February 27, 1948: Egypt, GA:
"Dang it!" Possum Daniels complained as his sons helped him up the steps of the Barrell's farmhouse.
Rufus and Alice were on the porch, both wearing sad smiles.
Possum noticed this and growled, "Why are y'all grinning like gators?"
Getting no reply, as both Rufus and Alice knew he wasn't expecting one, Possum added, "Act like y'all never seen an old man before."
Possum was 77, three years older than Rufus and two older than Alice. Neither of them saw him as an old man, but nearly twenty years as a catcher had worn their old friend's knees out, and he now needed a wheelchair to get around.
Rufus Daniels, Possum's oldest son, was still a professional baseball player at 34. His journeyman career had landed him in the Oakland Grays organization after bouncing around through the Kings, Cannons, Dynamos, and Sailors organizations in FABL. His younger son, Bo, was 26 and much to his father's chagrin, had never played baseball. He was an actuary, something that Possum claimed he couldn't understand. "That boy does nothin' but look at numbers all day, son, and then tells folks what their risk is..." he'd explained to Rufus, who had already known what an actuary did but was curious to see if Possum did.
Possum's daughter Juanita and his wife Betty stood at the bottom of the steps, Juanita with both hands on Possum's wheelchair, wearing a concerned look. Betty was in her late fifties, much younger than Possum himself, and had aged from youthful beauty into a stately matron.
The Daniels clan was visiting the Barrells because Possum had something for Rufus. Something he couldn't deliver over the phone, and the old catcher refused to give his friend any clues. "You're just gonna have to wait on me for a change, son," he'd told Rufus.
When Possum finally made it onto the porch and was settled in his wheelchair, he grinned up at Rufus and said, "This feels right, son," with that old, wiseacre smile.
"What feels right?" Rufus asked.
"You standing there, looking lost, while I'm looking up at you, just like I did back in Savannah all those years ago when I was crouched behind the plate and you were standing on that bump in the middle of the diamond looking down at me."
"We're a lot closer than sixty feet, six inches right now, Rollie," Rufus told his friend. Though he'd long been Possum to the Barrells, Rufus still called him Rollie occasionally since that was his name. Rufus' second son was named after his old friend, which is why the family had taken to using his old baseball nickname, Possum.
Possum grinned, "Well, that's a'right, my point's still valid, son."
"OK, well, we're together now, Rollie," Rufus said. "What was so important that you had to haul your family here from Alabama?"
Possum smirked, reached into his pocket, and pulled out an envelope. "Got somethin' for you, son," he said. Then he stared at the buff-colored envelope for a moment, a strange look on his face, one that Rufus would have said was... wistful? Perhaps. Something he hadn't often seen on Possum's face.
He handed the envelope to Rufus.
"What's this?" Rufus asked, looking at the envelope, which bore no markings, no writing, nothing at all to indicate what was inside.
"Open it 'n see, son," Possum said quietly.
Rufus shrugged, then used his finger to rip the envelope open. He pulled the enclosed single sheet of paper from within, unfolded it, and read. Alice, watching his face, saw the shock register there and felt a brief moment of concern before Rufus' face broke out into a broad smile.
"This is a joke, right?" he asked Possum.
"Naw, I wouldn't do you like that, son. That there is the real deal!" Possum replied.
"What is it?" Alice asked.
Before Rufus could reply, he saw Possum turn to his son and nod, and then Rufus Daniels stepped off the porch, shoved two fingers in his mouth, and whistled.
As Alice's question remained unanswered, everyone's attention was drawn to the lane leading to the house where three cars were driving down the road.
"Rufus? What's going on?" Alice asked again.
Rufus watched the first car stop and saw Billy Whitney step out, followed by John Brinker of all people.
Rufus looked at his wife and held up the paper. "Apparently, I've been selected for induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame," he said.
Alice's eyes widened, and she snatched the paper from her husband's hand. She read it quickly, then grabbed him and pulled him into a hug.
Billy Whitney came up the steps, wearing a broad smile, slapped Rufus on the back after he had finished his hug, and said, "Congratulations, Rufus!"
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Rufus Barrell's official Hall of Fame portrait
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