Dead Limbs and Leaves

by BobA. Troutt

  *****

  Dead Limbs and Leaves

  Slightly Bent

  In the hills and hollows of Hickman County in Middle Tennessee laid the small quiet community of Walnut Creek nestled between the Cumberland Plateau and the Cumberland River. Hubert Emmitt was a young boy who lived on Broken Fence Road. He was a tall, slinky boy about 6 feet 4 inches, a little tall for children his age. He had dark hair and he always wore his overalls. When he walked, he would tilt from side to side in harmony with his steps. His hands dangled about the length of his pockets and his wavy hair flowed in the wind as a flag on a windy day. Hubert was a gentle giant, humble with a childlike manner with a driving love to play baseball. Everyone around Walnut Creek called him Slightly Bent. First the children teased him in school, then after a while the name began to stick with him. Hubert was born with a hump in his back, right about the shoulder line, causing him to lean forward. Slightly bent you would say. But, he was a goodhearted soul and he never paid any mind to what people said. He was a happy go lucky boy with a dream of playing professional baseball one day.

  The people who lived in and around Broken Fence Road were very poor. They were mostly farmers who raised milk cows, gardens, tobacco, and corn. They sold eggs and fresh garden vegetables to nearby markets and killed hogs in the winter, selling the meat to eager buyers. Country smoked ham, fresh tenderloin, shoulder, homemade sausage, and smoked bacon enticed a lot of people. They came from neighboring counties for the hams and other fresh meats. Walnut Creek may not have been but a stop and a turn in the road, but Broken Fence Road was Hubert’s house.

  He lived in a three room shack with grayish tarnished boards, tin roof, and windows with no screens. The inside was decorated with cardboard covered walls, a pot belly wood stove, with a single bed nearby. There were cracks in the floor. You could see the chickens play. Winter time, he covered up with old coats at night because the snow would fall through the holes in the roof, at times. They drew water from a well and in the summer time they set jugs of milk and other items in a nearby spring to help keep it cool. Hubert lived there with his grandma and older sister, Rebecca. His parents had been killed in a freak accident several years ago. They may not of had much, but what they did have was each other and with that they knew they could make it.

  He loved the outdoors. In the winter time, his sister and some friends would take an old car hood and slide down the hills in the snow. They made snowmen, threw snow balls, and ice skated on a nearby frozen pond. One winter when they were skating, his sister, Rebecca, whom everyone called Becky, had fallen through a thin place in the ice. Hubert and the others raced for the bank of the pond. There he found a long tree limb near the bank. He quickly reached it out to her. She was struggling to stay a float. Finally through all the commotion, she grabbed onto the limb. As Hubert and the others slowly pulled her in, he cried out, “Hold on Sissy, hold on.” About that time Big Jim came by in a wagon load with wood. Evidently, he had been cutting firewood in the ridge above the pond where they had been cutting timber. Quickly, he jumped off the wagon and ran over to them. He wrapped his coat around her, placed her in the wagon, and tore out. It was cold that day. You could feel the cold wind freeze the moisture in your nostrils as you breathed. I don’t know what we would have done if Big Jim hadn’t taken Sissy down the ridge to the neighbor’s house. But not all the winters were bad. There was one thing Hubert loved to do about as much as baseball.

  He loved to hunt squirrels and rabbits. Hubert spent most of his time in the woods as a child growing up with his best friend and running partner. His old hound Smoke, named after his grayish black and blue tint color. Hubert loved fried rabbit, gravy, and biscuits or squirrel and dumplings with a cold glass of fresh cow’s milk and biscuits with churned butter.

  He rode a mule everywhere he went with a grass sack hanging off to the side. The mule’s name was Mr. Gibbs, named after one of his teachers.

  Although Hubert stayed to himself most of the time, he did have friends, and his dream one day was to be a baseball player. He collected baseball cards and newspaper clippings. He spent a lot of his time in the bottom pasture with a stick, pitching up stones and seeing how far he could hit them. In the summertime he and his friends would turn the bottom pasture into a baseball stadium. They would team up and play ball. Now let me tell you. That Hubert was a natural. He had an act for the sport. If he had the right coaching, there was not telling how he would be. But summers were short to children that age and they came and went as the time passed by, but not Hubert’s love for the sport. It grew and grew. The harder he played the more he tried. He became the sport. He was good.

