[legendsport]

April 25, 1939: Birmingham, AL:

"Well, well, well... I'll be dipped and rolled in cracker crumbs!"

Dan Barrell, leaning on the rail and gazing out over the field, started laughing. He didn't even need to turn around to recognize that froggy croak.

"Possum Daniels, what in tarnation are you doing here?" Dan asked without turning, figuring he'd give some right back to his father's oldest and best friend.

"Shoot, son! You can kick the old ballplayer out of the park, but you cain't make him stay out!"

Possum grabbed Danny by the shoulder and then as the younger man straightened up, pulled him into a bear hug. "You are a sight for sore eyes, son!" he exclaimed, pounding Dan's back.

"My question stands, Possum," Danny said with a chuckle. "I thought you were retired."

"Aww, hell, ain't no force on Earth can keep me out of the ol' ballyard. I reckon they'll bury me... right about there," Possum pointed to a spot in center field.

"I don't think they'll allow that," Dan said with a gleam in his eye. "Probably some kind of law against it."

"You're probably right and that's a fine how de' ya' do for an old man what's given his whole life to this here game."

Dan's face grew serious. "You're not here to check up on my for my father now, are you?" he asked. Dan wouldn't put it past Rufus to have his old buddy check on his still-relatively-new-to-scouting son.

"Err... no comment," Possum said, looking uncomfortable.

"I knew it!" Dan said and shook his head. "The old man doesn't trust me."

Possum squinted at him and said, "Naw, that ain't it a'tall, son."

"Oh? Then how is it?" Dan asked, plainly skeptical.

"Well... he might skin me alive for tellin' you this, but ol' Rufus plans to retire at the end of this season," he paused and watched Dan's expression morph into one of total bafflement.

"He never said anything..." he started, but Possum held up a hand.

"It's a secret, son. Only your Ma knows... and me a'course."

"Why wouldn't he tell me?"

Possum's gnarled face took on a pleased grin and he said, "Shoot, son! He wants you to take over, that's why!"

Dan spluttered as his mouth worked seemingly independently of his mind, which was racing. Take over? He'd only been a scout for one season!

"Yeah, he knows you're green, son. That's why he asked me to come out and talk to you."

Possum motioned towards the seats. "My old bones... I need to sit down, son," he explained.

Danny nodded absently, still processing the revelation that his father was retiring and wanted to put him in charge of the OSA.

"What about Potentas?" he asked once they were seated side-by-side in the front row.

"Aww, shucks, Thomas is a nice feller, but he ain't no scout, no ways. He's good on the business side and that's where he'll stay. The scouting side... that needs a baseball man." Possum stabbed a finger, lightly, into Dan's chest and added, "And that's you, son."

"I don't know..." Dan said softly.

"Well, your father does, and for what it's worth, so do I," Possum replied. "You have what it takes, Dan. And shoot, you're married to a gal what used to scout too," he added with a chuckle.

"Yeah, basketball," Dan replied skeptically.

"Shoot, boy... scoutin' is scoutin' the rest is just... details," Possum waved a hand dismissively.

Dan rubbed a hand over his face. He had come to scout a kid named.... Lynn Kirk, that was it... and now he'd found out that he was supposed to start running the whole bureau in the fall?

"You ever thought about managing?" Possum asked.

Dan frowned. "Huh?" he asked.

"You ever thought about managing? You know, bein' a skipper, runnin' a team?"

Dan thought for a second. "Sure, I guess so. Why?"

"Well, runnin' the OSA is a lot like managin' a ball club. Look at it this way... when you're the skipper you have to make sure all your ballplayers are prepared to do their jobs. Put 'em in the best position to succeed, right?"

Dan thought about the men who'd run the clubs on which he'd played during his career. He nodded and said, "OK."

"Bein' in charge of the OSA is pretty much the same dang thing. The scouts... well they're just old ballplayers. They're used to having a skipper to help point 'em in the right direction and give 'em marching orders. That's what you'll be doin' - and it ain't much different from runnin' a team."

Dan's face brightened. "I suppose you're right - I just never thought about it like that," he said.

Possum sat back, a pleased look on his face. "This takes me back," he said.

"Huh?" Dan was perplexed again.

"Well... when I first met your Pop, I had to 'splain everything to him, too!"

Dan burst out laughing, and Possum soon joined him.

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