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April 16, 1911
Walking home from Hanlan’s Point Park on a mild Monday evening in Toronto, Francis was feeling good. The Maple Leafs had just had an exhibition game, this time with the Montreal Royals, and he had stolen two bases, to go along with a sharp single to right field. Not only had he been playing well, but Coach Wheeler had put him into the starting lineup.
Just then he heard someone call out his name. “Franky!! Hey Franky!!”
He turned to see Tom Fisher, whom Francis had met during tryouts, waving to him from across Yonge Street. Francis jogged across the street to where Tom was.
“Hey Franky, a bunch of the fellas are heading to P.J’s Pub for a drink,” said Tom, who hadn’t played much during the exhibition games, “Wanna come?”
Francis thought about it, after all he never drank. Then he nodded, “yeah why not.”
When they walked in, Francis was shocked at how many of the guys were there. There was Earnest Winchester and Edward Bisebois playing billiards, Joseph Turcotte was talking to the barkeep and Dave Gorman, one of the better looking guys on the team, was chatting up an attractive young woman. Then he saw Jacky, sitting at a table by himself with a pitcher of beer.
“Hey Jacky, all by yourself?” asked Francis as he sat down in the booth across from him.
“Yeah what’s it to ya?” replied an upset Jacky, who never looked up from his beer mug.
Just then Heath Fry, the new catcher who came over from Montreal during the off-season, walked in with one of the Montreal Royals’ players. Francis saw Jacky’s face turn red.
“This $*#&^% $ guy,” said Jacky, “Mr. Bigshot, takes over my job…who knows if I’ll even make this club!”
Jacky got up.
“And you,” he yelled, pointing his finger in Francis’ face, “I helped you out, and now you are walking around all high and mighty, even though I’m obviously struggling here. You’re Hoff’s best friend now, pretty soon you’ll be up on the bank floor while I’m still in the basement.”
Francis was speechless. He had no idea Jacky felt this way.
Just then, Jacky chugged his glass of beer, turned and charged towards Heath Fry.
“Jacky! No!” yelled Francis, but it was too late.
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