Hitting Life's Curveballs

by Bob Rogers

Overview

In his native North Carolina, Will battles America's baseball apartheid by accepting an invitation in 1943 to play on an all-white team. His high school sweetheart is Dena, whose mother disapproves of their romance. The Ku Klux Klan decides to teach Will a lesson in the status quo and attacks. Will escapes Klan pursuit and hides in the US Army where he keeps the 99th Fighter Squadron (Tuskegee Airmen) safe on the ground.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781626468719
Publisher:	Booklocker.com, Incorporated
Publication date:	02/15/2014
Pages:	332
Product dimensions:	5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.74(d)

Read an Excerpt

Chapter 1

Jason crumpled, like a dropped rag doll. Face-first, he fell on Broad Street's sidewalk. The crowd gasped. Several spectators rushed to his side. The softball-size lump of shiny black coal that struck Big Jason's right temple lay next to his outstretched white hand. Blood trickled from his nose. Big Jason lay still and grew pale as the crowd pressed in for a closer look.

The sky was overcast that Friday afternoon and a cold wind blew from the mountains in the west. As the ides of March 1943 approached, winter was refusing to let spring take matters over early in North Carolina's central piedmont region. An early spring would have been fine with Judge Stevens. Oakton had seen its first purple crocuses and was impatiently waiting for daffodils. The forsythia bush at the foot of General Joe Johnston's statute on Oakton's town square had but a handful of blossoms.

By the time that ancient forsythia bush would cover itself with yellow blossoms; baseball would compete with the docket for the top of Judge William T. Stevens' mind. His playing days with the Atlanta Crackers were never far from his thoughts. He opened one of his dirty second-floor office windows for a better view of the town square.

In the confused moments that followed, Judge Stevens saw Cliff Thompson leap to his feet and scramble around the corner and run down the alley as if a ghost was hot on his heels. There was Lil' Will Wallace tapping his mule's reins on her back. Judge Stevens couldn't hear him, but Lil' Will's lips mouthed, "Git up." The mule pulled the rickety old green wagon over the pavement behind the crowd of white people gawking at Jason and away from Broad Street toward the road to Lenoir. The wagon's faded red wheels and spokes would pause momentarily in each pothole and then lurch forward. The mule's pace was about the same as that of the people window shopping on Broad Street. Lil' Will's pa, Big Will, followed in a large new red wagon pulled by four mules. Judge Stevens could see that Big Will had positioned his rig so that anyone from the crowd looking in their direction would not notice the two burlap bags of coal among the supplies in Lil' Will's wagon.

"Did you see that?"

"See what?"

Judge Stevens was waving his hands. "Well, come closer - quickly." He put his head out the window and peered toward the road to Lenoir.

The mayor walked between Judge Stevens' desk and his hand-made mahogany credenza. "Bill, I can't see a damn thing but you in the window."

Judge Stevens was so excited that he hit his head on the raised window as he drew it back inside. "Ouch! Dammit! Andy, I'm sorry you missed it. I know this is gonnna make us a winner in Denver." The judge was still rubbing his head and smoothing his silver hair.

"Whatever has gotten into you? What did you see out there to put you in such an all-fired frenzy? All I see is a crowd milling around that boy on the sidewalk. Why is he sitting on his tush?"

"Andy, I've never seen the like. Big Jason, was giving poor Cliff a trashing and a crowd gathered. At six feet and a half, Jason was taller than anybody else on the street. Nobody, and I mean nobody, was trying to stop 'im."

"Yep, he's tall. My Dan tells me he's the meanest kid in town."

"Well, lemme tell you. That colored Wallace boy was driving his pa's wagon down Broad. He took a look at the fracas and stopped his mule over there by that mailbox on the corner of the square. You shoulda seen'im. He reached back and pulled a big lump of coal out of a bag behind him and, without moving from his seat, threw it and hit Jason in the head. Knocked Jason out cold."

"You mean to tell me he threw it from all the way over there? Why, that's more'n a hundred feet!"

"If that boy can hit a baseball anything like his pa could, he's our answer for catcher when we go to Denver this year."

"But he's a nigger. Are you outta your mind? And, besides, why aren't you calling the sheriff - Mr. Officer of the Court? Didn't you see the nigger assault Jason?"

"Yeah, so what if he's colored? We played colored teams in the tournament last year and in '41. As I recall, they stole bases any damn time they felt like it and beat our asses handily. Oh, and, no, I ain't calling the sheriff. Jason deserves what he got and more.

"Andy, don't you remember? Our poor Jimmy never threw out one of those base runners."

