[legendsport]

June 4, 1935: Baltimore, MD:

Harry Barrell was standing, his right leg on the top step of the dugout, his left two steps below. This had become a ritual for him of late.

Beside him was manager Walt Bailey, in the same pose. The only difference being that the skipper was chewing tobacco, a habit Harry found appalling. But Harry noticed that good things seemed to happen when he perched himself next to the skipper - even though he had started doing it as a way to tweak the nose of the stodgy old man. Bailey, a former catcher, had once mentioned that he had taken a lot of foul balls off his mask as a player (this was said to Fred - Bailey was telling him to stop bellyaching about the aches & pains of being a catcher). Harry openly mused that maybe all those foul balls had knocked the personality right out of the skipper, cracking up most of the clubhouse. Bailey was not amused.

Scowling, Bailey shot a sidelong glance at his young shortstop, saying nothing, then shot a stream of brown juice onto the dirt fringe between the top step and the start of the grass.

Harry wasn't sure why the manager was scowling. The Brooklyn Kings were 31-16 and the lowly Baltimore Cannons were not likely to derail things. This Monday afternoon contest was the first of three for Harry's Kings in Baltimore and he and his team mates were already looking forward to a sweep.

At the plate was the prize acquisition of the season: outfielder Al Wheeler. Wheeler, pitcher Jack Beach and third baseman Frank Vance had all been dealt to Brooklyn from Detroit for a slew of prospects and draft picks on May 13. Since then, the Kings had been on a tear, despite Beach seemingly having forgotten how to pitch. Vance had been installed at first base, shifting Danny to the bench. Needless to say, this decision by Bailey was not popular with the Barrell brothers. It was Vance who had led off the third inning with a single to bring Wheeler to the plate.

Wheeler waggled his bat and waited on the delivery from Cannons pitcher Pinky Conlan. Harry, unfortunately, didn't hit Conlan particularly well and had already been set down twice by the Cannons righty.

Conlan checked on Frank Vance. The 3B-turned-1B was no speedster and was nearly hugging first base. Seeing this, Conlan turned back to the batter. Harry could really only see his profile, but Conlan looked nervous. He had walked Wheeler on four pitches in the first and it didn't look like he really wanted anything to do with pitching to the slugger. Nevertheless, he went into his delivery and sent a much-too-flat curveball towards the plate. As Wheeler unloaded on it, Harry already had a grin on his face so wide it almost hurt.

Wheeler's blast soared into the air towards the right-field bleachers. RF Abel Man didn't even really move. He simply straightened up and watched as the ball zipped by forty feet over his head and into the empty seats, rattling around a bit before rolling down the aisle. As Wheeler rounded first, Harry bounded out of the dugout, a plan forming in his mind. He found a likely looking kid and offered him a buck to go fetch that baseball.

Vance soon crossed the plate with the game's first run; he then took a few more steps and turned around, waiting for Wheeler.

As Vance shook Wheeler's hand, giving him a smile and nod, Harry was watching the boy he'd offered to pay racing towards the empty seats where the baseball had landed.

As he was wont to do, Harry had begun planning to "prank" Beach, Wheeler and Vance soon after they arrived in Brooklyn. Beach was no problem - he was a laid-back Southerner like Harry who liked to talk about fishing. So Harry had stuffed minnows into both of Beach's spikes. The pitcher was startled, but handled it well, shaking his head at Harry and telling him, "Alright, you got me good." Tommy, whose locker was beside Beach's, actually complained more than Beach himself. Mostly because the stink of fish hung around Beach's locker for a few days after Harry's prank.

Vance proved tougher. He was a tireless worker and getting to the park before him proved a challenge. So Harry resorted to his tried-and-true hotfoot and got him in the dugout at Dyckman Stadium. Vance hopped around in pain and snarled at Harry, warning him to "never do that again. Or else." Nothing he hadn't heard before, but Vance was... intense and Harry silently vowed that he would henceforth leave Vance alone.

That left Wheeler. To Harry, the slugger seemed so straight-laced and tightly wound that he almost squeaked when he moved. He was single and devoted to his mother sometimes even writing letters to her after games. Many players would be mercilessly ribbed for this - but not Wheeler. He was quietly intimidating. Harry had a couple of inches of height on him, but Wheeler was at least 10 pounds heavier, and all of that was muscle. He had forearms like Popeye (Harry - unsurprisingly to anyone who knew him - was a big fan of comic strips).

Harry had wracked his brain for weeks trying to come up with the prank of all pranks to play on Wheeler. And so far, had come up dry. But today... it felt like today was the day and the home run had given him an idea. He slapped Wheeler on the back as he clomped down the dugout steps behind Vance. Bailey spat again and said, "Good swing," to Wheeler.

As Wheeler sat down beside Powell Slocum and the two men put their heads together to talk hitting, Harry saw that the kid had grabbed the ball, beating three other boys to it. He quickly ducked into the dugout and ran up the tunnel and into the clubhouse. Fred, sitting at the end of bench beside Tom - today was another All-Barrell battery day - told him that if he needed to use the facilities he'd better make it quick.

