The Bullpen Gospels - Dirk Hayhurst [62]
Slappy counted quarters, Maddog folded a gum wrapper into a dart, and I flicked sunflower seeds aimlessly while the others guys conversed.
“Did you guys see that girl in the stands?” Stubbs asked.
“There’s like a million girls in the stands, Stubbs.”
Stubbs rolled his eyes. “Well I know, he-he, but did you see the one right next to us?” He pointed at her. We all turned in our chairs to pick out the chick in the stands. She was wearing a tight white shirt and jeans, and was surrounded by middle-aged kids.
“I wonder if she’s a teacher.”
“Why would you wonder that?”
“Because of all the kids around her.”
“Maybe she’s the big sister?”
“No, she looks like a teacher to me, he-he.”
“I didn’t know they had a specific make to them.”
“Are you going to talk to her?”
“How? What am I going to do? Yell at her in the middle of the crowd?”
“Send her a ball-o-gram.” Meaning, write the message on a baseball and toss it to her.
Stubbs sat for a second to consider the option. “Do we have baseballs we can spare?”
“We don’t have any more scuffed ones, but we can use a good one for this worthy operation,” Rosco said.
“We’ll write it off as an entertainment expense,” Slappy said fumbling with his fistful of change.
Stubbs fished out a ball from the bullpen ammo bag, then asked one of the waitresses in the Diamond Club beer garden for a pen. Taking the pen to the ball, Stubbs wrote, Teacher or student? on it. Then he walked over to the base of the stadium seating containing the girl in white.
Stubbs pointed at his lady. She looked confused. He pointed again, this time showing the ball, making pantomime motions of his intent to throw it to her. Other fans started begging for the ball like dogs panting at the dinner table. Stubbs explicitly expressed whom it was for and tossed it to the girl. She caught it, then looked at the ball. She looked back at Stubbs, who slyly mouthed, “Write me back.” It was the baseball equivalent of passing notes with Do you like me? Check yes or no.
“Do you think she’ll write back?”
“I don’t know. I think she might, but she looked confused,” Stubbs said.
“She’d better write. That was a good baseball,” Slappy said.
“If I would have taken it over, she’d write back for sure. I don’t know about you though, Stubbs. You might have scared her off,” Rosco said.
“He does have a big one,” Pickles echoed.
“Fuck you, guys. Ladies love my style. I’m cuddly, he-he.”
“And can fit in most overhead bins.”
“Screw you.”
This lady must have dug Stubbs’ style, because five minutes later, the ball came back. The lady in white walked over and returned the ball-o-gram to sender. Stubbs caught her toss, rolled it around until he could find the reply message, which simply said, “Teacher.”
“See! I told you she looked like a teacher! He-he.”
“That doesn’t mean anything Stubbs. She could have written that to imply she wasn’t a kid. Or even that’s she’s a freaky kind of girl, you know, like she’ll teach you a thing or two big boy.”
“Hey, hey, hey! Now we’re getting someplace. You gotta find out Stubbs,” Slappy said, grabbing Stubbs’ shoulders. “Dealing with little jerk-off kids all day, dreaming of meeting a professional athlete at night. She needs an outlet! You gotta find out!”
“Okay, okay!” Stubbs said, wrenching free of Slappy’s grip. Stubbs set to writing his next letter on the remaining ball space. “Want to come over to my place and play after school?”
“Wow, that’s a bold move! What if she’s not old enough? That statement to an underage girl is incriminating as hell.”
“Well, she couldn’t say she was a teacher if she wasn’t old enough.”
“No, no, no. She could totally say that. Girls lie about shit all the time,” Slappy insisted.
“You were the one that wanted me to write her back, Slappy.”
“I still do.”
“Are we going to see you on How to Catch a Predator someday, Slappy?” I asked.
“What? No! Come on. I’m just saying she could lie. Look, if she writes back she’s definitely freaky.” He rubbed his hands together.
“But if she’s not of age, then it doesn