"But playing against a colored team is bad enough and that's mighty different from having one of them play on our team. You know our boys won't stand for it."

"Even if it means not winning that Denver Post Baseball Tournament prize money - and the fame we need for Oakton?"

"Bill, you know our town. It won't fly."

"Andy, level with me. You don't like my idea, do you?"

The mayor dropped his head and suddenly found the tops of his well-shined brown wingtips to be very interesting.

"Andy, we go way back. I know you never had any truck with niggers. You can tell me straight out."

"Alright. No, I don't like your idea. I know I wouldn't play with'em. So I wouldn't ask our boys to do something I wouldn't do. "

"Not for the prize money? Not for the bigger prize of making this town that no one ever heard of a place to visit and invest in? That'll help you fill up your hotel - bring vacationers to these hills..."

Cardinal County was not a tourist attraction. It was said that the county had more than a hundred different species of trees and right now there were buds on most of them. The little town of Oakton was the county seat and sat near the middle of the county. Cardinal County had sharecropper cotton farms here and there. Corn was grown in quantity, but consumed mostly by families and their livestock. The big industry was furniture manufacturing. The trees of Cardinal County kept the furniture makers supplied with wood and loggers and craftsmen employed. Oakton was functional. It had one of what most towns would have: one general store, a gas station, an ice house, a shoe store, a clothing store, a hardware store, and one hotel.

Andy thought for a moment, slowly rubbing his chin. "Bill, we'll just have to find another way."

Judge William Stevens closed his window. "Okay. I'll see you at the Chamber meeting next week."

Mayor Andy Mitchell left without another word.

Chapter 2

"Boy, have you done plum loss yo' mind!? How cum you couldn't reckon dat one of them white folks would see you throw dat piece of coal?"

Lil' Will hung his head and half listened to his pa. He carefully studied patterns in the brown wire grass on which he stood holding Della's reins. Lil' Will was not little. He was an inch shy of six feet. His muscles were plainly seen to ripple when he swung an axe or a hoe. Lil' Will and his pa were the same build and size. He was called Lil' Will because his mother, Rosie, did not want to call him Junior. Beagle sat next to Lil' Will's right leg.

Lil' Will could not believe that anyone could have seen his quick throw. But he made no reply to his pa. He had learned early on not to talk back when getting a dressing-down from an adult - parent, teacher, or neighbor. The fact that he was now nineteen and was as tall and broad shouldered as Big Will made no difference. He was still his pa's boy.

Big Will glanced over his shoulder again before he continued. "Son, I believe Judge Stevens seed you. I heard his winda open and seed him stick his face out for a betta look."

Lil' Will looked up, wide-eyed, jaw agape. "But..."

"No buts. The judge paid no attention to dat crowd around Jason. His head was turned toward you."

"But..."

"Will, stop sayin' 'but'. Ain't you got nothin' else to say?"

"But ol' Cliff was gonna get beat worse 'cause nobody could stop Jason."

"Boy, since when is it yore bitness to stop one white boy from beatin' another white boy? That's another reason why I think yore head is still empty after all my teachin'. I sho' hope dis is the last time I gotta hafta tell ya. Stay outta white folks' bitness!"

"But, pa, Jason's always beatin' people up and gettin' away wid it."

"I've heard 'bout dat Jason. You ain't listenin' ta me. Dat ain't got nothin' ta do wit you. Lemme tell you how meddlin' in white folks bitness can hurt me and yo' little sistah."

The mules were still in their harnesses and hitched to the wagons. They were standing in the barnyard, looking toward their stalls. Della made a loud snort and shook her mane.

Big Will looked over his shoulder again toward the road to Oakton. "Now, Will, you listen to me careful. I'ma tell ya straight from the shoulder. If Judge Stevens sends the sheriff to fetch you and dey put you on the gang for a stretch, we could lose our lil' loggin' and haulin' bitness. By myself, I can't cut enough trees and haul enough logs to satisfy Mr. Martin. So, Mr. Martin would jes git somebody who can fill his quota, and dat would be dat. Den, how do I pay de rent on dis place, the mortgage on dis heah new wagon, and save for Willie Mae's schoolin'?"

The wire grass was no longer interesting. Tears welled up in Lil' Will's eyes as he considered what his absence could cost his family. He thought about how much Willie Mae, a fifteen-year-old ninth grader, wanted to be a teacher. She talked about it almost every day. He blinked his tears back and glanced toward Della. He did not want his pa to see him cry.

