THERE IS NO CRYING IN BASEBRAWL!
Chapter One
The old woman slowly shuffled into the living room with a cup of tea and a saucer in her hand. She carefully placed it on the lace doily covering the small mahogany Highlands end table. Then she lowered herself into the recliner.
Once she was all settled in and sipping her Darjeeling tea, she adjusted her eyeglasses and looked over at the teenager on the sofa, studiously hunched over the laptop resting on her thighs.
“What’s that you’re doing there? Your homework?”
“Uh huh. I gotta do a report on the AAGPBL. That’s the … ”
“I know what it is. The All-American Girls Professional Baseball League. You need any help?
“Naw. I can find pretty much everything I need on my computer.”
“Well, I happen to know more than a little bit about it if you’re stuck. Does your computer tell you that there were six teams in the league that first year?”
“Aw, Grandma, you’re wrong. Google says there were four teams in 1943, not six. The Kenosha Comets, the Racine Belles, the Rockford Peaches and the South Bend Blue Sox.”
“Yes, they ended up with four. But they started out with six teams. Only nobody likes to talk about that.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
“No, I’m not. As God is my witness.”
“Well, what happened to the other two teams?”
“You really want to know? All right, I’ll tell you. It all started in … ” Sisseton, South Dakota. July 4, 1943.The two girls roll around in the dirt by second base. Uniform skirts flying, their arms and legs flail as they snarl curses at each other. Their fists fly and dust kicks up in a cloud above them as they grapple in a rolling writhing ball of fury. The fans in the stands watch open-mouthed as both benches empty and twenty other girls swarm onto the field to join the donnybrook. The two managers and two chaperones try in vain to break up the brawl that escalates even more when one of the female chaperones hauls off and punches the other chaperone in the mouth.
The girls who started the fight are soon buried under a growing pile of squirming bodies. Even more scuffles start up in the outfield grass and by the pitcher’s mound as players from each team square off against each other to settle grudges. And in the midst of all this chaos comes the loud excited voice of the radio announcer filling the air and the airwaves with the news that “the fireworks sure started a lot earlier than expected here today! Oh, doctor! We have got ourselves a real Pier Six brawl on the ball field!”
“Looking back on it, I just knew something was gonna happen that day. I think everybody did. Call it sixth sense, call it intuition, call it a hunch, call it any damn thing you please. It was, I don’t know, like some kind of electric charge in the air that jolted a body right down to the marrow. Oh yes, something was definitely gonna happen out there on that ball field. And it wasn’t gonna be pretty. No sirree bob.” “Hey, fans, Stormy Storms from KABR here at historic Bossy Field, the Park that Milk Built, in downtown Sisseton on this Fourth of July Sunday as our Sisseton Sweethearts take on their rivals from Minnesota, the Parker Prairie Princesses. It’s a dan-dan-dandy day for a ballgame. The sun is shining, the grass is a perfect emerald green, and the nine hundred and thirty seven fans in attendance are all in the holiday spirit. It is the Fourth of July, after all. America’s birthday. What better way to celebrate it than here at the ballpark, with a hot dog, a sack of peanuts or box of Cracker Jacks, and a cold bottle of pop, watching these All-American girls playing baseball, America’s pastime? Our thoughts and prayers go out to all the brave boys risking their lives fighting tyranny over in Europe and in the Pacific. I know we all wish they could be here with us right now, playing baseball on this Independence Day, 1943, but they have a very important job to do. And so do these All-American girls out on the field. So let’s get to it!”
(singing)
Batter up! Hear that call!
The time has come for one and all
To play ball!
“But first, here’s a message from our sponsor, Stoltzfutz Dairy, home of the one and only Bossy the Cow!”
“Okay, while the commercial featuring a man in a cow suit hawking milk plays over the radio … where nobody can see that it’s a man in a cow suit … I think a little background is needed here. That maybe your Google whatever-you-call-it might not have. Don’t worry. I’ll keep it short.
When the young men all answered the call and traded in their baseball uniforms for military ones, the team owners were scared that baseball was gonna die. So to keep the game alive and breathing, they hatched up a plot – a novelty act, a publicity stunt – and formed the AAGPBL, the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League. Hundreds of young women all over the country – from the farms, from the cotton fields, from the swamps, from the big cities, even from Canada – all answered the call to try out for the league. The lucky ones who made the cut were assigned to the different teams here in the Midwest. The others were sent back home.
We return you now to your regularly scheduled program. Told you I’d be quick.”“Now here they are! Taking the field, your hometown Sisseton Sweethearts!”
(singing)
We are the members of the All-American League
We come from cities near and far
We’ve got Canadians, Irish ones and Swedes,
We’re all for one, we’re one for all
We’re all Americans!
