[legendsport]

Chicago, IL: November 22, 1924:

The Detroit Maroons were in town to play the Chicago Wildcats and that meant that Rollie Barrell could catch up with his brothers Joe and Jack. And because of Danny's injury, both Rufus and Alice were also in town.

"It's practially a family reunion," Rollie said to lighten the rather somber mood. "You guys look like we already beat you, and the game's not until tomorrow," he told Jack. Jack smirked, muttered something Rollie didn't quite hear and turned away.

Rollie, like his parents, was staying at Joe's home while in town. Since Edna had returned to Georgia with their children, Joe had an empty house and the company was welcome, despite the circumstances.

"We can't act like someone died, you know," he told Jack. They were alone in what was formally "Deuce" Barrell's room, which Rollie was using. Joe had moved into his daughter's old room and their parents were staying in the master bedroom. It was early on Saturday morning and the house was fairly quiet. Jack had slept on the couch after staying up late talking with Rufus, Joe and Rollie about Danny's situation.

"You don't get it," Jack told him, his back still turned.

"What don't I get? He's going to keep the leg, that's a good thing."

Jack shook his head, sighed and then spun around, looking at Rollie with pain in his eyes. "Did you see him in Paris? That kid was the best athlete in the family... and that's saying something right there. Now, at best, he'll probably walk with a limp for the rest of his life."

Rollie felt his own anger rise. He pointed at Jack. "Yes, he's had a terrible injury. So did Pop, and you can't say he didn't make something out of his life, now can you?"

Jack frowned, but remained silent.

Rollie wasn't finished. "And what about me? Those goons in New York beat me so badly I can't golf any more. But am I moping around?" Jack opened his mouth, but Rollie plowed on. "No. We're more than just athletes. That's what Mom and Pop both gave us - more than just the ability to run fast, hit, throw, punch, whatever... the knowledge that we're much more than what we are on whatever field we play on. You know that, deep down, and we need to make sure Danny remembers that too."

Jack said, "I'm sorry. You're right." He smirked and added, "You always were the smart one, Rollie."

Rollie frowned, "Yeah, so smart that I couldn't prevent Jimmy - the brother I was probably closest to out of the whole family - from always pushing the boundaries. Danny was there that day... the day Jimmy died. And Danny needs to know - he's not dead and there's more to life than the Olympics, or football, or any other sport for that matter."

"You're right, Rollie," said Rufus Barrell, who had appeared in the doorway.

"Hey Pop, sorry about the noise. Did we wake you?" Rollie asked.

"No, I was up. Your mother's still asleep though," Rufus replied, then stepped into the room and sat on the bed. "We need to stay positive around Danny. Yes, this is bad. I remember how I felt after... well, after what happened at Bigsby Oval all those years ago. But Rollie, you're correct - life does go. And Danny's young - just like I was. He can make it through. I had your Mom to help me out, but he's got all of us and that's a lot of Barrells." He finished with a soft chuckle.

The room was silent for several moments as all three men reflected on the situation. Finally Rufus broke the silence telling his sons, "We need to see if we can get Danny to come around and see sense on that offer from Claudia."

Claudia Slocum had called from Brooklyn the day before. She was a nurse at one of the best hospitals in Brooklyn, where her husband, Powell Slocum was playing for the Brooklyn Kings and had recently been hired to be the team's player-manager. She had suggested having Danny move to Brooklyn and live with them while recuperating.

Claudia's work as a wartime nurse had given her vast experience with bitter and broken men. She was confident in her abilities and eager to help Danny get back on his feet, both literally and figuratively.

However Danny, still in the hospital with his entire left leg encased in a plaster cast, was bitter and angry, and had flatly refused. "I'll stay in Chicago," he growled. He added some disparaging remarks about Powell Slocum, which made Alice snap at him. After that he stonily refused to budge on the issue.

"I don't know Pop, there's some not-so-great history there," Jack pointed out. "He made it pretty plain how he feels about Powell."

Rufus nodded and replied, "Granted. But he needs treatment and he needs to get adjusted to life after... well, after being an athlete, I suppose. And Claudia does love him, just more like a brother. And that means a lot, even if it isn't the way Danny would like her to feel about him."

"True," Rollie agreed and Jack nodded too.

"But Claudia has a husband and a kid. Are we sure Powell's okay with this?" Jack asked.

"Claudia said Powell's very supportive of the idea and we all know little James loves Danny."

