Baby Ruth
Ruthie stepped to the plate, digging her sneakers into the dirt. She swung the bat around one and then two times just like Duke Sims did when he stepped to bat. She had seen this many times while watching the Yankees play with her grandpa. She would sit on the floor, captivated by the tiny players on the black and white screen. The sun was beating down on the neighborhood Crown Heights field. Frankie Lazzio was on the mound, staring Ruthie down. There was always pressure being at bat. All eyes on you. But the pressure was three times as much when you were the only 7 second-grader and the only girl rostered for the 1973 summer season . Ruthie swung the bat around one final time and took a deep breath. Frankie hurled his first pitch. In the dirt. Ruthie smiled. He was nervous. The second pitch came, and the minute it left his hand, she could tell it was outside. “Strike!” the ump yelled. Ruthie took a step back from the plate and shot the ump a look. Ruthie was getting impatient. She stepped to the plate, swung the bat around only once this time and focused in on Frankie’s windup. He whipped the ball up over his head and then released. Fast ball, right down the middle. Crack! Ruthie made perfect contact and the ball went flying over the shortstop’s head. Ruthie hurled the bat down and took off towards first base. The first base coach was giving her the “stop,” signal, but there was no stopping her. She rounded the plate and headed towards second-base. When the left fielder fumbled and missed his cut-off, Ruthie knew she had time to get to at least third base. She tapped second and headed to her next target. Well, there was no way she was stopping when she was this close. She shook off her third base coach and headed home. Just before she got to the plate, the catcher received the ball and got in position to tag her. Ruthie grinned. Time for her favorite move. Ruthie barreled into the catcher while she crossed the plate. The catcher toppled to the ground, dropping the ball on his way down. “Safe!” The umpire yelled. Ruthie jumped up off the ground and pumped her fist in the air. As she entered the dugout, her team was cheering her on. Her coach, also her Uncle Jay, was less than thrilled. Uncle Jay was reluctant to even let Ruthie play on the team so was particularly upset when she pulled stunts like this. She didn’t care though. She grabbed a handful of seeds, popped them in her mouth and grabbed the fence to cheer on the next at bat.
The game ended with Ruthie’s team eking out an 8-7 win. She credited her dramatic run with the victory. “Ruth! You did so good!” Ruthie’s parents jogged toward their petite 7 year-old and scooped her up. “Dad, put me down!” Ruthie hated being thrown around; it made her feel like a baby. “Sorry, sorry. I just had to scoop you up.” Her dad, Frank, had the thickest Brooklyn accent imaginable. He chewed on each word, warming it up before the delivery. “How about some ice cream, Ruthie?” Ruth’s mom, Linda, was a Midwestern transplant, her voice matching the softness of her demeanor. “Invite your teammates!” Ruthie looked over at her teammates. They all usually went over to Vinnie Harpo’s house after games and always seemed to forget to invite her. “Nah, let’s go just us.”
The Social was the neighborhood ice cream parlor. The interior was a 1950s time capsule: a round counter with high stools surrounded a collection of archaic malt machines and oily-faced, teenage soda jerks. “I can’t believe they aren’t required to wear the hat and apron anymore. What is happening to the standards in this country?” Frank was a proud alumni of The Parlor soda jerk squad. Ruth climbed up onto a tall stool and slapped her gloved hand onto the counter. Her mitt went everywhere with her. One of the parlor attendants walked over to welcome Ruth and her crew, “What can I get you, Slugger?” Ruby studied the menu closely, even though she ordered the same thing everytime.
“Ummmm, I will take…the regular, please.”
“Coming right up. And for you, sir?”
“Scoop a chocolate.”
“And for you, ma’am?”
“Nothing for me, thank you. I’m going to go put something on the jukebox.”
Ruby and her dad looked at each other and said in unison,
“Anka.”
Sure enough, moments later, “Put Your Head On My Shoulder,” by Paul Anka began to play out of the retro jukebox. Ruth’s mom shuffled her way back to the ice cream counter. One scoop of chocolate ice cream in a glass bowl was placed in front of Ruth’s dad. A respectable order and amount. Next came a mountainous banana split complete with chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, chocolate, sauce, a cherry, and NO nuts. Ruth took the spoon in her right hand, mitt still on the left, and dove in. Linda was handed an extra spoon and she dug in as well, knowing Ruthie never finishes the whole thing on her own.
As the trio exited the ice cream parlor, Ruth’s parents walked a little ahead, while she lollygagged behind. She was peeking in windows of shops: record store, TV store, laundromat, nothing exciting, and then she stopped dead in her tracks. She ripped the sign down off of the door and shoved it into her pocket.
Freshly bathed and enveloped by the day’s victory, Ruthie snuggled into her bed. “Goodnight, Ruthie. Sweet dreams,” Ruth’s parents closed the door to her bedroom. Alone at last. She listened for the sound of footsteps to disappear down the hall. And…gone. Ruthie grabbed the flashlight form under her pillow and switched it on. She reached under her mattress and pulled out the crumpled up flier. She flattened it out on her cotton sheets which were baseball patterned, of course. The flashlight shone just bright enough for Ruth’s excited eyes to read.
Seeking star hitters!
