The Ballad of the Brothers Barrell - A Figment Story

[legendsport]

December 7, 1918 - Herschbach, Germany:

Claudia Neumann wondered - yet again - just what she had gotten herself into. And it was all due to her feelings for an American flier who would soon leave her behind and whom she'd likely never see again.

Shortly after the announcement of the armistice, the officer's ward at Reserve Lazarett II had seen its first case of influenza. And it quickly spread, soon threatening to overwhelm the meager resources of the hospital. Captain Duffie was the second to contract it; Lieutenant Barrell, the third.

Now, four weeks later, Nurse Neumann had, on her own authority, left the hospital with a still weak Lieutenant Barrell, going to the small town of Herschbach, where the American Expeditionary Force had arrived as part of the Allied occupation of the Rhineland.

She and Jimmy arrived at the building the AEF had commandeered as its headquarters. It was strange seeing American soldiers in a German town. But the soldiers seemed to be of good cheer and on good terms with the locals.

She patted Jimmy on the shoulder and walked over to sit beneath a tree, not caring if her already dirty nurse's uniform became just a little bit dirtier.

Jimmy swung himself forward on his crutches and entered the building. Though he was better off than he had been immediately after the crash, his collarbone and leg were still not fully healed, he was thin after two months in Germany where food was still scarce - and the flu had nearly accomplished what the crash had not. According to Claudia, he had come terrifyingly close to death. The only positive was that thankfully, his ribs were much better. Once inside, he saw a desk with major sitting behind it, flipping through paperwork. With a twinge of complaint from his collarbone, he clasped the crutches to his body with his upper arms and snapped a salute.

The major looked at him with more than a bit of disdain. "Name?" he asked without preamble.

"Lieutenant James Barrell, sir, 94th Aero Squadron," Jimmy replied.

The major failed (or perhaps didn't even try) to hide his surprise. "You're an officer? You look like a kid," he said.

"Yes, sir. I was commissioned when I earned my pilot's wings."

The major frowned, muttered something about the Army letting just about anyone be an officer and then picked up a clipboard and ran a finger down a list.

"Let's see.... ah, here you are. Barrell, James. You were declared missing in action. The Germans never bothered to notify us of your capture, lieutenant."

Jimmy shook his head. "Things were falling apart for them, sir."

The major raised an eyebrow. "Are you apologizing for them, lieutenant?"

Jimmy chuckled as he said, "No, not at all. Just stating the facts as I saw them, sir. I'm sure you noticed when you entered Germany after the armistice, that even though the country's not all torn up by the war like France is, the people were basically starving."

The major was unimpressed. "I suppose they should have considered that before starting the war."

Jimmy, who had kept up on the news prior to enlisting, wasn't sure the war could entirely by blamed on Germany (he remembered all the so-called Great Powers being overly eager to scrap back in 1914), but he kept his mouth shut. And though he had very much been in support of fighting the Germans after they invaded Belgium, time and his experiences in the war had... softened him a bit.

The major grunted when Jimmy failed to reply and then said, "OK, well... your unit is still back in France. But considering your wounds, we will transfer you to a military hospital prior to being shipped back to the States."

Jimmy was surprised. "I'm not going back to the 94th?" he asked.

The major shook his head. "No. The aero squadrons are going to be standing down and going home soon anyway, so no need." A shark-like grin lit his face as he continued, "but fear not lieutenant, I'm sure Uncle Sam will know just what to do with you now that you're back in the fold, so to speak."

The major wrote a note, handed it to Jimmy and told him to see his adjutant on the way out.

As Jimmy turned, the major added, "You're out of uniform Lieutenant. My adjutant has some left over."

The adjutant, a tired-looking sergeant, took the note and typed up orders for Jimmy. When he had them in hand, he glanced down and saw that he was to report to the U.S. military hospital in Aachen. The sergeant looked at him and said, "There's a train heading west in about an hour. It stops in Aachen. Your orders will get you on board, just show them to the MP at the station."

The sergeant stood, turned and opened a closet door. He rifled through some clothing and pulled out a new uniform. Returning, he opened a drawer, grabbed a pair of silver bars and handed them to Jimmy.

"You can dress over there," he said.

Jimmy thanked him, went and changed, and feeling strange to be back in uniform, crutched his way out to the street.

"Well, I'm going to Aachen," he said to Claudia when he got back outside.

When the nurse had accompanied Jimmy on the trip to Herschbach from Frankfurt he had a sneaking suspicion - which she later confirmed - that she was doing this on her own, and without the knowledge or blessing of the Red Cross.

"To the train station?" she asked.

Jimmy thought she had a funny look on her face.

"What is it?" he asked.

She smiled. "You look dashing in your uniform. I have never seen you in it," she said, and then blushed.

He glanced down at himself dubiously.

She coughed and said, "Perhaps we should go to the station."

"Yes, I suppose so," Jimmy said. Though he had been elated when she had said she would accompany him to the U.S. Army detachment in the Rhineland, he figured their time together was up.

"Perhaps I shall accompany you to Aachen," she said.

Jimmy raised his eyebrows. "I think it's a military train," he said.

She nodded firmly. "Just so. But I am your nurse and a member of the Red Cross." She pointed to her dirty, but recognizable, Red Cross frock. "I am certain they will permit me to accompany you."

Jimmy chuckled. Sometimes her German-ness really tickled his funny bone. "Just so" indeed... Well, he figured, they'd find out when they got to the train station.

"I suppose we should be on our way then," he said. With a nod and a small smile, Claudia Neumann led the way.

As he stumped along beside her, Jimmy was wondering if he could smuggle her out of Germany, into France and then to the States. He suspected she'd go if he suggested it. That made him smile.

She noticed his smile and asked in a sad voice, "You are happy to be leaving?"

His smile widened and he said, "Yes. But I'm smiling because you're with me."

[legendsport]

March 30, 1919: Egypt, GA:

Jimmy Barrell braked his Packard to a stop in front of the familiar white clapboard farmhouse. Off in the distance he saw some of his younger brothers playing baseball on the field their father had built for them. Several adults were also participating, though Jimmy couldn't make out who they were.

Safe to assume his father was one of them. He'd be leaving for D.C. soon, and Jimmy knew he always spent as much time with his children as possible before heading north. This time, however, Rufus wouldn't be going alone: Danny was tagging along. Rufus believed that his oldest baseball-crazy son might be better served by playing high school ball in Washington. He was finishing the eighth grade, and he would be visiting his prospective high school. Rollie was also going, largely just to get off the farm after surviving a terrible bout of the flu, with the benefit of being available to return to the farm with Danny so the youngster wouldn't have to travel alone. Jimmy smiled when he thought of his favorite brother - of all his siblings, Rollie had been the one he'd missed the most.

"Well, I suppose I should head in and face the music," he said as he stepped out of the car.

He had just stepped onto the porch when the door opened and his mother stepped out, holding a basket of muffins.

Alice Barrell gaped at her son, then dropped the basket (without allowing any muffins to escape), rushed forward and embraced her son.

Jimmy hugged her fiercely, then stepped back and said, "Mom, I have someone I want you to meet."

Confused, Alice took a step back and then noticed the car sitting in front of the house and the blonde-haired woman sitting in it.

She cocked an eyebrow as she asked, half-jokingly, "What have you gotten yourself into now, Jimmy?"

Jimmy swallowed, then turned and waved to the car. The young woman opened the door and stepped out.

Turning back to his mother, Jimmy said, "Mom, I want you to meet my wife, Claudia."

Alice's eyes widened in shock and she gasped audibly. "What!?!" she said in a near shout.

In a rush, Jimmy quickly explained. "We were married in France. It was the best way to get her here, and... well, we're in love and it seemed the right thing to do."

Alice opened her mouth to speak, but had no words.

Jimmy continued, "She saved my life in Germany, Mom. She nursed me back to health through my injuries after the crash and through the flu."

Alice waved her hand in front of herself. "She's a German?" she asked.

"Yep," Jimmy said. "Despite what all the propaganda said, they're just people, Mom."

Alice was still too stunned to speak when her new daughter-in-law stepped up to her and said, "Hello, Mrs. Barrell."

----------------------------------------------------------------

That evening as the large Barrell brood sat down to dinner, the newest member of the family found herself sitting between her new husband, who was busily engaged in telling his brother Rollie about the climbing ability of a Nieuport 28, and a guest who was on his way from someplace called "Alabama" to Baltimore. Apparently he was some kind of athlete.

"It's mighty nice to meet you, Claudia," he had said with a twinkle in his eye when they'd been introduced. "My name's Powell."

One of her new brothers-in-law - there were so many she hadn't quite sorted them all out yet - explained, "He's a ballplayer, Claudia." Another of the boys jumped in, adding, "Not just a ballplayer, but the best hitter in baseball."

Claudia was still fuzzy on baseball. Jimmy had told her about it - his father apparently was deeply involved in the sport and she knew that the game was incredibly popular in the U.S.

Powell blushed a bit and Claudia found this somewhat charming. He was older than her by several years and handsome. But she was deeply in love with Jimmy, who was still chattering away to his brother.

Again, one of the brothers - she thought it might be Tommy - was telling her about how great Powell was. "He hit over .400 four straight years - and five times in all, so far." She had no idea what that meant.

On the other side of their guest sat another non-family member, though Jimmy had told her he was "an honorary Barrell" - a colorful character named 'Possum' which Claudia had thought was some kind of rodent.

"Yep, this here boy can flat out shoot a pea through a drinking straw with the old hickory, girl," he said. Claudia had understood maybe one word in four.

Danny, sitting directly across from her, offered an explanation, "That means he has great bat control," he said with a grin. She still didn't understand. Bats were flying rodents, weren't they? Why did Americans have an obsession with vermin?

She smiled and tried to keep up. Beside her, Jimmy put his hand on hers and gave her a wink and smile. Then he started telling Rollie about "the time I tangled with the Flying Circus. The old Baron was already gone, but...." She tuned him out, having heard it several times already.

Beside her, Powell Slocum leaned over and said in a whisper, "This here is some kind of crazy family. But they are the best people you'll ever hope to find." Then he smiled at her and shoved some mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Claudia grinned and wondered again... 'what have I gotten myself into?'

[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.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

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."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

[legendsport]

October 3, 2019: Maplewood, NJ:

Paul Crowe stared at the browser window displayed in all its 4k glory on his new monitor. Cheryl had given him the 25-inch monitor for his birthday the previous week. He had to admit it made his writing easier, since he was no longer staring at his comparatively tiny 15-inch laptop screen.

He had pulled up a century-old story from his newspaper's online archive... and it wasn't one he relished using. But it was part of the Barrell family's history - a very important part - and it had to be in the book. Paul just wasn't quite sure how he wanted to describe this particular episode. He sighed and shook his head.

"Guess I might as well take a crack at this..." he mumbled.

"Again? Really?" Cheryl had, in her typically maddening way, magically appeared in the doorway of his home office. Either his wife was as silent as a ninja, or he had a tendency to get overly engrossed in his work.

"What's that?" he said wearily. Normally this would have been a prime opportunity for the light verbal jousting they both enjoyed so much. But today... he wasn't feeling it.

She narrowed her eyes a bit, surprised at his tone before she answered, "I was referring to your habit of talking to yourself."

He shrugged and told her, "Yeah, I do that when I'm up against it."

"What exactly is it that you're up against, then?"

"Well... come take a look," he waved her over.

She stepped around his desk and stood beside his chair, taking in the story on his monitor.

"Wow, you guys finished digitizing the morgue?"

Initially taken aback by her question because she used the newspaper term for it's collection of past stories - "the morgue" - he took a moment before replying, "Yeah, it took forever, but it's a million times better than the old microfiche scans we had. Some of those were really hard to read. The optical scan software did a great job, and the swarm of interns that cleaned it up did an even better one. Now the entire collection of every story ever written in our paper is available online in HTML or PDF format." He paused and added with a smirk, "For a fee, of course."

Cheryl chuckled and said, "Naturally."

The story was dated May 31, 1919. The jovial look on Cheryl's face faded away after reading the headline and she said simply, "Oh. You finally got there."

He took a deep breath and said, "Yep. Really not looking forward to this part."

She said quietly, "Last time I looked you were still writing about the war."

He spun 90 degrees in his chair and looked at his wife. "You okay?" he asked.

She shrugged and said, "I suppose. I mean, it was a hundred years ago. I never met him."

Paul gave her his "obviously" look and replied, "True, but he was your great-grandfather."

She nodded as she said, "Yes, that's true and I've heard a lot about it. But it was kind of tribal knowledge, passed down through the generations. Nana told me about that day, but I was really young."

She paused and added, "She was really something."

They were both silent, each reading the story sitting there in Arial font on Paul's monitor. Finally Cheryl broke the silence, saying, "Paul, I might bust your chops a lot, but I think you know that I think you're a great writer. Just do the story justice. That's all any of the family could ask of you." She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. "And I know you will do a great job."

