July 8, 1951, Boston, MA:
Harry Barrell winced as he shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position despite the nagging pain in his foot. The Boston Minutemen’s three-game series against the Philadelphia Keystones had just wrapped up, and Harry had invited his nephew, Roger Cleaves, over for dinner. They sat at the dining table in Harry’s comfortable suburban home, a testament to his successful baseball career, complete with a well-manicured lawn where Harry's kids, Reid and Barbara, played.
Sarah Barrell walked in with a pitcher of lemonade, offering a warm smile. "Can I get you some more refreshments, Roger?" she asked.
Roger nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, Aunt Sarah."
As she poured the drinks, Harry couldn't help but grimace. "This plantar fasciitis is no joke, Roger. It's like walking on broken glass every step. I can't believe I have to sit out for two weeks."
Roger, his face showing genuine concern, leaned back in his chair. "I can't imagine, Uncle Harry. I'd go stir crazy if I couldn't play for two weeks. It sounds awful."
Harry nodded. "It really is. I try to stay positive, but the pain is just constant."
Roger took a sip of his lemonade and then said, "It reminds me of a guy I served with on Saipan. He got his heel blown off by a Japanese machine gun. They called it a million-dollar wound because it meant he got to go home. But later, I realized he'd never walk without a limp for the rest of his life."
Harry shook his head, the pain in his foot momentarily forgotten. "War does terrible things to a person.I never saw combat, but I saw plenty of the aftermath when we'd visit the hospitals. Makes this injury seem minor in comparison."
Roger changed the subject, his expression turning serious. "I was talking to Annette earlier. Uncle Bob's really struggling with depression after his back injury."
Harry sighed, his eyes reflecting the worry he felt for his brother. "Yeah, Bobby's been through a lot. It's hard seeing him like this. He's always been the strong one."
Roger nodded in agreement. "It’s tough. I hope he finds a way to pull through."
Sarah rejoined them, asking Roger, "How are Dwayne and Dickie doing?"
Roger's face lit up. "They're doing great, Aunt Sarah. Growing up fast, too. Dwayne's getting into baseball just like his old man."
Sarah smiled. "That’s wonderful to hear. Reid and Barbara would love to see them if you and Evelyn visit."
Harry, trying to lighten the mood, said, "Speaking of young ballplayers, have you heard about your kid brother Charlie signing with the Cincinnati Cannons and getting assigned to Class B?"
Roger rolled his eyes. "It's nuts, Uncle Harry. I've watched Charlie play, and I’m convinced he could handle the FABL level right now."
Harry chuckled. "The kid's got talent, no doubt. We'll see him in the majors soon enough."
Roger then brought up the upcoming FABL All-Star game in Toronto. "You know, I'll be backing up George at the All-Star game. Might even face Deuce if he's pitching."
Harry nodded sagely. "We have a big family, don’t we? And your dad," Harry paused and gave a small, sad smile as he thought of his late brother, "Well, Joe was not much for baseball, it'd sure be funny to see how he'd react to all three of his sons being professional ballplayers."
Roger laughed. "Yeah, we're a bit of a baseball dynasty within a baseball dynasty, if you take my meaning." Harry laughed and nodded.
Harry’s smile faded slightly. "I’m disappointed I’ll be missing the All-Star game. I’m closing in on 3,000 hits, and it would have been nice to be there."
Roger leaned forward, curious. "Do you plan on sticking around to chase Bobby's hit record?"
Harry hesitated, then admitted, "Well I sure won't catch his home run record," Roger laughed again. Harry continued, "But to be honest, I’ve been thinking about managing. I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve been trying to be more of a leader and less of a clown. I think it’s working."
Roger looked incredulous. "You? Managing? I didn’t think you had the temperament for it."
Harry laughed. "I didn’t either, but I’m starting to see it differently. I want to give it a shot."
Sarah returned to the room, smiling as she watched Reid and Barbara play in the yard. "Dinner's almost ready. You boys make sure to wash up."
As Harry and Roger rose from their seats, Harry clapped a hand on Roger’s shoulder. "Thanks for coming over, Roger. It's good to talk about these things."
Roger smiled. "Anytime, Uncle Harry. We’re family, after all."
------------------------------------------------------------------
Roger Cleaves (L) and Harry Barrell (R) at Harry's home, 1951