March 20, 1950: Clearwater, FL:
Bobby Barrell lay facedown on the trainer's table, the trainer working some liniment into his sore back.
"Those old bones bothering you, Bob?" he heard a voice ask.
Bobby craned his neck to see who had spoken. Jack Brinker, he thought. That figures.
"What are you doing in here, Brinker?" Bobby asked, adding, "This is players only."
Brinker, the son of the freshly-retired John Brinker Sr., who had been the self-appointed biographer of the Barrell family, shrugged and said, "I have something for you, and Ames said it was okay to come in here."
Bobby sighed. It figured that Carl Ames, the Keystones skipper, would let Brinker in. The guy was too laid-back for his own good—or the team's own good—sometimes. "What do you have?" Bobby said, the words coming in a near groan as trainer Paul Lauderback found a particularly knotty place on his back.
"A copy of my father's book. Signed, of course," was the response.
"Book? What book?" Bobby asked. He hadn't known the elder Brinker was writing a book.
"It's a biography of your father," Brinker explained.
Bobby raised a hand and said, "Hold on, Paul," to the trainer. He sat up and worked a kink out of his neck. He was shirtless, and he noticed that the young sportswriter was staring at his muscled, but bullet-scarred, forearm and scowled.
"What do you mean a book about my father?" he asked, now genuinely annoyed and on the verge of anger.
"My father was working on a bio of your father when he died," Brinker said, then quickly added, "I was sorry to hear about it, by the way."
"Uh-huh," Bobby replied in a vexed tone. "My Pop was okay with this?" he asked.
"Sure, he was involved. My dad did over ten interview sessions with Rufus and a few more with your mother."
"My mother," Bobby said, his frown deepening.
"Yes, well, Dad believed it would be a good idea. No one knew Rufus Barrell better than his beloved Alice, right?"
"Right," Bobby replied and rubbed his chin. "Okay, so where is it?"
"Where's what?"
Bobby shot him a look. "The book?"
"Oh, yeah, sorry." The kid opened his briefcase and pulled out a rather thick book. Then he handed it to Bobby.
Bobby read the title aloud, "The Life and Times of Rufus Barrell."
"Yes, Dad wanted to call it 'Baseball Lifer' but Rufus didn't like that."
Bobby flipped it open. Sure enough, the crusty old newsman had signed it. "Your father's signature is harder to read than mine," he quipped.
Brinker smiled. "He hasn't had as much practice with autographs as you have," he replied.
Bobby nodded. "True," he said. Then he looked at Brinker. "Thanks, and tell your father the same," he said. He weighed the book in his hand. "Pretty heavy. Tell your father it better be good, or I'll find him and brain him with it," he said, smiling.
Brinker stared at him, then blinked twice, said, "Sure," and turned and walked out.
"You really gonna read that?" Lauderback asked after Brinker had walked out.
Bobby shrugged and thought a moment. "Probably," he said, thinking that if he didn't, Annette would, and she could fill him in.
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While Bobby was talking with Brinker, Roger Cleaves was working on a buckle on one of his shin guards.
"Whatcha doin' Rog?" asked the kid in the locker next to his, Don Berry.
"This buckle's loose," Roger said, not looking up.
"Don't we have, uh, equipment guys for that?" Berry asked.
Roger rolled his eyes but reminded himself that he had been a know-nothing rookie not so long ago himself. "Sure," he replied. "But he's not the one who has to wear this thing, and if Joe Quade buries one of his heaters in the dirt and it kicks up into my leg, I need to be sure this is going to hold." He shook the shin guard at Berry. "So I do it myself."
"You learn that in the Marines?" Berry asked. Ever since he'd learned that Roger had seen a lot of combat in the war, he'd been chatting him up every chance he got. Berry was 21 and therefore too young to have gotten the call to duty.
"No," Roger said deadpan. "They didn't hand out shin guards in the Corps."
"How's Evelyn?" the kid asked, surprising Roger with the change of subject.
"She's fine," Roger said, regretting the fact that Bobby, who had the locker on his other side, had mentioned the fact that his wife was nearing her due date and done it in front of Berry.
"Baby's due, right?"
"Right," Roger said. The baby, their second, had been due on the 15th. Evelyn was getting antsy, and so was Roger.
"You worried about Dwayne?" Berry asked.
Roger turned to him and gave him a hard look. "How the hell do you know about my son?" he asked.
Berry looked uncomfortable. "I, uh, asked Bobby if you already had any kids," he explained. Roger's frown deepened. "You know, after he was asking about your wife..."
Roger decided he might have to harm his uncle. Assuming he could, of course. Roger was strong, but Bobby was generally considered one of the strongest players in FABL.
He took a deep breath and reminded himself that Berry was just being friendly. "Look, Don," he said, "I'm kind of a private person, and we just met, you know?"
Berry nodded, but he looked crestfallen.
"To answer your question, we think Dwayne will be fine with his little brother... or little sister. He's a good kid, takes after his mom," Roger said, feeling uncomfortable.
He saw Bobby come out of the trainer's room, carrying his jersey in one hand and a... book?... in the other.
"Look, Don," Roger said, "I heard Robicheaux has some new kind of sunglasses, supposed to help you outfielders find the ball on a sunny day or something..."
Berry perked up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. The rep from the company was here yesterday, handing them out. You should ask Davey if he has any extras...."
Berry was excited and went off to see Davey Robicheaux. Let the crazy Cajun deal with him, Roger thought.
Bobby plopped down on his stool and tossed his jersey into his locker.
"What's with the book?" Roger asked him. He'd never seen Bobby read anything. On the train, he was a card-player, not a reader.
Bobby held the book up. "John Brinker wrote a book about my father," he said.
Roger's eyebrows went up. "A book about Gramps? I'll want to read it when you're done," he said.
"I don't know if I'll read it," Bobby admitted. "I might just let Annette read it and tell me what's in there."
"Why wouldn't you read it?" Roger asked.
"Well, I know the story, for one thing. Or I know what I feel like I want to know, maybe..." he admitted.
"Huh," Roger said. "I wouldn't think there'd be anything bad in there. I mean, I know I didn't know he was my grandfather till I was a teenager, but if there was ever a straight arrow, it was Rufus Barrell."
Bobby looked thoughtful. "Yeah," he said, but he had a faraway look in his eye as he said it, as if he wasn't quite certain about that.
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Bobby Barrell (center) runs with his team, spring training 1950. Roger Cleaves is at far left.
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