Paul smiled and said, "Thanks, honey."

She put a hand on her hip. "So... since the Gothams missed the playoffs, does this mean you're going to be sitting in here 24/7 working on the book, or can I get a little help around the house? That toilet handle for one thing..."

Paul smiled sheepishly and said, "Well.... I was hoping to make some progress before the holidays. I'm supposed to deliver this thing to the publisher in April, you know."

She shook her head and said, "I knew it," as she walked out of the room.

Paul told himself he'd have to get to fixing that toilet handle soon. Then he turned back to his screen, reading the headline again:

"3 DIE IN AUTO RACE AT INDIANAPOLIS"

He read the relatively short story with a frown on his face, gave a small shake of his head, minimized the browser to display the text of his book. and started typing again....

[legendsport]

May 31, 1919: Indianapolis, IN:

Jimmy Barrell was having the time of his life. He had quite forgotten the thrill of racing automobiles. Sure, it wasn't as thrilling as flying, but it had one huge advantage: no one was trying to shoot you down.

From the moment the drivers had followed Bill Merlon in a "flying start" Jimmy had felt right at home behind the wheel. For his part, Merlon showed he still had it, tearing around the track at the head of the pack before peeling off into the pit area after one lap.

Now they were nearly halfway through the 500 mile run and Jimmy discovered that he'd forgotten just how physically demanding racing was. His flights over France had typically been no more than thirty minutes long and though the g-forces were less in a car (he wasn't flipping inverted, diving and climbing, but rather moving in two dimensions instead), he'd been gripping the wheel for nearly two and a half hours. Still, just as it had been when he'd been tangling with Fokkers over France, Jimmy was riding on adrenaline. "I'm going to win this thing," he told himself.

Beside him, Charlie Coaker was twisted to the side, looking back at the competition. They were currently third, and Jimmy was focused on the two drivers ahead of them while Charlie watched the drivers behind them.

"Winfield's coming up hard, Jim," Charlie shouted over the noise of the big V-12 engine.

They were approaching the end of the long straightaway and the turn would require slowing down. Jimmy wondered how much speed he could safely hold in the corner. He knew Winfield was a master in the corners. So he figured that being aggressive through the turn might be his best chance to both reel in the leaders and put some distance between himself and Jack Winfield.

Charlie, as if reading his driver's mind, groaned as Jimmy pushed the car into the turn with only a slight decrease in speed.

In the stands, Claudia Barrell sat between two of her brothers-in-law. Rollie had said he "wouldn't miss it for the world" when Jimmy asked him if he'd like to come watch the race. Jimmy had told her that Rollie was his favorite brother and after meeting the second-eldest Barrell boy, she liked him too. Also in attendance was Danny Barrell. The next oldest after Jimmy, albeit four years younger, Danny was on the verge of entering high school and his admiration for his daredevil brother was both apparent and, to Claudia, heartwarming. She also suspected that Danny, despite his youth, had a bit of a crush on her. Rollie had noticed this too, and had spent several minutes ribbing his brother about it. He almost certainly would still be ribbing Danny if the fourth member of the group, Francine York, hadn't put her foot down and told her fiance, "Leave the boy along, Roland."

For his part, Danny was shelling peanuts, then tossing them into the air and catching them in his mouth. Rollie was telling Claudia about Jimmy's "pestering" him into racing in Florida and how that had landed both of them in hot water with their parents, but also started Jimmy on his way to meeting Bill Merlon, going to France, flying with the 94th and ultimately, meeting Claudia herself.

Francie was sitting on Rollie's right, half-listening. To her surprise, Francie found that she really enjoyed watching the race and thus it was that of the four of them, she was the only one intently watching the track when Jimmy's Packard entered the turn.

Francie tapped Rollie on the arm and asked, "Isn't he going too fast?" She pointed.

Rollie looked, frowned and said, "Maybe..."

Claudia, who had never seen a race before, but had watched the drivers circle the big track over and over again during the course of the past two hours - always slowing in the turns - felt her heart skip a beat. "Langslamer..." she muttered, reverting to her native tongue in her anxiety.

The peanut he'd tossed into the air hit Danny in the ear as he turned his head to look into the corner.

For Claudia, time seemed almost to slow to a crawl. She saw Jimmy's Packard start to skid into the corner. She could see Jimmy frantically working at the wheel as he fought to control the skid. But it was no good. The slide worsened and the car's left wheels lifted off the ground as simple physics won out. The car flipped over and slid into the corner, a trail of gasoline spewing from the vehicle's ruptured tank. Then with a deafening whoosh, the gas tank exploded and the car was engulfed in flames.

Shouting in German, Claudia shot to her feet and began fighting her way down from the grandstand, with Danny, Rollie and Francie hot on her heels.

They weren't alone as other spectators also leapt onto the track and ran towards the inferno in the corner. As they ran along the verge of the track, Danny said, "Hey! The other drivers... they're still racing!"

It was true - the race continued even as Jimmy's Packard burned in the corner. A trail of flame led out from the overturned Packard and onto the track where the spilled gasoline had ignited.

Claudia got to within thirty feet of the car before a man grabbed her around the waist, preventing her from closer. She struggled, still screaming in German. "You'll roast, lady!" he shouted at her.

Rollie came up and gently laid a hand on her shoulder, telling the stranger, "That's her husband... and my brother."

The guy released his grip on Claudia and she took two steps closer, but the heat of the fire was too much. She fell to her knees.

Meanwhile, the cars going past were driving through the flaming gasoline and some of them carried the flames with them as they accelerated out of the corner and down the straightaway.

Francie was crying, Danny was standing dumbstruck and Rollie stood behind Claudia, his left hand on her right shoulder while she knelt on the track, screaming.

Eventually, the flames were extinguished, but a grueling five minutes had passed. Rollie knew there was no way anyone could have survived that inferno. Danny had dropped to his knees beside Claudia and they were leaning on each other, crying. Francie was still crying too, and Rollie hugged her tightly. For him there were no tears, though he knew they'd come eventually - he felt their weight building behind his eyes. Right now it was all just too surreal - his crazy, brave, pig-headed brother... the wild-eyed hellion who'd convinced his solidly reliable brother to steal the car they'd been supposed to sell in order to go racing in Florida... the underage kid who'd defied his parents by joining the Army... who'd somehow wrangled his way into becoming a pilot, and then an ace... who had survived being shot down over enemy territory... to find love in a German POW hospital... how could someone so full of life be... gone?

With the fire out, it was found that Jimmy and Charlie had remained strapped in their seats and were burned beyond recognition. They were the second and third (and final) fatalities that day - another driver (a man named Arnold Thomas) had crashed and died earlier in the race - and Jimmy had deftly swerved his Packard around Thomas' disintegrating car on the back stretch. And yet even with three men dead and a fourth's life (that of Thomas' riding mechanic) hanging by a thread, the race continued. Jack Winfield eventually won it.

[legendsport]

Montreal, PQ: June 1, 1919:

Jack Barrell was standing in the kitchen of his apartment, trying to slice some bread so he could make a sandwich. The undertaking was difficult because he had broken his right hand in a game against the Trenton Eagles. The Eagles' top prospect, a hard-throwing right-hander named Harry Horn, had tried to come inside on Jack. Being stubborn to a fault, Jack wasn't bailing - he felt he had a right to the plate, and the fastball had hit him square in the right hand as he'd belatedly tried to spin out of the way. Long story short... his hand was broken and his season was on hold. Rather than sit around in Springfield, he'd decided to return to Montreal. The Minutemen didn't seem to care all that much.

Now he couldn't even make a sandwich. He wistfully found himself - again - missing Vera. She had driven him crazy, but he couldn't help missing her cantakerous ways. "You need to find a friend, Jackie," he told himself. Then he remembered Vera's last words to him, "Find yourself a good woman, Jack." He barked a short laugh - he hadn't had much luck with the ladies.

A knock on the door brought him out of his reverie.

As he approached the door, the knocking resumed and he heard a man's voice, shouting, "Barrell! You in there?"

Jack unlocked the door and swung it open. To his surprise he saw Jack Blaney standing there.

"Blaney? What are you doing here?" Jack asked. He and Blaney weren't really friends, but they had played hockey against each other several times. Both had recognized the talent of the other, so they respected each other, but why Blaney would show up on Jack's doorstep was a mystery.

Blaney pointed to Jack's cast. "Get into a fight, Barrell?" he asked with a smirk.

Jack snorted and replied, "Actually, no. I was on the receiving end of an errant fastball down in New Jersey."

Blaney chuckled and shook his head. "Baseball? I thought you were a real athlete, Barrell."

Jack laughed before replying, "Oh, don't you worry, I'll be back on the ice when winter rolls around. You won't get rid of me that easily, Blaney." Even as he said it, he realized that he had "retired" from hockey. He might have a big old helping of crow to eat to get back to the Dukes. Luckily, Bert Thomas was a friend of the family.

Blaney snapped his fingers at Jack. "You still here, Barrell? We need to talk."

Jack frowned and stepped aside, waving Blaney into the apartment.

To his surprise, Blaney wasn't alone. A dark-haired young woman stood behind him. Jack noticed two things immediately: she was both very attractive, and very, very pregnant.

Blaney turned and muttered some French to the young woman, who nodded and followed him in. Jack spoke French, but hadn't caught whatever Blaney had said.

Jack invited the young lady to have a seat, and did it in French. She looked at him in surprise and gave a small smile and a "Merci" as she sat down.

"OK, Blaney, what's this all about?" Jack asked.

Blaney sat down beside the girl and suggested Jack have a seat too. The only seat left was Vera's old armchair. Jack had purposely avoided sitting in it, but now did so, feeling a pang of sadness as he did.

"Have you spoken to your brother Jimmy lately?" Blaney asked.

Jack was surprised and it showed as he answered, "No. Last I heard he was in Georgia with my parents. And his new wife."

Blaney's eyebrows shot skyward. "Wife!?! He's married?"

Jack nodded and then asked, "Just how do you know my brother, Blaney?"

Blaney explained that he and Jimmy had met in France. He described their meeting and the discovery that Blaney knew Jack. He went on to say that he and Jimmy had struck up a friendship and though stationed on opposite ends of the long Western Front, they had met up several times over the last months of fighting. "He's one helluva pilot too, from what I've heard," Blaney added.

Then Blaney sighed and added, "This is going to be extremely awkward, so I'll just say it - this is Marie Dupuis. As you can see, she's pregnant. And your brother, married or not, is the father."

Jack's mouth dropped open in astonishment. Oh boy...

He recovered his wits and turned to Marie. He asked her, in French, to explain.

Marie replied that she was from a town in France called Sommaisne. It was close to the Rembercourt Aerodrome, where the 94th Pursuit Squadron had been based for the last few months of the war. She was a farmer's daughter and had met Jimmy while the latter had been bicycling through the countryside. She had twisted her ankle after tripping on a shell hole while walking back from the market in Rembercourt aux Pots. Jimmy had charmed her and rode her back to the farm on the handlebars of his bicycle. Soon the two had begun a discreet relationship, although she believed that Bill Merlon knew about it. She blushed and finished by saying that "nature had taken its course."

Jack was feeling embarassed by this talk as well. He raised a hand and said that he understood. He was a bit surprised - and jealous - that Jimmy had turned out be some kind of Casanova.

Blaney jumped back into the conversation by adding that when Jimmy had been shot down, no one knew if he was dead or had been captured. Thus when the war ended, no one could tell Marie whether Jimmy was even alive. Marie remembered Jimmy telling her of his friendship with Blaney and had made her way north, finding him at his aerodrome in Belgium just before they were due to leave as part of the occupation forces.

"I found Bill Merlon, and he told me that the Americans thought Jimmy had survived, but the Germans hadn't notified them one way or the other. By the time I found out he was alive, he was already on a ship back to the States."

Marie couldn't follow the conversation very well, her English being rudimentary at best. Jack asked her how she ended up in Canada.

"Mr. Blaney helped me. He told his superiors that the baby was his, so they would allow me to travel with him back to Canada."

Blaney broke in by adding, "I knew the Barrells were from Georgia, but had no idea where. But I do know you live in Montreal. That's why we came here first. So you can help Marie find Jimmy."

Jack frowned. "That kid is always getting himself into trouble. And he's married - to a German nurse, no less."

Blaney whistled. "Well, this is a bit of a mess isn't it?"

There was another knock on the door. Jack excused himself and went to answer it. There was an older woman standing there and they spoke briefly in French. She patted Jack on the arm and handed him a telegram.

When Jack turned back, his guests saw shock and sadness on his face.

Blaney asked, "What is it?"

