The Hero Two Doors Down (2 page)

“Is that good news? Didn't he get fired?” I remembered something about the Dodgers getting rid of Durocher the year before, though I wasn't sure. I tried to memorize the name of every player and coach on the team, but it wasn't always easy to keep them straight.

Dad chuckled. “Durocher's a good manager whose personal life gets in the way of his success. He was suspended for that last season, but he's served his time and now he gets to come back. Let's hope he learned his lesson,” he said.

Even without Leo Durocher as their manager, the Dodgers made it all the way to the World Series last season. It was so exciting until they lost to the Yankees in the seventh game. The whole neighborhood still talked about it. Now a new season was about to start. Could they make it back to the championship?

“How come the Dodgers chose the Dominican Republic for spring training?” I asked.

“The weather's good and the cost of living is low. Besides, Branch Rickey figured the Caribbean would be open to a team with black and white players. But this will be the last year for that. By next year, the Dodgers will have their own training facility in Vero Beach, Florida.”

Branch Rickey was a name I knew for sure. Mr. Rickey was the general manager of the Dodgers. He had signed Jackie Robinson last year. It was the first time an African American player had joined a Major League Baseball team. Jackie was a big part of why the Dodgers had won the National League pennant last season.

Dad folded the paper and set it down next to his plate to continue. “According to the
Eagle
, Mr. Rickey is a smart man and his plan is working,” he began. “Dodgers fans are showing up in droves to get a good look at Jackie. And in the Dominican Republic, Jackie can stay at the same hotel as his white teammates. Progress, son. We're making progress.”

I poured milk into my bowl of cornflakes and spooned Nestlé's Quik into my glass of milk. Before diving in, I looked over at my dad. “Does progress mean that when the Dodgers come home, Jackie will be able to stay in the same hotels as the other Dodgers, like Pee Wee, Gil, Carl, and Ralph Branca?”

“Afraid not, Steve,” Dad replied. “There are still laws in the South that keep blacks and whites separated in all public places. We still have a way to go before those laws are broken down. It's not just the South with their Jim Crow laws. There will be hotels in the North and Midwest that will try to keep Jackie out. But the Dodgers will figure a way to keep the team together whenever they can.”

Dad paused a moment, then continued. “There's more news that's not so good. Pete Reiser, the Dodgers star outfielder, injured his ankle. After years of serious injuries, they're saying his career is over. Mr. Rickey offered Pete this year off with pay so he could recover, but he refused.”

“Pete should listen to Mr. Rickey,” I said. “Right, Dad?”

“Maybe, son. Pete's career is on the fence. We'll have to see. Jackie Robinson has some issues, too.”

I almost knocked over my chocolate milk. “Jackie?”

“That's right. Even though he won the Rookie of the Year award last season, he showed up at spring training twenty-five pounds overweight this year.”

“So he's on a diet?”

“He'll lose weight fast. Durocher's so mad that he called Jackie an old lady. He'll make him run hard and sweat away pounds so fast, Jackie won't need a diet.” Dad chuckled.

Poor Jackie
, I thought. Daniel, one of my friends, was overweight. Boy, did the kids tease him! I'll never forget the day he ran crying out of school before the last bell. The next day, the principal punished the kids who'd teased Daniel, but I knew it had hurt his feelings.

“But what will happen if Jackie doesn't lose the weight?”

Dad made a mighty grim face. “He'll be fired,” he replied.

Fire Jackie!
I thought.
Could that really happen?

 

After breakfast, I met up with my best friend, Sena, so we could walk the two blocks to P.S. 244, our elementary school.

“The Dodgers started spring training in the Dominican Republic,” I announced as soon as our footsteps were in sync.

“That's weird,” she replied. “How come they're not in Florida like the Yankees?”

“Because their training facility in Florida isn't finished yet,” I explained. Sena was the only kid I knew from Brooklyn who preferred the New York Yankees over the Dodgers. “I'm a little worried about Jackie and Pete Reiser,” I added.

“How come?” Sena asked.

“Jackie's overweight, and Pete's injured,” I replied.

“They sure better get in shape fast if they have any hopes of beating the Yankees! You know what happened in the World Series last year . . .” Sena declared.

I shot Sena a look. “This year isn't last year. You just wait and see.”

“Hey, let's do something fun after school,” she said.

“Stickball?” I offered.

“Too cold,” Sena replied. “Can you come over to my house and play Scrabble? Mom will make us egg creams. Please?”

“With Fox's U-bet syrup?”

Sena nodded.

“My favorite! I'll check with my mother,” I said, my mouth already tasting the mix of chocolate syrup, cream, and soda water.

“You aren't in trouble again, are you?” Sena asked.

“Not exactly, but Miss Maliken sent home another note.”

“Let me guess. Missing homework?”

“You got it,” I replied. “Luckily, that's all she wrote on the note.”

“Is there more?”

“I got in some trouble last week.”

“What happened?”

“Not much . . .” I said with a chuckle. “I sat in the last row in music class. The violin section was on break and I was bored. I could tell Josh was, too, so I decided to spice things up. I pulled the cord from the window shade behind Josh and tied it to his pants. When the bell rang, Josh hopped up without realizing he was attached to the cord. His pants ripped open and the whole class saw his underwear. It was hilarious until the window shade began to tear right up the middle.”

“Stephen!” Sena shouted.

“Josh turned all red and started screaming at me,” I went on. “Kids circled all around us, laughing, while Josh struggled to untie the cord.”

“Does this story have a funny ending or a bad one?” Sena asked.

