For Love of the Game by Michael Shaara Read Free Book Online

nodded,backed out of the way of that big man, Billy Chapel—on his way, that guy, to the Hall of Fame—one of the great ones—in all the record books.… Ah, Christ, if I could have been as good as Billy—he’s made it, Billy, he’s got
security
. Maybe with luck one of these days you’ll make it, too, if you try hard enough. There was Manieri the third baseman and Dutch Johnson, the silly man with the mustache who told bad jokes and then laughed himself half to death while lying on the floor, a magnificent centerfielder, and then … Gus. Only friend. Only one who knows. No one knows. So. I am still … this is my team. One more time.
    He reached his own locker—not his own, his visiting locker, his name taped high, and misspelled: Chappell. Gus was at his side.
    “Christ, Chappie, I thought for a while.… Listen, that Ross fella,
what
do you want to do about him? You think you owe him? After all.…”
    Chapel opened the locker door, saw his shirt. Gus went on rattling away.
    “I thought: he’s gone. He’s on the plane right now and it’s good-bye Charlie. I don’t think anybody knows anything. Maxwell don’t know. What do you think? He’s got you scheduled today and he’s a hard rock about it. He wants you, nobody but you. That kid Garcia, that skinny lefty from Puerto Rico, you know the one, he kept pleadin’ for a shot, sayin’ there’s only two days left, andwhat the hell, we got nothin’ to lose, which is a point, and he begged for a chance today against the Yanks, said even the big bosses would go along with him, to show his stuff, but Maxwell kept sayin’, ‘Not today. Maybe tomorrow. But not today. I go with Chapel today. And that’s all she wrote. Got me? Now shut the hell up and sit down. I’ll call you if I need you. Maybe in relief.’ That’s what Maxwell said.” Pause. “He sure hates the Yanks. You happen to know why?”
    “No.” Chapel lifted out his shirt, looked at the number.
    Twenty-one.
    Gus: “Chappie. What the hell you gonna do?”
    “Twenty-one,” Chapel said dreamily. He smiled. “They had a royal fight over that. Mom and Pop.”
    “Over what?”
    “The number on the uniform. I’ve had that number … always. Since high school. My mother was an astrologer type. You know? And she wanted 9. She was sold on 9. But my father wanted 44. Don’t remember why. But he loved 44. Then one day they compromised. Twenty-one.” Chapel was dreamily smiling. “Twenty-one. They settled on that important number. At twenty-one you’re a man. In those days. Vote at twenty-one. Drink at twenty-one. So, they got together. They voted. I’ve had that ever since.”
    Gus was staring at him.
    “How you doin’, kid?”
    Chapel: “Oh. Who the hell knows?”
    He turned, blinked, looked round the room, saw old faces which were no longer there, back in the days when he was young and had older friends, all the old pros watching and waiting with joy, and none of them there now, all of them gone, the days had ended … seventeen years. He was the last. Why was that important?
    I’ll not be back.
    “You see Carol. Chappie?”
    Chapel nodded.
    “How’d it go?”
    “It was … okay.”
    “You going to New Zealand? Or.…”
    Chapel shook his head.
    “Ah. Shit.”
    Chapel put down the shirt. Put his fingers along the front buttons. Stopped. Looked at Gus. Can’t quit … today. Will quit tomorrow, but not today. He nodded. Nothing else was right. Cannot run now. Cannot leave
now
.
    Gus: “Look. I think … if you don’t mind … I got to tell that guy, that Ross, I got to tell him something.”
    Chapel nodded.
    “All right.”
    “Yeah. But what?”
    Chapel: “Gus. I can’t quit today.”
    Gus stared, openmouthed.
    “Gonna quit. Yep. No doubt of that. This is it.I go nowhere else. But I don’t quit
today
. You understand?”
    Gus, blinking: “Sure, Chappie, sure.”
    “So.” Chapel held out his hand, raised the forefinger in the long, slim signal: One. He