Jack sniffed and it looked like he was fighting back tears. "Things just got a lot more complicated, Blaney. My brother Jimmy crashed his racing automobile in Indianapolis yesterday." He looked at Marie and finished, in French, "Jimmy's dead."

[legendsport]

Atlanta, GA: June 4, 1919:

The funeral of James Ferdinand Barrell was one to remember. A large crowd of mourners gathered in Atlanta to lay the son of Rufus and Alice Barrell to rest beside his paternal grandparents and uncle, who had also died in a tragic fire.

For the first time in quite a while, all the Barrells were together. Joe had arrived the previous evening from Ohio. Edna had remained in Akron with their children. Rollie was there with his fiance as were all the younger children with their parents. Danny had become overtly protective of Claudia, never leaving her side.

Both the Daniels brothers were on hand as well, and for once Possum wasn't effusively dispensing downhome wisdom, having adopted a steadfast stoicism for his longtime friend Rufus. His wife and son, named for Rufus Barrell, were also there. The Daniels family, along with Joe Barrell, sat in the second row just behind Rufus and Alice. Alice's father, Joe Reid sat with them.

Many of the FABL family were on hand as well. From club owners Malcolm Presley (Kings), Miles Bigsby (Gothams) and Wash Whitney (Chiefs) to Rufus' OSA colleague Thomas Potentas and FABL President Robert Owings, as well as many former players, professional baseball was well represented. Telegrams from dozens of active players, coaches and scouts had arrived - everyone from minor league hotshots like Dick York to phenom Max Morris and superstar Powell Slocum had sent their condolences. Bert Thomas, owner of the Toronto franchises in both baseball and hockey, was there as was Jack Connolly, the former Toronto hockey owner who was booted out of the sport and was an ally-turned-enemy of Thomas. They sat on opposite sides of the church. It was Connolly's gift of an automobile to the Barrell family that had first started Jimmy on the road to racing. Alice Barrell, had she been in a normal frame of mind, might have thrown Connolly out on his ear, but she was in a deep pit of sadness and probably didn't even realize he was there. Rufus did notice however, and scowled, but was not going to make a scene at a time like this.

It was the arrival of Jack Barrell that really caught everyone's attention and nearly did cause a scene.

Most of the large crowd of mourners were already inside the church when Jack showed up. Like many of the members of the family his eyes had a hollow, haunted look. The cast on his right hand stuck out of the black suit he wore as he stepped from the bright sunshine into the dimness of the church and began peering about. Entering a half-step behind him was Marie Dupuis, a small-boned young woman with black hair in a simple black dress, her pretty face marred by eyes puffy from tears, her hands resting protectively on her protuding abdomen. Jack spoke softly to her while he waited for his eyes to adjust so he could find his family.

It was Rollie who spotted Jack first. "Whoa," he said quietly. Francie, next to him, spun to see where he was looking. She frowned, "That's Jack, right? Who's that with him?"

"Yeah, that's Jack. I have no idea who the girl is. I hope he didn't get her in trouble." Francine had spoken at length with Rollie about his large family - she was truly interested in learning as much as she could about the family she would soon be joining. She clearly remembered Rollie telling her that Jack, while arguably the best athlete in the family (Rollie felt he barely edged out Joe in that regard - even though the jury was still out on the younger boys) was "all thumbs when it comes to girls." So she understood the extremely confused look on Rollie's face.

Bobby Barrell, peering up at the vaulted ceiling, was pushed by his brother Tommy. "Hey!" he snarled and then he saw where Tommy was pointing. "Oh, Jack's here!" Bobby said happily. He really liked Jack. "Who's that lady?" Harry was kicking the back of the pew in front of them, but when Bobby spoke, he stopped briefly, turned around and said, "She's pretty." Then he started kicking the pew again. Betsy poked Fred and asked, "Why is that lady's belly so big?" Fred looked, smiled into his hand and said, "Ask Mom... later."

Jack finally spotted Joe, sitting in the second row, talking quietly with Cooter Daniels. He turned to Marie, "Es-tu prêt?" he asked.

"Oui," she replied, punctuating it with a solid nod. Jack agreed - he was as ready as he was going to be, so he reached out and took her hand. He admired her bravery. They began walking towards the front of the church, leaving a slew of whispered questions in their wake.

Jack squeezed Rollie's shoulder as he passed, then stepped up to the pew where his brother Joe sat, just behind where Rufus and Alice, who were in the first pew, sat staring at the coffin a few feet away.

"Joe," Jack whispered, "can we sit with you?"

Joe looked at Jack and gave a wan smile. It quickly faded to a look of confusion. "Hey Jack," Joe said. "Who's your, umm... friend?"

Possum sitting beside Cooter, was preparing to ask his wife to slide down to make room, then saw Marie. One of his bushy eyebrows rose and he whistled softly.

Rufus had noticed the mini-ruckus behind him, half-turned in his seat, and spotted Jack. "Jack..." he said, the raw emotion evident in his voice. Alice too, now turned, and with tears running down her face, muttered a whispered hello to her son.

Jack was about to reply when he saw, sitting beside his mother, the blonde woman quietly crying with his brother Danny sitting beside her, holding her hand. Rufus noticed where Jack was looking and said, "Jack, this is Claudia, Jimmy's wife."

Jack swallowed and said hello to his sister-in-law. Behind him, Marie, not able to follow the conversation, had nevertheless surmised who the blonde woman must be. Marie remained silent, but a single tear ran down her cheek.

Rufus leaned back, to see Marie standing behind Jack. He asked, "Who's that behind you?"

Jack gave Marie's hand a reassuring squeeze and said, "This is Marie Dupuis. She was Jimmy's... friend... in France."

Rufus noticed that Marie was pregnant and looked at Jack. In response to the unspoken question in his father's eyes, Jack nodded once. Rufus closed his eyes.

Alice saw the expression on her husband's face. Rufus leaned over, very much aware of Claudia sitting on the other side of Alice, and whispered in his wife's ear.

"What!?!" she blurted. In the subdued environment of the church, her barked question was like a gunshot. The remaining noise in the church stopped as if a switch had been flipped.

Claudia looked up, and saw Jack and Marie. She wondered what had shocked Alice so much. She recognized that the man who looked so much like Jimmy must be his brother Jack, the only one she had not met. She also noted that Marie was pregnant and made the natural assumption that Jack must be the baby's father and that Alice had not known about this. Claudia grasped Alice's hand and squeezed in sympathy. Alice turned and looked at Claudia, a horrified look in her eyes.

[legendsport]

Egypt, GA: June 5, 1919:

Claudia still didn't know. Alice, though emotionally wrung-out, still had enough wits about her to convince Rufus that - for now - it was better to let Claudia continue to assume that Marie's baby was Jack's. The poor girl had been through so much already. Alice knew that Claudia's mother had died of typhoid during the war and both her only brother and her father had been killed in battle. Jimmy had been a lifeline for her as much as she had been one for him... and now he was gone too.

Rufus agreed, though reluctantly. "She deserves to know," he pointed out.

"It won't do any good right now. The pain is still so raw, Rufus," his wife said quietly.

"Yes, it is," he agreed and hugged her. Alice whispered in her husband's ear, "If he were here, I'd wring his neck for what he's done to those two poor girls."

The entire family was back in the farmhouse. Though Rufus had built the place big to hold his large family, the extra guests necessitated some shuffling. Claudia had offered to share a room with Marie, but Alice had deftly steered her daughter-in-law away from this. Claudia slept in Betsy's room while the youngest Barrell child shared with her parents. Marie and Jack had stayed in the room Jack had once shared with Jimmy - Alice didn't even bother to say anything about that to her son. She knew him too well.

Before going to bed, Rufus had spoken with Jack at length. He got the complete story on what Jack had learned from Marie. He also took time to discuss Jack's career - both baseball and hockey. As usual Rufus acted as the voice of reason for his hot-headed third son - Jack agreed with everything his father told him; stubborn pride was not going to be productive.

After the talk, Jack had gone quietly into his old bedroom, climbing into his childhood bed. A thoroughly exhausted Marie was already asleep in Jimmy's bed. Jack was a bit surprised at the crush of confusing emotions he felt about this French girl he barely knew.

Now a new day had dawned and Jack remained attentive to Marie. He stayed by her side, held her hand, and treated her as if he were in fact her baby's father. Though obviously tormented, the French girl was just as obviously thankful for Jack's attention. Alice reflected that all other considerations aside, Jack was the only one there who could carry on a conversation with Marie.

Jack's two older brothers had been keeping an eye on him too. So it was that when Marie had to visit the bathroom, Joe and Rollie cornered Jack in the dining room.

"Explain," Joe said simply.

Jack did just that, telling his brothers the whole story. How Jack Blaney had delivered the very pregnant Marie to him in Montreal. How he'd learned about Jimmy's death and then invited Marie to stay with him, sleeping on the couch that night before beginning the long trip to Georgia, bringing Marie with him and all the while dreading what would happen.

"Does she know about Claudia?" Rollie asked.

Jack nodded. "I thought it only right to tell her that Jimmy had gotten married. It damn near broke her heart," he said. Averting his eyes, he added, "She's a sweet girl. I really feel for her."

Joe and Rollie locked eyes and shared a smirk.

"Umm... are you falling for her, Jack?" Rollie asked. As the blunt one, it usually fell to him to ask the tough questions.

Jack turned red, but he denied it anyway, saying, "No! Of course not!"

Joe shook his head and Rollie patted Jack on the shoulder saying, "You're lying, Jack. You can kid other people, but Joe and I know you way too well for you to pull the wool over our eyes."

Jack frowned and shrugged. Then he said, "It doesn't matter anyway."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Joe said with a small smile.

"You know that Claudia still thinks you're that baby's father, right?" Rollie asked.

Jack nodded and said, "Yes, I know. But we'll have to tell her eventually."

Rollie said, "Maybe. But maybe not."

Joe chuckled ruefully and nodded. He glanced at Rollie, then back at Jack and said, "I would assume she'll go back to France now?"

"It might be too late, I think the baby will be coming soon. Why would she want to give birth at sea?" Jack replied.

"A fair point," Rollie said. He was still smirking and it was starting to irritate Jack.

Jack wasn't sure what to say next and the conversation ended as Marie returned a moment later. She smiled at Joe and Rollie. Jack said something to her in French and she replied in her soft, melodious voice. Both Joe and Rollie could easily see why both Jimmy - and now Jack - had found this girl so enchanting.

"Marie said that she can see Jimmy in both of you," Jack reported. Beside him, Marie started sobbing again. Rollie's smirk disappeared - now he just looked uncomfortable. Joe caught Jack's eye and tilted his head at Marie, and Jack put his arms around her. She clung to him, crying on his shoulder.

As they left the room, Rollie said to Joe, "Holy smokes... that Jimmy. Not one, but two beautiful foreign girls..." He shook his head and Joe, equally baffled, nodded in agreement.

Rollie stopped and said, "You know this whole situation... it's so Jimmy. Even when we were all kids, he'd have his fun, make a mess and we'd be left having to clean it up. That's why Jack was always hard on him - Jack bore the brunt of the blame a lot."

Joe chuckled and said, "Too true. Now that I think about it, Jimmy always had a way with the fairer sex - he sure had Mom wrapped around his finger, didn't he? How else could he get away with all the crap he did?"

Rollie nodded and said, "Yep, it all makes sense now."

Meanwhile, Danny was in the living room, sitting on the sofa beside Claudia.

"Would you like some more tea?" he asked.

"No, thank you," she replied. She nodded her head at Marie, who was visible through the open door in the dining room. She was leaning on Jack and crying. "Why is Jack's friend so sad?"

Danny, who didn't know the full story, shrugged. "Maybe she's sad because Jack and Jimmy were brothers. Jack was the closest to Jimmy in age, even though Rollie was always more of a friend to Jimmy. Jack used to bully Jimmy a bit when they were kids."

Claudia asked what "bullying" meant and Danny was trying to explain when Claudia abruptly turned green, stood up quickly and ran towards the bathroom.

Harry came over to Danny. "I think Claudia is sick," he said.

"Wow, good deduction, Sherlock," Danny snapped and went over to stand outside the bathroom door. Sure enough, he could hear her being sick.

Ten feet away, Rufus and Alice shared a knowing look.

[legendsport]

Montreal, PQ: June 10, 1919:

Jack had never been so nervous. Not even when he leapt onto the ice for his first shift in his one-game career with the Dukes had he been this nervous. And instead of the best hockey players in the world, the object of his fear was a 19-year-old pregnant French woman who stood maybe five feet, two inches tall.

Cursing his cast as he struggled to knot his tie, Jack told himself it would all work out.

Minutes later he stepped out of the bedroom, wearing his "road suit," the simple blue suit he wore while traveling with his team. He still had several weeks to go before the cast came off and he'd have to go back to Springfield. But right now he wasn't planning that far ahead.

