[legendsport]

September 2, 1935: Cincinnati, OH

"You ever wonder what might have been, son?" Possum Daniels asked his oldest friend.

Rufus, busy buying a newspaper, told the newsboy to keep the change and turned to look at Possum. His friend was staring up at the brick wall of Monarchs Field, a wistful look on his rugged face.

"Huh? What are you on about?" he asked.

Possum pointed. "This park is one of the old 'uns. Old Johnny Tice built her back when you and I were just young pups. You ever wonder what might have been... you know if Tice hadn't died?"

Rufus gave it a moment's thought, then shrugged and said, "No." Then after another second or two added, "Well, not about that, at least."

Possum tipped his head to the side, acknowledging Rufus' comment. Then he said, "I've wondered some. But I gots to say that I don't know how things would have been different."

Rufus gave a small chuckle and said, "Well, one thing's for sure. Tice and Whitney hated each other, so FABL wouldn't be FABL, I suppose."

Possum sighed. Rufus folded his newspaper and tucked it under his arm. "Let's go on in, hey?" he said to Possum.

The pair were at Monarchs Field for the NAU's baseball championship. The Farmers Union club of Atlanta was playing against the Columbian Club of Oregon. Rufus was familiar with several players on each club, but of acute personal interest for him, of course, was a certain pitcher for Farmers Union who just happened to bear his name and was his grandson.

"Deucey's gonna handle these boys, you watch," Possum said as they made their way towards their seats. They were officially working. Being a scout sometimes had its benefits, after all. And Possum would be taking notes on some of the players.

"You haven't seen this here Red Johnson, have you, son?" Possum asked.

Rufus shook his head. "No, but I've read the reports."

Possum snorted and said, "Reports don't do this boy justice."

Rufus was more interested in Deuce, of course. And the guy pitching for the Columbian Club - Bill Sohl.

"Since we're here, supposedly on the job, I'd like reports on Sohl, Vic Frazier and Don Schneiderman. I figure we have Deuce covered pretty well. If Henderson's playing, we can make some notes on his hitting ability." Rufus had his own kit with him: binoculars, notebook, stopwatch and pencils.

"Well, Henderson and Deucey usually alternate - when the one's pitchin' the other's in the outfield. And vicey-versey," Possum replied.

"You know who's running this here Columbian Club?" Possum asked.

Rufus nodded. "Sure. Enoch West," he replied. West had been someone Rufus had scouted, long ago. The Kings had passed on him, largely due to Rufus' report - he'd felt West's talent was good but he had some personality issues, which is why the Kings had passed. He'd pitched one season for the Washington Eagles before spending a decade bouncing around various minor circuits. He wasn't a big fan of Rufus Barrell. Possum's point, unspoken, was that West might somehow take out his long-held grudge against the elder Rufus Barrell on young Rufus Barrell II.

Possum gave his friend a pointed look. Rufus frowned and said, "He wouldn't dare. And if he did, Deuce isn't without his own options for payback."

Rufus opened his paper while they waited for the game to start. The Kings were in the thick of a pennant race, again with the Foresters, in a nip-and-tuck battle. Tom was on the shelf with an injury, and the Kings missed their ace. At least he was due back soon.

The Keystones were fading from the race despite outstanding seasons from both Rankin Kellogg and Bobby Barrell. Pitching... that was the 'Stones achilles heel.

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The game began with the western club as the home team, meaning the Farmers Union boys got to hit first. Henderson was playing, hitting third and in right field, while Deuce was pitching and hitting fifth. Between them in the cleanup spot was a third baseman from Bayou La Batre, Alabama by the name of Davey Robicheaux.

"What's Robicheaux's story?" Rufus asked.

Possum flipped through his notebook and said, "He's a good ballplayer. Not much for school though. A boy after my own heart, you might say, son." Possum laughed and Rufus shook his head. "Good hitter. I hear tell that there are a few schools trying to get him eligible for college ball."

Rufus rubbed his chin. He sometimes wondered how many good ballplayers slipped through the cracks by not playing high school or college ball. Sure, sometimes scouts found these hidden gems, but oftentimes there were simply overlooked and toiled in obscurity.

Bill Sohl was on the hill for the Columbian Club. He was just 16 years old, but polished beyond his years. He set down the top two hitters in the Farmers Union order, bringing Tom Henderson to the plate. As Rufus watched the tall, thin boy from Oglethorpe dig in, he smiled to himself thinking of what Deuce's sister had told him - that Tom Henderson was "cute." The friction between Henderson and Deuce was still there, but on a low boil now that they were playing on the same team.

Henderson took a strike and then shot Sohl's second offering back through the box and into centerfield for a single.

Robicheaux stepped up to the plate. An 18-year-old, he'd never played high school ball and had been with Farmers Union for two seasons now. He too, took the first pitch - again a strike. The second pitch was wide to even the count. On the third pitch, Rufus finally got to see the kid swing the bat, sending a long, looping fly to left that was tracked down for the third out.

As Deuce walked out to the mound for the bottom of the first, he looked over at his grandfather and gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Rufus noted the obvious influence of Tom Barrell on Deuce - the same serious, sometimes scowling visage and businesslike approach. His motion had been honed by both Tom and Rufus himself. And both Tom and Deuce threw hard. But there were several big differences between Tom Barrell and Rufus Barrell II. For one thing, Deuce was a good five inches taller. He was, in scout-speak "long and lean" and had his father's big hands. Those hands, Rufus knew, were what separated him from the herd. The final difference was simply that Deuce threw left-handed.

