[legendsport]

It was a boy - again. That made six-for-six. Joe Reid, freshly arrived in town in time for the child's September birth, cracked a smile and said, "If you were hitting, that'd be hot stuff, Rufus."

Rufus, puffing on a cigar that made him feel light-headed and sick to his stomach, just grumbled in reply. Joe slapped him on the back and added, "A few more and you can have your own team!"

"Joe, you're not helping," Rufus groused and then, flashing the reflexes that had made him a good player, snatched Little Joe (now 11 years old and as pugnacious as ever) by the collar as he zipped past chasing his brother Rollie, fists raised. "No fighting!" he snarled, and noted with first pride, and then embarrassment, the fear on his son's face. "Sorry, Joe, but please try to act civilized. Mama needs her rest."

The elder Joe was puffing on his own cigar and pointed it at his grandsons. "You boys want to try a new game with me?" he asked.

Rufus frowned, wondering just what was coming - Joe was a doting grandfather, but he lacked what both Vera and Alice would call "common sense" when it came to children.

Little Joe and Rollie both nodded. Rufus waited for the other shoe to drop.

"It's called golf. The Scottish invented it..." Joe paused, blinked twice while thinking and added, "I think.... anyway, you hit a little white ball with a club and try to make it go into a hole. It's a lot of fun."

Little Joe made a face, and said, "Sounds like baseball for babies."

Joe chuckled. "It's not like baseball, trust me. But it is fun."

Rufus shrugged, thinking "Why not." And he noticed that while Little Joe was ambivalent, Rollie had a thoughtful look on his face.

They named the new baby Frederick - after Alice's grandfather. Rufus realized they were going to run out of male relatives if this continued much longer. When he mentioned this to Alice, she made a face, called him a rube and punched him in the shoulder. It made him smile - it was just like the good old days.

In honor of the new child's birth, Mr. Presley presented Rufus with a brand-new Kodak Brownie camera. "I want a photo of the whole Barrell clan," the old man told him. Rufus noted that he hoped they'd all fit in one photograph, which made Mr. Presley laugh.

So on a seasonably warm morning in early October, with baseball season over (the Kings had finished a disappointing sixth with the New York Stars winning the pennant), Rufus arranged his in-laws, his wife and his six sons, looked through the camera to make sure they all fit, got into the shot himself and had his next-door neighbor take three photos. One he gave to Mr. Presley, one to Joe and the other he kept for his family.

That next summer, 1906, Rufus finally signed a legitimate prospect - or at least he though so. He was a 20-year-old right-hander playing in a small-town in Wisconsin. Rufus had been tipped to him by Johnny Cross of all people. Cross, after a brilliant start to his career, had fallen victim to a dead arm and was done by the age of 27 in 1900, though he did briefly come back (with poor results) for Toronto in 1906. It was after his release, as he was looking for work, that he came upon the young pitcher and mentioned him to Rufus in a restaurant in Chicago.

"He's a little bit short for a pitcher, but he's got a good arm," Cross explained.

Rufus, chewing on some steak, nodded. It had been a while since he'd found a gem, so he was always willing to listen to others, like Cross, who had played and knew what a legitimate ballplayer looked like.

"He's a bit thick too, but not what I'd call fat." Cross stopped to take a bite of his own steak. Nothing beat a good steak in Chicago, fresh from the slaughterhouse.

"OK, so this kid have a name?" Rufus finally asked.

Cross chuckled. "Of course he does. All I want in return is a promise you'll put in a good word for me with Presley."

Rufus waved his fork and nodded, saying, "Of course, no problem."

"Fair enough. The kid's name is Danny Goff. You need to go take a look. Town's called Middleton, it's just outside of Madison. I think he's actually enrolled at Wisconsin, but plays semi-pro on the side."

Rufus frowned - this was technically illegal according to collegiate rules. He'd need to tread carefully.

It turned out that Goff was playing semi-pro, but while he was a student there, he was not playing for Wisconsin. Rufus spoke with the solidly-built right-hander after a game between a local dairy (Goff's team) and another local dairy (they seemed to have a lot of dairies in Wisconsin).

"I was kicked off the college team for fighting," the kid explained.

Rufus shook his head. "Why were you fighting?" he asked.

"Ah, the coach said my girlfriend looked like a cow."

Rufus raised his eyebrows. "So your fight was with the coach?"

Goff nodded. "Yep. Punched him right in the nose."

Rufus started to laugh, then gained control of himself. "That would get you kicked off the team, I would have to say."

Goff looked contrite. "Look, Mr. Barrell, I have no problem with authority. But I don't take kindly to people saying bad things about someone I care for," he paused and seemed to screw up his courage, then added, "I'd do it again in an instant, too." He looked defiant - but also incredibly young and naive.

Rufus put a thoughtful look on his face - he was remembering how intense his feelings for Alice were when he was in Savannah. Heck, they still were. "I understand. I was young and in love once and might have done the same in your situation."

Goff smiled and looked relieved. "So this won't mess up my chance of playing pro ball?"

Rufus said, "Absolutely not. I'll have to talk to the boss when I get back to Brooklyn, but I think we'll be in touch very soon. This is your correct address, right?" he waved his notebook.

"Yes, sir, that's correct."

Rufus was smiling when he left Wisconsin and still smiling when he returned home. The Kings sent Danny Goff a contract offer, he signed it, and then they promptly loaned him out to an independent club in Kansas. It'd be a few years, but Goff would eventually carve out a solid career in the FABL.