Marie was sitting on the sofa, flipping through a magazine they had bought at a newstand when they'd arrived back in Montreal the previous evening.

"Are you ready?" Jack asked. "We need to leave to make our reservation time."

She smiled at him and got slowly to her feet. "The baby is kicking me again," she said.

"Probably ready to get out and see the sights," Jack said, trying to keep his tone light.

She smiled and agreed and then he opened the door for her, followed her out of the apartment, locking up behind him before following her downstairs.

The restaurant was just down the street. Jack's apartment was close to the arena, and therefore also close to several of the better Montreal eating establishments (though he hadn't visited any since before Vera got sick).

A slow and thankfully short walk brought them to the restaurant where the maitre'd recognized Jack, shook his hand warmly and seated them at a corner table.

"Why are we here, Jack?" she asked. Like most French speakers his name sounded like "Jock" when she said it. He usually found it amusing, but coming from Marie, it sped his heartbeat up.

"I know this has been a very difficult time for you. So I wanted you to have a nice night," he said and then asked her to tell him about France.

He sat and listened to her lilting voice as she described her village. She had been barely into her teens when the war started and the "Boche" as she called the Germans, had quickly driven deep into her country, and although her hometown had never been captured, it was still close enough for the big German artillery guns to reach it, when they chose to do so - which they did, occasionally.

Finally she talked about the influenza that first appeared in the spring of 1918. It disappeared in the summer but returned on a larger scale in the fall. Her parents had both gotten sick. She had been terrified, as she had only recently discovered that she was pregnant - and Jimmy was missing, and possibly dead. "I did not know what to do," she said, looking into Jack's eyes.

"I'm sorry. Did you parents recover?" Jack asked.

"No," she replied quietly. She had two brothers, one of them killed at the Marne in 1914, but the other still lived. He had been in Germany with the French Army when she left France. "He owns the farm now," she said and added that no one in her family knew she was pregnant and that her conservative brother would cast her out if... when... he found out.

Jack told her about Vera - after all, she had been Jimmy's grandmother too - and how she had also fallen to the influenza pandemic that was still raging around a world still reeling from the war that had just had ended. He ended by telling her about Vera's role in determining Jimmy's middle name. "Vera demanded that my mother name her fourth son 'Ferdinand' - and my mother refused." He grinned, adding, "My mother and her mother... both very stubborn ladies."

Marie asked, "Why Ferdinand?"

Jack had a twinkle in his eye as he explained. "Vera's father had a brother named Ferdinand who had been killed in the American Civil War. My parents had been naming their children after family and friends. Joe was named after my mother's father and Rollie after Dad's best friend. They named me for Dad's father. So when Jimmy was born, with both grandfathers already honored as well as Possum, whom Vera thought uncouth, she demanded that the new baby be named for her uncle. Mom flatly refused and they argued a bit before my father played peace-maker and suggested that Jimmy's middle name be Ferdinand."

Marie smiled. "Thank you for that story. Jimmy never told me his middle name."

"That's because he hated it," Jack pointed out. "He always told people his middle name was Theodore. Joe told me that Jimmy's Army enlistment papers were signed James T. Barrell. That probably made them illegal, but no one realized it."

"And you... what is your middle name?" she asked.

"Oh... umm, well my middle name is Charles, actually," he said, knowing it was also her father's name.

She clasped her hands and said, "Another reason for me to like you, Jack!" It still sounded like "Jock" which was what his team mates called him too.

"Do you want to go back to France after...?" Jack asked, nervously waving a hand, meaning the birth of her child.

"I do not know," she replied. "I find that I like it here in Quebec. The language is... almost the same," she added with a smile. Jack grinned and said it was probably much the same as the English spoken by Americans as being almost the same as that spoken by the British. She nodded in agreement.

Jack took a drink of water. Now or never, he thought.

"You could stay here... with me," he said.

She stared at him. Her eyes, which had widened in surprise and locked on his, both thrilled and scared him.

"Really? You would let me stay with you?" she asked.

He nodded and then said, "Sure. We could even get married."

Her eyes widened even more and she gasped.

He took this as a bad sign and quickly added, "Of course, you don't have to, I mean... I really like you and... your child would legally be a Barrell... but it's okay if you don't..."

She had leaned across the table and grabbed his hands in hers.

"Stop talking," she said. Then she leaned further, resting her belly on the table and kissed him.

She leaned back and from a distance of about six inches, said, "I would be honored to marry you, John Charles Barrell."

Jack was stunned. She actually had said yes. He never imagined that it would have been possible. True, they'd known each other... he counted in his head... only nine days, but they had spent almost every minute of that time together and for his part, well... Joe and Rollie had been right: he had fallen for her, hard. To hear that she might have feelings for him too... Wow.

[legendsport]

Egypt, GA: July 2, 1919:

It was official - Claudia Barrell was pregnant. Alice found the news made her both happy (a new grandchild!) and sad (one without a father). Rufus felt the same way.

As for Claudia, the news was a glimmer of joyful light in what had been a sea of sorrow. "The child and I... We will be in this together," she said firmly before quietly adding, "And a piece of Jimmy will live on."

Rufus, thinking of Marie, pressed his lips together and bowed his head. He wasn't sure keeping Claudia in the dark was the right thing, even if his wife and sons did.

Alice replied, "You can stay with us for as long as you'd like. You're a Barrell now and that's forever."

Claudia smiled and thanked her. "I am a trained nurse, Mother. I will find work." Alice gave her a hug.

Though they had expected it given the events of the days immediately following the funeral, the fact that Jimmy had a second child on the way was heart wrenching for Rufus and Alice. Jack had told them by telegram that he and Marie had gotten married. This was only a small surprise. Rollie had already confided in them that he and Joe had recognized Jack's feelings for Marie and encouraged him to act on them. "It was a win-win situation, really," Rollie told his mother.

And Marie had given birth the previous week. Now that she was legally Mrs. John Barrell, her daughter - Jimmy's daughter - had not born outside wedlock. Marie had named her Agnes, telling Jack that she was a "gift from God."

So far, Claudia did not know that Jimmy, and not Jack, was the father of little Agnes Barrell. Those who did know - Joe and Rollie, Alice and Rufus (reluctantly), Jack and Marie, had decided to leave it that way. At least for a while. The truth wouldn't help anyone was the consensus opinion.

"Three of our four oldest boys... married," Alice said to Rufus one night.

"And Rollie's next. Just a few more weeks," Rufus replied.

The whole situation was bittersweet. New lives beginning while another had been cut short far too soon.

-------------------------------------------

The next morning, Claudia came down to breakfast in a serious, business-like mood. Seated around the giant table were a bleary-eyed Rollie, Alice and Rufus. Following Claudia down the stairs as always was Danny. Harry tore through the room, chased by Bobby, who was shouting "Give it back!" Alice raised her own voice, yelling at them to behave.

"I swear it's like living in a zoo sometimes," she wearily told her husband.

Claudia sat down at the table. Danny. wearing an uncommonly rare, serious expression on his face, sat down next to her. Claudia looked at him and smiled, then turned to Rufus and Alice.

"Good morning. I have a suggestion," Claudia said briskly.

Alice really liked Claudia. She was resilient, determined, unblinkingly loyal and unafraid to take action. Much like herself, she thought and smiled at her daughter-in-law.

"Daniel and I were talking," Claudia began. Alice coughed down a laugh, causing Claudia to stop.

"Are you alright, Mother?" she asked with a concerned look on her face.

Alice waved her hand. She had nearly choked at Claudia calling Danny by his full Christian name. Her son typically wouldn't abide anyone calling him 'Daniel' and she found it hilarious. Across the table, Alice saw Danny glaring at her. He knew full well why his mother was choking back a laugh.

"I'm fine... Please continue," Alice said. Rufus, in on the joke, was grinning beside her. "Stop grinning like a rube, Rufus," she whispered at him.

Claudia frowned in brief confusion, then continued, "As I was saying, Daniel and I were talking. I know that the plan is for him to attend school in Washington. Why not allow me to accompany him? I can watch over him and he can keep me company while I am growing larger." She motioned to her still trim abdomen.

Rufus tiled his head and rubbed his chin. Alice knew this meant he thought it was a good idea but in his usual way was waiting to hear her opinion on it.

Alice looked at Rufus and asked, "Wasn't the plan for Dan to stay in the house you and Thomas share during the season?"

Rufus nodded - he and Thomas Potentas shared a brick townhouse in Georgetown. Potentas lived there year-round, on the ground floor, while Rufus had the entire second floor to himself when he was in town. The plan had been for Danny to live there while attending school with Potentas keeping an eye on him in Rufus' frequent absences.

"There's certainly enough room," Rufus said. "And I'm gone much of the time, so it might be nice for Danny to have Claudia around when I'm gone. Thomas is... a little different."

"He's weird," Rollie put in.

Rufus gave him a look. Rollie shrugged and said, "Just telling it like it is, Pop."

Claudia followed this and said, "So, this is a good plan?"

Alice was a little dubious. She knew her children better than anyone - possibly even better than they knew themselves. And Danny was plainly infatuated with his good-looking, blonde-headed, and newly widowed sister-in-law. Who was also a grown woman nearly five years older than her teenaged son was. She frowned.

"Oh, no. I know that look," Danny said in a moan. "Mom, it'll be better for everyone. Don't make me live alone in that big, empty house with creepy Tom Potentas."

"He's not creepy," Alice snapped, Rufus nodding in agreement. "He's Polish nobility for crying out loud!"

Several minutes of discussion ensued. Alice knew she was outnumbered, and discounting the fact that Danny had inappropriately amorous feelings for Claudia, the idea was not at all bad.

"We'll be there for each other, Mom," Danny had said pleadingly.

Finally, Alice had relented and gave her agreement. Privately, she vowed that she'd be having a long discussion with Danny before he left for Washington.

[legendsport]

Hamilton, ON: July 9, 1919:

"You'd better not screw this up. If you do, the wedding's off," Francine York said with a gleam in her eye.

"Gee, thanks. No pressure, then?" Rollie Barrell replied.

"Just remember what I told you about your hips," Francie said.

Rollie rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Francie. Who's playing in this thing - you... or me?"

Francie put her hands on her hips and shot back, "Well, it's not my fault that golf is so chauvanistic, now is it?"

The couple, just two weeks from getting married back in Georgia, were in Canada for the Canadian Open. For Rollie, who knew he had no chance of actually winning the thing, this was all about simply proving he could play. A respectable result here meant that maybe he could play professionally. If he failed dismally he might face a career wearing a green eyeshade and staring at columns of numbers.

He shook his head. "You can still play... and win... amateur titles."

Francie scoffed and said, "Yes, men can earn money playing golf... women, no."

Rollie huffed out a deep breath. "Can we save the women's rights stuff for after the Open?"

She narrowed her eyes and he could see the tension in her tall, willowy frame, but she sighed and said, "Yes. But you better make the cut, or I will leave you at the altar, Roland."

He shook his head, but saw her smirk just the same.

"You know..." he said with a mischievous grin. "We could get you some pants and a cap, you tuck your hair up... and you could caddy for me. That way you'd be able to pester me all tournament long."

She glared at him and said, "Not funny."

"Too bad Jack's not here," Rollie said. "He's at least fun to be around." He ducked as Francie threw a golf ball at his head.

----------------------------------------------

In the end, Rollie did make the cut. Barely.

This Open had something of a celebratory feeling to it, with the tournament having been suspended the past four years due to the war. This year's entry had nearly been canceled as well - Canada, like the U.S. and most other countries, was still recovering from the influenza pandemic that some said had now killed more people worldwide than the war itself had.

An Englishman, John Wesley Douglas, won the tournament, shooting a very nice -2 to claim the $200 winner's share. The score was a full ten strokes better than the +12 winning score posted back in 1914 at the previous Open, which had been held in Toronto. It was also 17 strokes better than the second-place finisher. Following the victory, Rollie congratulated Douglas, who had played better than anyone Rollie had ever seen.

"I'm not sure I'm good enough to run with this crowd," Rollie told Francie at their hotel that night. He'd finished 19th - not terrible, but far off the pace.

"Stop. You're good, Rollie. Give yourself some credit," Francie told him. Then she added with a grin, "You beat me, remember? That's no mean feat."

Rollie laughed and said, "Yeah, that's right. And don't go telling me you took it easy on me, either."

Francie gave him a serious look and replied, "OK, I won't tell you. We need to protect your fragile male ego from the truth."

Rollie kissed her and said, "You're really something, you know that?"

She laughed and said, "That's right - and you'd better never forget it either."


Springfield, MA: July 29, 1919:

Jack Barrell looked at the face of his daughter. While biologically the squirming infant was his niece, he felt, down to his very bones, that she was his daughter. He thought she looked like her mother. That was a good thing in more ways than one. Not only was Marie beautiful, but if the baby had looked like Jimmy, it would have made keeping her true paternity a secret that much harder.