Come crack a hit off of Hall of Famer Pat “Breaker” Johnson
Chance to win a signed breaker bat! $5 entry fee
Ruthie looked up at her bedroom wall where a Breaker Johnson poster hung.
wednesday June 21, 7:00 Yankee Stadium
*before Yankees first pitch*
Come be one of the lucky ten at bat
Wednesday. Ruthie’s wheels were spinning. She knew she needed to do this. Ruth Mason was the best batter in all of The Crown Heights Youth Baseball League; it was her duty to go represent. Once her teammates saw her with her signed Breaker bat from Yankee Stadium, maybe they would finally accept her. She would finally get invited her to Vinnie Harpo’s for post-game hot dogs. Her parents hated going to the Bronx, especially to the stadium. They were strictly from-home baseball supporters. Ruthie had only been to Yankee Stadium once, when her grandpa took her for her sixth birthday; the Yankees pulled out a 2-1 victory over the Orioles. She knew this would have to be a solo and secret mission. There were three days to prepare the plan.
After a night of restless sleep, Ruthie awoke to the smell of bacon frying. She opened her eyes and saw she had fallen asleep with the flier on her covers. Quickly, she shoved it under her bed, “Phew! That was a close one.” Just as the paper was safely out of view, Frank burst through the door. “There’s a bright golden haze on the meadow,” Ruthie smiled and started to sit up in bed. She pretended to be annoyed by this singing routine, but she did enjoy it being awoken by Rodgers and Hammsterin, “There’s a bright golden haze on the meadow/ The corn is as high as an elephant’s pie!” “Not pie, elephant’s eye!” Ruthie corrected the flub. “Eye? Are you sure it’s not pie? I am pretty sure it’s pie.” Frank jumped onto Ruthie’s bed and started to tickle her which was met by high-pitched giggles. “Okay, enough silliness.” Frank stood up, straightening his shirt. “I have been sent up here to inform you that your presence has been requested at the breakfast table. And also that…last one there is a rotten egg!” Frank turned and sprinted down the hallway. Ruthie, the competitor, had no choice but to jolt out of bed and join the race.
The two barreled down the stairs and into the living room. Ruthie had been on his heels the whole time; now was the time to make her move. She climbed over the sofa while Frank circumnavigated, putting her in the lead. The smell of bacon was all-consuming: the smell of victory. Ruthie dodged under Linda who had a stack of plates and slid into her spot at the kitchen table. “Safe!” Linda yelled. Frank slumped with defeat and took his seat at the table. “I was sure I had you this time!” “It was a valiant effort, honey. Ruthie, no climbing on the furniture though, how many times must I tell you this.” “Sorry, Mom. I had to do it.” Linda snuck a small smile.
After a monstrous breakfast, Ruthie hobbled down the front steps of her family’s brownstone. She had made a habit of jumping the last three steps, today was no exception. Her ratty Nike sneakers hit the sidewalk: nailed it. Ruthie lifted her bike off the front gate and pushed it onto the street. She pedaled down Bergen Street en route to her best friend Sookie’s house. Together, Ruthie was certain they could concoct the perfect plan. Ruthie and Sookie had been best friends for all seven years of their lives. Their moms had grown up Meer blocks from each other, so this best-friendship was essentially hereditary.
Ruthie pulled up in front of the big green townhouse and walked her bike down the alley that bordered the left side. Though technically an alley, that’s not the best descriptor. It was more of a concrete side yard. A flower-covered trellis led visitors into the secretive, sunny area, lined by more potted flowers. Sookie’s mom Ethel was an avid gardener. Sookie, a slightly more round kid with crazy red curls, was decorating the concrete with sidewalk chalk. “Sook!” Ruthie yelled toward her friend. “Wait right there just a minute, I am creating the ultimate hopscotch and I don’t want you to fall in the lava.” Sookie drew circles in front of herself with the chalk and hopped from circle to circle until she met where Ruthie was standing. “Okay, you may follow me to the mainland.” Ruthie and Sookie jumped their way back to a large amoeba shaped area - the mainland.
“Okay, Sookie, I need your help.”
“Talk to me.”
Ruthie pulled the flier out of the back pocket of her jean shorts and spread it out on the blacktop. Sookie read the content out loud “Seeking star hitters. Come crack a hit off of hall of fame Pat “Breaker” Johnson - you love Breaker Johnson!” Sookie was not at all into baseball or any sport for that matter, but was Ruthie’s number one fan and supporter when it came to her baseball obsession. Sookie had spent many hours in this very alley pretending to be a color announcer while Ruthie hit off a tee. Saying things like, “Ruthie Mason steps to the plate. That ball must have been bad because it just got a spanking!” or “Mason up for her fifth turn. Strap your sneakers on folks; we’re going on a run!” or sometimes she keeps it simple, “Ruthie Mason hitting another ball. Please let’s play hide and seek after this one.”
“I have to go.”
“Oh, you have to go!”
“But how?”
“You make a good point. Frank and Linda would be a very tough sell. We need a plan.”
Sookie took a piece of sidewalk chalk and wrote “Baseball Plan,” underlining it three times.
“So, you will come with me?”
“As your manager, it only makes sense. So, what do we need?”
“I was thinking maybe we could get our parents to be together Wednesday?”
“Yes, get rid of the parents.”
Sookie began the list.
“We will also need to figure out how to get to the stadium…”
“Yes, of course. I will make sure my bike tires are pumped.”
“It’s in the Bronx.”
“Okay, no bikes."
