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Show Why We Cry Butch and Fenn Stories 130 one more deep look at those goggles and stepped back from the mound. The entire infield had clustered around him. I didn't think anything about it until the pitcher stepped hard and threw his sidearm fastball right into Fenn's head. We could hear it hit just like someone banging once on a door. Fenn stayed right in his stance as the ball rebounded almost all the way to third base. Then I remembered Fenn's name painted all over the dugout. They'd read about him and were afraid he was our ace. Fenn looked back at the ump and stepped across the plate to take his walk when he collapsed like an empty flour sack softly into the baseline. We all ran out as if to fight and gathered around Fenn. The stitches of the baseball were printed in red.._.acrpss_his_ temple. His mother ran out and held his head in her beautiful hands. When he opened his eyes, he sat right up and said to Ribbons, "Coach, please, don't take me out. I can hit this guy." One whole side of his face was white from the chalk of the baseline. Two players helped Fenn to first, where he stood, waver-ing, but not seriously. In the top of the fourth I take Fenn his mitt and wait to see if Ribbons is going to take him out. No way. Like everyone else who was there when Fenn came to, evidently the Coach hasn't heard anything that crazy all summer. Fenn is in to stay. |