Harry was quick. He grabbed a dollar bill and was back in the dugout by the time the kid had returned, leaning over the rail. "Got the ball!" he said. Harry paid the kid, and stashed the ball in the dugout, hoping no one would notice it. For what he had in mind any ball would do, but using the actual ball would make it just a bit sweeter for him.

Wheeler hit a second homer in the fifth, a solo shot on the second pitch he saw after fouling off the first offering. Harry had the kid chase that one down too. Then he belted a third one off Conlan in the seventh, again on the first pitch. Danny, sitting behind Harry on the bench shot out of his seat, came up beside Harry and whistled. "Wheels owns this guy!" he said. Harry ducked out of the dugout and nodded at the kid, who took off for a third time.

Returning to his spot, Harry looked at his brother and asked, "Did you stop at that place you like?"

Danny looked a little abashed, worried Harry might sell him out to his wife. "Yes, and you'd better not say anything to Gladys about it. She gives me a hard enough time about what I eat already."

Harry shook his head. "My lips are sealed. But only if you share some with me."

Dan raised his eyebrows. "I thought you didn't care for it."

Harry smiled and in a near whisper, said, "Oh, I think it's just perfect."

Danny looked confused and then shrugged. He figured Harry was up to something. He usually was.

The game ended in a 7-2 win for the Kings. Tom, unsurprisingly was fuming after the game. He had won, and pitched well, allowing just the one earned run. Both John Langille and Frank Vance avoided the pitcher - they'd both had errors in the game. But, four hits and no walks in a complete game win... that was nothing to sneeze at in Harry's opinion. Still, he wisely avoided his scowling brother. Only Fred could talk to Tom when he was like this.

Dan stopped by Harry's locker, a small bag in his hand. He handed it over and whispered, "I know you're not going to eat this. So what are you up to?"

Harry smirked. "Oh, you'll see..." he said.

When Dan had left, Harry sat on his stool, and took the first baseball out. He opened the bag Dan had given him, reached in and grabbed something. Then he rubbed it on the ball. Licking his fingers clean, he grimaced a little, then stood and walked over to where Wheeler was sitting. A couple of writers were asking him questions - one was Jiggs McGee and the other some guy Harry didn't recognize.

He waited, hiding his impatience, and held the ball between two fingers. Finally after a few minutes that felt like hours, the writers moved to try to talk to Tommy, whose ruffled feathers would most likely have been smoothed over by Fred by now.

Harry walked up to Wheeler. "Hey, Wheels, that was some show you put on today," he said.

Wheeler looked up at him, and he said "Thanks, Barrell," though his expression was wary. He had had a front row seat for both the Beach and Vance pranks. He'd also seen him get Walt Layton several times. Layton was Harry's favorite target.

Harry noticed that Dan was watching, and so were Vance, Langille and Shadoan. Apparently Dan couldn't keep his mouth shut. But Wheeler had his back to them, so it was still a green light for Harry.

He held out the ball, still held somewhat awkwardly between his thumb and index finger. "I paid a kid to grab the home run balls for you," he said.

Wheeler looked at the ball, then back at Harry's face. "Really? Why?"

Harry managed to look uncomfortable and said, "Well, I figured you might want to give one to your mother. You know, as a memento."

Wheeler still looked dubious. Harry could almost hear the gears turning in the guy's head.

"That's really the home run ball?" he asked.

Harry crossed his heart with his empty hand and said, "Cross my heart, Al. It's the real deal."

Wheeler shrugged and Harry pushed the ball into the hand of the slugger.

Harry smiled and watched as confusion dawned on Wheeler's face. He dropped the ball, which rolled away and looked at his hand.

There was a brown smear on his palm. Wheeler's eyes widened as he looked at his hand. Then his face turned red. The players who were standing around watching had a variety of reactions from disgusted moans to howling laughter. Harry began backing up as Wheeler took a step towards him.

"I'm going to kill you, Barrell," he snarled. Then he emitted a string of profanity that no one had ever heard from him.

Harry had raised his own hands and was saying, "Whoa, whoa!" as Wheeler started coming for him.

Dan Barrell jumped in between Wheeler and his brother and Fred jumped up and came up behind Wheeler. "It's just fudge, Al," Dan said. Wheeler raised his hand and sniffed at his palm, which drew some disgusted noises from some of the guys.

Dan pointed at Harry and said, "You nearly got yourself in a world of hurt, Harry."

Harry was laughing. "It's just chocolate!" he shouted. "I got you, Al!"

Wheeler lowered his hand. His face was still red and his left hand was still clenched in a fist. But then a smile slowly emerged on his face and after a moment he laughed.

The clubhouse was in an uproar as Harry explained that he had gotten Dan to give him some of the fudge he always bought when visiting Baltimore. "There's this little place a couple blocks from here," Dan explained. "My wife doesn't let me eat many sweets, so I usually cheat a little when we're on the road."

Harry pulled the other two balls out of his locker and handed them to Wheeler, saying, "These are clean - and they're really the home run balls."

Tommy was laughing, but also shaking his head. Jake Shadoan sauntered up to Danny and asked him if he had any of that fudge left.

Harry grabbed the fudge-smeared ball and held it up. "There's still some right here, Jake," he said with another laugh.

.