Sookie wrote out the second bullet, “Get subway tokens.”
“We also need to pay the entry fee…I have about $1.”
“I have roughly 60 cents to my name, so we need about…more money”
Sookie wrote out the third bullet “Entry money”
“That’s actually not that many things. We can work with this.”
The friends decided to tackle the issue of the entry fee first and to do this in the form of a garage sale. Sookie pulled the string hanging down from a single lightbulb in the scary garage. The two split up and started looking for things of use. “How about this?” Ruthie held up an old broom, “Oh yeah. That’s got to be at least $1. What do you think of this? I don’t think my dad really uses it anymore.” Sookie gestured towards an old radio, “Gotta be at least $5 on it’s own.” After about 20 minutes of scouring the old garage, the girls took their findings out to the street along with a small sign that read “Garage Sale. Ask for pricing.” In addition to the radio and broom, the spread included one left male dress shoe, a deck of cards missing all the 7’s, and two sweaters Sookie was pretty certain her mom was done wearing.
After about thirty minutes of salesmanship, Sookie and Ruthie had managed to pawn off one wool sweater, and the radio, bringing their earnings to $2.10 and the grand total to $3.70. Still $1.30 short. The next money-making scheme they decided upon was a classic: lemonade stand. Both of Sookie’s parents worked during the day, so the kitchen was completely their’s. Ruthie jumped up onto the green laminate countertop and opened up the cabinets, “Hm, so we will probably need sugar, a pitcher, and plastic cups.” Ruthie passed the items down to Sookie. Sookie swung the door to the matching green Frigidaire open, “We have two and…a half lemons. That should be enough, right?” Ruthie shrugged. After squeezing the two lemons and adding a couple spoonfuls of sugar, the pitcher was about a quarter of the way full. “Hmm, I think we can fill it the rest of the way up with water. And add some ice cubes maybe?”
Sookie set the pitcher and cups down on the stoop while Ruthie held the sign. “Freshly Squeezed Lemonade 10 cents,” was carefully scrawled on the back of the Garage Sale sign. They needed to sell thirteen cups to reach their goal. Mrs. Peterman walked past with her blind cocker spaniel, smiled at the girls and kept walking. Mitch and Rich Holloway, the inseparable and indistinguishable twins from Ruth and Sookie’s grade, stopped briefly, “Lemonade! I want some.” They reached for cups, “You got a dime?” Sookie, the businesswoman piped up. The twins flipped their pockets inside out and came up with two dimes and a Tootsie Pop. The girls accepted the payment: it was better than nothing. A couple of Ruthie’s teammates jogged down the sidewalk, tossing a ball back and forth. They were carrying hot dogs - Vinny’s stamp. Ruthie waved, and was ignored.
It became clear the two needed to step up their game, if they were going to have any chance at reaching their goal. They moved their operation to the middle of Dean St., using two flipped-over milk crates they had found in the garage, as a table. “Lemonade! Come get your fresh, ice cold lemonade!” Sookie shouted in between sucks on her Tootsie Pop. “Thirsty? Come get your lemonade! 10 cents!” Ruthie walked back and forth with the sign held high above her head. The two were quickly rewarded for their new approach: kids started to pour out of their homes, bounding down their front stairs to get in line for a glass of, what was now a room temperature at best, lemonade-esque drink. Sookie impatiently bit down on her Tootsie Pop to speed up the process, it was business time. Ruthie poured while Sookie collected the payment. The girls poured until their pitcher was dry. “Sorry everyone! Lemonade stand is closed for the day!” Sookie shouted at the remaining customers. The line groaned and began to disperse.
The girls packed up the stand and headed back to the alley with their earnings. They sat on the concrete and divvied up the coins. “I have 8 nickels, 18 dimes, and 4 quarters,” Ruthie had her thinking face on trying to convert these numbers into a dollar-amount, “so that comes out to um…40 cents…add 18…” Sookie interrupted, “It’s 40 cents add 180 cents add 100 cents.” Math was kind of Sookie’s thing, “giving us $3.30: exactly $2.00 over our goal!” “Two whole dollars! Oh boy. We can get hot dogs and candy and Cokes at the game for that,” Ruthie collected the excess money. Sookie remained on the ground, “Yes that is true. Or…we could go to the movies…now.” Ruthie thought on this, weighing out the pros and cons of each situation. Sookie began to persuade, “It’s Dollar Mondayyy,” she was singing her words, “we can see Robin Hood again; your favoriteeeee.” Ruthie stood there unmoved, “Okay, fine. But then we have to resume the plan!” “Deal!” The girls took the money they needed for the entry fee, put it in a tube sock and slid it under Sookie’s bed. The rest of the change went straight into their pockets. Sookie and Ruth saddled up on their bikes and took off down Dean Street.
The Astor Theater was a historic theater untouched by the growth that had been taking place around it for the past fifty years. The movie house had marble pillars and a grand foyer full of old movie posters. The air conditioning was an absolute treat on this hot June day. Sookie and Ruthie walked up to the box office and requested their tickets in unison, “Two for Robin Hood.” They dumped out their coins on the counter and the clerk slid them two tickets. There was a little time to burn, so the girls wandered around. The theater had a small arcade area stocked with games that had most likely seen both World Wars. The girls shook the pinball machine and pushed the return button on the claw machine in hopes there was a nickel stuck they could shake loose. After about four girly shakes, Sookie rolled up her sleeves, so to speak, and gave the pinball machine a mighty jolt. No nickels came out, but something had fallen off of the top and onto the tile floor. After bouncing around and going for a short run, it came to a halt. Sookie and Ruthie rushed over to see if it was what they thought it was. Sure enough. It was a bonafide subway token. Ruthie scooped it up and slipped it in her pocket “One down, one to go.” The two shared a huge grin and then headed off to their theater and Sherwood Forest.
