"KELSO'S SWING" CHAPTER 39
Kelso, after a long day of deliveries in brutal traffic, felt a drunk coming on and shambled along the strand, bat on shoulder, headed to the ball park. He stopped at Marstrulavich's to make sure his assistant was on time, and when he found him lounging in his beach chair in new spotless white sneakers he grimaced and snarled and nearly jumped up and down.
“What the fuck are you doing in those goddam shoes?” he demanded to know. Before he could get an answer, Kelso cried. “Annie got you those goddam shoes! You dumb Polock, you're jeopardizing the team! I worked my ass off to shape these women up and you're gonna blow it with those fucking shoes!”
Marstrulavich stood, bowed his neck, thrust out his chin. “Shoes don't have a damn thing to do with the team, you asshole.”
“The fuck they don't. They're a distraction. The girls are used to seeing you in those rotting rags. A person who dresses in rags can't wear new shoes.”
“Kelso, you're out of your goddam mind. You're going over the edge, you're going crazy...”
“Bullshit!” A few surfers in the complex stood at their doors, chuckling. They knew Kelso, drank in the bars. “First of all, it's bad luck changing things, you can't change horses in the middle of the stream, we're on a roll, you've worn the rotten shoes a season and a half, you'll put a hex on the girls with those new fucking shoes. They're bad luck!”
Marstrulavich sighed. “You superstitious jackass,” he said. “I gotta wear these, cuz I threw the other ones away. They stunk.”
“Where'd you throw 'em?” Kelso demanded to know.
“The trash, out back. The dumpster.”
Kelso sprinted around the side of the complex into the alley. Marstrulavich lit up a cigarette while his neighbors looked on. They could all hear Kelso cursing. Then he returned with the decomposing sneakers ans tossed them at Marstrulavich.
“Put 'em on, for the games only. Rest of the time, I don't give a fuck what you wear.”
Marstrulavich sat down in his beach chair. “You're an idiot,” he exclaimed, taking off his new sneakers. He put on the old ones, tying them up a few openings down because the laces had repeatedly broke. Now his neighbors laughed at him as Kelso stood over him, picked up the new sneakers, inspected them with an expression of revulsion, handed them to Marstrulavich, who stood and took them back to his studio.
The neighbors waved as they headed out along the strand. Kelso muttered, “So what's with the little pumpkin, Annie?”
“None of your goddam business.”
“She must be moving in on your ass if she's buying you new shoes. All I need is a goddam love affair to disrupt the team.”
“There's no love affair. It's strictly a player-coach platonic thing, so calm down, you goddam...psycho.”
When they arrived at the ball park, Warner's was taking infield and his girls were playing pepper. Kelso sensed they were a little tight and told them, “Girls, you are starting to realize you can play this game. You're accumulating spunk and moxie. Right now, playing this game tonight, against the championship team, when you're both undefeated, that's as good as it gets. You've come a long way, and deserve to be where you are. So go on out there and play loose and have a good time, and remember, you don't have to be smiling and laughing to be happy.”
The Tides struck first. Toni, who'd become their best clutch hitter, drove in two runs with a single to left. Kelso had extended her arms out and leveled off her swing and pulled her 6 inches closer to the plate and was now convinced women learned quicker than men, were more flexible of mind and coachable than men, who were in almost all cases ruined early on by fathers or Little League coaches and could never recover or adjust from bad habits and were either too stubborn or egotistical to change.
By the third inning they were up 5-3. The Tides seemed acutely attuned to what Warner's did at bat and on the field. But then the heart of Warner's order began lashing drives all over the field, and they were up 7-5 when the inning ended. Instead of going hangdog, the Tides fought back to take an 8-7 lead when Monica and Kaycee drove in runs. Kelso had shortened Kaycee's swing, convincing her she didn't have to swing long or hard to supply power, and she swelled with confidence each time at bat, realizing hitting could be so simplified.
With two outs and two on in the bottom of the 7th, as Kelso and Marstrulavich stood clapping their hands in the dugout, already tasting victory, Warner's mannish clean up hitter ripped a low line drive to centerfield. Both coaches saw the ball rising and yelled at Kaycee to “go back, back, back!” But Kaycee started in, realized too late the ball was taking off, and tried to leap as the ball carried over her glove by a foot and brought in the winning runs.
Warner's stormed onto the field to swamp the hero while Kaycee squatted on her heels in the outfield. Monica pulled her to her feet as the Tides lined up to shake hands with the victors, whose players, instead of quickly shaking and moving on, paused to pat the shoulders of their opponents and tell them how good they'd become, but the girls, like Kelso, wanted nothing of it.
Kaycee met Kelso with tears streaming down her cheeks. She lay her head against his shoulder and he had to hold her as he told her to “shake it off.” But she continued insisting between sniffles that she'd let him and the team down. He told her no, she'd made big plays, and he disengaged and got the team together and said, “Your coach was responsible for you losing this game. I took it for granted Kaycee, new to the outfield, would play deep, and instead of moving her deep I screwed up. If I get her in the right place, she makes that play easy. You girls did your best. Your coach didn't do his best. You deserved better than what you got today. The good thing is we play 'em again. Next time we'll get 'em.”