“It's not over,” I replied. “The music teacher rushed to the back of the room just as Josh was ready to sock me one. He stepped between us and sent Josh to the principal's office so he could call his mother and get a new pair of pants. I got sent to Miss Maliken. She kept me after school, made me wash blackboards in six classrooms, and gave me a final warning. She was even threatening to go to my house and talk to my parents.”

Sena's eyes were wide open. “This could have a very bad ending.” Sena groaned. “Two days ago, Robin and I got into a hair-pulling fight on the playground. I think Miss Maliken has had it with me, too.”

“Think she'll really go to my house?”

“She might,” Sena said.

“Yikes! Bad timing,” I told her.

“Because?”

“Baseball season, silly. I'm hoping to go to the Dodgers opener,” I replied.

“Then why don't you start doing your homework?” Sena asked.

“I will, and I'll even hand it in on time,” I added as we signed off with a pinkie shake and headed to our classrooms.

 

But the very next day, I got caught playing stickball in the hallway on the third floor. My fate was sealed. Terrified, I waited outside my classroom for Sena. “I've got to talk to you,” I told her as soon as she stepped out the door.

“Geez, Steve. What's the emergency?”

“Follow me,” I insisted. We crept away from the rest of the students. “I overheard Miss Maliken tell the principal that she was going to make a home visit.”

“Today? To your house?” asked Sena.

“I think so,” I replied.

“Maybe we can talk her out of it?”

“How?”

“I'm not sure. But let's wait outside and see what direction Miss Maliken heads when she comes out of the building,” Sena said.

“Then what?” I asked.

“If it looks like she's headed toward your house, we stop her.”

“I don't think we can convince her not to visit my house.”

“You could tell Miss Maliken that your mother is home sick and wouldn't want any company,” Sena suggested.

“That's a lie,” I said flatly.

“We'll think of something. Just follow my lead,” Sena said, yanking my shirt by the collar and pulling me with her.

Scared, we huddled in the shadows of the school building. When our teacher reached the sidewalk, we sprang into action.

“Miss Maliken,” I shouted.

“Hey, Miss Maliken,” Sena called out.

My teacher stopped a few feet away from us. She was a petite woman, not much taller than Sena and me, but I was intimidated as we approached her. I looked over at Sena for strength. I was surprised to see Sena's hand reaching toward Miss Maliken, but I followed her lead. Together we pushed Miss Maliken, then watched in shock as she toppled over the hedge. The air filled with her screams. I reached over the hedge to help her up but was pushed aside by a dozen mothers and grandmothers who'd come to her aid. Women scrambled to help her. I lost track of Sena while being dragged home by a pack of irate women and my red-faced teacher.

My punishment was swift and harsh. With a ten-day suspension from school and a long list of restrictions at home, I'd ruined my chances of going to the Dodgers opening day.

I knew that pushing my teacher was wrong. And boy, did I pay for it. Ten days of doing extra chores around the house—washing all the dishes and taking out the garbage. Keeping my room clean. I had to make my bed every morning while I was out of school.

The worst part was that I couldn't listen to the radio or ask my dad about how the Dodgers were doing in spring training. It was so boring. I needed to be on my best behavior to have the punishment lifted, so I didn't bother him. I spent most of the time catching up on my missing homework. But I had so many questions. Were they winning? Was Jackie losing the weight? This was torture!

Ten long days later, Dad brought me into the living room.

“Miss Maliken called,” he said. “She received your letter of apology and your schoolwork. Your school suspension has been lifted.”

“Does that mean I go back to my class in the morning?” I asked. Ten days away from my friends had me missing everything about school.

“They're ready for you, Stephen. The question is . . . are you ready to go back to them?”

“I've learned my lesson,” I said.

Dad looked curiously at me. “What lesson is that, son?”

“That I have to be responsible for my behavior and follow the rules,” I told him.

“That's an important lesson, Stephen.”

“So can I go back to school?”

“You really missed it, didn't you?”

“It's been a long ten days,” I admitted.

“You can go back to school tomorrow,” Dad said.

“What about at home . . . am I still on punishment?”

“No, Stephen, you're not. Your mother and I have been pleased with your willingness to help out at home and your positive attitude. We expect you to keep it up. Same with your school performance. Miss Maliken will give us daily reports. Your schoolwork is to be done before you go out to play. And you must hand it in on time. Stephen, it's more than just following rules. You must learn to control your impulses or you'll continue to get into trouble. Do you understand me?” Dad asked.

“Sure. I've got to stop acting without thinking about the consequences.”

“That's correct,” Dad replied.

“I got it, Dad.”

“Okay, let's go get some breakfast. Your mother saves making pancakes for special days. I think this qualifies. Don't you?”

“One of the best days . . . next to Dodgers opening day, of course,” I replied. “I missed you reading the sports pages to me. Can we talk about the Dodgers while we eat?”

Dad chuckled and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “You bet. I've missed sharing the news with you.”

In between bites of pancakes and slurps of chocolate milk, I peppered Dad with questions. “How's Jackie's weight?”

“It's down,” Dad told me. “He still has a way to go.”

“Jackie'll do it, Dad. I know he will,” I said.

“There's other news . . . Eddie Stanky was traded to Boston. Pete Reiser's looking healthy for the time being, so he's at first base now and Jackie's playing second, where he belongs.”

“Gee, Dad . . . did I miss all of spring training?”

“No, but the Dodgers will be finishing up spring training and exhibition games in Vero Beach. After that, they'll barnstorm through some Southern towns.”

“Barnstorm? That's when the team travels to a bunch of towns to play practice games, right?”