“Oodalaly oodalaly golly what a day!” The pals sang on their bike ride home. The success of Robin Hood’s scheming was the perfect inspiration to jump back into their plan. As far as they were concerned, what they were doing was basically stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, if giving to the poor was in fact Ruth receiving an autographed baseball bat. Back at Sookie’s unsupervised house, they reconvened in the alley, crossing out “Entry Fee.” They were halfway to their subway token goal, and acquiring a second token seemed very manageable. The issue of the parents, however, remained. The biggest hurdle of all. Though the summer sun was very much still blazing, the evening was approaching and with the evening, came Sookie’s parents. After a quick game of lava scotch, Ruthie mounted her bike, “Okay, so we are set on the plan for tonight?”
“Yes, I will suggest a date of sorts and get my mom to call yours.”
“Are you sure that won’t seem too obvious?”
“I will make it feel natural.”
“Okay, I trust you.”
Ruthie took off down the street, passing Ethel, Sookie’s mom who was on her way in. “Hey, Ruthie!” Ruthie sped past without a word, risking suspicion. “She must be in a hurry.”
Ethel headed inside to get dinner going, allowing Sookie time to return to the garage and formulate her pitch. Ruthie said they needed their parents to be together Wednesday, but they did not flush out exactly what that meant. “Maybe the movie wasn’t such a good idea,” she thought, “actually, no, it’s the perfect film.” Ruthie precariously shoved aside a pile of stacked boxes. She picked up an old kite, “Only one. They would have to take turns and that is boring,” a snorkel mask, “Water visibility will be cloudy at best after this weekend’s thunderstorm,” a sleeping bag, “Oh, maybe I can convince Temple to have a lock in for grown ups? Shavuot is impending, they are probably deep into preparation.” Sookie picked up a final item, “Oh, perfect!” Sookie took her finding and left the shed, slamming the door a little too hard behind her. She heard the boxes she adjusted earlier come toppling down. Sookie paused for a moment, “I will fix that later.”
Sookie entered the house and was welcomed in by the radio playing, “The Zero Hour.” Her dad must have snuck in while she was in the garage. Benjamin was an accountant by day but a real mystery and drama buff by night. He even wrote his own stories that were occasionally published in their neighborhood bulletin. “Soo, go ahead and wash up. It’s almost dinner time.” Sookie still had her garage finding in her hands, and she was losing confidence in her ability to move it any further. The kitchen was in sight. It was so close. She took one step and then another. But on the third step, she could feel it start to slip, and then slip a little more; there was no fixing this. Boom! The bowling ball dropped hard on the wooden floors and began to roll. Rolled right through the living room, dodging every bit of furniture, until it finally came to halt at the feet of Ethel in the kitchen, “Yowza!” Sookie stood paralyzed, waiting to see what level of catastrophe this was going to be. “Soo, what in the world are you bringing a bowling ball inside for?” Sookie’s mom was smiling and more tickled by the appearance of a bowling ball in the kitchen than upset by the fact that it hit her in the ankle.
“Well, I was thinking. You and Ruthie’s parents used to bowl a lot, and you haven’t done that in awhile. So, I thought, maybe you had forgotten you had a bowling ball, and maybe if you saw the ball you would think ‘Oh, I like to bowl, but forgot I had a ball.’ And then maybe, you would want to go bowling maybe some time this week. I know Ruthie’s parents like to bowl, and you like Ruthie’s parents, so maybe it would be a good idea to bowl with Ruthie’s parents. And so, here is the bowling ball. So you can bowl. With it.” Sookie stood there a little out of breath, and comically far from her mother. “You all done there, honey?” Benjamin asked, trying to stifle a giggle. Sookie took a deep breath, “Yes.” Ethel reached down and picked up the ten-pound, blue marbled ball. She comfortably slid her fingers into the holes, “Maybe it would be fun to go bowling with Linda and Frank. We haven’t done that in ages.” “There is a special at the bowling alley on Wednesday - shoe rentals are free. Or that’s uh what the flier said at the um the swimming pool, when I was there.” Sookie had lied, but she thought it was a lie of a manageable size. “Well, how about that? I will think about it. Supper’s ready; come on in and eat.”
“One more, Dad.”
“Okay, fine. One more, but then bed. It’s getting dark!”
Ruthie swung her bat around and positioned her feet in the thinning grass of her backyard. The summer had been a dry one so far, and the grass was thirsty. Ruthie wanted to make sure she could get in every swing possible before Wednesday. She wanted her eye to be eagle sharp and her swing to be quick. Frank threw the pitch, and she knew immediately it was low and out of the strike zone, but she wasn’t about to let the last pitch of the day go past her. She scooped her bat low and popped the pitch up high in the air. The ball wasn’t only flying high, it was flying far, flying, flying, and flew right over the fence. Frank, who is usually pretty excitable, was unenthused watching the small white ball land in the dump that was the Friedman’s backyard. “Welp, maybe we just let that one be. Time to go in, kiddo,” Frank jogged it in towards Ruthie. Ruthie was more than happy to call it a night on that one.