  Hubert was now seventeen, a tall, thin boy for his age, slightly bent at the shoulders you now. He walks now with a small shuffle with one of his feet. But, he pays it no mind. Besides, he loved to play ball, it’s his dream. He was full of life and spunk. He loved living. Opportunity came knocking one day at Walnut Creek. If there was ever a happy boy, it was Hubert Emmitt. His chance at his dream had come true.

  Walnut Creek was no more than a spot beside the road, and when Fields Pedigo decided to start a summer league, everyone was excited, especially who, you’re right, Hubert. From all around and beyond Walnut Creek, children gathered in the old cow pasture behind his barn. It was summer and things were beginning to happen. They lined up to swing the bat, throw the ball, and have fun. Hubert could throw, hit, and run, he was a natural. When he swung the bat, it was level, solid, and quick. When he fielded the ball, he was precise, accurate, and right on the ball. Mr. Pedigo watched him closely. He kept a close eye on Hubert. He knew he had something with him. He was different. With a little polishing Hubert would be a real baseball player. Mr. Pedigo watched Hubert at the plate. Hubert’s eyes were focused and serious; his stand was firm and solid. He noticed that Hubert was slightly bent over the plate where he could grab the ball with the bat and drive it hard across the field for a homerun.

  “Hey, Hubert,” yelled Mr. Pedigo across the field.

  Quickly, Hubert turned and waved as Mr. Pedigo motion for him to come over.

  “You’re a pretty snazzy ballplayer,” he said taking his cap off and wiping his forehead with his handkerchief.

  Hubert didn’t know what to say and then he spoke up.

  “Well, maybe not bad.”

  “Not too bad,” replied Mr. Pedigo. “I think you have a lot of potential. Have you ever played ball on a summer league before or any kind of tour?”

  “No, sir,” he answered as he wiped the seat off that was running down his face.

  As Mr. Pedigo reached over and patted him on the back, he replied, “You keep up the good work and have fun. I’ve got a feeling there are some important people that will be watching you this summer.”

  “Batter up,” yelled one of the coaches.

  After the tryout, the boys were divided up into teams. There was Bon Air, Sideview, Mitchville, Providence, Pondville, and Mr. Pedigo’s team, Walnut Creek. Bon Air and Pondville were the first two teams scheduled for the upcoming weekend starting on Friday, followed by Mitchville and Walnut Creek on Saturday. The summer games started off with a hit and Slightly Bent was on his way to becoming a hero in the hearts of them all. Mr. Pedigo’s team, Walnut Creek, ended Saturday night in an uproar. Slightly Bent hit two homeruns and knocked in three players for scores. The crowd cheered him on. They beat Mitchville 6-2.

  “It’s going to be a good season,” said Mr. Pedigo.

  “A very interesting season,” replied one of the scouts.

  Game after game, the crowd shouted and cheered for Slightly Bent. Hit after hit, run after run, he drove the team quickly up the ladder at first place and holding. The game with Providence was a complete no-hitter, with Bon Air it was 8-3, and Pondville 10-3.

  “You’ve got a good player there, Mr. Pedigo,” spoke up one of the scouts. “Where did you ever run across a pla
yer like that?”

  “Oh, Hubert, he’s been around here all his life,” replied Mr. Pedigo. “He’s a good boy, and he loves to play ball.

  As the summer slowly passed, he had become well known across the country. People drove for miles to watch him play ball. Slightly Bent drove his teammates home as the crowd cheered for more. He was a natural. He was born with a bat in his hand and it looked like he was going further. On over in the season at one of the games, Coach Pedigo had asked another coach from a nearby college to look at him. He did, and he loved what he saw, a major league player one day. Hubert was so excited. He couldn’t believe it, a chance at the majors after college ball. He was on top of the world and loved every bit of it. His eyes sparked as a crystal, his warm smile warmed his face into a blush and his laughter was that of a songbird on a bright spring morning.

