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Show Why We Cry Butch and Fenn Stories 105 But we won't bite anymore. Fenn has stuck out the whole season, his last. He's twelve years old. And he's stuck it out (if the truth were known, and we all know it) , because his brother Tim is the apple of his mother's eye, and Tim, who is eight, is a star on the Gold Hats in the minor leagues. Mrs. Fenn doesn't miss one of his games. If Tim plays before Fenn's team, then Mrst Fenn will stay for part of Fenn's game too. I've seen Fenn walking alone down the alley in his uniform after the games, holding his mitt like a teddy bear in one hand. And, like I said, from a certain distance, he can look like a baseball player. "Well," I say, turning on my stool, "One more game, right?" "I guess," Fenn says, moving to the lighted slate and his favorite jukebox reading of the day. 3 The bat Fenn has dragged everywhere this summer, even taking it across the handlebars on his bicycle when we ride down to the river, is a thirty-inch Louisville Slugger with Jackie Robinson's signature pressed into the business end. It is the prettiest bat in the neighborhood, because Fenn doesn't tap fences or hit rocks or allow Tiny to chew on it. He takes it everytime we sleep out. The smooth blond wood has seen more polishing than any automobile on this side of the city, but it |
