[legendsport]

Egypt, GA: September 12, 1917: "So... let me get this straight. Your parents are from Chicago, but moved to California because your dad's best friend's father, who was some railroad bigshot, founded a city out there? And you and your brother were born there... in Glendora? And then your father moved everyone to Georgia because he got a job building streetcar lines there?"

Francie York nodded her head, "Yep, that about sums it up."

Rollie frowned. "That's almost as complicated as my family's story."

Alice Barrell chuckled at this as she spread icing on the freshly baked cake. "He's not wrong about that, dear," she said.

Behind her, the birthday boy, 12-year-old Fred, was bouncing from foot to foot. "Can I lick the knife, Ma?" he asked.

"Well, seeing as it's your big day, I suppose that'd be fine," Alice said.

"Make sure you don't cut your tongue off, dummy," Dan (whose birthday had been a week earlier) said with a laugh.

The kitchen door opened and Joe walked in, smiling, trailed by Francie's brother Dick. "Look what I found at the train station," he said.

Rufus, sitting at the table, waved to his oldest son and asked, "Where are Edna and the babies?"

Joe explained that his wife had stayed home with the kids, adding, "They're a little colicky and it's a bit much. Edna's mom is there with her, thankfully."

Dick York tipped his head at Rufus, "Mr. Barrell, nice to see you again."

Rufus replied in kind and Joe hooked a thumb at Dick then said, "This guy would make a heckuva fullback. Thick and strong as he is, he'd be unstoppable. Too bad he's got baseball fever and would rather be a catcher of all things."

Francie chimed in, "He always was a little soft in the head."

Rollie laughed as Fred stopped bouncing and turned to his oldest brother, "Hey! There's nothin' wrong with being a catcher, Joe!"

Joe put a mock-serious look on his face and said, "Well, you're right, little brother. I forgot you fancy yourself a catcher too."

Now Rollie looked at Francie and put in, "Yep, Fred's the soft-headed one in our family."

Alice handed the knife to Fred and, hands on hips, told Rollie and Joe, "Now that's enough of that, you two. Your grandfather was a catcher, and so was Possum - and you boys love 'em both."

Joe told his mother, "That's true, Mom. We love 'em both dearly." Then he winked at Rollie and added, "Despite their soft heads, of course."

After the laughter had died down, Fred turned to Dick and asked, "So... you're a catcher, huh? I could use some tips." He paused and pointed at his father, "He was a pitcher, so he knows nothing about the fine art of catching. And these other guys," pointing at Joe, Rollie and Dan, "don't neither. So what do you say, Mr. York?"

Dick shrugged and said, "Sure, why not?"

Fred whooped and shouted, "I'll get my mitt! Come on, Danny - you can hit. Pops, you want to pitch? Or should I get Tommy?"

As Rufus stood up and began loosening up his shoulder on his way to the door, Rollie asked Francie, "Hey, you want to go hit some balls? Pop made me a driving range out behind the barn."

The group trooped out the door. Soon thereafter with a lot of yelling and shoving, Tommy, Bobby and Harry tore through the kitchen and out the door as well.

Alice, now alone with Joe, said, "At last, some peace and quiet around here."

And then Betsy, who had been upstairs napping, began crying for her mother.

Alice sighed, shook her head and turning toward the stairs, asked Joe, "So.. you and Edna still thinking about having more kids?"