Free Shoeless Joe & Me by Dan Gutman Page B

asked.
    It occurred to me that this might be one of the gamblers who had locked me in the closet.
    â€œJackson’s not here,” I said, trying to disguise my voice.
    â€œWho are you?”
    â€œI’m his nephew,” I lied. “Who is this?”
    â€œNever mind who I am,” the guy said. “You just tell your uncle Joe to make sure everything goes according to the plan today. Or else.”
    â€œOr else what?” I asked.
    Click. The guy had hung up.
    I had a pretty good idea of what he meant, and I didn’t like it. The guy must be some gambler putting his money on the Cincinnati Reds to win. “The plan today” had to be that the White Sox were going to lose the first game of the World Series. If they won, the guy on the phone was going to lose money. And if he lost money, he was going to do something bad to Joe. That’s what “or else” had to mean.
    I put the phone down, disturbed. But my mood brightened considerably when the bathroom door opened and Katie walked through it. She was drying her hair with a towel. Otherwise, she had nothing on. I realized that I was still in my underwear.
    â€œEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!”
    Katie hastily wrapped the towel around herself.
    â€œWhat are you still doing here?” she asked.
    â€œI’m sorry!” I said, feeling my face flush with embarrassment. I started pulling on my clothes. “Didn’t Joe tell you? He said it was okay for me to stay over last night. I slept on the floor on the other side of the bed. I guess you didn’t notice me.”
    â€œHow come you always seem to be around when I’m naked?” Katie asked, somewhat amused.
    â€œJust lucky, I guess,” I replied. “Where’s Joe?”
    Katie looked around the room.
    â€œBlack Betsy isn’t here. Joe probably walked over to Redland Park. He likes to get to the ballpark early for batting practice.”
    â€œI’ve got to talk with him,” I said, tucking my shirt in. I rushed out the door before she could ask me why.
    The doorman in the hotel lobby told me how to get to Redland Park. It was less than a mile from the Sinton Hotel. The street was already clogged with people, and cars belching smoke. There was a sense of excitement in the air. I glanced at a newspaper a guy was selling on the corner.

    About five blocks from the hotel, there was a park. Just like Joe had said, people were camped outthere. Some of them were cooking breakfast over little stoves. Others were still sleeping.
    At one corner of the park was a baseball diamond. A bunch of boys around my age were tossing a ball back and forth. I went a little closer to get a better look.
    That’s when I saw Joe.
    He was in his street clothes, playing “pepper” with the boys. I had heard of the game, but I’d never played it. In my time, nobody played pepper.
    Joe had Black Betsy in his hand, and six or seven boys were lined up about ten yards away from him. A boy would flip a ball to Joe, and he would slap a one-hopper back at the line of boys. Whichever one fielded the one-hopper would toss it back to Joe, who would slap it again. Only a few of the boys were wearing mitts, but they were pretty good fielders anyway.
    With a bat in his hand, Joe had a relaxed, easy manner. He was graceful, like a big cat. Joe had incredible bat control. He was able to place the ball precisely where he wanted it. If a boy called out, “Me next, Mr. Jackson,” Joe would hit it right to that kid.
    I looked at Joe’s face as he played with the boys. He had this sweet smile that I hadn’t seen up until this point. He looked like a little boy himself. He seemed so incredibly happy.
    â€œHow about a show out, Mr. Jackson!” one of the boys hollered.
    â€œYeah, do a show out, Joe!”
    I had no idea what a show out was. It must besome word from long ago, I figured.
    â€œYou boys don’t want to see me hurt my arm before the World