "the Minutemen don't just promote him to Worcester." They'd still be in the same state, but in different leagues. And Nash would no longer be blocking Jack from getting some playing time at second base. "Dad says that the Minutemen's organization is deep in the middle infield. Don Stoll is still there at Worcester, and Joe Mason's blocking him at Denver. There's simply nowhere for Nash to move up," Rollie had written back. Jack had sighed - his father would know exactly why things were the way they were, and he didn't sugarcoat it either.

So Jack prepared for another season as a backup.

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Same day, Indianapolis, IN:

Claudia Barrell was amazed at the sheer size of America. All the open space... all the farms in the vast countryside and all the factories in the sprawling cities had stunned her as she'd traveled north from Georgia with her husband. If she hadn't realized it before, she now knew with certainty that Germany could not have won the war once the Americans got involved.

Jimmy had been discharged from the Army two weeks earlier, with the understanding that should the country need him again he would return to duty. He had received a telegram from his friend Bill Merlon - who was still in the Army, though supposedly about to be discharged as well. Merlon was going to be the honorary referee for the Liberty 500 race in Indianapolis and made a pointed suggestion that Jimmy "get back behind the wheel." Jimmy was eager to get back to racing and had already been considering entering the race... if he could find someone with a fast car and no driver.

A flurry of telegrams ensued, resulting in Jimmy finding a seat as the driver of a Packard V12 owned by the grandson of FABL founder William Whitney (and son of Chicago Chiefs owner Wash Whitney). William W. Whitney III was all too happy to put a "Barrell behind the wheel." Jimmy would have a "riding mechanic" as well, a man named Charlie Coaker. Coaker had been Jimmy's mechanic in his last race prior to going to France. Claudia had learned that having a riding mechanic was common practice, with the passenger's duties to include putting oil and fuel into the car, checking the tires and spotting for the driver - and performing these duties while zipping along at breakneck speed.

Claudia also discovered that she and her new mother-in-law had something in common: both wished Jimmy would find a nice, safe way to make a living. Even better: while Claudia was (mostly) quiet about her feelings, Alice Barrell was not. But Jimmy would not be swayed.

With a car and mechanic lined up, Jimmy and Claudia had traveled first to Chicago, to meet with Whitney and then, formalities accounted for, had headed for Indianapolis. Rumor was that the field of drivers for the race would be limited to 33. But with the war over, the British and French would also be sending drivers and some thought the number of potential applicants could reach 50. "We need to get there lickety-split," Jimmy had said.

Now they were finally in Indianapolis and James Barrell was officially entered into the race which would be run on May 31st.

"What are we to do in the meantime?" Claudia had asked and then blushed at her husband's wink and reply, "Oh, I'm sure we'll come up with something to keep us occupied."

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April 24, 1919: Akron, OH:

Joe Barrell laughed out loud as he said, "I bet Mom was fit to be tied!"

Rufus nodded and chuckled. "He sure did catch us all by surprise. That boy...." He shook his head.

"I always understood you Joe, and Jack too - you're a lot like me. Or rather, some strange combination of me and your grandpa Joe. Rollie I can understand too, although he's more like your mother with that biting tongue. But Jimmy... that boy has always been a pure mystery."

Joe and Edna were happy, and that made Rufus happy. It had been a tough winter for the Ohio branch of the family. Edna and both babies had caught the flu - all had fully recovered, thankfully. Joe had remained his typical healthy-as-a-horse, strong-as-an-ox self. He disliked working at the rubber plant, though he had said, "I suppose some of the tires I help make might end up on one of Jimmy's racecars one day, so there's that." But he loved football and was looking forward to fall, when he could get back to running people over on offense and flattening them on defense. Rufus had pointed out that even top-notch baseball stars like Powell Slocum held regular jobs in the off-season. Joe just grumbled in reply.

Rufus was visiting while in the area to check out some high schoolers for the OSA. Well, really one in particular.

"This kid's name, get this, is Theodore Roosevelt Goins," Rufus said with a wide grin. "They call him T.R., which I suppose is not a surprise."

"Could have called him Teddy," Edna put in.

"Apparently his father met Roosevelt in Cuba during the Spanish war and was a big admirer," Rufus explained.

Joe was busy chewing a piece of bread but that didn't stop him from asking with his mouth full, "And this kid is good?"

Rufus whistled and said, "I'd say he's got a chance to be one of the greats."

"Catcher, right?"

Rufus nodded. "Yes, and an even better prospect than Dick York was. This kid hits left-handed, has a great arm behind the plate and can flat-out hit. Average and power."

Joe nodded in appreciation. "Have you told Fred about him?" Freddy was a catching prodigy himself and studied every halfway decent receiver he could find, in hopes of, as he had told Joe, "taking all their best stuff and using it to be the best catcher ever."

"Yes, Freddy knows all about him. When I mentioned I was going to see him, Fred told me Goins hit .377 last season. I had to ask him how he knew this and you know what he told me?"

Joe shrugged - he had no idea.

"That little wiseacre used the teletype at the house to have Potentas send him statistics on the best high school catchers," Rufus shook his head in a mixture of exasperation and admiration. "He pretended to be me, of course, all so he could get the scoop."

Joe laughed as Rufus continued, "And then he asked if he could come along to meet him. Naturally I told him no - he has to go school."

Joe replied, "And I bet he said something about not needing school because he's going to be a ballplayer."

Rufus pointed at Joe and said, "Got it in one, Joe."

Joe smirked. "You might have another Jimmy on your hands there, Pop," he said and laughed again.

"God help us all," Rufus replied.