Authors: Ellen Schwartz
For a panicky second, Joey thought of climbing back up, scooting back in his window, diving into bed, and pretending it had all been a figment of Zeyde’s imagination. But he knew it wouldn’t work. Besides, he couldn’t reach his leg back up to the ledge. Reluctantly, he started climbing down, rung by rung.
Footsteps pounded down the stairs, out the kitchen door.
“Daddy, what’s going on? Is it an intruder?”
“Oh, I hope so!” Bobbie squealed.
Joey climbed down the last few bars. As soon as he dropped onto the grass, Zeyde grabbed him by the arm, whether to keep him from harm or keep him prisoner, Joey couldn’t tell.
“Joey!” Even in the dim light he could see the shock in Aunt Frieda’s eyes. She looked up at the roof. “Did he-?”
“Holy Toledo!” Bobbie said. At least someone was impressed.
“Go back to bed, you two. I’ll deal with this.”
“But Daddy, he might be hurt –”
“He’s fine.”
“But what if –”
“I said go back to bed.”
Meekly, Aunt Frieda and Bobbie went inside. Bobbie gave him a light punch as she went by to wish him luck.
He’d need it. He’d really done it now. His stomach clenched as Zeyde’s words came back to him:
Maybe he should go back.
Zeyde pulled him up the steps, squeezing his arm.
“Ow! You’re hurting me!”
“You’ll hurt more when I’m through with you.”
So he was going to get spanked. Well, that was nothing new; he’d been spanked before. Only, Mama had never put her heart in it. Somehow he had a feeling that Zeyde would. Still, spanking was better than –
Zeyde dragged Joey across the kitchen, down the hall, up the stairs, and threw him onto his bed. He glanced at the open window, then back at Joey, a thunderous look on his face. “Where did you think you were going?”
“Just… out.”
“Just like that?”
Joey shrugged. “I used to do it all the time. Mama never knew.”
There was a sharp intake of breath. “Climbing out windows? Balancing on roofs?”
“Yeah.”
“And if you slipped?” His voice rising.
“What would you care? You’d probably be happy if I broke my neck. Then you’d be rid of me.”
Zeyde’s face turned red. ’Cause I guessed the truth, Joey thought with a bitter sense of triumph.
There was a long pause. Then, “Pull down your pants.”
Joey obeyed. He wouldn’t cry, no matter what. Wouldn’t give the old man the satisfaction.
Zeyde turned him over his knee and gave him a sharp smack. It stung. Joey gritted his teeth. Zeyde grunted with each slap. No tears! Another. Another. Finally, Zeyde
lifted him, breathing hard. Joey pulled up his pants.
Zeyde grabbed Joey by the shoulders. His eyes bored into Joey’s. His voice was low, but intense. “Now, you listen and you listen good. You will stop this wildness. You will do as you’re told. You will not sass back. And you will stay in this room all day tomorrow if I have to sit on the roof myself. Do you hear me?”
No answer.
“Answer me!”
“Yes, Zeyde!”
“I’m going to teach you to behave if it’s the last thing I do!
DO YOU HEAR ME?
”
“Yes, Zeyde.” Not giving an inch.
Zeyde stared at him for a long moment, his eyes fierce. Then he strode from the room, slamming the door.
Joey sat heavily on his bed. Ouch! His bottom burned. Tears sprang to his eyes. He would not cry. He wouldn’t. He blinked back the tears.
He didn’t know why Zeyde hadn’t sent him away this time.
Maybe,
Joey thought bitterly,
Zeyde is having too much fun punishing me. Or maybe
… Just before, when Zeyde had seen Joey on the roof, he’d cried out, and for just that moment, Joey had thought –
No, forget it. He’d been mistaken.
Carefully he lay down on his side. He took several deep breaths. Hugging his pillow to his chest, he fell asleep.
A
few days later, Joey was pinning his latest Yankees clipping to his bulletin board – “Reynolds Gets Shutout in Yankees’ 5-0 Win Over Chi-Sox” – when there was a knock on the door.
Bobbie stuck her head in. “There’s a Dodgers-Cardinals game on the radio. You want to listen with Zeyde and me?”
“Hmm …” Joey said. “Didn’t the Cardinals win the World Series last year?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Sure. It’ll be fun to hear Brooklyn lose.”
“We’re going to win this one.”
“Yeah, sure.”
With a
hmmph,
Bobbie slammed the door and pounded down the stairs. Pulling on his Yankees cap, Joey
followed her into the living room. Zeyde was in his customary chair by the window, fiddling with the radio dials. Bursts of static alternated with the voice of the Dodgers announcer.
