31
This would be another night where sleep would be elusive. Deciding between eating or going right to bed was tough. Even though I was hungry, my bed was beckoning. Walking up the steps, I could hear my parent’s voices echoing from the kitchen. Their voices swirled faintly in the distance. I could not hear what they were talking about, and honestly, I was far too tired to care.
It would feel great to change into my pajamas and jump into bed. Tonight there would be no washing up and no brushing of the teeth. As soon as I got to my room, I pulled my shirt off over my head. I went into the top drawer where I kept my clothes, and pulled out a long sleeve pajama shirt. Sitting down on my bed, I plopped down on my back. With a single motion, I rolled on my back and lifted my rear end in the air, pulling off my pants. It was quite a skillful move, one that I had perfected through years of practice.
Hurling the pants into the chair across the room, I saw a small object come flying out of the pocket. There was only a slight sound as it hit the floor. What the hell was that? I knew I did not have anything in my pockets. When I got up off the bed, I saw the small wooden pocket comb that had fallen out of Babe Ruth’s pocket lying on my bedroom floor. I had completely forgotten about it. I could not believe that I had not given it back to him. How could I be so stupid? I could just give it back to him the next time I saw him, as if there would ever be a next time.
I certainly had not intended to keep it. Why had I forgotten to give it back to him? I slowly reached down on the floor and picked it up with my right hand. I sat back down on my bed and starred at the comb as if it was the Holy Grail itself. Thinking about it, I realized that the Babe was not going miss the comb, not even for a second. As a souvenir, it would become my most cherished possession that I would hold on to and treasure for the rest of my life.
I ran my fingers across the comb, over and over again. Maybe I thought that if I rubbed it enough a magic genie would come out of it in a puff of smoke.
Just as my mind began to wander into all kinds of crazy daydreams, I heard a knock on my bedroom door. My mom was standing there with a round metal tray with a glass of warm milk and three big six-inch chocolate cookies. I was very hungry and they would certainly be the perfect ending to a great day.
As she entered the room, I could feel my hands instinctively moving to shove the comb underneath my leg as I was lying on the bed. I was not sure why I was hiding the comb from her; I just knew that it was something that I had to do. She knew every single possession that I owned and I really did not want to explain to her where this wooden pocket comb had come from. Truthfully, I knew she would somehow want me to find a way to get it back to the Babe. And, I really, really did not want to give it back.
I took the glass of milk and grabbed one of the cookies, all the while skillfully keeping the comb hidden under my rear end. My mom stayed in the room and we talked about the day as I finished the milk and all three cookies. As I drank the last drop of milk, my mom put the glass back on the tray and kissed me goodnight.
She turned off the light as she walked out of the room. I finished putting my pajama bottoms on and jumped under the warm wool blankets on my bed. I kept the comb tightly gripped in my right hand. I used my thumb to flick the teeth of the comb as I moved it up and down making a zipping noise. As I lay in bed thinking about all that had happened that day, I kept moving my thumb over the teeth of the comb. The rhythmic sound seemed to relax me, and surprisingly I was asleep before I knew what happened. There was perfect quiet in the house, and on the streets below my window, and it would have taken an army to pry that comb out of my hands as I slept soundly through the night.
32
I usually awoke with the first ray of sunlight that broke through my bedroom window. On Wednesday September 5th 1923, I set the record for sleeping late. By the time I got up the sun was already hanging midway in the sky. It must have been almost eleven o’clock in the morning.
My father had left for work hours ago, and my mom was pulling the dry clothes off the clothesline out back.
“Hey, I’m up,” I yelled out the back window. “What’s for breakfast?”
“I baked fresh biscuits and they are sitting on the kitchen table,” she yelled back. “I think the milkman was just here so if you check in the box out front. I think you’ll find some fresh milk.”
I ate breakfast quickly and ran back up to my room and changed into my play clothes. When I sat down on my bed to tie my shoes I saw the pocket comb laying next to my pillow. As I picked it up, I thought for a moment, should I carry it with me or hide it in a safe spot in my room. I put it in my back pocket; after all, maybe it would bring me good luck and somehow protect me like a lucky rabbit’s foot. It certainly had brought some damn good luck to the Babe.
