June 2, 1940 -- Detroit, Michigan

"Are you actually planning to hit the ball this time, or are you just go stand there and swing?" Kinch stoically ignored the teasing from his friends as he carefully lined up with the pitcher.

"Hey, Ivan, you gonna need Susan to get over here and pitch for you?"

"I don't think he'd even be able to hit one of her pitches!"

"Hey, Billy," one of Kinch's teammates called, "just throw the ball, will ya?" He was standing on third and was anxious to get a chance to try for the run.

"Come on, Kinch," the player on second yelled, "we're counting on you."

Billy, the pitcher, let loose with a high fastball. Kinch was caught off- balance, but he swung at it anyway. He managed to connect with the ball, but it was a weak hit and an obvious foul. A chorus of disappointed groans immediately echoed from Kinch's bench. Excited cheers rang out from the players in the field.

"Looks like we'll have our money this week!" a towheaded kid in the outfield shouted happily. It was tradition that the members of the losing team had to shell out the money to buy cokes for the members of the winning team.

The same group of boys had been gathering on Sunday afternoons to play ball since elementary school. The teams were never the same; they were picked more or less at random. And if you missed a pitch or fumbled a catch, your own team was just as likely to give you a hard time about it as the opposing team. But it was all in good fun. It always had been.

"Hey," the player on third protested, "at least he managed to hit the ball that time."

"Yeah, well, I need my money this week. I promised I'd take Danielle to the movies."

"So, you finally asked her, Tommy," someone else retorted. "I thought that you were never going to work up the nerve."

"Hey, you also thought that Kinch would never manage to hit the ball," the shortstop quipped. "Doesn't bode so well for our team."

"Are we going to play ball here or are we going to bug Tommy about his love life?"

"I think we've already exhausted that subject!"

"I wouldn't count on having your money this week, boys," the player on first challenged. "We're only three runs down. Watch, we'll be running laps around you before this is over."

"Mind you, they'll be very short laps, won't they?" someone laughed.

Billy wound up for the pitch, knowing that the bases were loaded and the count was full. It was down to just this one pitch. If he could manage to strike Kinch out, he would be the the hero of the day, or at least as close to the hero as any of them would get. If Kinch managed to hit the pitch, well, then he would be the object of endless ribbing until next week. It was funny how it always seemed to turn out like that.

The pitch came in straight and fast, heading right toward Kinch. Kinch shifted his weight forward and began to swing the wooden bat forward. As the end came around, the ball connected solidly with the bat. The ball sailed up and far into right field. Kinch instantly dropped the bat and sprinted off toward first base.

Knowing that the game would be almost over, some of the girls had dropped by to watch the tail end. Tommy, having drawn the short straw and being stuck in the outfield, turned to wave to Danielle and the other girls, never dreaming that the ball would be headed toward him. He didn't see the white sphere headed toward him until it connected solidly with his head.

His hands flew to his head as his teammates screamed for him to pick up the ball. The first of the three runners that had been on base crossed home plate; the other two were hot on his heels and Kinch wasn't far behind.

Tommy blinked a few times in confusion as the next runner passed over the plate. "Pick up the ball, Tommy!"

Dazedly, Tommy started franticly searching the ground for the ball. He was having trouble finding it.

"Let's go, Kinch!"

"Tommy, the ball is three feet from your face! Pick it up and throw it home!"

The screaming wasn't helping the confused Tommy get his bearings. The third runner crossed home, evening the score. But there was still hope, if they could get Kinch out, they would have to go into extra innings.

"Go left, Tommy!"

"No, your other left!"

"He's never going to find it. Keep running, Ivan!"

Tommy finally found the ball and hurled it toward home plate. His aim was off, but the catcher stretched to reach it. Unfortunately, his foot slipped off the plate and Kinch slid in beneath his outstretched arm.

"Safe!" everyone called. The winning team was jubilant, the losing team momentarily dejected.

"Looks like you won't be hanging on to your money after all," someone taunted.

"Way to go, Tommy," Billy groaned, thankful that another scapegoat had been found.

"Yeah, nice catch!"

Tommy rubbed the sore spot on his head. "Well, I don't see you running laps around us," he retorted.

"That's because you were too busy flirting with the girls!"

The girls walked onto the field, pairing off with members of the winning team. Danielle walked right past Tommy, pausing to grin at him, and directly to Kinch. Kinch draped his arm over her shoulder and led her off down the road. He turned to wink over his shoulder at Tommy.

"Hey, Tommy," someone quipped, "I thought that Danielle was yours."

"I'll be yours, Tommy," Billy said, batting his sandy eyelashes at Tommy.

"No thanks!"

Billy rushed down the field to tackle Tommy. The two men took down a couple of others as they wrestled in the dust of the old ball diamond.

"I'm getting mighty thirsty," someone commented. "I sure do wish that I had a coke."

"Put a sock in it already."

"I'd much rather put a coke in it!"

Laughter echoed down the street.