Crackerjack {Star Trek The Next Generation fan fiction}

Chapter 3

Griffith Stadium was a streetcar ride away, on Georgia Avenue and Fifth Street. Wesley walked up to the ticket window; Geordi held onto his arm. “Uh, two, please, for both of today’s double header games,” Wesley said. 

“Here. Fifteen B and Eighty-six R,” said the ticket taker. 

“Sir, we’d like to sit together,” Wes said. 

“You can’t unless you sit in the Colored Section.” 

“Then I’ll sit in that section,” Wesley said. 

“Suit yourself,” the ticket taker muttered under his breath, “stupid kid,” but he did get them two seats together. 

They walked up some steps to get to their seats. The stadium was about three-quarters filled. It seemed like every adult was wearing some sort of hat, as were many of the children. Most of the men wore suits, and the women often wore nice skirts. Going to the ballgame was something of an event. 

Their seats were near a young woman who was sitting by herself. “Excuse me, Miss,” Wesley said, “but I think we have these two over here.” 

“Ah, I was wondering if I’d get some company,” she said. She had a bit of a gentle drawl to her voice. 

“We, uh, we haven’t been to a game here before,” Wes said, “Do you know who the players are?” 

“I do,” she said, “over there, warming up for us – oh my, we have a terrible team, but we do play with a lotta heart – there’s Cecil Travis. He bats cleanup. And that fella over there is George Archie. He has such kind eyes. I got his autograph once. And that man there’s Buddy Lewis, the third baseman. He always looks so serious.” 

“What about the Red Sox?” Geordi asked. 

“I, well, let’s see, there’s Bobby Doerr who plays second base. And next to him, see the one with all the freckles? That’s Joe Cronin. He plays third. Oh, my,” her voice went down, it seemed, a decibel. 

“What’s the matter, Miss?” asked Wesley. 

“I, your friend, I shouldn’t be saying look at this, and you can see that. It’s not very nice of me.” 

“It’s all right,” Geordi said, “I’ve heard those words before.” 

“I just, I don’t want to be unkind.” 

“I get the feeling you can’t be unkind,” Geordi said. 

“Um, this is my friend, Geordi La Forge. And I’m Wesley Crusher.” 

“My name is Rosemary Parker,” she said, “I am glad to know you.” She shook their hands and Geordi could feel the lace gloves she was wearing. 

“Well, Miss Rosemary Parker, you seem to be quite the fan,” Geordi said. “Tell me some more about what you see on the field, okay?” 

“Well, hmm, there’s Dom DiMaggio, the Little Professor, with his wireframe eyeglasses. And walking near to him is Ted Williams. Oh, it looks like we’re about to get started.” 

The announcer called for quiet and they all rose for the Star Spangled Banner. Wes noticed that the men had taken their hats off so he did the same, and made sure to take off Geordi’s cap as well. 

Rosemary sang along with the anthem, in a pretty soprano. Then they sat down, and the game began. 

“So tell me, Mister La Forge …” 

“Please, call me Geordi.” 

“Uh, Geordi, is that short for Jordan, like the Jordan River of the Bible?”