Big Will took a step closer and put a hand on Lil' Will's shoulder. Big Will lowered his voice. "Son, you gotta see further than the tree just in front of you. As you grow into a man, you got to realize dat yore actions can affect yore whole family. It's a fine thing to want to save one boy from gettin' a beatin' from a bigger boy. Dat makes me proud of you. But you got to start thinkin' like a man. Some day soon, you'll have yore own family."

"Thanks, Pa. I'll do better."

"Okay, son. Now let's get these critters watered and fed."

"Git up, Della. Com'on, Beagle." Beagle was a brown and black and white beagle. He followed Will everywhere without being called. It was Willie Mae's idea to name the dog Beagle.

Will led Della over to the back porch of their bare plank, tin-roof house. Beagle went, too. The planks on the outer wall had never been painted and were various shades of brown. The back porch floor was almost level with Will's wagon. The floor where he stacked supplies from the wagon was weather-beaten and smooth from wear. It had a bleached look from the hot water and lye soap Willie Mae used to scrub it. Later, he and Willie Mae would move the supplies inside the kitchen and the coal bin. Now, he led Della to the barn and parked the wagon in its usual place. Out of her harness, Della shook herself and dust flew.

Will thought of the sweet feeling he got when that piece of coal found its mark and Big Jason went down. The feeling surprised him. He didn't mean it to be revenge. Was it? The memory of Jason beating him last year was now a bit more bearable. That beating was no longer a lost war, but simply a lost battle. Before today, every time Will thought of it, he had felt rage building throughout his being. He never told Big Will that Jason beat him because he would have had to tell his pa that he took the south road. Pa had told him to never take that road from the factory, even though it could serve as a shortcut to the highway toward Lenoir. The south road cut through a white neighborhood.

One day when Will detoured to visit with his girlfriend, Dena, for a few minutes, he was late getting to the factory to unload and it would have made him arrive home with Della and the wagon after dark. Big Will forbade having the mule and wagon on the highway after dark.

Will was still savoring the day's events as he pumped water for the mules in the corral. The pump stood over a well near the back porch. Big Will had rigged a wooden V-shaped trough that, when swung under the pump spout, guided water to a large tin funnel stuck into a galvanized iron pipe. The vertical pipe connected to an elbow half a foot underground and a pipe that carried the water to a cylindrical metal tank inside the corral. The pipe was not connected to the tank. Instead, it lay over the opening and water poured into the tank.

"Hey, Lil' Will." Will flinched. He had been lost in replaying the memory of Big Jason falling and had not heard Willie Mae arrive at the pump with two porcelain-lined buckets from the kitchen.

With a big grin, he turned to greet her. "Hey, Mae!" Lil' Will grabbed her shoulders. "Wait'll you hear what I did today in town!"

Willie Mae listened while Lil' Will told his tale and pumped water for her and the corral critters.

At tale's end, Willie Mae smiled her best conspiratorial smile. "So, big bro, when Pa said, 'Stay out of white folks bitness,' did you tell'im yo' bitness was jes repayin' an old debt?"

They shared a victorious laugh. Lil' Will had told her all about the visit with Dena and the beating while Willie Mae did her best to repair as much of the damage Big Jason had done to his face before Big Will arrived.

"Well, lil' sistah, does a bear have hind pockets?"

"Will, I'm ready. Com'on. Soon it'll be too dark." Big Will was calling from the barn. On his left hand, he was wearing a beat up catcher's mitt that had a rusty buckle on the back. It was the only mitt Big Will ever used in his twenty years of baseball. His right hand held an old baseball, brown-red with dirt and its leather cover nicked from smashing into rocks and wire backstops.

"Pa, I'm comin'." Will ran to the barn for his catcher's equipment. He retrieved his pa's face mask, chest protector, and knee pads. Each item was well worn and showed its age despite homemade repairs over the years. The catcher's mitt was Lil' Will's. He had used it for two years, since taking over catching from Big Will for the Oakton Bears - a semipro Negro team. He strapped his equipment on for the first time since last season as Big Will watched.

Lil' Will walked to the side of the barn and tossed a wide-blade hoe that had lost its handle onto the ground in front of him. They were using the barn as a backstop. Big Will would be the pitcher. Lil' Will was squatting behind the hoe home plate.

"Alright, Will. Let's go over a few reminders before we start. Dis is important for catchers. You got ta stay ready to block balls in de irt wid your body. Stay in front of the ball. Next, 'member to keep your throwin' hand behind your back until the ball hits your mitt, and..."

Beagle barked. A car drove into the yard and followed the wagon track to the barn. Judge Stevens stepped out from his '41 Ford.