He finished changing her diaper and pulled his pocket watch out. Almost time to go to the ballpark.

He could hear Marie humming in the kitchen. She had a lovely voice and it warmed his heart to see her doing so well. She seemed very happy and this was both gratifying and somewhat surprising to him. While he and Jimmy bore some resemblance to each other, they had very different personalities. Nevertheless, Marie really did seem to love Jack.

He placed Agnes back in her cradle and walked from the bedroom of their small "railroad" apartment into the kitchen, two rooms away. Marie was cooking - something she did quite well. After years of living with Vera, who could burn a pot of water, Jack certainly appreciated Marie's culinary skills.

"That smells good," he said in English. He was trying to teach her the language. She smiled back at him and carefully said, "Thank you, Jack," enunciating carefully.

He pecked her on the cheek and said he was leaving for the ballpark. Switching to French, he told her he'd be back for dinner and with a wide smile, told her he loved her. She smiled at him as he closed the door on his way out.

Arriving at the ballpark, Jack went straight to the clubhouse and began changing into his uniform. Trenton was in town and Jack hoped to get at least a pinch-hit appearance. Harry Horn was pitching for the Eagles and Jack was itching for a chance at payback.

As he stood up to button his pants, he noticed that Peter Hackett had sauntered over.

"Mr. Hackett," Jack said, "What can I do for you?"

The manager smiled and said, "I was just letting you know that I'm giving you the start today."

"Thanks. You know I'm grateful for the opportunity," Jack said.

Hackett chuckled and said, "I bet. I know you want to get back at Horn. Channel that energy and make it work for you."

Jack thanked his skipper and jammed his right cleat onto his foot, then bent to tie it.

Hackett started to walk away then stopped and turned back. "You've seemed to be in a much improved mood since you've returned, Jack. I've noticed it and so have your team mates. I'm not sure why that is, but whatever it is... keep it up."

Well aware of why he had been in such good spirits, Jack merely nodded his thanks and finished dressing.

Horn buzzed him in his first at-bat. Jack spat out a word his mother would not have liked to hear, dug in and shot a liner through the box for a single on the next pitch. That turned out to be one of two hits he'd get that day. Life was good.

On the day he broke his hand, Jack had been hitting a paltry .186 on the season. From the day of his first start on July 29th through the end of the season, he hit nearly .300 and opened a few eyes in the organization (according to his manager). The problem, as it was before, was Billy Nash. The Minutemen viewed Nash as the better prospect and he got the bulk of the at-bats, despite Jack's improved play.

By the time the season ended in September, Jack was once again disgruntled with baseball, but determined to give his father's sport one last chance. Hockey... he needed to do something about his "retirement" - he loved the game and wanted to get back to it. He remained happy in general - Marie and the baby had filled a hole in his life that he hadn't even realized had been there. Now that it was filled, he found that his drive to succeed was as great as it ever was, but it wasn't all about him now - he wanted to succeed so that Marie and Agnes could have good lives too. Though he would never know for sure, he felt that Vera would have approved of the "new" Jack.

[legendsport]

Washington, DC: September 5, 1919:

The townhouse was very nice. Danny had few memories of living in the house in Brooklyn; his father told him it was similar - but larger. Thomas Potentas was gracious and formal, greeting them at the door and welcoming Claudia in flawless German. For her part, Claudia found the eccentric Potentas interesting and the fact that she could converse with him in German pleased her and drove Danny crazy (though he tried not to show it).

Rufus watched all this with a wry grin on his face. Alice had filled him in on her opinion about Danny and made Rufus promise to keep an eye on things lest her son find himself heartbroken.

Danny was fifteen, and typical of a boy that age, already believed he knew more than his stodgy old father. The only possible exception to this was baseball - Danny relied on Rufus for tips and the two had practiced on the field all summer long, honing Danny's game for the challenging league in which he'd be playing come spring.

The move had been smooth. Everyone had their own room. Claudia, now visibly pregnant (albeit only slightly), seemed happy enough and Danny spent a lot of time with her. Danny had been teaching her about baseball. To her credit, Claudia listened with interest - Rufus was not sure why, perhaps to show kindness to Danny, who loved the game as much as Rufus had at the same age. Regardless she now had a rudimentary grasp of the game, even promising she would attend Danny's games once her baby was old enough to go. The best guess was that the child would be born sometime in February. Though Rufus would return to Georgia in October, Claudia and Danny would remain in Washington with Thomas Potentas. Rufus would return in early February, with Alice, so they could be there for the arrival of their new grandchild.

Rufus found that his son was suddenly full of surprises. The first came on the day school began when he arrived home and announced that he had joined the football team.

"Football? Like Joe?" Claudia asked. Danny nodded.

"This is reminding me," Potentas put in. "Yes, yes. I am thinking we should be expanding our OSA to other sports. Do you not agree, Rufus?"

Rufus admitted he hadn't really thought about it, but it did make sense. Though if the OSA became a year-round operation, that could mean more time away from home and he wasn't sure he liked that.

That night at dinner, as Claudia and Potentas chatted in German, Danny once again got everyone's attention by asking, "Claudia, will you teach me German?"

Clearly surprised, Claudia asked him why he wanted to learn German. "Do you wish to become a diplomat, Daniel?" she asked with a friendly smile.

While he waited to hear his son's reply, Rufus wondered if the boy would be honest.

"Well... no, I hope to be a baseball - or maybe football - player." He paused and then said, in a rush of words, "Frankly, I'm jealous that Mr. Potentas can speak to you in German and I can't." he said. This statement stunned everyone. Rufus had to give the kid credit, he was bold. Just like Jimmy, he thought with more than a little surprise and a twinge of sadness.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, Claudia smiled and said, "Certainly. I would be happy to teach you." She nodded at Potentas and added, "And with Mr. Potentas here as well, you will have two fine teachers."

Potentas nodded his agreement. "Yes, yes, happy to assist." Danny politely thanked him, then frowned when Potentas continued, "I am also fluent in French and Russian, yes. Russian maybe not so useful here in America as in Poland."

Claudia laughed and said, "Ooh, Russian. I would advise against that one, Daniel!"

She and Potentas grinned at each other while Danny just looked confused, and to Rufus' eye: jealous.

Rufus shook his head and thought, 'Wait til Alice hears about this!'

-----------------------------------------------

Later that week, as Danny trudged home from school after football practice he saw a stranger knocking on the door of the townhouse.

He slowed down and appraised the man. He was tall, and looked strong, if a little thick in the waist. The suit he wore looked nice and fit well - therefore custom-tailored (he'd learned this from Rollie who had become something of a clothes-horse after meeting Francie York).

Danny reached the bottom of the steps. The guy was peering through the oval glass inset on the front door and lifted his fist to knock again.

"Something I can do for you, mister?" Danny asked.

The guy gave a small start and then turned. "Anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on people, kid?" he asked in a genial tone. He had a broad, open face, and looked friendly enough. Danny thought he looked a little familiar - maybe a ballplayer?

Danny also realized the guy wasn't that old - maybe about Rollie or Joe's age, and felt a wave of aggravation: the guy shouldn't have called him "kid" - he was fifteen, after all.

"This Rufus Barrell's house?" the man asked.

Danny nodded and said, "Yep. He's on his way to the World Championship Series. He's a baseball scout. I'm his son, Dan."

"Oh, I know who he is. I met him a few years back... in Cleveland."

The man stuck out a meaty paw and proceeded to crush Danny's hand. To his credit, Danny didn't show any (ok, much) reaction and squeezed back as best he could: though he was strong for his age, he was still growing and this guy had forearms thicker than Danny's thighs.

"Good to meet ya, Dan. I'm Max."

Danny asked, "What are you looking for my Pop for?"

"Well, I'm a ballplayer and I find myself in a situation that I thought maybe your father could help me with," Max replied. Behind him, the door swung open and Claudia stood there. She had an apron draped loosely over her torso, liberally speckled with flour. She'd been baking - something she frequently did these days.

Max turned around, blatantly eyed her up and down, grinned wolfishly and said, "Well, hello there missy. I'm Max Morris. What's your name?"

Claudia craned her neck and saw Danny behind the visitor. "Hello, Daniel," she said and then looked Morris in the eye and said coolly, "Good afternoon, Mr. Morris. I'm Claudia Barrell."

"Barrell, eh?" Morris said. He looked at Danny who was now climbing the steps and hooked a thumb over his shoulder at Claudia, "This can't be your sister, buster - she's got an accent, and it ain't from Georgia."

Danny shook his head and said tightly, "No, Claudia is my sister-in-law."

Morris frowned. "Married, eh?" He winked at Claudia, "Not happily, I hope?"

Claudia's frown deepened and she said, "My husband is dead."

Morris wasn't stupid - he now put one and one together quickly. "Oh... yeah, you must be Jimmy Barrell's wife." He chewed his lip, and looked uncomfortable as he finished, "Sorry to hear about what happened to him."

Claudia thanked him with frost in her voice.

Danny had now stepped around and stood in front of Claudia, facing Morris. "So... Max. My father will be home after the Series. Would you like to leave a message?"

Morris had noticed how Danny had stepped protectively in front of Claudia. He scowled and said, "Oh dry up, kid. Why don't you go do your homework or something so I can speak with the lovely widow Barrell here."

Danny bunched his hand into a fist. Morris had him by three inches and fifty pounds, but Danny had more than a bit of Joe in him and was ready to scrap.

Claudia grasped Danny by the shoulder and said, "I must apologize, Mr. Morris. I am not feeling well. Perhaps another time." She pulled Danny into the house and closed the door, leaving Morris standing on the porch, red-faced.

"Well, Max. That could have gone better," Morris said to himself as he started down the steps. He shrugged and said, "Too bad, she doesn't know what she's missing..."

[legendsport]

Akron, OH: October 19, 1919:

Sunday afternoons... Joe Barrell truly did love Sunday afternoons. No blue laws to prevent playing games on Sunday, unlike the east coast states which banned football on Sundays and forced the teams to play on Saturday. Joe had played on Saturdays of course - that's when the college teams played. And though he missed the comraderie of his collegiate days, he did not miss having to go to class.

His Akron Triangles club had been given a new moniker: the Chiefs. They started the season red-hot, winning their first game on October 5th by a score of 47-0 over a club from Toledo. Joe had scored three times in that game. The next week the Chiefs hosted a club from Columbus, the state capital of Ohio. They put up a good fight, ultmately losing by a 13-0 score with Joe again scoring, though only once. Now they were hosting a team from Pitcairn. Joe wasn't exactly sure where that was (he had heard it was somewhere in Pennsylvania), but he looked forward to what he and his team mates considered their final "tune-up" game before back-to-back games with Massillon and Canton, two of the top teams in the area.

Edna had found a sitter for the kids and was among the somewhat small, but vocal crowd on hand at Akron's Redstone Field. The Chiefs had yet to play a road game, and of the ten contests they'd scheduled, seven of them were at home. They'd likely do some barnstorming too - it was a good way to supplement their incomes and while many, including Joe, had full-time positions with Mid-Ohio Rubber, more money was still better than less money.

The air had cooled, as fall settled over Ohio. Joe, though born in Brooklyn, had spent too much time in the south and was still adjusting to the fall - and especially winter - weather here in Ohio. Edna, a Southern girl herself, was wearing a coat and scarf, and her hand when she waved it at Joe, was wearing a knitted glove.

Joe played in the backfield on offense, mixing it up depending on the play - sometimes at halfback, sometimes at full back and sometimes at quarterback. At six feet and a solid 200 pounds of muscle, he was one of the larger players on his team. Even the linemen weren't much larger than Joe. His raw athleticism made him a very effective runner, and his strength made him difficult to tackle. With just over one season of pro football under his belt, he was already acknowledged as one of the better players in Ohio.

"Joe! You hear about the trade?" shouted Park Donaldson, a talented guard who often opened up holes for Joe.

Joe frowned and replied, "What? Who got traded?"

"Max Morris. Cleveland traded him to St. Louis," Park replied, pronouncing the city as "Saint Louie."

"Baseball? Who cares?" Joe replied. He was fully in game mode and wanted only to think about football.

Park grinned. "Well... with your dad, I figured you followed the sport."

Joe shrugged and said, "Not really. I've got a herd of brothers back home who are probably chattering all about it though."

Park said, "Fair enough." Then he scowled and shouted, "You ready!?!"

Joe grinned back and growled, "Of course!"

Across the way, the Pitcairn players viewed the Akron club with, in Joe's eyes, some serious concern. "They look like rabbits staring at a pack of wolves," Joe told Park.

The referee called the captains to midfield, for the coin toss. Joe and Park were captains and after a brief introduction, a couple of handshakes and a winning coin toss, they prepared to take the opening kickoff.

