Color

4. Dilemma

Henry stepped up from the visiting dugout and gave Maurice an expectant nod. Boy, you get on base, and I'll bring us home. Maurice returned a tense look.

After the windup, Jake delivered a red-hot fastball, and Maurice belted a beautiful shot to left-center field. The ball pinged off the wall, but by the time the center fielder recovered it, Maurice was already on his way to third. That center fielder might have had a cannon in his arm, because he fired the ball on a line all the way to the third baseman, though Maurice won the race and didn't even have to slide.

As the megaphone man announced his name, Henry reached for his bat. As was custom, it lay on the ground outside the dugout in a uniform row with the other bats, resembling a flotilla of submarines heading out to sea. He picked up his bat and allowed his gaze to follow the heads of those submarines, and they were pointing to the Pioneers players in the outfield.

From the bleacher seats behind, voices rose in fevered spurts. A man with a sandpapery voice yelled, "I got five on a two bagger, Louis!" Then a girl shouted in sing-song fashion, "I'm a ready for my ring, handsome!" Henry's cheeks flushed with warmth and it took all his will to keep from turning around.

In the stands along first base way, heated cries rose above the chatter in sporadic bursts. Henry heard chimpanzee sounds. He heard "nigra" and "coon" and "blackie." He had heard worse...much worse. But he'd never seen so many angry white faces in one place. Daggered noses, crossed brows, and faces red from liquor. He didn't like how they looked at you like they had some God-given right to tear you down. A knot settled in Henry's throat as he wondered if this gathering of people might turn into a mob.

"Go back to the plantation!" a man shouted.

Henry turned to the white kranks in the stands over first base way. He scanned a moving river of faces, but before he could find that fool and give him a piece of his free mind, Henry heard uneven footfalls coming his way.

"Time out!" shouted the home plate umpire, an old timer with a handlebar mustache.

Marching over with a hitch in his stride, wearing a Rooks uniform and a beat-up ball cap with a "C" in the front, Coach Brown had a freckled face that reminded Henry of a chocolate chip cookie. Despite the warm look on the outside, the creases in his face meant he was weighing something on the inside. Probably something Henry wasn't going to like.

Coach cupped his hand firmly on Henry's broad shoulder, drawing him close. His breath held a pungent stench as his jaw worked a golf ball-sized wad of chewing tobacco.

Henry tried not to gag.

"Squeeze play," Coach Brown said, almost a whisper.

The knot in Henry's throat dislodged and dropped to his stomach. Coach was asking him to knock a surprise bunt to get Maurice home, but that meant he might get thrown out at first.

"Coach, a squeeze play, even if it works, only ties the game. Why not go for the win?"

Coach Brown let out a sigh. "They'll be expecting a big hit. We got a chance to catch them with their pants around their ankles. We get the tie. Then we see our options."

"But Coach, I'm telling you, I can hit against Westin."

Irritation set into Coach Brown's face. "Who's the coach?" he said evenly.

Henry gritted his teeth.

"Boy, I'm not hearing an answer."

"You the coach," Henry said in monotone.

"Squeeze play," Coach Brown repeated. "And get it right, if you want to keep playing for this team...or any team for that matter."

"Yes, sir," Henry grumbled.

"Now get over there," Coach Brown said, pointing over to the batter's box. "Umpire's giving me the stink eye."

Coach Brown nodded at the umpire before flashing a wry smile.

"Play ball!" the umpire shouted, stink eye still in full force.

Henry couldn't help thinking this was their last chance to come out on top. And after all the disrespect he had endured, this was his last chance to stick it to the Pioneers—to show them he was better than any white player on their team.

Blowing out a long breath, Henry trudged towards the batter's box.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter of "Color", please consider leaving a vote or a comment. I add a new chapter, sometimes two, every Sunday. I live in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania so that's EST. 

See you next week!

Tom