Inside, Ruthie caught a glimpse of the clock in the kitchen - 8:17. Hm, still no call from Sookie’s mom. She was starting to get a little nervous. Linda was not good at spontaneous plans, so they really needed to be made tonight. Ruthie brushed her teeth and climbed into bed. Her parents came up, kissed her forehead, and closed the door. Ruthie could feel some anger building inside her. “I gave her one job. One little job, and she couldn’t follow through,” she muttered. Ruthie rolled her eyes and then shut them tight. Just before she dozed off, she heard it, the familiar ring of the hallway phone. “Come on Mom,” the phone continued to ring and ring and ring, and then, “Hello? Oh Ethel! What are you doing bugging me this late? Haha.” Ah, Ruthie could sleep soundly now.
With the parents issue taken care of, the girls could relax a little bit. All that stood in their way now was one single subway token. The Crown Heights neighborhood pool was dodgy at best, not having received much of a face lift at all since it opened fifty summers before. The cracked pavement and breaking chairs couldn’t stop the gated grounds from serving as a watering hole for the kids from June through August. It was a nice break from the 90-degree black top they played on for the rest of the summer hours. Sookie and Ruthie were sprawled out on a couple of wooden pool loungers. “Ouch!” Sookie shouted and quickly threw her leg in the air. “Splinter?” Ruthie guessed, “Yep.” “So, I was thinking about this second subway token,” Ruthie continued speaking while Sookie dressed her wound, “I think I could scrounge one up if I just walk a few blocks and stare at the ground.”
“A solid option,” Sookie plucked the wooden dagger out of the back of her leg.
“Or maybe when my parents leave tomorrow for bowling, I can go through their stuff?”
“That seems quite last minute.”
“Yeah…”
“What else you got?”
“Oh, that was it.”
“Okay, so two pretty bad plans.”
“Fine, what do you suggest?”
Sookie and Ruthie sat in silence for a minute, thinking as hard as their little brains could think. Sookie looked up and immediately gasped. “What?” Ruthie said concerned. “I have it.” Sookie nodded her head to the left. Ruthie followed the nod, “You want a snack?” thinking she was gesturing towards the snack bar. Sookie widened her eyes and gestured again. “...You want to go off the diving board?” “If I wanted to go off the diving board, I would have just said. No! Look.” Ruthie rolled her eyes and looked one more time. And then she saw it: Glenn Higgins was sitting at a small table eating a soft pretzel. “Glenn! Duh!”
Glenn Higgins was a grade older than the girls and was notorious for being a kleptomaniac. Glenn was responsible for dozens of missing pieces of chalk, handfuls of missing glasses, oodles and oodles of missing plan books, and this was only his work inside the walls of PS132. In the real world, Glenn could snag candy bars from the deli, the watch off your wrist or your hat right off your head without even noticing. Surely, he had a subway token in his possession. The girls watched Glenn as he dunked a giant piece of pretzel in the gooey nacho cheese and shoved it into his trap.
Sookie and Ruthie approached Glenn slowly, inviting themselves over to his table. “Hey there Glenn, how’s it going?” Ruthie smiled a wide smile. Glenn looked up confused, obviously upset by the interruption, “Nothing.” “We were wondering if you could help us out with a little project we’ve been working on,” Sookie chimed in. “Well. I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Glenn went for another jaw-unhinging-sized bite. “Yes, we can see that,” Ruthie was honestly amazed at the feeding frenzy she was observing. Sookie pulled the basket holding Glenn’s pretzel away from him, grabbing his attention immediately.
“Here’s the deal, man. We need a subway token. We know you have one.”
“Why do you think I would have a subway token?”
“Because…you do.”
“Where are you trying to go with it?”
“...None of your business.”
“If you want my help, then you have to tell me what you are up to.”
Glenn reached for his pretzel. Sookie yanked the pretzel back.
“We don’t need to tell you anything -”
“Yankee Stadium. We are going to Yankee Stadium tomorrow so I can hit a pitch off of Breaker Johnson!”
Ruthie felt like she had been overcome by an out-of-body being. Sookie rolled her eyes, obviously annoyed that Ruthie couldn’t play hard ball.
“Yankee Stadium, eh? I will help you, but I’m coming with you.”
“What?!” Sookie and Ruthie exclaimed in unison. It was assumed that Glenn would name some sort of price for his services, but demand to come along? Outrageous. He was a whole grade above and ran in completely different social circles. “You want to come? Why? You’re like um not even um friends with us?” Sookie was floundering. This comment was met with a weirdly long pause, the three kids, dressed only in swimsuits, sat in a tense triangle. “Okay, fine. My friends went to the same camp all summer and forgot to invite me, my parents are basically in Florida every weekend visiting my grandparents, and none of my siblings like me.” Sookie and Ruthie looked at each other. “May we have a minute to conference?” Sookie requested. Glenn nodded and looked down. The girls smooshed their heads together and blocked their faces with their hands.
“Okay, so. I don’t really like Glenn.”
“I don’t either.”
“He does have something we need though.”
“And I do feel kind of bad for him.”
“Yeah, sounds like he really has no friends. Bummer.”
