Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [40]
Those few words began Martin’s career. Though not officially a challenge from his stepfather, Martin had taken it as one. He saw this as his first opportunity to best the man who had been besting him all his life.
It was the last time that Martin had ever been caught.
Three weeks later, while his parents were spending the day in New York, Martin entered his childhood home wearing surgical gloves that he’d purchased at a local pharmacy. With his car parked more than two miles away in the lot of a local high school, Martin made his way through the neighborhood on foot, crossing the tree line that bordered the rear of the property, and entered through the back door. In the course of an hour, he acquired two boxes of macaroni and cheese (leftovers from a time when he still lived at home), a bar of soap, two pounds of hamburger (his mother kept at least ten pounds in the freezer at all times), one stick of butter, three apples, and the Mike Greenwell rookie card that was displayed in protective glass on the mantel above the living room fireplace.
The card, one of his stepfather’s most treasured possessions, had been signed by the Red Sox outfielder after an August game in 1988 during which he had smashed two home runs and driven in five on the way to a Sox win over the hapless Tigers. Greenwell would have his best year in 1988, hitting .325 with twenty-two home runs and 119 RBI and finishing second to Jose Canseco in the MVP race. At the time, the wiry left fielder was quickly winning over the Red Sox faithful, reminding fans of their beloved Fred Lynn from a decade before with his gritty attitude and aggressiveness at the plate. Sadly for the city of Boston, the Gator (as he was affectionately known) would never hit more than fourteen home runs and never drive in more than 100 RBI for the rest of his career. But on that hot summer day in 1988, Mike Greenwell was at the top of his game and fans like Martin’s stepfather thought that they had found their next great Red Sox hero.
He had been waiting outside the players’ clubhouse for more than an hour after the game, in the hopes of getting an autograph from his favorite ballplayer, when Greenwell stepped out from the door marked PLAYERS ONLY and into the blinding sunshine. With desperation in his voice, his stepfather had finally managed to acquire his hero’s attention just before the team boarded a bus that would take them to Logan Airport to begin a lengthy road trip. Much to his delight, Greenwell signed the card and shook his stepfather’s hand before disappearing behind tinted windows.
Martin knew how much his stepfather loved this card, had heard the story of how he had acquired the autograph many times, and also knew how easy it would be to acquire another one. Though Greenwell was a lifetime .300 hitter, his lack of power from the outfield position, and the numerous injuries that had kept him off the field for much of his career, had transformed the once promising star into little more than a scrappy, average ballplayer by the time he had played his last game. The card, released by Topps, was valued at more than twenty-five dollars in 1988, and was probably worth much more with the autograph, but on the day that Martin entered his parents’ home intent on acquiring it, the card was worth less than five dollars. It was the autograph, and the memory attached to it, that made the card so valuable to his stepfather.
Martin was in possession of three of these cards that day, having acquired them a week earlier at a baseball card convention in Lowell, Massachusetts. None of these cards was signed, of course, but this was what Martin had wanted. Standing