  The summer played hard with the heat and all but little of no rain had fallen and the ground was parched and dry. Dust from the field hovered about their feet, as the boys played hard for the win, and the victory. The season was playing out, getting closer each game. There were but a few games left. Walnut Creek was tied for first place with Bon Air. The winner would be decided in this weekend’s game. Could Slightly Bent pull the championship off? Would Walnut Creek be the summer champions?

  Hubert had fallen in love with the game. He had found his dream, his heart’s desire. He was somebody to others and that meant a lot to him, he was not just a poor kid from Broken Fence Road anymore. He had found his place. Everyone was excited about the upcoming game. It was all they talked about. Finally, the big day had come. It was an old fashioned county played World Series. Walnut Creek and Bon Air was in the playoffs. People from everywhere were there to see the games. They brought chairs, picnic baskets, grilled hot dogs and hamburgers, ice cold lemonade, and fresh garden grown watermelon. As the crowd gathered in about the bleachers and the baseline, they all waited for those enchanting words—PLAY BALL. But first the players on the other teams were recognized and awarded a trophy. Then they all stood and sung the National Anthem. Then all of a sudden a voice rang out across the field. Play ball.

  “Woof, woof, woof, Slightly Bent,” they all cried.

  We’d like to invite everyone here today at the Summer League World Series between two of the best teams I have seen in a long while,” said the announcer. “I will have to say, Slightly Bent, one of the most favored here today I will believe will show some tremendous ball playing. I know I have been fortunate to see him in some of the other games and it is remarkable talent that one boy has got. I’ve talked to him a few times through the summer and he’s a remarkable young man and I know there are scouts watching him today. Walnut Creek takes the field as Bon Air comes up to bat. This pitcher for Walnut Creek is a fine talent himself. He pitched 9 wins out of 12 games this summer, a fine arm on a country boy.

  “Strike one,” yelled the umpire.

  As the game moved on the crowd cheered and yelled. It was probably one of the most exciting Saturday evenings around there in a long time. At the bottom on the third inning the score was Walnut Creek 2 and Bon Air 1. Slightly Bent walked up to the plate with 2 men on base. The crowd held their breath. There was not an eye blinked. The only thing you could hear was the ball breaking through the wind and the crack of the bat as Slightly Bent hit a line drive, driving two men home.

  “What a hit,” yelled the announcer.

  Not only did two men miss it but three, an unbelievable play. The crowd went wild from then on. By the bottom of the sixth inning, Walnut Creek had won the series. They were the County Classic Champion with trophies and ribbon for all. The final score was 7-4. By the end of the sixth inning, it had started to get dark. Hubert had a ways to go on his old mule, Mr. Gibbs. As he started to climb up, a couple of scouts came over to talk to him about trying out for the minor league. They told him that they would like to meet with him early next week if possible. One of the agents thought he was one of the best rookies he had seen in years. The other agreed. He replied, sure that would be great. You did some great ball playing out there today they all agreed. But, they held back about the question of his little shuffle in one of his feet. Summer league would be fine for a player like that, but I don’t know about the pros, one agent said. As they turned to walk away, they waved goodbye. Hurriedly, he took off toward home, hopeful in time to get the last of his chores done before night. Own his way home, he was so excited he couldn’t wait to tell his grandmother and sister.

  “I did it he shouted. I did it. No more summer league from now on it’s the minors. Getty-up, Mr. Gibbs, let’s get moving.”

  Mr. Gibbs was spooked by a rattler. As the mule jerked and bucked suddenly down the road without warning, he bounced Hubert around and about on his back.

  “Whoa boy now,” cried Hubert.

  As Hubert fought to hang on, Mr. Gibbs danced about frantically. Then suddenly he threw Hubert to the ground causing him to land on his neck and pass out. Shortly, Hubert awoke. Gibbs stood nearby. There was no sign of the rattler. Hubert tried to move but couldn’t. He couldn’t move his legs. He tried and tried. He began to cry and yell for help. Mr. Gibbs took off through the woods. He was stranded in the woods, alone. He couldn’t fell his legs. He began to pray.