Zeyde turned when Joey came in. Their eyes met. A strange truce had existed between them since the spanking. Joey had been careful not to raise his voice, or disobey, or pull any pranks. He’d done his chores and followed the rules. He hadn’t been in any more trouble, and that was a relief.
Yet he felt uneasy, too. Zeyde didn’t hug him or ruffle his hair or joke with him, the way he did with Bobbie. He kept his distance. Sometimes Joey felt his grandfather’s eyes on him, almost swallowing him. But as soon as Joey turned, Zeyde would look away. It made Joey feel weird. In a crazy way, he almost liked it better when Zeyde was mad at him – at least he knew where he stood.
Zeyde finished tuning the radio, leaving the volume low during the pre-game chatter. Bobbie opened a drawer in the little table, pulled out a blue-and-white Dodgers pennant and draped it over the radio, carefully smoothing it flat. Now Joey saw that, in addition to their blue Brooklyn baseball caps, she and Zeyde were dressed all in blue – pants, shirts, even socks.
Joey laughed. “That ain’t gonna help.”
“Will so,” Bobbie said.
“Wearing blue socks? Putting a banner over the radio? Come on.”
“The pennant’s gonna bring us a pennant,” said Bobbie.
Joey rolled his eyes. “You’re more desperate than I thought. How about a rabbit’s foot?”
Bobbie gasped. “I almost forgot!” She reached into her pocket, pulled out a ratty-looking gray rabbit’s foot on a chain, and laid it on top of the banner.
Joey hooted. “How about a witch doctor? Or a sorcerer?”
To his surprise, Joey saw Zeyde’s lips twitch.
“Oh, shush,” Bobbie said.
Joey snatched the rabbit’s foot and addressed it. “Oh, magic rabbit’s foot, cast a spell on the Cardinals and make them lose – after all, how else are we going to win?” Bobbie grabbed for the rabbit’s foot but he swung it back and forth, out of reach. “Hocus-pocus alla-docus, abracadabra higgledy-poo …”
Bobbie and Zeyde burst out laughing.
He’d made Zeyde laugh!
Bobbie gave Joey a smack. “Cut it out.” She grabbed the rabbit’s foot and laid it carefully on the pennant. “We do not need magic. We won our last game and we’re going to make it two in a row. Right, Zeyde?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know, Bobbele. Last time we faced the Cardinals, they clobbered us.”
She patted his knee. “Don’t be a worrywart. This is the beginning of a winning streak, you’ll see.”
The last strains of “The Star Spangled Banner” faded away. Zeyde turned up the volume, then settled back in his chair. Bobbie leaned against his legs. Joey sat in the chair opposite Zeyde’s.
Good aftuhnoon, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Dodgers baseball, said a high-pitched voice with a strong Southern drawl. This is Red Barber, live from Ebbets Field, where today the Brooklyn Dodgers take on the world champion St. Louis Cardinals. The Cardinals are contenduhs again this yeah, thanks to their talented outfield, led by Enos Slaughter. But Dodgers starter Ralph Branca has been throwing smoke lately, so we should have a dandy contest this afternoon, yessuh.
“Branca’s got the best E.R.A. on the Dodgers,” Bobbie said.
“Yeah, but Slaughter pounded him last time,” said Zeyde.
Leading off for the St. Louis Cardinals, outfielder Enos Slaughter, Red Barber said, and Bobbie groaned. Slaughters hitting an impressive .308. And heah’s the first pitch, a curveball, letter-high. Slaughter swings, he misses. Strike one. It’s O and one
….
Slaughter connected on the second pitch, hitting a high fly ball, but Dodger outfielder Pete Reiser caught it for the first out.
“Hooray!” Bobbie and Zeyde cheered.
From outside Joey heard an echoing cheer. “… ray-ray-ray …” It seemed to bounce from living room to living room, all the way down the street. The whole neighborhood was cheering!
The second Cardinals batter made it safely to first on a line drive to right field.
“Uh-oh” Bobbie said.
Whitey Korowski was up next.
Korowski stands in. Branca winds up. It’s a curveball. Korowski swings. It’s a grounder to left, looks like a hit…. But wait, heah’s Reese, he’s got it on a bounce. Reese fires to Stanky for the out at second. Stanky spins and throws, oh my, it’s short, Robinson stretches at first, will he get it?… Yes! Ladies and gentlemen, Robinsons got it to make the double play and reti-uh the side.
Another cheer, louder than the last, swept like a wave through the neighborhood.
A discordant clamor of bleeps and bangs came over the radio. At first it just sounded like noise, but then a melody emerged, and a great chorus of fans started singing,
The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, they eat your guts and they spit them out.
“What’s that racket?” Joey asked.
Bobbie looked at him incredulously. “Ain’t you ever heard of the Dodgers Sym-
phony
Band?”