“I’m going to the store to buy the newspaper,” I said. “I’m sure that the Ascension game is going to be front-page news. After all, it’s not every day that ten thousand people watch a baseball game in Kensington.”
I grabbed two pennies out of the cookie jar where my mom kept the spare coins and raced out the front door.
Running all the way down to the grocery store on Aramingo Avenue; not stopping for anything along the way. By the time I got there, only one copy of The Philadelphia Inquirer left on the stand. I grabbed it as fast as I could, not wanting to run all over the place trying to find another copy. When I reached the counter to pay for it, I noticed that the early edition of The Philadelphia Evening Bulletin had just been delivered to the front door of the store.
As soon as the deliveryman brought them inside and cut the band off them, I grabbed one. The only problem was I wanted to buy both papers, but I only had two pennies. I stood there looking at the papers trying to decide which one to buy. I started to open them up and to see which paper had a better article about the game.
“This isn’t the public library,” a voice rang out from behind me.
It was Mr. McGowen, who owned the grocery store. My mom had been bringing me in here with her since I was a baby, and Mr. McGowan knew my family very well. He was a very kind older man; I think he was nearly eighty years old. He still worked in the store every day, as did his wife who was nearly as old as he was. He walked with a cane, but otherwise seemed remarkably healthy and spry for his age.
Mr. McGowen sensed there was something wrong by the way I was standing starring at the two newspapers.
“What’s the trouble?” he asked in his normal calming voice.
“I only have two cents and I don’t know which newspaper to buy,” I answered.
“You know your dad always buys The Bulletin, so I am sure that is the one you want.”
Of course, I knew he was right, but I really wanted to buy both papers today.
“Yea, but I really wanted to read everything about the baseball game yesterday, and I think The Inquirer might have better articles,” I replied. “You know about the Babe Ruth thing, don’t you Mr. McGowan.”
He nodded his head and smiled.
“Well there’s no problem, just take both papers today and you can bring me back the other two cents tomorrow,” he said as he patted the back of my shoulder.
“You would really let me do that Mr. McGowan. I promise that I won’t forget even though tomorrow is the first day of school. I will come back as soon as school is over and give you the money.”
“Son, that’ll be fine. There’s no rush, you can bring it back anytime.”
I raced out of the store and ran as fast as I could all the way home with the two newspapers tucked securely under my armpit. Safely home I rushed into the dining room and plopped both papers on the long wood table, which was only used for special occasions. I opened up the Bulletin first, and was surprised to see that there was nothing on the front page about either the Yankee game or the Ascension game from Tuesday.
Slowly I turned one page after another, finally finding something on page eighteen. The headline was about the no-hit game that Sam Jones had pitched against the Athletics. I looked all over the
page and then spotted another small article near the bottom. The headline read, “Ruth’s Bat Fails Ascension Club.”
How could they write such a stupid headline? How could they say anything about what had happened was a failure? Underneath the headline in smaller print, it did read, “Babe Hits Long Double.” There were three nice pictures of Ruth at the game. One of them showed Reverend Casey standing next to Ruth at the presentation ceremony at home plate. I did not bother to read the rest of the article because I was anxious to see what the headline in The Inquirer would be.
The articles in The Inquirer were also stuck in the middle of the paper.
“Jones Hurls No-Hit Game Against Macks” the main headline read. In smaller print to the right of that story was the article about the Ascension game. “Ruth Scores Only Run for Ascension” was at the top of the piece.
I leaned over with the dining room table jamming into my gut and read the article slowly.
“Babe Ruth the portly gentleman, who hits home runs for the New York Yankees, played a lot of baseball yesterday. In the afternoon he played for the Yanks, and at twilight he played for Sweet Charity as first baseman for the Ascension Catholic Club against Lit Brothers’ crack ball club.”
“The Lit outfit snatched the game which was played at Ascension grounds, I and Tioga streets, despite the presence of
Me, Johnny, and The Babe Page 26