For Joe, playing football was a way to get all his frustrations out of his system. When he had been boxing, Cooter Daniels had taught him to imagine that the opponent was a true enemy - someone who had slighted him, or hurt someone he cared about. After Cooter had discovered Joe and Edna's relationship, he had Joe imagining the opponent as someone trying to steal his girl. Joe had used that to generate real hostility towards his opponent on several occasions. He knew this was important - Joe was, in general, a pleasant person and though he was more than comfortable with violence, pushing him to the point of employing it had become more difficult as he matured.

Cooter's methods, perhaps unsurprisingly, translated well to the football field. Looking over the line at the Pitcairn defenders on the first play of the game, Joe imagined them trying to get at his wife and children, and built some anger. He had to be careful with this though - football was a rough, physical sport, but it was not boxing. He couldn't outright slug an opponent. Sometimes in the pile things could get nasty. He'd been bitten and someone tried to poke him in the eye (he bit the guy's finger), but few actual punches had been thrown. The referee would throw you out if he caught you fighting. So Joe channeled his anger.

On the first play, Joe took the handoff, Park pulled and Joe followed him, then burst around him, stiff-armed a would-be tackler and broke into the secondary. Pitcairn had some speed, but Joe was both fast and strong. He lowered his shoulder as one of the defensive backs tried to get in his way. He bowled right over the guy, muttered "sorry bub" and broke into a full sprint that ended in the end zone for a touchdown.

There were several more big plays and Joe also handed out some punishment on the defensive side, where he played just behind the line and mauled would-be ball carriers with near impunity. In the end it was a blowout 48-0 victory for Akron.

Walking off the field, muddy, sore and tired, Joe spotted Edna in the stands and blew her a kiss.

After the game, as he and Edna walked towards the tram stop, a man ran across the road to intercept them. Joe, still keyed up, tensed and stepped in front of Edna protectively.

"Hey! You're Joe Barrell, right?" the guy asked breathlessly. That short run across the street had obviously winded him.

"I am," Joe replied.

"I'm Dick Green. I run a club back in New York. We could use a player of your, uh, skills."

"I'm already under contract, Mr. Green," Joe replied with a smile.

"Whatever they're paying you... we'll double it," Green said.

"Double?" Joe asked.

Edna stepped forward. "Isn't it against the rules to try to steal another team's player?" she asked.

Green scowled. "There's no league here, lady. We're all independent operators."

Joe growled, "Watch how you speak to my wife, bub."

Green raised his hands and said, "Sorry, Joe. I will admit that your wife isn't completely wrong. It is frowned upon, but as I said, there is no governing body. It's every team for itself - and every man for himself, you know?"

Joe frowned. "I don't know. I don't like going back on my word."

Green spread his arms out wide and said, "Just picture it, Joe. Stepping out onto the green grass of Bigsby Oval... 50,000 fans screaming your name in the greatest city in the world! Akron's got nothin' on New York, Joe!"

Joe grinned - he liked this guy's sense of the theatrical. "Bigsby Oval, huh?"

Green winked and said, "You bet. Sam Bigsby's one of the partners in the club."

Edna rolled her eyes and grabbed Joe's hand. "Come on, we'll miss the trolley."

Green pressed a card into Joe's hand. "Just think about it ok? I'll be at the Dew Drop Inn until after next week's game."

The Dew Drop Inn? Joe nearly laughed at the guy.

"OK, Mr. Green. I'll think about it," he said.

As they walked on, Edna asked, "You're not really going to consider this are you?"

Joe shrugged, "It's a lot of money. But my parents always taught us to live up to our promises. A contract is a promise made legal, is what my Pop would say. So..." he trailed off, a troubled look on his face. Double? That would sure help support Edna and the kids... And 50,000 New Yorkers chanting his name?...

[legendsport]

Toronto, ON: November 3, 1919:

"Mr. Barrell?"

Jack had been perusing a copy of the Sporting Life while he waited to offer his mea culpa. He had nearly-finished the story of the big trade that had sent Max Morris from the Cleveland Foresters to the St. Louis Pioneers, whistling at the players and cash the Foresters had received in return. Most interesting of all was the between-the-lines notion that Morris himself had instigated the transaction.

Jack looked up. Bert Thomas' assistant, a stoic young man in a crisp navy blue suit, was standing in front of him. Jack flipped the magazine closed and put it back on the table, then stood up.

"Mr. Thomas will see you now..." the young man said with a small bow. He then led the way into Thomas' opulent office.

Across what seemed like an ocean of pristine carpet, a wooden desk approximately the size of a frigate could be seen. And sitting behind it was Albert "Bert" Thomas, who might have been the wealthiest man in Ontario (Jack Connolly being out of the country at the moment).

"Jack! Good to see you, my boy," Thomas remained seated, but motioned for Jack to take a seat in one of the pair of leather chairs across from him (like dinghies, Jack thought, and then decided to knock off the nautically-themed musings).

Jack sat down, all the while reminding himself to keep his temper in check. He was still angry, but at this point in his career he needed Thomas more than Thomas needed him. That is, if he was to actually have a career in hockey.

"How are you? How are your parents holding up?" Thomas owned not only hockey's Toronto Dukes, but also baseball's Toronto Wolves - and he knew Rufus Barrell well. He had attended Jimmy's funeral, but Jack had studiously avoided "bumping into" him, concerned more about Marie than he was about making nice with Thomas.

"Fine, thank you. How are you, Mr. Thomas?"

Thomas smiled and said, "I am doing well, thank you."

Thomas sat back and waited. Jack realized he would have to make the first move.

"I wanted to see you to talk about... well... the Dukes."

Thomas nodded. His eyes, behind his spectacles were cool - not cold, but certainly leaning that way.

Finally he responded, saying, "Yes, we will begin training soon. I hope for great things from the team this year. We've named Burr Knowles as the coach. You know him, I believe?"

Jack nodded and said, "Yes. Well, it's more that I know of him. We've only met once I believe. Knowles still playing too?"

Thomas nodded, then slowly spread his hands. "So?" he asked with a smile that didn't quie reach his eyes.

Jack swallowed his pride - Rufus had warned him this would be difficult. "I'd like to come back to the Dukes."

Thomas feigned surprise. "Really? I thought baseball was now your primary focus?"

Jack shook his head and said, "No. My primary focus is my wife and daughter. I would like to continue to play baseball but... it will take a backseat to hockey from now on."

Thomas frowned. "So you're saying that essentially nothing has changed? You still refuse to concentrate solely on hockey?"

Jack took a deep breath, hearing his father's voice telling him "Steady... steady."

"I wouldn't put it in exactly those terms. What I would like is to give baseball one more season. If the Minutemen continue to show no interest in moving me up through the system... I will end my baseball career."

Thomas' lips thinned. "That's... no guarantee, Jack."

Jack spread his hands and decided to lay his cards on the table. "Look, Mr. Thomas... you own a baseball club too. You know my father. All I ask is one more chance to see if there's anything in baseball for me. To be blunt, I am a very good hockey player - and you know it. I am offering to play for you again. The seasons do not overlap and baseball will not interfere with my development as a hockey player."

Thomas chewed his lip as he sat back in his chair. He was silent a moment, thinking.

He sat forward again, resting his arms on the desk and clasping his hands. "Jack, you're right. I do own a baseball team and I do know your father. Because of that, I also know about players. Please understand one thing: to a club owner, players are... a commodity... our most precious resource. From my standpoint, there are risks involved in having a player with mixed priorities. It is in the best interest of the Dukes that you concentrate on hockey, and only hockey. To be blunt, you are not a particularly promising baseball player." He held up a hand as Jack opened his mouth to reply. "Please... I am only being honest. If you were any kind of baseball prospect, I'd trade for you myself. You are, on the other hand, an extremely promising hockey player. This fruitless pursuit of baseball... frankly, it's a waste of time."

Jack didn't know what to say. The words stung, but he also realized there was truth in them. Still, he was stubborn. "Be that as it may," he said, "all I ask is one more season. If I do not become a regular, or move up within the Minutemen's organization, I give you my vow: I will end my baseball career."

Jack knew that Thomas desperately wanted him on the Dukes because he was an excellent hockey prospect - Max Dewar had told him that the consensus in the sport was that he was about as "can't miss" as anyone had ever seen. He didn't think he was asking for much. He also hadn't - and wouldn't - play his trump card unless necessary. That card being a standing offer from George Yeadon to play in the Transcontinental Hockey Association out west.

Thomas was no fool - though the NAHC and TCHA were officially "at peace" neither had stopped signing players away from the other. While the NAHC was the only game in town... this wasn't the only town. He ruminated for a moment, then finally, he nodded. "OK, I think that will be acceptable. I will have my people draft up a standard contract and send it to you. You are still living at the same address in Montreal?"

Jack, relief flooding through his system, said, "Yes, sir."

Thomas nodded and said, "Good. I am pleased to have you back in the fold, Jack."

Jack swallowed and then said, "I have one more question... or favor, perhaps, to ask."

Thomas raised his eyebrows.

Jack asked, "As you said, I live in Montreal. My wife is French. Any chance you'd trade me to the Valiants?"

The secretary, sitting at his desk outside the office could hear his boss shouting even through the thick oaken doors.

Moments later, a chastened Jack Barrell came out of the office. The secretary smiled and said, "Welcome back to the Dukes, Mr. Barrell."

[legendsport]

Washington, DC: November 7, 1919:

Danny Barrell's first exposure to football had been seeing his oldest brother play for Noble Jones College under an assumed name. That had been necessary because Joe Barrell was a professional boxer and the AIAA didn't condone professional athletes competing in collegiate events, even if the sport was a different one. So Joe became "Buck Barnwell" and had a nice career in college football that was now continuing in professional football.

Danny had greatly enjoyed watching football. Playing it? That was an entirely different level of fun.

Danny was a gifted athlete - he knew this and it was something he had pretty much taken for granted. His brothers were all the same way. Heck, it was even evident in six-year-old Harry.

So Danny, like Joe before him, found football to be fun and not least because he was so darned good at it.

This was the final game of the season... and it was for the city championship. Danny's Capital Academy Senators against the Washington Central High School Cavaliers. Central was good... but Danny and his team mates knew that Capital was better.

In the first quarter, Danny, playing tailback in the Senators' single-wing offense, took the snap. Central was well aware that Danny was equally adept at carrying, passing, blocking and punting (and that was just when Capital was on offense). On this play, he ran the ball, following the quarterback around the right end. One of the Central defenders dove at him, but Danny leaped over the would-be tackler and sprinted into the open field. He was fast - years of running on the farm, trying to escape Jack or Jimmy... or chasing Tommy or Fred had made him fleet of foot. The play ended with a touchdown after a romp of 63 yards.

Danny looked into the stands and saw Claudia on her feet and clapping. Next to her Potentas was... well, it looked like he was taking notes. Danny laughed as his team mates slapped him on the back.

Capital won the game and the Washington City championship.

Afterwards, Danny was walking off the field when he saw his coach walking over, in conversation with another man.

Capital's coach was a man named Rudy Beckmann. Beckmann was a big guy - 6'4 and about 270 pounds. He coached not only football, but also baseball, having played both sports. Beckmann had even had a three-year stint with FABL's Washington Eagles, and was a part-timer on the club's 1913 World Championship team. Danny had a lot of respect for Coach Beckmann - he was tough, but fair.

"Dan? I have someone who'd like to have a word with you," Coach Beckmann said with a wave of his hand once he was within earshot.

"Heckuva game, Barrell," said the other man as Danny approached. Beckmann's companion was also tall, but lean and with an easy grace to his movements that somewhat reminded Danny of Powell Slocum.

"Danny, this is Bob Spangler. He coaches the track and field team."

Track and field? Danny tried to keep a straight face. He had no interest in running around in circles.

Apparently he didn't succeed too well with the whole "keep the disdain off your face" attempt. Coach Beckmann frowned and said, "Don't scowl... it's not football or baseball, but you have to be a great athlete to compete in track and field."

Spangler looked Danny in the eye and asked simply, "You a competitor, Barrell?"

Danny was taken aback. He thought the answer to that was obvious - hadn't he just wiped the floor with the opposition out there?

Spangler didn't wait for an answer. "I can see... hell, everyone can see that you've got a ton of athletic ability. But what I want to know is... do you have the fire to push yourself to your physical and mental limits?"

Danny was confused. "I'm not sure what you mean, Coach," he said.

Spangler said, "You can be special, Barrell. That speed you showed... that's a gift. And it will do wonders for you in football... and baseball too."

Danny said, "Let me guess, it can do wonders for me in track too, right?"

Beckmann frowned and opened his mouth to chide Danny for his remark, but Spangler raised a hand.