Joey shook his head.
Bobbie grinned. “It’s a bunch of fans. They bring drums and bugles to the games. Make music every time we get the other side out.”
“You call that music?”
Bobbie dismissed him with a flap of the hand as she and Zeyde joined in. “Your stomach turns a slimy green …” Zeyde clapped in rhythm, his face alight. Joey gaped. This sure wasn’t the Zeyde he knew.
With a loud screech, the music ended, and the bottom of the first inning was underway.
“Now you’ll see our bats talking!” said Bobbie.
In quick order, two Dodgers singled, putting runners on first and second.
Bobbie smiled triumphantly. “What do you say now, mister?”
Leaning back in his chair, Joey folded his arms. “Check with me in nine innings.”
The next batter flied out, but Eddie Stanky, the second baseman, walked.
Bases loaded with one out,
Barber said. A hush fell over the crowd.
Next up is Bruce Edwards, the catcher. Here’s the windup. A fastball. Edwards chops it. Brazle has it, he
fires to first, there’s ’one out. Stan Musial throws home. Garagiola, tags, beating the runnuh. It’s a double play for the Cardinals to end the inning.
Bobbie groaned. Zeyde groaned. The crowd groaned. The street groaned.
And at the end of the first inning, no runs, two hits, no erruhs, and the Dodgers leave three runnuhs on base. And now, a word from our sponsor.
“Next inning” Bobbie said. “You 11 see.”
Joey just smiled.
In the top of the second, the Cardinals scored two runs. Then, leading off for Brooklyn in the bottom of the second, PeeWee Reese doubled, and the street rang with hurrahs.
That brings up the first baseman, Jackie Robinson,
Barber said. Amid the cheers came shouts of “Nigger!” followed by booing.
The St. Louis players are riding Robinson something fierce as he makes his way to the plate.
“Jerks,” Bobbie snapped, and Joey silently agreed. Poor Jackie, putting up with all that crap.
Robinson pays no notice. He’s all concentration out theah. Brazle goes into his motion. Robinson swings – it’s a line drive to center. Reese is on his way to third… safe! It’s a single for Robinson.
“Yay!” Bobbie and Zeyde cried.
That brings up Gene Hermanski, the third baseman. Runners on first and third. Robinson takes a lead, one step,
another…. Oh, the crowd’s humming, they want Robinson to steal
….
Joey found himself leaning forward, along with Zeyde and Bobbie, spurring Robinson on.
Brazle throws a fastball… and theah goes Robinson! The catcher’s got the ball… and heah’s the throw
– Joey’s breath held.
Not in time! Robinson’s safe at second and the fans are on their feet. My, oh my, that’s the sixteenth stolen base of the season for the talented young rookie!
A grin creased Joey’s face. He wiped it off before Bobbie saw.
Robinson’s steal seemed to ignite the Dodgers. In the top of the third, they held the Cardinals scoreless, then scored three runs in their half of the inning. By the top of the sixth, Brooklyn led, four to two.
“What’d I tell you!” Bobbie said.
With the Cardinals trailing, the leadoff batter is Enos Slaughter. He takes the first pitch, low and inside. Ball one… Slaughter has been very vocal about his opposition to a Negro being allowed to play in the National League…. Heah’s Branca’s second pitch. Slaughter fouls it back, out of play…. He’s been baiting Robinson every time he gets near him. Branca delivers a fastball. Slaughter swings, it’s a chopper to second. Stanky runs it down, makes the throw to first. Robinson reaches for the ball, Slaughter starts sliding, his foot comes up – oh my, he kicked Robinson! Enos Slaughter
has deliberately spiked Jackie Robinson! Robinsons down
–
“What!” Bobbie shouted.
What a shameful spectacle.
Red Barber sounded distressed. Behind him, the crowd roared in outrage. Joey felt outraged, too. Of all the cowardly, disgusting things! Calling names was bad, and throwing a cat on the field was worse, but purposely hurting another player was
really
low.
Robinsons on his feet. He’s obviously in pain. It looks like Slaughter’s taunting him, but Robinson, of course, can’t do anything, because of his promise to Mr. Rickey. But Robinson is not happy, no suh.
“That snake!” Bobbie said.
But now the boos were turning to cheers. Shouts and hurrahs and applause.
What’s this?
Barber said.
Wait a minute – here comes PeeWee Reese. He’s walking over to Robinson’s side. He’s yelling at Enos Slaughter. Here comes Ralph Branca, the pitcher. Here comes Eddie Stanky. Gene Hermanski, over from third. The outfielders. They’re all gathering around Robinson. And who’s this? … Oh my! Barber sounded amazed. It’s Dixie Walker!