February 23, 1944: Durham, North Carolina:
"This war sucks," Tom Barrell groused.
Beside him, stretching was catcher Clem Bliss. "Oh, quit your whining, Georgia Boy," he said.
Tom frowned and glared at him as he bent over and touched his toes. "I'm going to get frostbite out here," he said.
Bliss, who was from Akron, Ohio, shook his head slowly and mumbled, "Hardly."
The reason for Tom's unhappiness was that he, and the rest of the Miners, were holding their spring camp in North Carolina instead of sunny - and warm - Florida due to wartime travel restrictions.
"I don't see why they have us here," Tom persisted.
"Because old man Fitzpatrick sees this as his patriotic duty and somehow convinced three other owners to go along with it," Bliss said.
Bliss winked at Tom and added, "Maybe you can get your girlfriend to talk to her daddy," he joked.
Tom frowned and said, "Don't go there." Marla Fitzpatrick and her father weren't exactly on speaking terms.
"You know, I've been wondering..." Bliss said and Tom rolled his eyes. He knew exactly where this was going.
"Marla is what... Twenty-four, twenty-five?" Bliss asked. Tom sighed and said, "Twenty-six."
Bliss nodded and added, "And Fitzgerald's..."
"In his seventies," Tom replied, his tone stressing his weariness with this line of discussion.
"And..." Bliss prompted.
"And yes, the old geezer married a much younger woman, and that woman is Marla's mother," Tom explained.
Bliss opened his mouth but Tom raised a hand, "And yes, he has since divorced said woman and married another, even younger woman," he said.
"Man, it must be great to be that rich," Bliss opined.
"Yes, I suppose it does offer a lot of... opportunities," Tom said. "And to get back to your original suggestion," Tom added, "Marla and the old man don't get along, because of the aforementioned divorcing-of-her-mother, so there's no chance of her going to him about anything, least of all getting our butts out of the cold."
Bliss shook his head again. "This ain't cold, Georgia," he said. Tom disagreed and demonstrated this by blowing a raspberry at his catcher.
"How mature of you," Bliss noted.
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After the workout, as the team retired to the clubhouse Tom went in to see the Miners' new manager, Hank Leitzke.
Leitzke was himself a former pitcher, who had enjoyed one good season, at age 21, for the Chicago Cougars before spending the next decade in the minor leagues waiting for a second chance that never arrived. Leitzke knew Tom from the latter's salad days with the Brooklyn Kings when Hank had been the skipper of the Toronto Wolves. He'd been out of the game since managing Toronto to the World Championship in 1940. Tom had hopes that he would get along better with Leitzke than he had with Dan Andrew, who'd retired at the end of the '43 season.
"Barrell, what can I do for you?" Leitzke asked when Tom popped his head in the door. The skipper was sitting behind his small desk. Sitting across from him was pitching coach Huck Lucas. Unlike Leitzke, Lucas had been with the Miners since 1939 and had been retained by the new manager specifically because he had so much experience with the club's pitching staff. Tom wasn't thrilled to see Lucas there.
"I wanted to speak with you about my role on the staff this season," Tom replied. He nodded to Lucas and added a friendly, "Huck," as he did so.
"OK," Leitzke said. "What do you want to know?" he asked. Tom took this to mean that the skipper wasn't going to make it easy on him.
Fair enough, he thought and said, "I think I should be starting."
Leitzke looked at Lucas and raised his eyebrows. Lucas frowned and said, "Well, Tom, I'm not sure that's in the cards."
"Why not?" Tom asked, adding, "Lefty Allen's not walking back through that door anytime soon. The way I see it you have Philips, Ligons and Johnson. That's three, who's going to be the fourth?"
"I like Miller," Lucas replied.
Tom craned his neck to make sure he was out of earshot of his team mates. Leaning back into the room he pitched his voice low and said, "Miller? He has control issues and you know it, Huck. And even if you do give him a slot, you'll need another arm. Who you going to use, Stevens? He's old, and I'm better than he is. Hell, I'm better than Miller too." He stopped, realizing he was getting worked up and wanting to calm down. Why wasn't Leitzke weighing in? He wondered.
Lucas narrowed his eyes. "Tom... To be perfectly frank, I'm not sure you have much gas left in the tank."
Tom felt his face getting hot, which meant it was getting red. "I have won three Allen Awards, Huck," he growled.
"Sure, and that's why we traded for you," Huck replied. "But you haven't exactly been performing up to that standard since, what? 1936, 37?" Lucas replied calmly.
Tom dragged his gaze off of Lucas, tamping down the urge to slug the guy and instead looked at Leitzke. "Skipper, what do you think?" he asked.
Letizke chewed his lip for a moment. Then he said, "I'm new here Tom. I have to rely on Huck here for a bit until I get my bearings."
Lucas was about to say something else when Leitzke touched his arm and looking at Tom added, "Let's table this til after camp. If you pitch well in the spring, I promise you, I'll consider you for the rotation."
He locked eyes with Tom and asked, "Fair enough?"
Tom nodded and said, "Yes, that's all I want. A chance."
Leitzke nodded and Tom turned to leave, noting that Lucas was shooting him a glare as he did.
He stopped and turned back for a moment. "If I am going to be sent back to the bullpen..." he said.
Leitzke raised his eyebrows questioningly but said nothing.
"If that's where you see me, then I'd like to be traded. Because I know I can still be a starter in this league," Tom added and then turned and walked out.
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Hank Leitzke