Rollie sighed again. "So all we need to do is convince our extremely bitter, nearly crippled brother to go live with a woman he was infatuated with and who is now married to someone he flat out says he can't stand?"

"Sure, piece of cake, right?" Jack added with a rueful laugh.

Rufus frowned and said, "Well, boys, the worthwhile things are rarely easy. Maybe what Danny needs right now is a swift kick in the pants to knock the self-pity out of him. He won't ever have a normal life if he stays the way he is now."

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The next day at North Side Grounds, Rollie watched his Detroit Maroons play great defense and beat the Wildcats 6-0. He smirked as he sat with Jack Kristich. "Looks like I'll have the bragging rights on Joe and Jack this year," he said and slapped his knee.

Kristich, the commissioner of the AFA, was also the owner of the league's Fort Wayne entry. His team was idle (and not particularly good). Kristich chuckled and said, "I'd love it if my team was anywhere near as good as your club or the Wildcats, Rollie." Fort Wayne was 4-4. Rollie's Maroons were 8-1 and had two more games on the slate, both of which he figured they'd win.

"Polish up that silverware for me, Jack," he said and slapped his knee again.

"If you're done gloating, let's head into the office, Rollie," Kristich told him and stood.

Rollie followed the commissioner into the offices of the Chicago Cougars, which were empty on this Sunday before Thanksgiving, and on loan to Rollie, Jack Kristich and Chicago Wildcats co-owner Carl Boon. They were going to finalize their plans for a professional basketball league.

Carl joined them about fifteen minutes later, his hair still wet from the shower he'd just taken. Boon was not only the co-owner (with Joe Barrell) but like Joe, he also played for the team as an end - and a good one at that. But he was a smart and shrewd businessman as well, and very interested in the basketball idea.

Jack Kristich opened the briefcase he'd left in the Cougars' GM's office and pulled out his ubiquitous folder.

"How's that secretary of yours doing, Jack?" Rollie asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Hey, you're a married man, Rollie," Kristich replied.

Rollie laughed and nodded. "Oh, yes, I am and my wife would kill me for even asking, but your niece is an impressive young lady."

Kristich shook his head. "Gladys is fine, Rollie. Now let's get down to business, boys," he said and tapped the folder.

Carl leaned forward. "You really think we can get the Luckies, Jack?"

"We absolutely need to, so I am going to do my very best to make that happen," was the reply. The "Luckies" were a traveling team, technically, in New York (and in fact were actually called the 'New York Lucky Five'). They were generally considered the best basketball club in the country.

Rollie frowned. "I'm not sure I want to get mixed up with them," he said.

"Sam Bigsby is only a minority owner, Rollie," Kristich replied. He and Carl Boon both knew of the history between the Bigsby and Barrell families. "Stan Lippman is calling the shots. If it wasn't for Bigsby Gardens, Sam wouldn't have even gotten a sniff of involvement with the Luckies. Unfortunately for us, Sam Bigsby controls the best arena in the nation - and we need a team in New York."

Rollie sighed, "I know. I just don't like it, is all."

"OK, so if we get the Luckies, we'll have teams in New York, Chicago, and Detroit. I'm shooting for Boston, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Cleveland and St. Louis as well. We need to go big league with this if we can," Carl pointed out.

Kristich nodded in agreement. "Yes, definitely. The issue is venues - some of those cities have hockey clubs and those that do have nice venues. That's Boston, Philly, Pittsburgh and Cleveland. St. Louis? I don't know. I talked with Dutch Schmidt and he's non-committal."

Schmidt was a German immigrant who owned a brewery in St. Louis. The brewery had a basketball team, but it wasn't particularly successful against top competiton.

"His team's not exactly good, Jack," Rollie said.

Kristich nodded and said, "True. But he has money. And he hasn't yet said no to the idea of building an arena in St. Louis. I mentioned that he could perhaps lure a hockey club in if they build one. With the USHA and NAHC fighting it out, either would probably jump at the chance to put a team in there."

Rollie nodded - his brother Jack had told him as much.

"OK, well, if we can get teams in all those places, then I'd say, yes, we have a shot at making this thing work," Rollie said. Then he took a deep breath and asked, "But how do we get this done?"

Carl Boon grinned and replied, "Oh, I think we can get it done."

Rollie was doubtful - but Carl's confidence was infectious. Maybe this would work after all.

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