Chapter Fourteen

Becky Richardson kicked at a piece of paper on the ground as she trudged back up to her seat. Her mother was talking to a very important person and had told Becky to please go sit down and stop interrupting her.

“Back so soon?” Felicia asked from the seat in front of Becky’s. Becky liked Felicia. Not just because Felicia’s guy was AJ McLean. Felicia also knew lots of stories about baseball players like Babe Ruth and Mickey Mantle, plus, in the sixth inning of one game, she had put Becky’s hair into pigtails. Becky’s mother never had the patience to try and put pigtails in her hair.

“Mommy said I was being distracting.” Becky flopped into her seat and yanked at her tights until they weren’t sagging around her ankles. Six was too young to have elephant ankles. “She’s trying to talk to the charity lady.”

The charity lady was the woman involved in one of the charities that Kevin donated to. They were in the process of planning a fund-raiser, and they knew if Kevin and Karen were there, they had the potential to receive a lot more attention. Becky knew what that meant. It meant her parents would go to a party, Brian would come over to baby-sit, and she’d get to go to bed two hours later than normal. Brian had a way of bending the rules like that and getting away with it. Becky wasn’t sure exactly how he did it.

“It’s cold tonight, isn’t it?” Felicia twisted around in her seat until she could see Becky sitting behind her.

Becky nodded solemnly. It wasn’t that cold, she wasn’t even wearing a jacket. Felicia was however, a big puffy white, downfilled one. Becky reached over and poked it with one finger. She liked that jacket - it kind of looked like a cloud.

Felicia reminded Becky of a movie star from the forties. Her dark, wavy hair came down to her shoulders, where it curled under, and best of all, she had bright red lipstick. She had let Becky wear some one night. When Becky grew up, she was going to wear bright red lipstick too. However, she wasn’t sure if she’d really like a guy like AJ McLean. She might like Nick Carter better. He was her favorite player, after her father, of course. Nick was cute. Becky figured he must be pretty close to Prince Charming. She had mentioned that to her father one day, and he had choked on a corn chip. His face had actually turned purple. Becky assumed this was because her daddy was having a hard time dealing with her getting older. He was kind of funny that way.

“I’m going to get a coffee.” Felicia stood up and shoved her hands into her pockets. “Want something, Becky?”

Becky shook her head sadly. “No. I can’t have caffeine. Daddy says so. It makes me act like Brian.”

“Okay.” Felicia slipped past the red haired lady sitting next to her and disappeared down the aisleway.
Becky turned her attention back to the field. Brian and Nick were standing in front of the Mariners dugout, horsing around, as usual. Becky chortled. Nick had Brian in a head lock and was leading him around and around in circles.

Unfortunately, Becky and Nick’s fun was short lived. Kevin showed up within a matter of seconds and sent the Brian and Nick back into the clubhouse, right after a rather lengthy lecture that involved pointing at the crowd and the Diamond Vision several times.



Stacy shifted in her seat and wished she had brought a warmer jacket. It was quite chilly when the wind started blowing in off the waterfront. It was now the eighth inning , whatever that meant, and people were starting to file out of the stands, trying to beat the rush at the end of the game. The Mariners were ahead 10-3, so the possibility of them losing the game seemed quite slim.

Stacy had already learned several things that evening, most of them courtesy of the woman sitting next to her. It was virtually impossible to follow what was happening with the ball, it was much easier to just watch the players - whichever direction they ran, the ball was usually there. In order to tell if a ball was a strike or not, you watched the count on the scoreboard until the orange numbers changed.

The batter for the Anaheim Angels stepped up to the plate. Stacy now knew what that was, thanks to the frizzy haired girl behind her, who upon on learning that this was Stacy’s first baseball game, had told her all about bases and the player positions, before proudly announcing that her father was the catcher and that her mother said he had the best a- - in the American League. She said this very matter of factly, so Stacy assumed it was a well known fact.

There was a sharp crack as the bat met the ball. Stacy was confused for a moment. The infield didn’t move at all. Then she noticed Nick, in right field, bolting for the wall as fast as he could. He didn’t stop when he reached the green padded barrier either, looking back over his shoulder, he timed his leap and his waist even with the top of the eight foot wall, reached up and plucked the ball out of midair, right before it fell into the hands of the right field fans.

“OOOOOH!” Becky screamed, leaping from her seat and jumping up and down in delight, rather like the second baseman, who was jumping up and down in shallow right field. Stacy wasn’t sure of his name. #12, his last name started with an L according to the back of his uniform.
Nick flipped the ball over his shoulder into the stands and jogged in to the dugout nonchalantly, as if that kind of catch was merely routine and he was used to ending the inning that way.

Next to Stacy, Felicia smirked. “Look at Mr. Cool.” She laughed. “His Yankee arrogance is showing again. You can take the player out of Yankee Stadium, but you can’t take the Yankee out of the player.” Stacy wondered exactly what that comment meant.



Article in The Seattle P. I. - April 20th

Ask The Cool Guru:

Cool Guru,
How do I impress a girl on our first date? I really have trouble getting the same girl to go out with me twice and I’m beginning to think there’s a problem. - Loser in Lynnwood.

Loser -
First off, girls are not impressed if you can arm fart Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. (Just as a word of warning.) Second, instead of showing up in your Chevy Nova, I would really suggest borrowing your friends’ Benz.. It never fails. I hope that helps, my friend.

Cool Guru,
How do you throw a screwball? - Curious in Ballard

Curious -
You just had to ask, didn’t you, my friend? I’m going to let you in a little secret. Only un-cool people throw a screwball. One of my friends, Brad Arton, throws a screwball, and trust me, he’s so un-cool he hasn’t worn sunglasses since he was four years old. The truly cool survive on straight heat. (And since some of us don’t have a pitch that is even lukewarm, we throw a pitch called a forkball, hence named because of the way it is gripped, with the ball held between the index and middle finger.) Remember, all you need to survive on the mound is great hair and a pitch that no one can hit.

Cool Guru,
I’ve noticed that during some games, it starts raining, but the roof remains open. Why is that? - Wet in Renton.

Wet -
How the heck should I know? I’m just The Cool Guru, my friend, not an umpire.

(Editor’s note: The umpires do not close the roof unless they feel the rain will hinder the progress of the game. The roof cannot be closed during play, only at the completion of a half inning.)