“What the fuck are you doing in those goddam shoes?” he demanded to know. Before he could get an answer, Kelso cried. “Annie got you those goddam shoes! You dumb Polock, you're jeopardizing the team! I worked my ass off to shape these women up and you're gonna blow it with those fucking shoes!”
Marstrulavich stood, bowed his neck, thrust out his chin. “Shoes don't have a damn thing to do with the team, you asshole.”
“The fuck they don't. They're a distraction. The girls are used to seeing you in those rotting rags. A person who dresses in rags can't wear new shoes.”
“Kelso, you're out of your goddam mind. You're going over the edge, you're going crazy...”
“Bullshit!” A few surfers in the complex stood at their doors, chuckling. They knew Kelso, drank in the bars. “First of all, it's bad luck changing things, you can't change horses in the middle of the stream, we're on a roll, you've worn the rotten shoes a season and a half, you'll put a hex on the girls with those new fucking shoes. They're bad luck!”
Marstrulavich sighed. “You superstitious jackass,” he said. “I gotta wear these, cuz I threw the other ones away. They stunk.”
“Where'd you throw 'em?” Kelso demanded to know.
“The trash, out back. The dumpster.”
Kelso sprinted around the side of the complex into the alley. Marstrulavich lit up a cigarette while his neighbors looked on. They could all hear Kelso cursing. Then he returned with the decomposing sneakers ans tossed them at Marstrulavich.
“Put 'em on, for the games only. Rest of the time, I don't give a fuck what you wear.”
Marstrulavich sat down in his beach chair. “You're an idiot,” he exclaimed, taking off his new sneakers. He put on the old ones, tying them up a few openings down because the laces had repeatedly broke. Now his neighbors laughed at him as Kelso stood over him, picked up the new sneakers, inspected them with an expression of revulsion, handed them to Marstrulavich, who stood and took them back to his studio.
The neighbors waved as they headed out along the strand. Kelso muttered, “So what's with the little pumpkin, Annie?”
“None of your goddam business.”
“She must be moving in on your ass if she's buying you new shoes. All I need is a goddam love affair to disrupt the team.”
“There's no love affair. It's strictly a player-coach platonic thing, so calm down, you goddam...psycho.”
When they arrived at the ball park, Warner's was taking infield and his girls were playing pepper. Kelso sensed they were a little tight and told them, “Girls, you are starting to realize you can play this game. You're accumulating spunk and moxie. Right now, playing this game tonight, against the championship team, when you're both undefeated, that's as good as it gets. You've come a long way, and deserve to be where you are. So go on out there and play loose and have a good time, and remember, you don't have to be smiling and laughing to be happy.”
The Tides struck first. Toni, who'd become their best clutch hitter, drove in two runs with a single to left. Kelso had extended her arms out and leveled off her swing and pulled her 6 inches closer to the plate and was now convinced women learned quicker than men, were more flexible of mind and coachable than men, who were in almost all cases ruined early on by fathers or Little League coaches and could never recover or adjust from bad habits and were either too stubborn or egotistical to change.
By the third inning they were up 5-3. The Tides seemed acutely attuned to what Warner's did at bat and on the field. But then the heart of Warner's order began lashing drives all over the field, and they were up 7-5 when the inning ended. Instead of going hangdog, the Tides fought back to take an 8-7 lead when Monica and Kaycee drove in runs. Kelso had shortened Kaycee's swing, convincing her she didn't have to swing long or hard to supply power, and she swelled with confidence each time at bat, realizing hitting could be so simplified.
With two outs and two on in the bottom of the 7th, as Kelso and Marstrulavich stood clapping their hands in the dugout, already tasting victory, Warner's mannish clean up hitter ripped a low line drive to centerfield. Both coaches saw the ball rising and yelled at Kaycee to “go back, back, back!” But Kaycee started in, realized too late the ball was taking off, and tried to leap as the ball carried over her glove by a foot and brought in the winning runs.
Warner's stormed onto the field to swamp the hero while Kaycee squatted on her heels in the outfield. Monica pulled her to her feet as the Tides lined up to shake hands with the victors, whose players, instead of quickly shaking and moving on, paused to pat the shoulders of their opponents and tell them how good they'd become, but the girls, like Kelso, wanted nothing of it.
Kaycee met Kelso with tears streaming down her cheeks. She lay her head against his shoulder and he had to hold her as he told her to “shake it off.” But she continued insisting between sniffles that she'd let him and the team down. He told her no, she'd made big plays, and he disengaged and got the team together and said, “Your coach was responsible for you losing this game. I took it for granted Kaycee, new to the outfield, would play deep, and instead of moving her deep I screwed up. If I get her in the right place, she makes that play easy. You girls did your best. Your coach didn't do his best. You deserved better than what you got today. The good thing is we play 'em again. Next time we'll get 'em.”