“Fine. I say. We do it.”
“We can ignore him the whole time, if we feel like we need to.”
Sookie and Ruthie whipped back around.
“Fine. You can come.”
Glenn did a small, secretive, fist pump to his side.
“Okay, so hand the token over, please,” Sookie was determined to seal the deal. “I obviously don’t have it with me. I’m at the pool.” Sookie nodded, “Right. Fine, you can just bring it with you. We are meeting tomorrow. 6pm. Franklin Ave. Station.” “Understood,” Glenn nodded. Sookie and Ruthie stood up, trying to look cool, but Ruthie’s chair got stuck to her little rear, denting the cool factor. “Hey,” Glenn called after them, “would you guys maybe want to go down the slide with me?” Sookie turned to Ruthie, “Are we like friends with Glenn Higgins now?” They rolled their eyes a little, “Fine. I want to be the caboose,” Sookie shouted back.
The day was finally here. Ruthie sat in her room staring at the now floppy, soft, well-worn flier. She had gotten in a good 20 hits this morning before her dad had left for work. It was a little after 5:00; she had an hour before she was supposed to meet Sookie and Glenn, “Glenn. Who saw that comin’?” Linda popped her head into Ruthie’s room, “Sweetheart, your father and I are going to head over to meet Sookie’s parents - Sookie is coming here, right?”
“Yeah, she should be here soon.”
“Great, I made you two some lasagna. It’s on the stove. I left the number of the alley on the fridge, in case you need anything at all, but we will be at Sookie’s house for a while so you can try there too. You sure you will be okay?” “Yes!” Ruthie responded a little over enthusiastically, trying to shake any doubts her mother may be having, “We will be fine. Probably play outside a little bit and then watch the game.”
“Oh, Yankees playing tonight?”
“Um, yeah? Yes? I mean I think so, but actually, you know what, it may actually be tomorrow. Yep, I remember now that it’s tomorrow, so we will probably just watch I don’t know. Something else though.”
“Okay, well you two have fun - okay?”
“Honey, you ready?” Frank shouted from downstairs.
“I will see you later tonight, okay? Okay, have fun,” and with that, her parents were gone.
Sookie was no doubt moments away, so it was time to get dressed. Ruthie went to the top drawer of her dresser, threw all of her mismatched socks onto the floor and pulled the jersey out. The Yankees jersey which had been worn by her grandfather for every single game, was huge on Ruthie’s tiny frame. She was going to get this hit today, and it was going to be for him. “Hey batter, batter!” Sookie bellowed from outside. Ruthie smiled and dashed down the stairs and out to the street to meet her friend.
Sookie and Ruthie rounded the corner of Franklin Avenue and saw Glenn standing there with a Yankees cap that was almost shiny it was so new. “Hey, um here is the extra token,” Glenn held out the golden coin. Sookie grabbed it from his hand, “Why are you acting weird? This isn’t a date or anything.” This snapped Glenn out of his shy mood, “Yeah I know. I have other friends. I’m just helping you out, okay?” “Whatever, let’s go!”
The trio made their way down the bustling stairs, just in time to meet the D train that was rattling down the tracks. It was a long trip from Brooklyn to the Bronx. To pass the time, they played a very intense tournament of Rock, Paper Scissors, a couple of games of Eye Spy, and one attempt at Hide and Seek, which they quickly learned was not a great train game. By the time the D train screeched into the station at 161st Street, their car had filled up with a smattering of Yankees fans and a very small collection of Phillies fans, who were promptly booed upon boarding.
The stadium was huge and captivated Ruthie completely. She thought this time, because she had grown three inches and two shoe sizes in the past year, that it would seem less big, but she was very much mistaken. The kids navigated their way through a crowd of earlybirds, following signs for “Breaker Batters.” It quickly became clear that there were over a hundred Breaker Batters, winding their way along the right field side of the stadium. “Oh no,” Ruthie’s shoulders slumped, “We are never going to make it to the front in time.” “Follow me,” Sookie grabbed Ruthie’s hand, “Keep up Higgins.” Sookie pushed and shoved through the line of men big and small, and luckily their childish outer skins let them go relatively unnoticed, and surely unsuspected of cutting. Finally, they bumped right into the sign up table. Two stadium staff with a clipboard and cash box towered over the crew. Sookie, really the brave one this afternoon, piped up once again, “Hello, we would like to register my friend here for your contest.” The men looked confused, “Um, where are your parents, little girl?”
“They are waiting in line for the stadium of course. So the name is -”
“I’m sorry, we need your mommy and daddy here for this. Next!”
“Now hold on, as I explained, my parents are busy. We are here and ready to pay.”
Sookie threw the sock of change up on the table, spilling a few of the coins. The men found this amusing.
“Fine, what’s his name?”
“Her name is Ruth -”
“Sorry, no girls. Heh.”
“What do you mean no girls?”
Ruthie was piping up. She could see her chances of getting into this stadium growing fainter and fainter.
“Next!”
“Sorry, did I say her name? I meant his name.”
Sookie gave Glenn a rough smack on the back and terror filled his eyes. Ruthie also shot the dirtiest look she had ever shot.
“His name is Ruth Mason.”
The men didn’t seem to care that the name spoken is generally more of a girl name, they just wrote it down, gave Glenn a ticket, “You’re number 8, kid. Good luck. Use this entrance to get onto the field.” The man gestured behind him, “Next!”