Nine girls run out of the home team dugout and take their positions as the crowd cheers. The Sisseton fans love their Sweethearts. These girls have come from all over North America to play ball in this small northeastern South Dakota city and, in the span of a few short months, the people of Sisseton have adopted and accepted them as their own.
“Out in center field, they call her the Bayou Bird Dog, because she tracks down every ball that’s hit out there … Wearing Number 7 and hailing from the Louisiana swampland, let’s hear it for Jonica!”
The irrepressible Jonica, a petite pretty Cajun, paces impatiently back and forth in the outfield grass, anxious for the game to start. She quickly doffs her cap and then jams it back on her head, spitting into the grass.
“The left fielder, the Sweetheart of the Sweethearts, may have been born in the ‘big city’ back East, but she’s a small-town girl through and through. Number 4 in your scorecard but Number 1 in your hearts … it’s Little Sara!”
Pretty, blonde-haired Sara laughs and waves at the fans who respond with louder applause and whistles. Sara is a friend to just about everyone she knows (a big problem in the AAGPBL because of its strict ‘no fraternizing with the enemy’ policy) but, when she puts on her Sweetheart uniform, she is all business. Sara plays hard and she plays mean from the first out to the last.
“Moving to the infield, patrolling third base, the ‘hot corner’, all the way from Alabama, this Dixie darlin’ is so good with the glove, I don’t think the other team is gonna get too many line drives past the girl with Number 3 on her back … Sweet Sadie!”
Sadie waves her well-worn glove at the fans, flashing a dazzling smile and a wink aimed at the two young men who seem to always be sitting in the same two seats in the stands by third base at every home game. She coyly stretches out her leg, places her foot on the third base sack and makes a show out of adjusting her short uniform skirt.
“Did you say uniform ‘skirt’, Grandma?”
“Yep, you heard me right. See, not only were the girls supposed to play baseball, they were also supposed to put fannies in the seats. And can you think of a better way to do that than by putting short skirts on pretty girls and telling them to flaunt what they got?” And flaunt it they do. The girls are forced to go to charm school and learn all about proper etiquette. There are endless ‘cheesecake’ photo sessions of them putting on makeup, wearing party dresses, showing just enough skin to drive a red-blooded American boy to distraction straight to the ticket counter for the next game. And the next.
“You’ve all heard the expression that dynamite comes in small packages. Well, this little lady is four-foot eleven-inches of pure TNT!”
The Sisseton second baseman lets out a sarcastic laugh and mutters, “More like pure cow shit!”
Storm continued, “Playing shortstop, Number 1, and coming to us from Canada, give a big hand for the little lady from up North … Marie!”
The petite blonde shortstop stands rooted to the spot, her blue eyes firing daggers at her teammate who is perched on second base, studiously doing her best to ignore her.
“You’ve all watched our second baseman grow up from a little girl on the playground … ”
Marie calls out, “ … to a little bitch on the ballfield!”
“They call her Nightbreeze … ”
“I call her Asshole.”
“Fuck you, Marie,” the girl at second base hisses.
“Damn it, you two,” Sisseton manager Tony Walters hollers from the dugout steps. “Knock that bullshit off or I’m turning the hose on the both of you!”
“Number 9 … Sisseton’s own … Laurie!”
Laurie stands by second base and waves to the crowd. Marie hawks a gob and spits it at Laurie’s legs, making her jump. Laurie sticks out her tongue at the blonde and kicks dirt at her.
Even though they play side by side, Marie and Laurie barely tolerate each other. No one knows why, least of all Marie and Laurie. It isn’t anything specific; right from the get-go they just rubbed each other the wrong way. But that sure didn’t stop them from becoming one of the best double-play combos in the league. It also didn’t stop them from hurling nasty little comments back and forth between games, on long bus rides or late at night in some rooming house on the road.
“The shortest girl in the league playin’ shortstop. It fits. We got ourselves a munchkin on the team!” This comes from Laurie, who isn’t very much bigger than Marie herself.
“Makes sense Laurie is playin’ second base. She never let a guy get there in her whole life!” This comes from Marie and results in a furious Laurie throwing a bottle of Peach Nehi at the little Canadian blonde. It misses and splashes pop all over the sports page that team manager Walters is reading. After a good long display of old-fashioned country cussing from Tony and muttered apologies from the two girls, the matter is dropped. But not forgotten.
“Over at first base, the anchor of the infield, this girl’s skill with the glove makes the other infielders look good and has saved them a bunch of throwing errors. From Detroit, Michigan, by way of South Africa … Number 14 … Kayla!”
Kayla, the tall first baseman, stretches her long legs to take a practice throw from Sadie over at third, scooping the ball up out of the dirt like a Hoover vacuum cleaner. Then she kicks up her leg, tosses the ball high in the air and catches it in her cap as the fans in the stands cheer.
