[legendsport]

Trenton, NJ: July 11, 1920:

Jack Barrell was in the doghouse. Apparently baseball managers didn't like their players demanding that they be given a chance to play. Jack was still part of the Springfield Rifles - he just hadn't actually played in about three weeks.

The blow-up happened because Jack had forgotten the advice of both his father and Possum Daniels. That advice had essentially boiled down to: work hard, be a team player and your time will come. Though obviously it had been taken vastly different forms in delivery from Possum and Rufus.

Peter Hackett, the Rifles' manager had been sitting in his "office" which was only slightly larger than a closet, in the Springfield clubhouse when Jack had come to talk with him.

Though the meeting had started off genially enough (Jack had to admit Hackett was a fair, if unbending, man). Jack had asked why, when his nemesis Billy Nash had (finally!) been promoted to Worcester, hadn't Jack been given the job at second.

"The Minutemen want Valcin playing there," Hackett said. Al Valcin, a shortstop, had been bumped from his spot by another infielder named Emmett Fisher. Fisher was not new to the team and was a much of part-timer as Jack had been the last couple of seasons, but according to Hackett was considered a better prospect than Jack was.

When Hackett pointed all this out, Jack lost his cool. The culmination came when Jack hurled the chair he'd been sitting in through the doorway, where it crashed into the clubhouse wall, breaking into splintered wood.

Hackett, unsurprisingly, did not handle this well. Jack had been suspended - without pay - for a week. And he hadn't even gotten a pinch-hit appearance since.

Now, sitting in front of his locker, he was shocked when Hackett passed by and without stopping said, "You're playing third base today - Cash needs a day off." Joe Cash was another hotshot prospect. Jack had only played third sparingly, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Thanks, Mr. Hackett," he said in what he hoped was a respectful tone. Hackett grunted and kept moving towards the door.

Jack pressed a bit in the game, but did manage to hit his first triple of the season. The Trenton Eagles, as usual, were Springfield's top rival and the two were locked in a battle for the Middle Atlantic League pennant. The Eagles ended up winning a close one, 4-3, and Jack was 1-for-4 with that lone triple (and a run scored). He hadn't made an error at third base, so in general he felt his performance was acceptable. He made the last out of the game and was on his way to the dugout when a familiar voice called out.

Jack looked into the stands behind the dugout to see who'd called his name. To his surprise, his brother Joe was standing there with a big grin on his face.

"Joe? What are you doing in Trenton?" Jack asked.

"On my way to New York. The train stopped in Trenton, and I saw in the Sporting News that your team was in town to play Trenton, so I decided to stop over."

Jack's grin widened. It was always good to see a familiar face when on the road. The Rifles had another game in Trenton the next day and then were heading to Reading and Scranton before finally going home. He was only a few days into a ten-day stretch away from Marie and Agnes, so seeing Joe was a boon.

"Let me get cleaned up. I'll meet you outside the player's entrance in about a half-hour?"

Joe nodded and said he'd be there.

The two brothers found a small restaurant a few blocks from the hotel - Joe had also checked in there. With Prohibition now the law of the land, the hotel bar had lost much of its appeal and Jack actually wanted to get out of there anyway. He didn't need his team mates interrupting his time with his brother.

"So... how are things?" Joe asked.

Jack explained the situation, adding that he was losing heart in continuing what felt like an increasingly futile fight.

Joe commisserated. He knew Jack (unlike Joe himself) enjoyed baseball. Of the four older boys, Jack was the one who basically excelled at everything. Rollie and Jimmy both were athletic - that was just in the genes, Joe supposed - but Jack was seemingly able to competently do anything he set his mind to doing athletically.

Which gave Joe an idea... "You ever think about trying football?"

A dubious look crossed Jack's features and he shook his head. "Not really, no," he said. "I did play in high school. But it was Canadian rules, and they're a bit different than the way the American game is played."

Joe shrugged and said he was aware of the differences, but "the game is basically the same."

Jack frowned. "Why are you asking me about this?"

A sheepish look on his face, Joe admitted that he missed the family now that he was living in Ohio. Jack chuckled and said he could relate.

"I'm on my way to a meeting with Michael Bigsby about playing football in New York."

Jack whistled and muttered, "Another Bigsby? Do they manufacture these guys in a factory?"

Joe laughed and explained that Mike was Miles Bigsby's son. He was also something of a black sheep. While Sam Bigsby and his brother Charlie - both sons of Miles' late brother Charles Bigsby - were given great leeway in the family's sporting empire (Charlie was heir apparent to the Gothams and Sam ran the Oval and was leading the construction of the indoor arena the family was building), Mike was, ironically, considered too much like his uncle Charles, who died in prison.

"I'd just stay away from those guys," Jack said.

Joe gave a half shrug and said, "They're offfering me a lot of money. And I mean a lot."

"Edna okay with this?" Jack asked.

"Hell, no. She hates the idea. Won't tell me why either." Joe still didn't quite get what his wife's big objection was - he thought she'd be happy to see Joe double his income.

Jack sat back with a wry expression and said, "Well, now that I'm a married man myself, I must say that it's generally a bad idea to do something directly against your wife's wishes."

Joe smirked and said, "I hear you, brother. I just want to hear the guy out. I won't sign anything."

They changed the subject and Joe talked about the twins, now three years old.

Jack took a sip of his water as he listened, but his mind kept circling back to Joe's suggestion that he try football. He imagined Bert Thomas' reaction if he did play football and smiled.