David is a connoisseur of softball fundamentals, and finds watching Billy play just as rewarding as listening to him sing. In the second inning, he strokes a single to right center and runs to first, rounding the bag. When the outfielder bobbles the ball, he sprints for second. Even though he’s far ahead of the throw, he performs a pop-up slide, as smooth as icing on a cake. In a sport where most players would rather eat glass than slide, Billy does it because it’s the best way to stop.
The next batter walks, and the batter after that hits a grounder to the pitcher. The pitcher throws to third, and Billy does something that David has never seen: he performs a takeout slide – nothing dirty, just hard and through the bag – to make sure the third baseman can’t throw to first for the double play.

He also notes the effect that Billy is having on Pablo. On a grounder through the infield, with no one else on base, Billy drops to a knee to field the ball. An inning later, Pablo does the same in left. On a base hit toward the line, Billy fields the ball and fires it to second, even though the runner shows no intention of going for the extra base. It’s what you might call a demonstration throw, and the message is clear: I’m going to do that all night, so don’t even try it. Pablo performs the same quick throw on his next four chances.

David’s team has found a sparkplug. Larry was a sparkplug, too, but a different kind: a talker, encouraging, prodding, slapping backs. Billy doesn’t talk much, but his play is so sharp it’s impossible to ignore. The balls come off of his bat low, hard and to the right; the speed and the results are so impressive that even the worst of the lazy lofters are swinging for liners and grounders. David has to smile, recalling the uncountable times he has shouted the words “low and hard!” to little effect.

The new approach has his team keeping up with last season’s champs. Come the bottom of the seventh they’re tied up, one out with the bases loaded and Billy at the plate. He waits out a ball and a strike and then lifts a lazy fly to center. David tags at third and scores the winning run.
Naturally, the student is not about to let the teacher off the hook.

“Hey! What’s with that weak-ass fly ball?”

Billy laughs and gives Pablo a knuckle-bump. “Okay, tell me this: what’s the worst ball you could hit in that situation?”

Pablo gives it a thought. “Grounder to the pitcher, to home, to first. Double play.”

“Yes. And several other double-play combinations, all of which take place in the infield. So if you do have a flyball swing in your arsenal – and I do – why not avoid the whole issue?”

“So what you’re also saying,” says Pablo, “is that my left-field flyball swing might actually come in handy.”

Billy stops and smiles. “Okay, you got me. From now on, three left-field bombs per batting practice.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” says Pablo.


The traditional early-August rainstorm has killed business at the hotel, leading Roger to let the musicians off early. They all stick around regardless, David and Isaiah at the bar, Billy and Abbey in their regular booth.

“How come you never played ball? You’d…”

“Make a great first baseman. Yes, I would make a huge target – a target that could more readily translate ancient Sufi texts than catch a thrown object. Besides, I wouldn’t want to imperil these golden fingers.”

“Point taken.”

“So how are the boys doing?”

“I think Derek gets the deal. He’s still got to work a little before I can put him in there. But he seems perfectly happy to hang out, and he keeps a beautiful scorebook. He’s also going to give us a weekly printout of our stats. Players love that stuff.”

“Especially when they’re playing well.”

“Yep. As for Pablo – The Natural, as we have begun to call him – that’s a little trickier. He asked me why he was batting tenth, and I told him flat-out, politics. Some of these guys have been on the team five years, and they’re very comfortable in their spots. Batting my own son tenth is a good way to show respect for the veterans and simultaneously put those speedy legs right before the leadoff hitter.

“Sneaky!”

“The scary thing is, I’m chasing my own son around the bases and he is definitely pulling away.”

“That’s all right. Most men your age are playing shuffleboard.”

“Thanks a lot.” He touches his longneck to Isaiah’s, a toast to all things good.