Color: Special Edition

118. Friendship

The evening before the Championship, Henry and Big Willy walked along the  train tracks, Willy swinging a large tin bucket of baseballs, a German Shepherd padding along, tongue lolling and tail wagging. Sun light angled its way from behind and cast their tall shadows over a golden pathway of rails trailing to an infinity ahead.

"I can't believe you you named your dog, Trouble." Henry said.

"Seemed like the right fit," Big Willy said. Then he grew quiet, slowing his pace, and looking out beyond the train tracks.

Henry studied his friend. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Willy said with a shake of his head. "I'm just happy to be back."

"I'm glad you're back too," Henry said. "It didn't seem right without you here. We've been together since we were kids."

"I know," Willy said. "Honest, I never shoulda left. It was a mistake to go and work for my cousin. It's just ..." He sighed, shaking his head.

"What?" Henry said. "Did something happen between you two?"

"Yeah, Johnny was doin' some mighty bad stuff."

"Like what?"

Willy stopped walking and met Henry's eyes. "Like runnin' a dog fighting ring. It was terrible. I couldn't believe how those owners treated their dogs, training them to fight and kill each other. One night, I told Johnny what he was doing was wrong, and he got awful mad. He'd had a lot of whiskey and ordered one of his pit bulls to attack me. It run over and set its teeth in my forearm. It hurt somethin' fierce. I tried to shake it off, but it wouldn't let go. There was so much blood. I got scared. I thought that pit bull was going to tear my arm off, maybe kill me, so I done shut my eyes and made a fist. I didn't mean to hit the poor thing so hard. I was only tryin' to get it to let go." Willy blinked as he showed Henry the scars on the inside of his left forearm, "But I hit it too hard. That dog ... it died."

They remained silent for a minute.

"Willy, that wasn't your fault," Henry said finally. "You wouldn't have ever hit that dog if you'd had a choice."

"Yeah," Willy said. "I just wish that it could have gone down some other way."

Henry nodded, and they started walking again, the silence between them breathing a quiet that was as much healing as satisfying.

Willy chuckled. "You know, I found Trouble here, not too long after I got back into town. He was walkin' along these tracks, hungry and thirsty. I took him in and got him taken care of. I don't understand how anyone could ever hurt or neglect an animal. Poor Trouble was probably abandoned." Big Willy paused for beat and then his eyes grew wide. "You know what, Henry? One day, I want to open a shelter, so I can take care of neglected animals. They're the most innocent creatures in the world, and they need friends just like us."

Willy looked down at Trouble, eyes filled with love. He leaned over and gave him a gentle pat on the head, and the dog's tail wagged faster.

Henry smiled at his friend. "I know I may not be a fuzzy animal, but you're my best friend in the world."

Willy smiled. "You're mine too."

A short time later, they arrived at a split in the tracks and took a turn, heading down a narrow dirt path. At the end of the trail, they came to their baseball lot, the same one they played on when they were kids. It even looked the same except for one thing.

There were several dark- and light-skinned boys, playing baseball together.

Henry and Willy entered the lot. Trouble barked their arrival, swishing an excited tail back and forth.

The boys stopped playing and looked over. At first, their mouths hung open. For a frantic second, Henry wondered if the white boys might scream for help, seeing two black men, one being a giant, not to mention a highly spirited dog. Then their eyes started to light up.

A colored boy shouted, "Hey, Pioneers!"

And a blond-haired kid said, "You want to play a few innings?"

Henry and Willy looked at each other and smiled.

Henry turned to the young baseball players. "We'd like that."

The boys hooted and cheered ...

... and then they rushed over to surround their heroes.