"KELSO'S SWING" CHAPTER 34
Before the game against Callahan's, as Bobbi hit pepper to Claire and Beth along the first base line, Kelso, arms folded across his chest, cigar in hand, said, “I want you to know, girls, that before this season is over, you tit monsters gonna do big things, you're gonna to be the difference, you're gonna win a big game.” Concentrating on their exercise, they could not glance at him. “You three, you may not run fast, but you're steady, and fearless, you're the heart and soul of the team.”
He unfolded his arms and went to talking to other groups of girls, and in the dugout, before they took the field, he addressed the team. “I want you to be a little more sympathetic tonight. Some of the girls on Callahan's are expecting and girding up for the same kind of inhumane treatment you inflicted on them last game, but we're gonna throw 'em a curve ball. Who ever's coaching third, tell Penny how pretty she looks. Don't pick on their shortstop. If you're on second, tell her how much you admire her swing and ask her how she manages to look so good for her age. The poor thing's been divorced twice and she's getting no alimony, has a shitty job and she's trying to land a sugar daddy when she's over the hill. Give her a little love and she'll be shocked and distracted that you girls are merciful and not subhuman sadists.” he puffed his cigar. “Now, that crazy bastard coachin' 'em, Spike, he's gonna try and outsmart me, but he can't. Look at him over there, huddled with his wenches. He wantsa beat me so bad it keeps him drunk all the time and up all night. He'd rather beat us than get laid, and my guess is he never gets laid.” he cackled, puffed. “So what are WE gonna do? Kill Spike and his poor pathetic creatures with kindness, but play hard and ruthless—for blood.”
When the game started, and the Tides took the field, Kelso sat with Marstrulavich. With one out and a runner on first, Kelso stole Spike's hit-and-run sign and yelled out Bobbi's maiden name for a pitch-out, and Beth nailed the runner at first. Spike kicked at dirt in the third base box. Kelso nudged Marstrulavich. Didn't Spike realize Kelso possessed otherworldly baseball instincts that allowed him to anticipate what was coming? That he'd sat in a dugout among professionals as a child and soaked up everything like osmosis? As a shortstop, he seemed always to know where the ball was going by a batters stance, swing,situation. Having been bred in the very bloodstream of the game, he knew the difference between knowledge and experience and a propensity to FEEL the momentum and shifting moods affecting players and plays throughout the flow of incidents occurring during the competition, which was as vital in running a game as knowing when to bunt, steal, hit-and-run, move players around, etc. It was that extra advantage, his calling. It had been a long time since Kelso found himself swallowed whole in the deep bowels of the game after so precipitously abandoning it, and there was no way out once it gripped you.
The Tides won 7-3. They played near flawless ball in the field and committed no mental errors. The tit monsters produced a run when Beth drove a hard grounder into left field and scored later when Maria drove her home with a single up the middle. Spike hung his head, then shook it slowly when he caught Kelso staring at him, cigar in mouth, as his team elected to shake hands with the victors who complimented them on a “good game.”
Before they headed to the bar, Marstrulavich noted, “They're rolling. They're a nice team.”
“Did you happen to hear Claire tell their shortstop 'nice try' after she booted one and compliment her on playing hurt and asking where she played college ball?”
Marstrulavich nodded. “Claire's the smart one. I'd say she has the highest IQ on the team. High IQ people can be insidious.”
They had a drink at their usual area in the Tides before Kaycee, Bobbi, Toni and Lacey dragged some guys to the dartboard and began shooting darts. On the way, Kaycee slapped Kelso on the ass. Bobbi had a young blond surfer type in tow. She was indeed on a sex spree. She was meeting men at the bank, the supermarket, walking her Great dane in parks and along the strand. She was dieting. She was radiant with lust. She and Kaycee kept glancing at kelso and giggling and whispering and nodding, like school girls.
Marstrulavich glanced over at them. “Your prized pet, Kaycee, she changes into the tightest shorts in captivity...I can't look at that ass another minute.” He stuffed his cigarette pack in the shirt pocket of his 1950s plaid short sleeve shirt. “Let's go across the street—that ass oughta be outlawed.”
In the Sunset, Kelso told Marstrulavich, “I betcha anything Bobbi was telling Kaycee about my heroic job of eating her pussy.”
Marstrulavich nodded wisely, flicking ashes. “And don't for one second think that diva doesn't know you're salivating to eat her pussy. Why you think she changed into those crotch-hugging shorts?”
Kelso sighed, drank.
Marstrulavich continued: “You'd be better off, as a coach, if you had a bunch of Plane Janes or lesbians like Warner's. Christ, that Kaycee, she's a combination of Bridget Bardot and Tuesday Weld. Remember when we were kids and snuck into the theater downtown to see Bardot in 'God Created Woman?' The other day I was riding my bike down the strand and I saw Kaycee playing volleyball with a bunch of guys in a pretty skimpy bikini, and I'm tellin' yah, it was as close to Bardot as anything I've seen in years.”
“Shut up, Marstrulavich, you agitating little prick.”
“She's playing you, Kelso. She knows the flesh is weak. You think you can go on resisting her subtle overtures?”
“So far I have. Don't worry, I will.”
“What if she propositions you when you're drunk?”
“I'll resist. The girls've put their faith in me as their leader. I've my honor to protect. My respect for the game. Our belief system as a team.”
“It's a long season,” Marstrulavich quipped. He tapped some ashes. Took a sip of his drink. “Way I see it, Kaycee can have any guy on the beach, but she sees you as the ultimate challenge. She sees through your tough guy act, knows you're just another panting tom. If she succeeds in breaking your will, and seducing you, you're finished as a coach, not to mention what the other girls think of you when she tells them about you going down down on her—an act of abject submission.”
