All the kids in the neighborhood feared the bachelor because
he was mean did weird things slept by day had a big growling
dog. Problem was the field the boys in the Summer of "1948"
played on was really not more than a vacant lot. It was war
years not many of the kids were rich. Not in the bachelor's
neighborhood. The vacant lot was right across the street from
his dumpy old house. It was separated by a road and his fence.
A fence that was guarded by his mean dog. A ball that went over
his fence was never seen again although on occasion a ball was
found laying in the field. In center field a water Lilly pond
where the younger kids and those not strong enough to get into
the game played looking for frogs and poly wogs. The ball would
either be lost and come up soaked or someone had to strip down
and swim for the ball. There were rumors several little kids
drowned in it. Mostly stories told to children by their mothers.
A ball could be hit in center field by the less powerful hitters.
Those bigger kids would hit the ball in the pond and that was an
automatic out. Baseballs were a premium in the war years. Played
until the cover came completely off and then duck taped. When the
duck tape came off a stringy golf ball sized hard ball that could
be lit on fire and it would go a mile screaming like a cat lit on fire.
Only about half the boys had baseball gloves and would share them
but only if you were right handed. So some boys played with their off
hand. These boys were teased as being sissies. They threw like a girl.
Marty did not have that trouble but he also was left handed so seldom
wore a glove. He was ambidextrous and the only kid who could pitch
right and left handed.A signal he was the poorest of the poor.
Left field was the best field to hit. It was along way before the ball
reached the road. So you could hit home runs hitting to left. Outs if
you hit it in the bachelors yard and allot of swearing at the batter.
Marty learned to hit with his oft hand. At that he was one of the better
players. Marty wanted to buy a mitt but that took money and they did not
sell many left handed catcher's mitts.You see not many kids wanted to play
catcher in those days no one had masks. So Marty got some empty coffee
cans and filled them with wild blackberries. Twenty five cents a can.
It was hard work in the sun but it would be worth it. He went to every
door but the bachelors door. Marty was poor. Some days a lady would instead
of a quarter give Marty a pie to take home to Mom. Some days she would
give him a quarter and a pie.
One day he forgot and was not careful and walked in front of the Bachelors
house with two two coffee cans and could not run when the dog came out
growling. As always with the bachelor he was scary he came from no wheres
wiping sleep from his eyes, "What do you have there? You been stealing
berries from my garden?" Marty was scared to death. Then the bachelor smiled,
"Just teasing kid. I don't have berries in my garden. You wouldn't sell me some?
Ms. Fisher makes great pies." Timidly Marty said, "A quarter a coffee can, sir!"
The bachelor gave him a dollar twice as much as he asked for, "Son you are
going to need this for your mitt. My son used to play ball. You can play for him."
Then as mysteriously as he came he rubbed his eyes took the berries and disappeared.
His dog never again barked at Marty.
Marty could not wait to tell his Mother the close call he had with the bachelor.
She laughed and said, "Afraid of John why? He works long hours and nights and sleeps
during the day. He loves watching you kids play. Have you not noticed every once in
a while a new ball on your field. John's wife and son a few years back were killed
in a tragic auto accident. He has never got over it,
So you see and now you know the rest, and you probably guess I was Marty that day. I
think of John's son with every boy I coached in Little League. I think my Grand kids
are playing for him today. Oh, the coaches son! Still a story untold unless prompted.
I am sometimes very political.Sometimes the truth is better than fiction. With stories
of my youth playing baseball.
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