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Mattymo · 11-05-2008, 09:23 PM

March 16, 1911

"Hey Franky, what's wrong?" asked Jacky, as Francis threw his coat on the chair upon arriving to work, "tough night?".

"Couldn't sleep," replied a dreary-eyed Francis, "Too much on my mind. And I'm getting frustrated with this base ball thing."

Jacky, tired of his complaining, took a deep breath. "Look kid, I don't sugarcoat things," Jacky said sternly, getting worked up, "You want this to be easy and it's not. I don't know what to tell you, spring practice hasn't even started and you've been whining every day. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and buck up, will ya?"

Francis was stunned. "I'm not…"

"No kid, you are," Jacky interrupted, "When we show up in a couple of weeks, you'll be the fastest player out there. That counts for somethin. You catch the ball in the outfield really good. So you can't hit? If you would take some of my tips and stop swinging so damn hard maybe you'd hit the ball square once in awhile."

Francis just stood there, silent, looking down at the ground. He wasn't used to that kind of constructive criticism. "It's just that…"

"It's just what?" Jacky again interrupted, "You're away from home and you're alone? C'mon kid, get a grip. Now I don't know why you left home, and I don't really care. But I was kicked out by my parents at 15 and I'm doing ok. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, kid."

What that Jacky walked out of the room, leaving Francis alone. He had looked up to Jacky since he had started working at the bank, and he knew that Jacky was right. All the stuff with base ball, with Helen, with his family…he had allowed it to define him. Rather than confront it, he ran from it.

Francis smiled. "Hey Jacky," he yelled, unsure if he'd get a response.

"Yeah kid?," yelled a voice from down the hall.

"Thanks."

11-05-2008, 09:23 PM	#11 (permalink)
Mattymo All Star Starter Join Date: May 2002 Location: Colchester, CT Posts: 1,424	March 16, 1911 "Hey Franky, what's wrong?" asked Jacky, as Francis threw his coat on the chair upon arriving to work, "tough night?". "Couldn't sleep," replied a dreary-eyed Francis, "Too much on my mind. And I'm getting frustrated with this base ball thing." Jacky, tired of his complaining, took a deep breath. "Look kid, I don't sugarcoat things," Jacky said sternly, getting worked up, "You want this to be easy and it's not. I don't know what to tell you, spring practice hasn't even started and you've been whining every day. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and buck up, will ya?" Francis was stunned. "I'm not…" "No kid, you are," Jacky interrupted, "When we show up in a couple of weeks, you'll be the fastest player out there. That counts for somethin. You catch the ball in the outfield really good. So you can't hit? If you would take some of my tips and stop swinging so damn hard maybe you'd hit the ball square once in awhile." Francis just stood there, silent, looking down at the ground. He wasn't used to that kind of constructive criticism. "It's just that…" "It's just what?" Jacky again interrupted, "You're away from home and you're alone? C'mon kid, get a grip. Now I don't know why you left home, and I don't really care. But I was kicked out by my parents at 15 and I'm doing ok. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, kid." What that Jacky walked out of the room, leaving Francis alone. He had looked up to Jacky since he had started working at the bank, and he knew that Jacky was right. All the stuff with base ball, with Helen, with his family…he had allowed it to define him. Rather than confront it, he ran from it. Francis smiled. "Hey Jacky," he yelled, unsure if he'd get a response. "Yeah kid?," yelled a voice from down the hall. "Thanks."