“Behind the plate, this girl is the on-field general of the team. It’s her job to work hand-in-hand with the pitcher, and to always let her teammates know the correct number of outs in every inning. Another South African who came to America to play ball, the catcher … Number 11 … Jessika!”
Crouching behind the plate, Jessika takes the final warm-up throw from the pitcher, straightens up and fires a bullet out to second base that lands in Laurie’s glove with such force, it sounds like a gunshot and causes the second baseman to wince, pull her glove off and wring her hand in pain.
“All the way out in right field is … Number 13 … the right fielder.”
The right fielder tips her cap.
“And on the mound, the ace of the Sweetheart pitching staff, this young lady means business. Do not mess with her because if you do, you just might end up eating dirt right before she strikes you out and sends you back to the bench. Here she is … Number 18 … Justine!”
He isn’t joking, either. Off the field, Justine can be as nice as nice can be. But, on the mound, she is meaner than cat shit and a damn sight nastier. It is whispered around the league that she would probably throw at her grandmother’s head to win a ballgame. But her teammates know better. She wouldn’t throw at her grandma’s head. But she sure would throw at her grandma’s knees.
Right now, Justine is pawing the dirt on the mound as Jessika crouches down behind home plate, the umpire settles in behind her and the leadoff batter for the Princesses, a long-legged blonde named Kasia, walks up to hit.
The Parker Prairie chaperone, Stevie Foster, stands on the top step of the dugout clapping her hands and calling out words of encouragement to her hitter. The manager of the team, an ancient pot-bellied man who had played a total of two games in the major leagues around the turn of the century, is fast asleep on the bench in the corner of the dugout. It is no secret around the league that he is a manager in name only and that Stevie runs the team her way. She is doing a pretty good job at it too. In the first couple of months of the season, her girls have won more than their fair share of ballgames, by hook or by crook.
But the gossip quickly spread that Stevie was much more concerned with how well her girls looked out on the field as opposed to how well they played. She once made a request to league officials that nylon stockings be made a mandatory part of the girls’ uniforms. This request was met with wide-eyed astonishment followed by loud raucous laughter.
“Don’t you know there’s a war on?!” sputtered one of the owners, who privately wouldn’t have minded seeing a bunch of pretty girls running around the field in nylons but there was no way in hell he was going to pay for them.
Another was more practical. “It’s out of the question. We couldn’t afford to replace them if they get torn. One slide and they would be ruined.”
Stevie had an answer ready. “My girls won’t slide.”
“And they won’t win either,” mumbled the first owner and the nylon debate ended on that note.
Kasia takes a couple practice swings and then steps into the batter’s box. Jessika flashes the sign, Justine goes into her windup and throws a smoking fastball right down the middle of the plate that Kasia watches smack loudly into Jessika’s mitt.
The umpire bellows, “Stee-rike one!”
The hometown fans let out a roar of approval and the game is underway.
On the next pitch, Kasia squares away at the last minute and drops a bunt toward first base. Both Kayla and Justine charge toward the slowly rolling ball. Kayla gets there first. She scoops it up with her bare hand, whirls around and throws it to Laurie who had hurried over to cover first base. The throw beats the speedy Kasia by a half step but she veers toward Laurie and slams into her hard to try to knock the ball loose. Laurie ends up on her ass but the ball stays in her glove. The crowd starts to boo but they quickly turn to cheers when the on-field umpire hollers, “You’re out!”
Laurie picks herself up and brushes the dirt from her uniform. She calls out, “Better luck next time, bitch!”
Kasia, who is trotting back to the Parker Prairie dugout, turns her head and snaps back, “Next time I’m gonna knock your ass clear into the outfield, bitch!”
As Kasia leaves the field and the next batter is walking to the plate, Marie hollers over to Laurie, “Next time you better ram that ball right into her stinking teeth!”
“I know what I gotta do, Marie,” Laurie spat. “You don’t have to tell me nothin’!”
Manager Walters and chaperone Jenn Peccavi are standing in front of the Sisseton bench. Tony shakes his fist at the Princesses as he yells, “That was a damn bush league stunt!”
Stevie Foster gives him a smug condescending grin. “That’s called aggressive baseball, Mr. Walters. If your girls can’t handle it, they can just go home.” The Parker Prairie manager snores and drools in his sleep.
Jenn Peccavi turns to Tony and mutters, “There’s going to be trouble.”
“That should have been our first warning.”The first inning and the top of the second end with no more disturbances.
PRINCESSES 00
SWEETHEARTS 0
With one out in the Sisseton half of the second, Jessika hits a screaming line drive between Parker Prairie left fielder Steph and center fielder Kasia. By the time they retrieve the ball and throw it back in to the infield, Jessika is standing on second base with a double.