  “Help me,” he cried. “Please help me.”

  But, there was no reply. As the late summer breeze stirred the newly turning leaves, his cries echoed throughout the woods. Not far away, some younger boys were playing in the woods. When they heard his cries they ran to help.

  “Wow, its Slightly Bent,” one said.

  As one of the boys ran for help, the other two stayed with him. Shortly, a couple of sawmill workers came for him. They had been snaking logs out of the timbers on the next hill.

  “Look,” cried one lumberjack. “It’s Slightly Bent.”

  “What on earth happened,” asked the other.

  Hubert explained, “But I can’t move. I can’t move my legs.”

  In a matter of minutes, help was there. Quickly, they rushed him to the hospital where he stayed for a week. There they ran tests and examined him. It didn’t look good, not good at all. He was paralyzed from his waist down with little of no hope of ever walking again. Such a tragedy said one doctor to the other. He had it all before him. Friends from all around came to visit him. Coach Pedigo and the team came. They all came, coaches and teammates from all the other teams.

  Then the doctors came in. They asked everyone if they would step outside. Slowly the room emptied and the doctors stood before him. His eyes filled with tears as he tilted his head to the side. He knew he would never walk again or even play ball. His life was over. The doctors quietly left as the others slipped into the room. Coach Pedigo asked him if everything was all right. Hubert lay quietly in bed with his head tilted to one side, away from them. Then the room was filled with the bitter words, leave me alone. Then Coach Pedigo chokingly replied are you—then Hubert said with watery eyes, yes. Do you want us to pray, asked the coach. No he replied I want to die. As they all turned to leave the room, the teammates began to cry as one little boy stopped and looked back, I love you Slightly Bent. Hubert never said a word. Mixed up, hurt, and confused, he lay crying. His hopes and dreams had all been shattered and his spirit lay broken, such as his body. God why were the last words spoken as the door shut into a complete darkness.

  It wasn’t too long before he came home in a wheelchair. His heart was as empty as the feeling in his legs. He felt life had cheated him and God had failed him. Day after day he struggled with life, being paralyzed, and his bitterness toward God. He slowly withdrew from life, eventually turning into a recluse. Friends would come by and visit him. They tried to comfort him with encouragement and brighten his hope. Becky tried to help him to deal with his handicap but the harder she tried the farther away he seemed to get. From the loss from his accident and the passin
g away of his grandmother it didn’t leave him with a very bright outlook of anything. As time passed, they stopped coming.

  “Why, God,” he cried. “Why me?”

  As the months passed, he grew even more bitter and angry inside. He pushed away the ones who loved him and became a recluse. Only his sister was there now for him. She never let his side, she still believes in him. His spirit was broken and he suffered deep depression. He had given up on all hope and his faith he held onto was more than a tread.

  As the years passed, Hubert had little to no improvement. He had opened up some to Becky. He was beginning to see the picture more clearly, now, the parts he wanted to see. He accepted what he wanted and denied the part he didn’t want. Finally, he had started to hold his head up and at times you could catch a slight smile—something he hadn’t been able to do in a long while. He had stopped blaming God, but he still had some questions, he mainly stayed quiet and to himself. He slept a lot.

  Becky had started to work at a clinic for handicapped children. At the clinic there was a little boy named David who loved baseball. He hoped one day to be a professional baseball player. It was his dream. He may have been crippled and in a wheelchair but he believed that one day he would play. When he found out her brother was Slightly Bent, he begged her to meet him.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “He doesn’t get much company.”

  “Oh, please,” cried David. “I have heard so much about him. He is my favorite baseball player. I just want his autograph.”

  As the little boy sat before her with is baseball hat on and his glove and ball in his lap, she studied on the matter. Should she or not? Am I making a mistake for both of them? Carefully she thought as David pleaded, please. Okay, David she said, let me see if they’ll let you go meet him.

