[legendsport]

New York, NY: October 7, 1931:

"I love this view, Freddie. You need to get traded to New York."

Fred Barrell lay sprawled across the bed in their 17th floor hotel room in the nation's largest city. He rolled over and sat up, releasing a small groan as he did. The aches and pains of another long baseball season were always waiting to remind him that perhaps man wasn't meant to squat behind another man wielding a large and hard stick of wood while a third threw a hard, round object at him at speeds sometimes approaching 100 miles per hour. Foul tips, wild pitches, runners coming in spikes high.... ah, the glorious life of a FABL catcher.

"It doesn't work like that..." he told his wife.

"What?" she asked, without bothering to turn around as she stared out at Central Park.

"I can't just demand to be traded. Besides, we're one game away from winning the World Championship. Do you think the Cougars would ever consider trading me?"

Now she turned and threw him a look dripping with disdain. "I suppose it would depend on what the other team was offering, don't you think?"

Fred shook his head. "Yeah, that's true. But I like it just fine in Chicago."

Tillie narrowed her eyes and said, "But you grew up here, right?"

"No. I was born in Brooklyn, but I grew up... mostly... in Georgia. You know that."

"Brooklyn is part of New York," she shot back.

"Technically, but don't tell the people of Brooklyn that," he answered and laughed.

"Anyway, it's a moot point. I have a game in..." he looked around for his watch. "Where's my watch?" he asked.

Tillie shrugged. "I don't know. A lot of things got thrown around when we got back here last night."

That was true. Fred and Tillie had gone straight to the hotel after the train had arrived at Penn Station. They were still fairly new to married life and still couldn't quite keep their hands off each other. Fred dug around in a pile of discarded clothes and found his watch. He examined the band - it was a wristwatch - to see if it was damaged. Tillie had nearly torn it off his arm the night before.

"I hope you didn't break this thing. It was a gift from my father, you know," he groused.

He looked at the time and groaned again. "I need to get to the Oval. The old man will be on my case if I'm late for batting practice."

"With the way you're hitting, he shouldn't worry," Tillie told him.

Fred stood up and kissed her. "You know something? I think you know more about baseball than some of my team mates."

"That, my dear," she said as she put her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss before continuing, "is because I've always had a thing for ballplayers."

Fred laughed and said, "You don't say..."

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Fred got a bit of a shiver when he stepped out onto the field at Bigsby Oval. It was never far from the thoughts of Fred, or his brothers, that this was where his father's baseball dream had ended. Bobby, playing in the Federal, had gotten a decent dose of the Oval that season and had told Fred it was a bit spooky thinking about the story of what had happened to Rufus long before any of his sons was born. But Rufus himself just told his boys, "It's just a ballpark. A nice, old one, with a lot of history - both good and bad - but still, just a ballpark."

The place was old and though it had been redone at least a couple of times, Fred knew that this diamond had been used for pro baseball for something like fifty years now. "I wonder if the Gothams will ever move out of this mausoleum," he said to John Kincaid as they walked towards the batting cage.

"Not as long as the Bigsbys own the team," Kincaid said. The Cougars' third baseman had been a Gotham himself and knew of what he was speaking. Fred, and many of his team mates, had thoroughly grilled Kincaid on the Gothams, as he'd been there until an offseason deal in the 1929-30 offseason. Many of the current Gothams had been his team mates.

After batting practice, Fred and some of his team mates lurked in the dugout, watching Max Morris hit. The big slugger's looping, uppercut swing was a thing of strange beauty. Few other ballplayers could emulate it. Bobby and his team mate Rankin Kellogg both had great power, but Morris was otherworldly. He was one of the few Gothams Kincaid hadn't played with, having just joined New York after many years in St. Louis. "That guy is something else," Kincaid told Fred. "When I was over here and he was with the Pioneers, I always knew he wouldn't hit it my way." Morris was a dead-pull lefty. "So I could really enjoy watching him hit."

After watching Morris for a few minutes, they adjourned to the clubhouse. Some of the guys ate, others tried to nap. Fred was always a bundle of nervous energy before the game. He went and sought out Max Wilder who was going to be the Cougars starter for today's game: game six of the World Championship Series.

The Cougars led the series 3-2. The battle had begun in New York. The Gothams drew first blood with a 4-3 win behind ace Jim Lonardo in game one. Fred's buddy Jim Crawford had gone for the Cougars and Chicago might have won had Kincaid not booted a couple of grounders (jitters at facing his old club perhaps) which led to two unearned runs. With Lonardo pitching, those extra runs were the difference. Fred had played well, going 3-for-4 with a double, a run scored and an RBI.

Chicago had bounced back hard in game two, trouncing the Gothams 11-3 as they pounded Walter Murphy. Fred again had a 3-for-4 day, adding a walk and scored three runs while driving in two. He was red-hot and riding high. The teams had then taken separate trains to Chicago (no fraternizing with the enemy) where the Cougars would host the next three games. The home team took game three by a 4-3 final. Fred had another hit, but his team mates did most of the damage against Hardin Bates. Dick Lyons got the win and the way things lined up, he'd likely be the game seven starter if things went that far. Fred hoped it didn't, but knowing Lyons would get the ball made him feel better about the possibility.

Game four saw Lonardo back on the hill for New York and he won again, this time by a 9-3 margin as Dick Luedtke - like Kincaid an ex-Gotham - pitched poorly. That tied things up at two games apiece and the Cougars had one more home game to earn an edge before the clubs headed back to New York.

Jim Crawford faced Al Allen in game five and Crawford pitched the game of his life in a 4-0 whitewashing that pushed the Cougars to the verge of a championship. Fred went 3-for-4 again, and both scored and drove in a run. Tom Taylor, Vince York, John Kincaid and Russ Combs all had a pair of hits as well. Al Allen just didn't pitch very well.

Now it was time for game six... a win here and Fred would earn family bragging rights as the first Barrell to win a FABL championship. Sure, Jack had won the Challenge Cup, and both Joe and Rollie's teams had won whatever passed for the championship of pro football, but that wasn't baseball, which was almost a religion for the Barrell family.

Everything went to plan. Fred and Wilder, now both having experience against the loaded Gothams lineup, had strategies for everyone - even Max Morris. And they needed it in what turned out to be a nail-biting pitcher's duel. Hardin Bates pitched his heart out for the Gothams. But Fred remained red hot, racking up yet another 3-for-4 performance in leading the Cougars to a 2-1 win and the championship.

After celebrating on the field, Fred and his team mates burst into the small visitor's clubhouse to continue the party. There Fred discovered that he'd been named the most valuable player of the Series. His batting average was an amazing .609 as he hit safely in all six games, and drove in four runs. He and Tillie celebrated that night, both publicly with his team and, later, privately in their hotel room.

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