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Show Why We Cry Butch and Fenn Stories 128 sadly and I can almost hear him: "Organized sports." If he didn't have an invention or two at stake in this game, I doubt he'd stay to see it. Coach Ribbons calls us all in the dugout, we give one group cheer and take the field. I haven't noticed anything wrong, but when I take my position at second and start fielding practice grounders from Lopez, the first baseman, I see Butch slap his hands against the side of his face in anguish. I signal him: what? He points to right field. I turn and see Fenn trot into place. Oh no. Butch is thinking the same thing I am suddenly: Fenn has made a mistake; he's going to embarrass himself. I look at Mrs. Fenn in her place on the second row. Oh no. Fenn did this before, early in the season, and before the first pitch of the game, the umpire had to stop everything and ask Coach Gurber why there were two players in right field. Gurber looked and lost his head. He jumped the fence and started windmilling his arms for Fenn to get the hell back here what did he think he was doing! Watching Fenn shuffle back across the infield that day, his head between his shoulders, was just as much as I could take. Now, again, I check Mrs. Fenn. She doesn't have her hands over her face, like last time. In fact, she is standing up, along with the whole crowd, her hand over her heart. I look back to right field. There is only one kid out there, his flashy cap over his heart for the Star Spangled Banner. It is Fenn. |