“Sookie, what did you just do??” Ruthie was about as upset as Ruthie gets, outside of a baseball game. “Relax, relax,” Sookie took Glenn’s factory-new hat and dropped it on Ruthie’s head. She then took the slip of paper from Glenn’s hand and forced it into Ruthie’s clenched fist, “There. Now, shall we?” Sookie started walking towards the entrance. Ruthie and Glenn, still unsure, followed behind. At the tunnel, there was one final checkpoint, “Hello. Number slip, please.” Ruthie kept her head down and presented the paper. “Okay…Ruth. You can join the others just outside the dugout. Your friends can watch from the bleacher seats up this way,” he gestured to a stairway that let out along the first base line. “Oh, okay…” Ruthie had forgotten the part where she would need to go out onto this huge field by herself. Sookie grabbed Ruthie by the shoulders, “Ruth, look at me,” Ruthie looked up from under Glenn’s brim, “You can do this. You are very good at baseball.” “Thanks, Sook. Thank you for doing this with me. And also you, Glenn, I guess,” Ruthie gave Glenn a forced smile. With that. Ruthie was alone, standing mere feet from the hallowed grounds of the Yankee Stadium. The home of Yogi Berra, Joe DiMaggio, Lou Gehrig, and Babe. Ruthie took a deep breath, and walked through the tunnel.
The stadium was even bigger from the diamond. She stood staring up at the thousands of seats, which were beginning to fill up ever so slightly. A herd of her fellow contestants nearly trampled her, snapping her out of her trance. The crew was lining up just to the side of home plate. Ruthie took her spot in line. Ahead of her were seven grown men. Some wearing jerseys like hers, others sporting cut off tees to show off their muscles. A few of them were spitting tobacco or blowing pink bubbles. Ruthie looked down at the dress of a jersey she was wearing. The announcer came on over the stadium speaker, “Ladies and gentleman, welcome to famous Yankee Stadium! Before the Yankees face off against the Phillies, we have a batting contest taking place down at home plate. Ten lucky batters will be given one pitch from Yankee Hall of Famer PAT “BREAKER” JOHNSON!” At the mention of his name, Breaker Johnson stepped out of the dugout and took the field. Ruthie audibly gasped. She, of course, knew he would be here, but there was truly no way to prepare oneself for an attempt-to-hit-a-pitch-off-of-your-hero type situation. Breaker waved to the crowd and took the mound. “The batter with the farthest hit will take home a signed Breaker bat. Batter number one, take the plate!” “The furthest?” Ruthie looked at the line of men twice her size and she got just a little nervous.
First in line was an early twenties, brassy, jock, with a strut like a lion walking through his pride land. There were a few bats leaning against the back stop, and he selected the biggest one. “Mistake,” Ruthie muttered. Sure enough, the pitch came and Hot Stuff was hours late with his rotation. “Better luck next time, buddy!” the announcer bellowed. Ruthie exhaled and took one big step forward as the line moved up.
Sookie was settled into a bleacher seat and fully engaged by the action on the field. She hadn’t even noticed Glenn leave, so she was shocked when he reappeared next to her. “I went ahead and got some snacks. If you want some. I wasn’t sure what you like…” Glenn’s arms were absolutely overflowing with concession stand purchases: popcorn, M & M’s, Mike and Ikes, two hot dogs - one with ketchup, one without, two cups each with two straws in them, “This one is Pepsi and this one is 7Up. I wasn’t sure if you liked clear or brown soda.” Sookie was overwhelmed by the chivalry with which she was being presented. What came out of her mouth though was, “How did you buy all of this? Are you loaded?” “My dad feels bad that I don’t really have friends around, so he gives me money sometimes.” Sookie grabbed the hot dog with ketchup and took a big bite, “Sweet. I’m a cola woman.”
Batters two, three, and four had swung hard and missed harder. Number five had clipped his pitch, so was currently in the lead. Number six was a man dressed completely in denim seemingly confused as to how he had ended up there at all. He lined up to bat righty, put a hand up to Breaker and switched to lefty, then put a hand up one more time and switched back to his starting position. Number seven, did look like he had some potential. He was a lanky teen with a blue pocket tee, jean shorts and a plain ball cap. He selected a mid-weight bat and assumed a stance that seemed pretty ingrained. Breaker wound up and what came out was a mid-speed pitch, right down the middle. It was a good hit. The ball sailed right over where the shortstop would have been and landed in shallow left field. A ball boy ran out and marked the landing spot.
“Alright, lucky number 8! Take the plate!” It was Ruthie’s turn. She walked up to the line of bats and selected the second to smallest one. She wanted to be able to get it around but also needed some weight for power. Ruthie was certain she would not be able to look at Breaker directly, so she kept her eyes down. “Crack it Ruthie!” Sookie shouted from the bleachers. Ruthie smiled but kept her head down. The minute she got her sneakers in the dirt, she felt at ease. This was her spot. She hiked her jersey up a little so she could manage a wide enough stance. She swung the bat one, two, three times. Ruthie focused on the ball in the pitcher’s hand. She had watched the previous batters and it had been the same pitch every time: down the middle, mid-speed, essentially a lob. Breaker brought the ball to his chest and then released. Ruthie could immediately tell he had put a little spin on this one, it was coming inside, she adjusted, took a huge step and cracked that pitch with all of the might her tiny frame could muster. Ruthie had never hit a ball so hard. It went over Breaker’s head, flew easily over second base and then landed half way down center field. “Oh ho! Little guy whacked the cream cheese outta that one!” Ruthie was shocked at how good that felt. She finally looked at Breaker and he gave a huge wink. The ball boy ran out and marked her hit. She was ahead by quite a bit.
