Page 23 - Way Out to the Old Ballgame
P. 23

Framing the Pitch

          “No, sir. I just happened to be passing through town on my way
        home, and saw the  Daily Kernel  at a coffee shop near campus.  I’ve
        been sent down to Grainsville by the Ferrets. I’m washed up.”
          “Eh? Grainsville? Only been there once, September 23,  1991, to
        buy rats.”
          Luke  Matthews  grinned.  “I  was  there  once,  myself,  Professor,
        playing class AA ball. But the Vultures bought my contract in 1990
        and brought me up to the big leagues. I missed you by a year.”
          “Yes,  fascinating,”  muttered  the  professor,  having  exceeded  his
        self-imposed limit of thirty seconds of polite chitchat. “You can see I
        am quite busy here, Matthews, and I have certain obligations to fulfill
        within some very tight budget constraints.”
          The other man’s face fell.
          “You mean you won’t help me?”
          Dr. Bruce Fort’s patience vanished. “Help you? My good man, I
        am a scientist, not a career counselor. Perhaps, as an ex-student, you
        can  get  a  leg  up  on  other  applicants  for  semi-skilled  labor  around
        campus. I’m afraid your performance in my class precludes my giving
        you a recommendation, however.”
          “Ha!” Luke Matthews did not budge. He had taken many brush-
        back pitches, picking himself up from the dust or mud and getting
        back  in  the  box  without  displaying  any  emotion  after  dodging  a
        fastball thrown at his head. “You know, Professor, in a funny kind of
        way you are responsible for the way my career played out. If I had
        made it through your class, I might have been able to stay in school
        on my athletic scholarship and had other career options as a college
        graduate. But I didn’t, and I had to take the first bus to Grainsville
        and scuffle for a position on the Threshers. It was tough, but I had
        enough natural talent  and coach Rickey had taught me  some  good
        basic skills in the little time I had here. You don’t follow pro sports,
        I’m sure, but I played on four teams in the big leagues between 1990
        and last year. Outfield, mainly right, because I was a slugger. Lifetime
        .282 average. 231 home runs.”
          The professor’s countenance changed from saturnine to mercury
        rising. “And now?”
          Matthews shrugged. “Two years ago I started off the season in a
        slump. I got back my groove in late May, but after the All-Star break
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