“Cut it out, Marstrulavich, you nefarious bastard. I've got enough on my mind with everything else going on in my life without you torturing me.”
They watched Stella walk in from the front door with her new beau. Kelso finished his drink and left out the back door.
He unfolded his arms and went to talking to other groups of girls, and in the dugout, before they took the field, he addressed the team. “I want you to be a little more sympathetic tonight. Some of the girls on Callahan's are expecting and girding up for the same kind of inhumane treatment you inflicted on them last game, but we're gonna throw 'em a curve ball. Who ever's coaching third, tell Penny how pretty she looks. Don't pick on their shortstop. If you're on second, tell her how much you admire her swing and ask her how she manages to look so good for her age. The poor thing's been divorced twice and she's getting no alimony, has a shitty job and she's trying to land a sugar daddy when she's over the hill. Give her a little love and she'll be shocked and distracted that you girls are merciful and not subhuman sadists.” he puffed his cigar. “Now, that crazy bastard coachin' 'em, Spike, he's gonna try and outsmart me, but he can't. Look at him over there, huddled with his wenches. He wantsa beat me so bad it keeps him drunk all the time and up all night. He'd rather beat us than get laid, and my guess is he never gets laid.” he cackled, puffed. “So what are WE gonna do? Kill Spike and his poor pathetic creatures with kindness, but play hard and ruthless—for blood.”
When the game started, and the Tides took the field, Kelso sat with Marstrulavich. With one out and a runner on first, Kelso stole Spike's hit-and-run sign and yelled out Bobbi's maiden name for a pitch-out, and Beth nailed the runner at first. Spike kicked at dirt in the third base box. Kelso nudged Marstrulavich. Didn't Spike realize Kelso possessed otherworldly baseball instincts that allowed him to anticipate what was coming? That he'd sat in a dugout among professionals as a child and soaked up everything like osmosis? As a shortstop, he seemed always to know where the ball was going by a batters stance, swing,situation. Having been bred in the very bloodstream of the game, he knew the difference between knowledge and experience and a propensity to FEEL the momentum and shifting moods affecting players and plays throughout the flow of incidents occurring during the competition, which was as vital in running a game as knowing when to bunt, steal, hit-and-run, move players around, etc. It was that extra advantage, his calling. It had been a long time since Kelso found himself swallowed whole in the deep bowels of the game after so precipitously abandoning it, and there was no way out once it gripped you.
The Tides won 7-3. They played near flawless ball in the field and committed no mental errors. The tit monsters produced a run when Beth drove a hard grounder into left field and scored later when Maria drove her home with a single up the middle. Spike hung his head, then shook it slowly when he caught Kelso staring at him, cigar in mouth, as his team elected to shake hands with the victors who complimented them on a “good game.”
Before they headed to the bar, Marstrulavich noted, “They're rolling. They're a nice team.”
“Did you happen to hear Claire tell their shortstop 'nice try' after she booted one and compliment her on playing hurt and asking where she played college ball?”
Marstrulavich nodded. “Claire's the smart one. I'd say she has the highest IQ on the team. High IQ people can be insidious.”
They had a drink at their usual area in the Tides before Kaycee, Bobbi, Toni and Lacey dragged some guys to the dartboard and began shooting darts. On the way, Kaycee slapped Kelso on the ass. Bobbi had a young blond surfer type in tow. She was indeed on a sex spree. She was meeting men at the bank, the supermarket, walking her Great dane in parks and along the strand. She was dieting. She was radiant with lust. She and Kaycee kept glancing at kelso and giggling and whispering and nodding, like school girls.
Marstrulavich glanced over at them. “Your prized pet, Kaycee, she changes into the tightest shorts in captivity...I can't look at that ass another minute.” He stuffed his cigarette pack in the shirt pocket of his 1950s plaid short sleeve shirt. “Let's go across the street—that ass oughta be outlawed.”
In the Sunset, Kelso told Marstrulavich, “I betcha anything Bobbi was telling Kaycee about my heroic job of eating her pussy.”
Marstrulavich nodded wisely, flicking ashes. “And don't for one second think that diva doesn't know you're salivating to eat her pussy. Why you think she changed into those crotch-hugging shorts?”
Kelso sighed, drank.
Marstrulavich continued: “You'd be better off, as a coach, if you had a bunch of Plane Janes or lesbians like Warner's. Christ, that Kaycee, she's a combination of Bridget Bardot and Tuesday Weld. Remember when we were kids and snuck into the theater downtown to see Bardot in 'God Created Woman?' The other day I was riding my bike down the strand and I saw Kaycee playing volleyball with a bunch of guys in a pretty skimpy bikini, and I'm tellin' yah, it was as close to Bardot as anything I've seen in years.”
“Shut up, Marstrulavich, you agitating little prick.”
“She's playing you, Kelso. She knows the flesh is weak. You think you can go on resisting her subtle overtures?”
“So far I have. Don't worry, I will.”
“What if she propositions you when you're drunk?”
“I'll resist. The girls've put their faith in me as their leader. I've my honor to protect. My respect for the game. Our belief system as a team.”
“It's a long season,” Marstrulavich quipped. He tapped some ashes. Took a sip of his drink. “Way I see it, Kaycee can have any guy on the beach, but she sees you as the ultimate challenge. She sees through your tough guy act, knows you're just another panting tom. If she succeeds in breaking your will, and seducing you, you're finished as a coach, not to mention what the other girls think of you when she tells them about you going down down on her—an act of abject submission.”
“Cut it out, Marstrulavich, you nefarious bastard. I've got enough on my mind with everything else going on in my life without you torturing me.”
They watched Stella walk in from the front door with her new beau. Kelso finished his drink and left out the back door.
