[legendsport]

The fourth Barrell child turned out to be another boy. They named him James. It took a long time for Alice to forgive him - she was convinced it was his fault all their children had been male. So his stay at home in June was cold despite the warm weather.

The time between Jimmy's birth in 1900 and the birth of Rufus and Alice's fifth child (yep, another boy, whom they named Daniel) in September 1904 was, from a professional standpoint, a mixture of good and bad for Rufus. He unearthed several prospects who turned out to be good, long-term players for the Kings. The foremost amongst these was third baseman Jim Gerhart. Gerhart spent a decade as the starter at the hot corner for the Kings and while never a star, he was a good, solid player. Similarly, Rufus inked centerfielder Jack Gilmore to a contract in 1903. Gilmore also spent a decade as a Kings regular and spent all but five games of his 1628 FABL games in a Kings uniform. There were some misses too. The Cleveland Foresters signed pitcher Jim Cathey while Rufus was stuck waiting on a cab to take him to the ballpark from the Buffalo train station. Rufus traveled to Rochester in 1900 where Woody Trease wouldn't even speak to him - George Theobald had come to see Trease personally and also had the benefit of a good friendship with Lynwood Trease, Woody's father. Those were two big-time pitchers who probably could have helped win a pennant or two for the Kings down the road.

And then there was the biggest fish of all... Rufus missed Danny's birth that September of '04 because he was back in Alabama, trying to get Powell Slocum's signature on a Brooklyn Kings contract. But, Slocum, who had just turned 18, was reluctant to leave home and had caught the eye of both the nearby Birmingham club in the Dixie League as well as the Baltimore Clippers, Montreal Saints and New York Stars. Slocum was the worst-kept secret in baseball; Rufus might have been first to see him, but he was fighting a losing battle and knew it.

"You'll love Brooklyn, Powell," he said. "Heck, I'm from a small town in Georgia, and I've lived in Brooklyn for twelve years now."

Rufus had watched as Slocum's father, a sour-faced farmer named Judson, ran off both the Saints' and Clippers' scouts. The Stars' scout, Henry Harrington, was a southerner himself (from Titusville, Florida), and even he looked nervous as he watched the elder Slocum frowning at Rufus.

Rufus continued to preach the virtues of both the borough of Brooklyn and the Kings' organization. Finally, as Powell was about to open his mouth and reply, the old man put his two cents in: "You don't need to go play for some Yankee ballclub. Go with Birmingham, son."

So Powell Slocum signed with Birmingham - after politely listening to Harrington's equally useless pitch for New York. By June of the following year, the Clippers had traded for Slocum (apparently the elder Slocum found Baltimore close enough to the Mason-Dixon line to be acceptable). And of course, as Rufus could have predicted, the kid went on to be the greatest hitter in history.

"So he's the one that got away. Don't fret about it, son," was Rollie's advice when Rufus stopped in at Huntsville on his way back north after failing to sign Slocum.

In that summer of 1905, Rufus was in Baltimore (while Alice was back in Brooklyn - pregnant for a sixth time, with both parents convinced another boy was in the offing) en route to a scouting swing through Virginia and decided to take in a Kings-Clippers game since his trips didn't often overlap with his club's schedule. After desultorily watching Slocum go 4-for-4 against his Kings, he watched a local semi-pro contest where the second baseman of one of the teams caught his eye.

He turned to the man sitting beside him in the warped bleachers and asked, "Who's the guy playing second?"

The man, with a decidedly Germanic accent, said, "Ah, that's Edvard Seal." Or at least, that's what Rufus thought he said. "He's wunderbar," he added. Rufus concurred - the kid was a good one.

After the game, he called out to one of the players, "Hey, kid, I need to talk to your second baseman, Seal."

The kid started laughing, and said, "Seal? We don't have a Seal on this team, mister - go check the aquarium."

Rufus rolled his eyes - everyone was a comedian these days. "Come on kid, I'm a scout for Brooklyn. Just get the guy, whatever his name is, huh?"

The kid shook his head, still chuckling, and went over to the second baseman as the latter was putting his glove in a canvas bag, preparatory to leaving the field.

The second baseman looked up and Rufus could see him staring at him across the field. Eventually he ambled over, in the loose-limbed walk common to good athletes.

"You wanted to talk to me, mister?" he asked.

Rufus sized him up. He was about 5'8 and thick, but not fat. The kid had some muscle on him; he had forearms like Zebulon Banks - and also had shown some nice agility in the field, rare for a strong kid. Rufus introduced himself.

The player squinted at him and said, "Brooklyn, huh? Well, I had a guy here from the Gothams the other day."

Rufus got a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach. The Gothams had a lot of money - the Bigsbys, crooked or not, were far wealthier than Malcolm Presley's Brooklyn Kings.

"I don't want to bad mouth anyone but I'd watch out for the Gothams, if I were you," Rufus said, feeling terrible while doing it. Even nine months later, losing Slocum stung - and now he was trying to subvert other scouts.

The kid looked skeptical. "So you don't want to bad mouth them, but you'll do it anyway, right?"

Then the kid said, "And why on earth haven't the Clippers been to see me? I'm playing right under their noses! You'd think they'd want some homegrown talent!"

Rufus, sensing a rant in the making, sighed and said, "Look kid, I can get you a contract offer by the end of the week. I promise you that you'd be happier in Brooklyn than New York - or Baltimore. I played at the Bigsby Oval, it's not a great place to play ball."

Now the kid's indifference had dropped a notch. "You played?"

Rufus nodded slowly and said, "Yes, a bit. I had an injury and my career was very short."

Rufus hoped the kid wouldn't ask for details - his two-thirds of an inning as a King wasn't something he liked to dwell upon. The kid didn't seem interested though, saying, "That's too bad, mister." Then he added, "Well, look, I'll listen to any offer you make, but the guy from the Gothams... Mr. Wells? He seemed really excited."

The kid started to leave. Rufus realized he still didn't know the kid's actual name.

"Hey kid!" he shouted and when the kid turned, asked, "What's your name?"

The kid laughed and said, "Ed Ziehl. Make sure you spell it correctly on that contract offer: Z-I-E-H-L. Thanks mister!" And then he trotted off to where his team mates were waiting to do whatever young ballplayers did after a game in Baltimore.

By the end of the week, Bill Wells had gotten Ziehl's John Hancock on a contract to play for the Gothams. Rufus had struck out again.