The contest wasn’t through though: two batters remained. The next batter stepped up and half hit a dinker to first base. Phew. The final batter stepped up to the plate. This was it. Ruthie leaned against the fence, and peered through her fingers. Sookie shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth as Glenn popped Mike and Ike’s. The pitch came and Ruthie heard good contact. The stadium was pretty full now and the crowd was loud. “Oh, and it’s going, going, going, gone! OUT. OF. THE. PARK!” Ruthie slumped to the ground. “Looks like we saved the best for last, folks! Lucky number ten!” One of the ball boys jogged out to the field and handed Breaker a bat. Breaker signed it and handed it over to the winner. The two posed for a photographer and Ruthie sat unmoved, really settling into the dirt.
“Hey, kiddo. That was a great hit.” Uh oh. She knew that voice. She knew it all too well. Ruthie whipped around and sure enough, Frank was leaning over the railing of the front row bleachers. Ruthie bolted up off of the pitch and felt tears well up in her eyes. Glenn and Sookie could now spot Linda, Ethel, and Benjamin emerging. “Wait right there, sweetie,” Frank gestured towards her. Ruthie started running towards the tunnel, Sookie and Glenn abandoned their seats and headed down as well, all three parties intersected simultaneously. Ruthie ran and jumped into her dad’s arm, tears streaming down her face, “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have -” all the bravery of the day, pressure of the pitch, and multi-burrow travel that she had endured today all came tumbling out. “It’s okay, Ruthie,” Linda came over and put her hand on Ruthie’s back, her tiny body shaking in her jersey dress, “That was quite the hit, Slugger.” Ruthie pulled back and looked at her kind parents, who didn’t appear to be even the littlest bit mad at her. “It was a pretty good hit wasn’t it?” Ruthie let a smile spread across her face, “I think it was the furthest I ever hit.”
Sookie had kept a safe distance from her parents, letting the attention sit on Ruthie, but then she asked the obvious question, “Okay, so how did you guys know where we were?” Linda smiled, “Well, not long after we left the house, Frank realized he forgot his wallet. We popped home to an empty house and a full tray of lasagna.” “Oh, you made lasagna? Sad I missed that,” Sookie dropped her head. “We found this on the steps, must have fallen out of someone’s little pocket,” Linda unfolded the familiar flier. “So, you were onto us almost immediately?” Ruthie was back to her own two feet. “Yes.” Sookie took a big deep breath and headed towards the stairs, “Well, you caught us! Should we see if there are some seats available?” Ethel grabbed the neck of Sookie’s shirt, jerking her backwards, “Sook, what you did was very dangerous and disrespectful. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“And there will be consequences when we get home.”
“Okay…”
Frank chimed in, “That goes for you too Slugger. No more schemes like this, you hear me?” Ruthie nodded. “However…we all hauled ourselves up to this godforsaken stadium, we might as well catch some ball,” Frank took a fan of tickets out of his pocket. “Really? Really? We can watch??” At that moment, a figure joined the family meeting, “Why don’t you all come watch the game with me?” The group turned to see Breaker Johnson. “Breaker,” Ruthie whispered. “That was quite a show you put on out there, young man,” Ruthie remembered that she was supposed to be a boy. “Ha!” Sookie burst out laughing, “She’s not a boy.” Sookie snatched Ruthie’s hat off, revealing her ponytail of girlish curls. “Oh, well little lady! You folks must be proud of her.” Frank and Linda smiled and nodded. “Come on, everyone follow me.” Sookie, her parents and Ruthie with hers followed Breaker. Glenn stood behind not exactly sure what to do. “Come on slowpoke!” Sookie shouted back.
Breaker had an entire suite for the game. Ruthie pressed her whole body up against the railing and never left, taking in the game from her behind-the-plate vantage point. Sookie and Glenn explored the complimentary snacks, somehow still managing to have room. Frank, a huge Breaker fan - turns out it was a genetic trait - talked Breaker’s ear off most of the time. Linda and Ethel took a few Coors and got the catch up they sorely needed. The Yankees pulled out an easy 6-2 victory over the Phillies: the perfect end to a perfect day. When it was time to go, Breaker pulled Ruthie to the side and knelt down to meet her eyes, “I have a little something for you.” He pulled out a bat twice her size on which he had written, “Keep cracking, Baby Ruth - Breaker.” Ruthie took the bat with her tiny hands. “You keep swinging, okay?” Ruthie nodded, made speechless by the gift.
Outside of the stadium, the group headed back to the D train. Sookie grabbed Ruthie’s free hand, the other grasping her present, “Thanks for doing this with me, Sookie.” “Oh, I wouldn’t have missed it! Can’t wait to come watch you play for real here one day,” Ruthie squeezed Sookie’s hand. “Hey, I have a secret to tell you,” Ruthie was intrigued, “I think I like Glenn,” Ruthie burst out laughing, “Why is that funny?”