IGMS Issue 37 by IGMS

Author:IGMS
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Hatrack River Enterprises
Published: 2013-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

1942

One of the Team

In his third, fourth and fifth games for the Boston Red Sox, Al Shepard sent baseballs over the Green Monster. He also managed two doubles and four walks. In his first five big league games Al made only a single out. With the bases empty in the fifth inning of his fourth game, Al smashed a towering fly ball that would have left the park if not for a driving wind that kept the ball in play.

Boston fans loved him from the start. So did the press.

"How do you do it, Al?" a reporter asked him as he headed to the clubhouse after the game.

"I keep my eye on the ball and try not to become distracted," Al said. He knew the reporter wanted something more, but what Al said had the virtue of being true. If Al could see the ball leave the pitcher's hand and that ball arrived in the proximity of the strike zone, Al could hit it, and it showed. In his first five games with Boston, the Red Sox lost only once, a close 2-1 game against the Yankees in which Al scored Boston's only run.

During his sixth game, this one in Philadelphia, the Red Sox exploded, unloading 19 runs on 21 hits. Through six innings, Al plated six runs. In the bottom of the sixth, Al watched from right field as a pitch got away from Red Sox starter Charlie Wagner, hitting the Phillies catcher, Frankie Hayes. The taunts of the Philadelphia crowd made their displeasure clear.

Al led off the top of the seventh. He barely had time to square up in the batter's box when Les McCrab let loose an inside fastball. All Al could to was turn his head away.

The ball connected with Al's helmet, just above his left ear, and Al felt as if he'd been brained. The world went white and it seemed to Al that the bones in his skull screeched along their seams. When the fuzziness backed away, Al was left with a loud ringing in his left ear. It sounded like a gate creaking slowly open on rusty hinges, but it went on and on and on.

When his vision cleared he found himself in the dirt, surrounded by chaos. Both teams had cleared their benches and minor skirmishes were taking place across the infield. Joe Cronin and the Red Sox trainer knelt beside Al while the umpires tried to get control of the situation.

Joe's lips moved, but Al couldn't make out the words. The trainer held up three fingers.

"Three," Al said. His voice sounded thick and distant.

The home plate umpire bent down between Joe and the trainer. "He alright?"

"I'm fine," Al said. He felt like he was going to lose his lunch. The umpire gave Joe Cronin a questioning look.

"We're killing them, Al. I'm going to have Pete run for you. Head back to the clubhouse and let the doc take a look at you, alright?"

It was not alright, but Al didn't argue. He knew Joe was just trying to protect his new star.

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