"Yes, it can. I've been working with track and field athletes for years. I've sent several men to the Olympics." He paused and pointed at Danny's chest. "You could be one of those men."

The Olympics? Danny had heard about the Olympic Games, but hadn't given them much thought. They hadn't been held in 1916 because of the war and at the time of the 1912 Games, he hadn't even turned eight yet.

"Aren't the Olympics next year?" he asked. "No offense, but I'm just a freshman."

Spangler laughed and replied, "Yes, the next iteration of the Games are indeed this coming summer. I'm thinking 1924 for you, Barrell. But... first things first, you'd need to commit to the track and field team so we can start training."

Danny looked at Coach Beckmann and asked, "Isn't that a spring sport? What about baseball?"

Beckmann shrugged and said, "You can do both. You'll be extremely busy, but Coach Spangler and I have discussed this and we will make it work."

Danny shrugged and said, "Hmm... Running around a track? No offense, but that sounds boring."

Spangler laughed and said, "Oh, there's more to this than just running. I've seen you throw and jump too. You have all-around talent. I'm thinking decathlon for you, Barrell."

Decathlon? Danny didn't even know what that was.

"This'll be a challenge. But if you're the competitor I think you are, and are willing to push yourself beyond what's comfortable and easy... that is the path to greatness."

Danny liked the sound of that, so he said, "Well... since you put it that way, consider me interested."

[legendsport]

Ottawa, ON: December 23, 1919:

Jack Barrell had finally made it back to the Toronto Dukes. This time, he was confident, it was permanent. No more Montreal City League for him. Unfortunately, from what he'd seen before the puck had been dropped for the very first game of the season, this might not go too well.

The team had met in Toronto in late Novemeber for pre-season workouts. Jack was a new face, but he wasn't the only one. The man Bert Thomas had hired to be player-coach, Burr Knowles, was a big, strong defenseman who had never actually played in the NAHC. Jack knew him from amateur circles where he had played into his late 20s. Knowles was surly - he had been one of the better players everywhere he'd played before Toronto. Now he was probably the worst at his position on his own team.

Then there was Jack's main competition at right wing: Hank Lucas. Lucas was 5'8" and while not tall, he was 180 pounds of muscle and nasty attitude. His once-handsome face scarred by cuts he'd received in retaliation for his own slashing tactics, Lucas had been playing for Portland in the western loop. In the 1918-19 season he'd been well on his way to again leading the TCHA in penalty minutes. With two games left in the season Lucas had been banned by the Transcontinental Hockey Association's President, George Yeadon, after a vicious crosscheck broke the jaw of Vancouver's Malcolm Cummings. Cummings was still out and was unlikely to play the 1919-20 season.

Bert Thomas promptly signed Lucas. To be fair to Thomas, this occurred while Jack was "retired" from hockey, so in a way, Jack only had himself to blame. But now he had to try to win the nod as the starting right winger against a guy who would quite literally fight tooth and nail to keep it.

"Stay away from me, rookie," is what Lucas told Jack at the team's first meeting.

The Dukes did still have Cal Oliphant and Ben Scheer, two extremely gifted players who could score seemingly at will. The Dukes would score goals - their problem was defense. Toronto, like the other NAHC (and TCHA) clubs, employed two pairs of defensemen. Unfortunately, Coach Knowles put himself on the top pairing with Jimmy Leary. Leary was the team's best defender, but Knowles was the worst, and it made the Dukes top-line defense weak on the left side.

The club's first game of the 1919-20 season was in Ottawa against the perennially championship-caliber Athletics. Jack had a feeling this wasn't going to go well.

He was right.

With the Ottawa Athletic Arena packed to a standing-room capacity for the opener two days before Christmas, Jack had chills that had nothing to do with the ice surface.

Before the game, Cal Oliphant approached Jack and told him, "Nothing's changed from the first time: this is just hockey. You've played, what, hundreds of games? Treat it like any other. You're good enough to be here." Then he patted him on the shoulder and started trudging towards the tunnel.

Cal's brother Charlie skated for Ottawa. Though the two chatted amiably before the puck was dropped, it was all business thereafter - Charlie flattened Cal with a check less than a minute into the game. Cal grinned as he got up.

Watching Lucas, Jack was impressed. He was a pest on the ice, pushing, slashing and hitting anyone he could reach. But he had skill too. He beat Ottawa's Pete Vandenburg, one of the best defensemen in the game, in a breakaway race and whipped the puck into the top-left corner of the net to score the first Toronto goal of the season less than three minutes into the game.

The groaning fans weren't unhappy for long as Simon Kouger tied the game and Charlie Oliphant put them ahead 2-1 going into the first intermission.

The highlight of the second period was a fight between Lucas and Vandenburg with both players bloodied before the referee could separate them. As far as hockey fights went, that was the nastiest Jack had ever witnessed. With Lucas in the box, Jack got onto the ice after playing only sparingly in the first period.

The score was 3-1 Ottawa. After Dukes goalie Addie Manor slapped away a shot and directed it to Knowles, the player-coach started to head up ice towards the Ottawa end. Jack was on the right wing as Knowles came up the left side.

Jack had his eyes on the puck and saw Knowles staring him down. Virtually everyone in the arena could see that he was going to pass the puck to Jack. Sure enough, Knowles tried to thread the needle with a cross-ice pass towards Jack, whose eyes widened as he saw Ottawa's Harry Bernier, the Athletics' other top-notch defender, read it and instantly shoot forward. Jack turned towards the puck in what he correctly saw was a futile effort to beat Bernier to it. The Ottawa defenseman stuck his stick out, caught the puck neatly on the blade and transitioned into a one-man rush that ended with a wrist shot into the net against a helpless Addie Manor. 4-1, Athletics.

Jack was furious. This guy was supposed to be their coach and he had made one of the most boneheaded plays Jack had ever seen.

Ultimately, the Dukes lost 6-3.

Afterwards, back at the hotel, Jack wandered into the bar. Cal Oliphant had invited Jack to join him and his brother for a drink. As he entered he saw Burr Knowles leaning on the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

Cal waved from a table in the corner.

"What is he doing? Drinking his cares away?" Jack asked as he approached the table and hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

Cal shrugged and said, "Don't be too tough on him. This was his first game too, remember."

Charlie leaned forward and muttered, "I heard he's a bit of a souse. So... this might be normal, win or lose."

Jack looked back. His coach was tapping the bar for a refill and there was a definite slur to his speech as he shouted to the bartender. Jack sighed as he sat down. This was not the way he'd hoped his first day was going to turn out.

[legendsport]

Egypt, GA: December 25, 1919:

Christmas with the Barrells. Well, most of them anyway, reflected Rufus Barrell. Jack was absent, the NAHC season having just begun. With the OSA having started work on scouting hockey, Rufus had yet another reason to keep up on Jack's progress with the Dukes.

Joe was on hand; he and Edna had bundled up the twins and made the trip from Ohio. Rollie and his wife Francie were also there, her parents having gone to Detroit to spend the holiday with Dick, his wife (the once-derided Millie Snyder, now Millie York) and their newborn son.

Danny and Claudia had also come to Georgia. Claudia, now seven months into her pregnancy was outwardly cheerful, though Alice worried about her true state of mind. Their stay would be short as Danny needed to return to school just after the New Year. Rufus was pleased and proud that his fifth son was fully invested in year-round athletics, having joined the basketball team in addition to being committed to baseball, football and track & field. "Maybe he should join the bowling team, too," Rollie quipped.

Fred was parading around the house in his brand-new Washington Eagles cap. When T.R. Goins had been made the #1 overall pick earlier that month by Washington, Fred had celebrated that a catcher had "finally" (the draft was only seven years old) been the top pick. And since Goins was an Eagle and Rufus had - briefly - been employed by the club, Fred became an overnight fan.

The younger boys were awash in the special glow a child has after opening gifts on Christmas. Harry had already fallen asleep in a corner near the tree, his arm wrapped around a brand-new football.

Betsy, who had cried when Bobby had received a new baseball glove, was now carrying around Bobby's old glove. Despite being the only girl, the youngest Barrell did not desire to be left out of the annual arrival of new sporting goods.

"She'll grow out of it," Rufus tried to reassure his wife. Alice was dubious, but did say, "Maybe we can push her towards golf," as she looked at Francie who was chatting with Edna on the sofa. "Or tennis... obviously baseball is out."

"If she's anything like you, I doubt we can push her anywhere," Rufus said with an impish grin. Alice swatted him on the arm.

Joe sauntered over to his parents, a sheepish look on his face.

"Hey Mom... Pop... I wanted to talk to you about something," he said. Behind him, Alice noticed Edna watching, though she was still chatting with Francie.

"What's on your mind, son," Rufus asked.

"Well... I've been offered a lot of money to play football in New York next season."

Rufus frowned. "New York? I didn't think there was a pro team there."

Joe explained, "Apparently it's a new thing. The scuttlebutt is that some bigwigs are trying to put together a serious pro league. Instead of all the independent operators. Something modeled on Whitney's blueprint, presumably."

"OK, what's the problem?" Alice asked, having perceived there must be *something* of which Joe thought his parents (or Edna... or both) wouldn't approve.

"The team is partially - only partially - owned by the Bigsbys." Joe mumbled.

Rufus sighed and frowned. "Which Bigsby? Miles? Or one of the youngsters?"

"Sam, I think," Joe replied, then admitted that the guy he'd been "working with" wasn't a Bigsby himself.

"Well... I've heard that Sam is more, uh, independent than Miles or Mike."

"Who's Mike?" Alice asked.

"Oh... he's Miles' son. Sam is old Charlie's boy."

"And Charlie and Miles, they're the crooks?"

Rufus chuckled and said, "Alleged crooks. Well... Miles anyway. Charlie died in Sing Sing." He paused then added, "I've heard Mike is more like Charlie than Miles and Sam is more like Miles than Charlie." He shrugged and finished, "Family. It can be strange."

Alice looked around the room, smiled and agreed. "Yep."

"What's Edna think?" Rufus asked his son.

Joe frowned. "She thinks I should say no. She has something... I don't know what... against the Bigsbys."

Rufus took a deep breath. "Well, I won't try to tell you what to do. But... I've heard through my own channels that there might be a midwestern group also trying to start a pro football league. There's a good chance your Akron club would be a part of that."

Joe nodded. "Yes, I've heard those rumors too. But the Mid-Ohio boys are quiet about it. So I don't know. And the New York people are talking about doubling my salary."

Rufus whistled and said, "Money's never been a problem for the Bigsbys."

Alice chimed in with, "You need to talk this out with Edna. Your father and I can offer advice, but this is your decision."

Joe nodded in response. Alice continued, "Having said that, my opinion is that you should go to New York."

Rufus' eyebrows shot up and he spluttered, "What? I thought you hated the Bigsbys?"

Alice admitted that she did have reservations but finished by saying, "The money is the thing - make it now while you can."

Rufus frowned but reluctantly said, "Your mother's right. An athlete's career can be short. Make money where and when you can, it can only help down the road."

Joe was surprised. "I actually expected you guys to tell me to stay in Akron."

Rufus smirked and said, "We're just full of surprises, son."

---------------------------------

Meanwhile, on the couch, Edna was talking to Francie about the same thing.

"I don't want Joe working for that family," she said.

Francie asked why, pointing out that the money sounded great.

Edna lowered her voice and said, "Back when Joe was about to fight at the Oval?"

Francie had heard about this from Rollie, so she nodded.

"Well... Sam Bigsby got fresh with me in the tunnel. I had to slap him. If Joe ever found out... he'd probably kill him."

Francie looked at Joe, who had Bobby hanging off his right arm and Harry off his left, and was lifting them off the floor by sheer strength while his little brothers giggled and screamed "higher!"

She said, "Yeah, I can see where that might present a problem."

[legendsport]

Washington, DC: February 11, 1920:

Danny Barrell was a fifteen-year-old boy with five younger siblings. Therefore, in the grand scheme of his life babies were either seen as a nuisance, or ignored entirely.

February 11 was supposed to be just another wintry Wednesday in the nation's capital. Danny had another day of school ahead of him with the only bright spot being some light workouts in the gym after school. Coach Spangler had been teaching Danny the finer points of the high jump and pole vault. The latter was tough - it had, at first glance, looked fairly easy to Danny: stick pole in ground and lever yourself up and over. But it was a lot more technically challenging than it had looked.

Rufus was back in Georgia with the OSA still in off-season mode, though Thomas Potentas had recently held a meeting with Canadian millionaire Jack Connolly. Connolly was trying to start a new hockey league in the United States and thought the OSA might be able to help find players. Rufus recused himself from these discussions for "personal reasons" that Danny knew were related to the "automobile incident" with Rollie & Jimmy.

Just another fairly routine day - until the baby that Claudia Barrell was carrying upended everything.