  She talked to her boss and they said it would be fine to take him home with her. On the way home that day, Becky was so nervous. She didn’t know what to expect. What would Hubert say or do? What about David? He’s a frail small child. Oh, God, please help me. Please work this out. I pray I haven’t made a mistake. When they got home, she helped David into the house.

  “You have a nice house, Becky, and look at all the trophies. That’s neat,” he said. “When I grow up I want to have a lot of trophies like that. I want to be like Slightly Bent.”

  As Becky knocked on Hubert’s door, she opened it a slight and told Hubert there was someone to see him. He first said no, he didn’t feel well. But Becky insisted and finally he agreed. When David opened the door the darkened, shadowed room the light from the door glowed the shape of a cripple little boy.

  “Can I come in?” asked a wee voice.

  As the popping, squeaking sound of a wheelchair haunted the room he turned his back on the little boy, Slightly Bent said, “Why me, God?”

  “I’ve asked the same question,” replied the little boy. “I never got the chance to play like you did, slightly Bent. I’ve been a cripple since birth, but I still hope and believe. I may never walk or even no how it is to walk or run and play like other have. I may have this old chair, two bum legs, but I still believe and have my dreams. Deep down I know I’ll probably never walk or play ball, but I still have love, the love of life and the love of the game. I struck out the day I entered into the world. With it all against me, I didn’t give up or give in. I found peace when I gave it all to God.”

  “What do you want from me?” shouted Hubert.

  “I just wanted to meet you and for you to autograph my baseball. That’s all.”

  Slowly, the wheelchair started to turn around.

  “You have heard of me,” asked Hubert, “but you’re just a child.”

  “All the children have heard of you. I have heard about you all my life,” he said. “I dreamed for the day I could meet you Slightly Bent. You’re my hero,” he cried.

  “But—but—I don’t understand,” replied Hubert. “I’m a cripple.”

  “You may be a cripple,” said the little boy, “but you’re still Slightly Bent, a famous baseball player that I still look up to. Look at me, I’m crippled. We’re both crippled,” said the little boy. “But we love baseball, life, and God, right?”

  A chill that once filled the room was now slowly warming and the icy barriers of times long ago were finally coming down. The warmth of his heart began to awaken him to the newness and a refreshed spirit that once he was familiar with. As he awoke form his dream, he searched about the room for the child, but he was no where to be seen, but yet in his hand he gripped hard a baseball which was inscribed to Slightly Bent, from David. As tears filled his eyes he cried out I’m sorry Lord. About then, Becky entered the room. She had just gotten home from work.

  “Where is he,” he said.

  “Where is who,” she asked.

  “David, the little boy in the wheelchair you brought home from work.”

  “Hubert, I don’t know what in the world you’re talking about. I haven’t brought anyone home with me.”

  “But, but, but,” cried Hubert. I saw him. I talked to him. He was here,” he replied.

  “You sleep too much,” she said.

  From that day on, Hubert, little by little, broke out of his shell and became the person he once so loved. Where there was once darkness, light shone brightly and the hurt from a broken heart was replaced with a smile on his face and the laughter that sat idle for years, began to ring out. The dark far off distance that had settled deep within his eyes that dreadful day sprinkled with warmth and cheer as he thought to himself, I’m ready Lord, thank you. It wasn’t long until doors began to open for him. He never dreamed of the potential opportunities that lay await for such a handicap. He never knew how good a sister Becky had been, till she became his best friend.

  She got him a job at the clinic where she worked as a P.E. coach, teaching the fundamentals of sports and sportsmanship. It may not be the major league but it sure did help fill the spot and to be happy again. From there he went on to coach the clinic’s little league team, bringing them to victory in many games. Then one day at a practice a little boy came up to him.

  “I want to be a baseball player like you, Slightly Bent,” he said. “Will you autograph my baseball?”

  As he turned to take the ball, he began to sign, “And by the way, what is your name?” asked Slightly Bent.

  “David,” smiled the little boy.

  Then David said thanks, hugged him, and ran off to play. A few years later, Hubert passed from complications of his heart. He died peacefully, leaving behind a lot of fans and friends. His last few words were play ball.