Deuce's tendency to try to throw too hard didn't crop up in the first frame, and he set down the side in order: strikeout, groundout to short and the last out coming on a three-pitch strikeout of Don Schneiderman. Red Johnson, Columbian's fearsome slugger was left in the on-deck circle.

Deuce led off the top of the second, but was retired on a nice play by the second baseman and the Farmers Union went down in order. In the home half, with Johnson at the plate, Deuce fell into his bad habit of overthrowing and walked the slugger, who worked the count full and showed a lot of patience for someone whose 18th birthday was still a month away. Deuce, visibly angry, managed to settle down and erased Johnson on a double-play, then struck out the third batter of the frame.

"Lookin' like a pitcher's duel, son," Possum told Rufus.

And that was exactly what unfolded. Sohl impressed both Rufus and Possum with his poise and control for such a young pitcher. Deuce rode his natural talents which were more than good enough in amateur ball, but Rufus' honest assessment was that whichever FABL team selected his grandson would need to work on taming the boy's emotions - a trait inherited from Joe Barrell that was more curse than gift.

Farmers Union managed to load the bases in the fourth inning but Sohl retired Farmers' first baseman Eddie Cobb on an easy fly to center to end the threat. And on it went - each pitcher posting zero after zero on the scoreboard.

In the home eighth, with Deuce having faced the minimum number of batters thanks to a pair of double-plays that erased Red Johnson after his walk and Vic Frazier who had Columbians' lone hit, Red Johnson came to the plate to lead off in a still-scoreless game.

Johnson's line was officially 0-for-1 with a walk and a strikeout. He still hadn't laid wood on anything Deuce had thrown him. Of the five strikes Deuce had dealt Johnson, the slugger had swung and missed at four of them, with the other a called strike. That was a monumental feat - in Johnson's senior season of high school ball he'd struck out once, while batting .500 with 10 home runs in an injury-shortened 17 game campaign for Portland's Central Catholic.

Rufus, and many others, figured that the two young men facing off here would be the top two players selected in the upcoming draft. This meant that in all likelihood they'd end up in opposite associations - the first pick would go to the Continental Association's eighth-place club while the second would go to the Federal's last-place team. In the Continental, that top pick looked like it would belong to either the Cannons, Wolves or Cougars. On the Federal side, the Detroit Dynamos were having a dismal season and would be last by a mile. If Deuce ended up in Detroit, he'd be going to an organization headed up by Eddie Thompson and George Theobald and that would suit Rufus just fine. Something he would never admit out loud was that he hoped that if Deuce did go first overall, it would be to anyone but the dysfunctional Baltimore Cannons. Toronto... would be nice - Jack was there, for one thing. And the Cougars were a well-run organization in a rebuild and that would also be a good destination. Unfortunately, all of it was out of their hands.

Rufus' musing was interrupted by Deuce's first delivery - a sizzling called strike on the outside corner. Deuce, smartly, was trying to work Johnson away, where it would be more difficult for him to hit the ball hard in the air.

The second pitch missed by a hair, in nearly the same spot to even the count. The third pitch was a good one as Deuce changed tactics and threw a changeup that was inside and belt high - dangerous, but Johnson was out ahead of it for a swinging second strike.

On the 1-2 pitch, Deuce made what was his only mistake of the game. Later on, his grandson would admit to Rufus that he'd fallen into his old habit of trying to throw the ball too hard. There was nothing wrong with the velocity on the pitch, and it was certainly a strike. The problem was the location as it was near centered on the plate and right in Johnson's wheelhouse. One thing that Red Johnson could do was hit a fastball. And hit it he did, sending it soaring out of the park, a rising liner that reminded Rufus of a right-handed Rankin Kellogg.

Deuce hung his head immediately after the swing, not even turning to look. He threw his glove down in disgust as the crowd's "oohs" and "aahs" filled the ballpark before erupting into cheering from the fans, many of whom were essentially non-partisan and all of whom were impressed by Johnson's blast.

Sitting beside Rufus, Possum emitted a low whistle before turning to Rufus and saying, "I think our boy just learned a big ol' lesson."

"I sure hope so," Rufus replied, shaking his head.

The game ended 1-0. Aside from the one mistake, Deuce was phenomenal, pitching eight innings with 14 strikeouts, one walk, two hits and one very big home run allowed. Bill Sohl went the distance for Columbian, tossing a six-hit shutout and striking out eight with two walks. Possum and Rufus both were most impressed by the youngsters ability to dance through the rain drops and not allow any of those baserunners to cross the plate.

As Rufus stood after the final out, turning to head up the aisle to the concourse he saw George Theobald, in his typical homburg hat, seated about five or six rows behind him. FABL's elder statesman, greatest manager and part-owner of the Detroit Dynamos stood and tipped his hat at Rufus. He wondered what Theobald was thinking - would his club stand pat at #2 and take whichever player was not taken by the Continental? Or would they trade up, to ensure they got whichever player they preferred. And which would they prefer? The hard-throwing lefty or the big slugger?

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