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Show Why We Cry Butch and Fenn Stories 94 father in a minute and there'll be more standing around staring at the tire. I can see Fenn over in the park standing with a group of dullards-waiting for Gurber, his corrupt little league coach, to pop a fly out their way. When Gurber does luck out and connect with one, I see Fenn stay in the pack and move, glove up, toward the catch. His chances, without his glasses, of catching a fly are 647,000 to one. Butch calculated it out, using the diameter of the ball, the size of Fenn's mitt, and the area of the field. But he does look good; he knows how to look like a baseball player. He nows how to stand on one leg with his glove tucked into his waist; how to walk, carrying his glove in the other hand; how to lean on his knees, glove open, looking ready- If he could just see, he'd have it all. And now that the season is ending, though Fenn hasn't been in a single game because Gurber plays his son in right field instead of Fenn, Fenn still wants with all of his skinny heart to be an All Star. I know by the way he puts his first finger in his mouth and his eyes glaze when we talk about it, he wants it worse than anything else in this world. I think about it and feel bad, because Fenn is headed for a fall. "Is it all right if I go down to Butch's just today? We're going to play ball." "Larry, I want you to think it over. There are lots of kids around here your age. It's a good idea to have more than |