It was just after three o'clock in the morning when Danny was shaken awake by a visibly distraught Thomas Potentas.

"Ugh... stop it Fred before I slug you," Danny muttered.

"It is I, Thomas Potentas," Danny heard in reply as he cracked open his right eye.

"What are you doing in here?" Danny asked as he sat up.

"It is time. The baby... the baby is coming."

That snapped Danny into full wakefulness. But awake or not, he sat there, frozen.

Potentas said, "The midwife. Claudia said you are to get her, yes."

"Right... that's right." Danny said and swung his feet to the floor.

The baby hadn't arrived by the time Danny left for school. Claudia - despite being in labor - had insisted Danny not miss school. "You are not needed here!" he heard her shout from behind the closed door of her room.

That had stung a bit, but he remembered enough of Harry and Betsy's births to know that women in labor could be a bit... snappish. Still, he was hurt that she didn't want him there.

By the time he exited the gym that evening just after six, with it already dark, he was surprised to see Potentas sitting in his Model T at the curb.

"I am here to take you home," Potentas said. Danny climbed into the Ford and thanked him.

"Claudia asked me to do this. She is sorry for her words this morning," Potentas explained.

Danny shrugged, "It's ok. I understand."

Potentas nodded and said, "Of course."

Danny gasped and then asked, "Claudia! She's ok? And the baby?"

Potentas smiled. "Yes, yes. They are doing well."

Danny waited for more, but Potentas had put the Ford in gear and they were now moving down the road.

"Well..." Danny prompted.

"I am sorry?" Potentas replied.

"The baby? Was it a boy... a girl..."

Potentas smiled, "Ah, yes, yes. My apologies. The baby, he is a boy."

Danny smiled. He was an uncle - and it was a boy. That was a relief. He had no earthly idea how to play with a girl. He had always been afraid he'd break Betsy. Harry? He and Freddy had put that little bugger through the wringer regularly. That kid was tough as nails and as rough and tumble as any of the other Barrell boys.

Potentas was smiling too. He said, "Claudia, she has named the child James Ferdinand Barrell Junior."

Danny's grin faded a bit as he remembered his brother and he said, "I think Jimmy would have liked that."

[legendsport]

Toronto, ON: March 13, 1920:

Jack Barrell sat in front of his locker, reflecting on his first full season in the NAHC. The Toronto Dukes had just finished their last game (a 7-6 home loss to Montreal) in what had been a difficult season for Jack for reasons both personal and professional.

For one thing, he missed Marie and Agnes. They had stayed in Montreal, where Marie could speak the language and where their neighbor, Mrs. Fortier, could help with the baby. Jack had been living out of a hotel room in Toronto. It helped to have a club owner who also owned a world-class hotel and was willing to give his athletes a (somewhat) reasonable rate. Still, Jack missed his wife and got back to Montreal as often as he could, though it never felt like it was enough.

There had been some good moments - the Dukes had played in Montreal on February 18th, two days before Jack's 22nd birthday, allowing Jack to spend some private time celebrating (just a bit early) with his wife before the team played their next game back in Toronto on the 21st.

It also turned out that the Dukes were actually pretty good. This despite Burr Knowles being a disaster as a coach, and no great shakes as a player either. He hadn't lasted the full season, getting fired by Bert Thomas in late January. He'd stayed on the roster as a player, which had been... awkward until Thomas released him with five games left on the schedule.

Knowles' release came when the team had just acquired a good defenseman from Montreal in a last-ditch effort to win the league. Philippe Boutin was a good two-way player and was famous throughout the sport for being able to "curve" his shot. He only played seven games for the Dukes before the season ended, but in that time, he had shown some of his new team mates how to use their wrists to spin the puck. A good, hard shot was needed to make it work, and all the Dukes already knew the hardest shot on the team belonged to Jack Barrell. So Boutin taught Jack his technique. The results were initially mixed - Jack did score a few goals, but he also curved it off target a few times. So that remained a work in progress.

The new coach, Gideon Knight, had only one qualification for coaching the team. He was both Bert Thomas' good friend and coincidentally a minority owner. To his credit, Knight had been a hockey referee and played a bit of amateur hockey, but his biggest passion was horse racing where he had a reputation of being hard on his trainers. He'd raised some eyebrows by suspending Hank Lucas - without pay - for a game after the rowdy player had openly challenged his authority at practice. After that, the players groused privately, but toed the line (a paycheck was a paycheck).

Jack had played in all but one of his team's 24 games, missing one game after taking a shot off his ankle that left him barely able to walk for the better part of a week. His 12 goals tied him for fourth-best on the team - he wasn't happy about that, but considering his limited playing time behind Hank Lucas (who secored 22 goals), he reckoned it was acceptable.

The team posted a solid 15-9 record for the season, good results considering the behind-the-scenes drama with Knowles & Knight. But that was only good enough for second place to the 18-6 Ottawa Athletics. With the NAHC not holding any postseason playoffs, the Athletics would go on to face the TCHA Champions for the Challenge Cup, while the Dukes would go home. In Jack's case that meant two days and nights with Marie and Agnes and then a train to Springfield to get ready for baseball season.

Jack reckoned that maybe Bert Thomas was right after all.

---------------------------------
Washington, DC: March 26, 1920:

Danny Barrell was very, very angry. Coach Beckmann had told him that although he could practice with the baseball team, he wouldn't be suiting up for games. "You're not ready, Dan," the coach said, then patted Dan on the shoulder and finished, "Keep working - you've got big things ahead of you."

Danny bit back a bitter reply. He'd show Beckmann.

So while baseball was frustrating for the freshman, track and field was going very well. To his surprise, Danny found that he really loved the decathlon (now that he had learned what it actually entailed).

Danny had mastered the technique (and had the upper-body strength) for the pole vault. The high jump too. He had a great throwing arm - Rufus had told him he could have been a pitcher if he'd wanted (Danny didn't). That throwing arm came in handy in the outfield in baseball, but it also worked quite nicely for some of the decathlon's events too. The shot put, the discus and Danny's personal favorite: the javelin.

Coach Spangler wasn't overly generous with praise, but Danny could see how he stacked up to the other members of the team... so he knew he was good at this stuff.

It was just so... unfair that he couldn't play in the baseball team's games.

He slammed the door to the townhouse, and heard his nephew start crying immediately. Danny swore softly to himself.

Potentas poked his head out of his first-floor office.

"What is wrong, Daniel?" he asked.

"Nothing. School stuff." Danny replied, not wanting to try to explain it to Potentas.

Claudia had appeared at the top of the stairs, holding baby James, rocking him as she tried to sooth him.

"Sorry, Claudia," Danny said, loud enough for her to hear, but doing his best not to shout.

She frowned at him and came carefully down the stairs.

"Why did you slam the door, Daniel?" she asked.

"Ah... Coach Beckmann's an idiot."

"How so?"

Danny looked at his feet and said softly, "I won't be playing in any baseball games this season. Coach said I wasn't ready."

Claudia sighed and said, "I am sorry to hear that."

Danny explained that he would be practicing with the team and that Beckmann ensured him he'd play next season. "But I want to play now," he said firmly.

"Your coach - you said he is a knowledgable man. Perhaps you should trust that he has your best interests at heart," Claudia said calmly. The baby had fallen asleep.

Danny nodded. He found it hard to stay angry when talking with Claudia. She had a way of soothing him somehow.

[legendsport]

Washington, DC: April 30, 1920:

Danny Barrell was miserable. Not only was he not in uniform to watch his team mates take on Bartonsville, but his father was sitting next to him as they prepared to watch the game. And Rufus was in "scouting" mode, so he wasn't even fit for conversation. Not to mention that Emily Talbot, the cute new girl whose father was an attache or something at the British Embassy... was selling peanuts at the entrance to the grandstand. Maybe he'd go talk to her (Danny loved her accent).

He thought of Claudia and frowned. He really liked her, but also knew there were three big obstacles in his way: first, she was older and saw him as just a kid (which if was being honest with himself, he was); second, she still grieved for Jimmy and third: the baby. Since the baby came she had little time for Danny - or anything/anyone else. He was jealous of a baby for crying out loud. So he had considered the state of his life and decided that aside from the decathlon (which was going well), his life was one giant ball of frustration. He sighed.

"Hey Pop, I'm going to get some peanuts," Danny told his father and stood up. Rufus grunted in reply, completely focused on the field despite the fact that the game hadn't even started. Danny didn't see how, but Rufus claimed he could rate ballplayers just by watching how they warmed up.

Danny frowned and looked out at the field, trying to discern what - or rather who - had caught his father's attention.

"Hey kid, sit down or get out of the way," the guy in the row behind them snarled. Danny tried to give him the glare he'd seen his mother use many times; this guy was apparently immune and just raised his eyebrows in response.

He wanted to snarl something about how the game hadn't even started but instead, Danny sat back down next to his father. Rufus was rubbing his chin with his left hand and tapping a pen on his leg with his right.

"Who's got you so excited?" Danny asked bitterly.

Rufus grunted again, but at least he stopped rubbing his chin. His lips twisted and without taking his eyes off the field, he asked Danny, "How much do you know about this other team?"

Danny shrugged. "Not much," he said, "I hear they're good..." and then trailed off as he remembered something Coach Beckmann had told them about the first baseman on the other team. "Of course," he thought, "that's what Pop sees." He found himself both impressed and aggravated by this.

Rufus looked at him sharply before prompting, "And...?"

"And... they have some kid that coach was saying we had to watch out for. That's who you're looking at, right?"

Rufus shook his head. "I don't know. This kid have a name?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "Yeah... let me think." In his bitterness about not playing he'd forgotten it. After all, why should he care?

Rufus sighed and shook his head in frustration. "I could ask someone else..." he muttered.

"No... I know it..." Danny's face scrunched up in thought. "Johnson? ... no... uh... Jameson. Yeah, Bernard Jameson..." he said doubtfully and punctuated it with, "At least I think that's it."

Rufus sighed and shook his head again. "Jameson?" And he stood up, and leaned over the railing.

Danny sunk down in his seat, expecting his father was about to embarrass him. Which of course he did.

"Coach!" Rufus shouted out across the field.

Every face in the tiny, but full Capital Academy ballpark turned to look at Rufus. The man he was shouting at, the Bartonsville coach, narrowed his eyes, blinked in apparent surprise, and then trotted over.

"Rufus Barrell? Is that you?" he asked as he came closer.

Rufus grinned and stuck his hand out, saying, "Holy smokes, Lew Daniels! How are you?"

Danny should have known - his father knew literally everybody in baseball. Danny had no clue who this guy was, but apparently he must have been an old ballplayer.

Daniel gripped Rufus' hand and the two had a good handshake. Then Rufus pointed to Danny and said, "Lew, this is my boy, Dan. He's a freshman at Capital, so you'll be seeing him next season."

Daniel shook Danny's hand and said, "How are you, Dan? Take it easy on us down the road, hey?"

Danny smiled and nodded.

Rufus and Daniel chatted for a few minutes with Danny only half-listening - apparently they'd played each other back in his dad's days with the Sycamores.

Then Rufus got down to business. "So... Lew, I know you know I'm in the scouting business... That kid behind first base? What's his story?"

Lew got a conspiratorial gleam in his eye and peered across the diamond to where the player in question was playing catch with one of his team mates.

"Oh, yeah - that's Jameson. Talented kid - you've still got the eye, Rufus."

Rufus nodded his thanks. "How old is he?"

"He's sixteen, a sophomore. But he's already the best player on the team."

Rufus nodded in appreciation. "He looks like a ballplayer, that's for sure."

"Well, he's not all that big, maybe 5'8 or so, but I expect he'll grow a bit more. His brother played for me a few years back - nowhere near as good as Buddy is, mind you. He turned out to be about 5'10, so figure the kid will be somewhere in that general vicinity."

"Buddy?" Dan blurted. "I thought his name was Bernard."

Lew laughed and said, "Oh, it is. He wants everyone to call him Bud - which no one does. Our seniors played with his brother who called him Buddy, so that's what they do too. He's got kind of a chip on his shoulder about it to be honest. I told him to take it out on the opposition and not his team mates."

Daniel continued, "He's hitting third for me. The kid think he's Max Morris... which I'm trying to put a stop to... but he can hit the ball a long way."

Rufus had his notebook out and was writing. "Buddy Jameson... I'll need to keep an eye on this kid," he thought as he wrote down the name and underlined it.

Lew raised his eyebrows, "So, the OSA is gonna have a report on my first baseman, Rufus?"

Rufus chuckled and said, "I expect it will, Lew, I expect it will."

Daniels laughed and said, "I better not tell him that just yet. He already thinks he's better than he is." Then his face turned serious and he added, "But I think as long as I ride his butt, he'll turn into a likely big leaguer."

Danny sighed and wished he was out there on the field. He'd show that Jameson kid how it's done.