Sadie, the next batter, hits a ground ball right at the shortstop; a young girl named Candy, who is the newest Princess playing her first game with the team. Jessika, running with the pitch, distracts the rookie as she rushes past her and the ball bounces off the side of Candy’s glove. To make it worse, Candy kicks the ball into short left field with her trailing foot. Jessika never breaks stride, rounding third and heading for home as manager Walters waves his arms wildly from the top dugout step and Candy hurries after the rolling ball.
Meanwhile, Sadie is standing on first base and she sees the shortstop chasing down the ball. She also knows the play is going to be at the plate so she takes off for second. With attention focused on Candy picking up the ball and Jessika galloping toward home, no one sees Ami, the Princess second baseman, stick her foot out and trip Sadie as she runs by her. Sadie pitches forward and crashes into the dirt. Ami, a look of supreme innocence on her face, moves back a couple of steps as Jessika crosses the plate with the game’s first run, just beating the desperate throw from the rookie shortstop. Ami calls for the ball and the Parker Prairie catcher pegs it to her just as Sadie is slowly getting to her feet. With a satisfied smirk, Ami pushes her glove with the ball in it against Sadie’s ribs and whispers, “Next time be more careful, sweetie!”
Sadie flushes angrily as the umpire calls her out. Her two biggest fans, who are in their usual seats next to the visitor’s dugout and who follow her every move, are probably the only people in the stands who saw Ami trip their favorite player. They both immediately pop up and start screaming at the umpire with their shrill reedy voices. Their faces grow red and their flapping waving arms make them look like a pair of spastic flamingos but the rest of the crowd drowns out their cries of protest. They eventually give up and slump back down in their seats as Sadie jogs back to the bench, flings her cap down in frustration and sits down, fuming, her arms crossed. Having missed the incident, Tony walks over to her with the intent of chewing her out for a bonehead play. But one look at her angry face and dirty uniform make him realize that something out of the ordinary must have happened.
“Anything you wanna tell me?” he asks her in a quieter voice.
“No, Skip,” Sadie answers, her eyes on the still smirking Parker Prairie second baseman. “I’ll take care of it myself.”
Tony follows her gaze, then turns his attention to the Princess bench where Stevie Foster is adjusting the skirt of one of her reserve players.
“This shit ends right now!” Tony mutters as he stomps up the steps out onto the grass. Calling time out, he quickly limps over to the visitor’s dugout, favoring his gimpy left knee that had cut his promising major league career short. He is followed by chaperone Jenn Peccavi. Stevie gives a very quick glance in their direction, then turns her attention back to her player’s uniform.
“You want to make sure your socks are pulled all the way up, as high as they go, right below your knees. It’s more sophisticated and elegant and it also makes your legs look longer and sexier. You’re a Princess, girl. Dress like one! … Yes, what is it, Mr. Walters?”
“I don’t know what happened out there at second base, ‘Your Majesty’, but I’m warning you it better stop!”
“You’re warning me?” Stevie laughs. “Is it my fault your girls are so clumsy and uncouth that they keep falling all over themselves out there? Accidents happen, Mr. Walters, and you’d better make sure one doesn’t happen to you, with your bad leg and all.”
Tony’s face get beet red and you can see the veins bulging in his neck. Odds are, he would have gone after Stevie right then and there if the strong calming hand of Jenn Peccavi on his arm hadn’t stopped him. She maneuvers him away from the Parker Prairie dugout as the home-plate umpire joins them.
“Is there a problem, Tony?” he asks.
Still seething, Tony whirls at him. “Yeah, there’s a problem. Why don’t you get your head outta your ass and keep an eye on all the shit goin’ on and there wouldn’t be a problem!”
Jenn pulls him away quickly before things get even worse and they go back to their dugout, leaving Stevie smiling triumphantly and the umpire scratching his head.
The Sisseton right fielder pops out to Jess, the Parker Prairie third baseman, to end the inning.
“There was warning number two.”PRINCESSES 000
SWEETHEARTS 010
Stevie’s daughter Heidi leads off the top of the fourth. The Sisseton players start in immediately with the usual insulting chatter.
“No batter no batter no batter no batter!”
“Easy out! Everybody move in, she couldn’t hit the ball with a shovel!”
“She’s a-scared of ya, Justine! She don’t wanna get in there an’ hit!”
“Look at her! She’s more worried about breakin’ a nail!”
Justine stands on the mound and glares at the blonde in the batter’s box who has just asked the umpire for a time out AGAIN, the second one in this at bat. The catcalls from the fans grow loud as the blonde fusses with her skirt, pulling it up, tugging it down. A few wolf whistles and loud “Yowzas” can be heard mixed in with the boos. The primping blonde pulls off her cap and makes a big show of fluffing her pigtails as she winks and blows kisses at the leering grinning farm boys and uniformed soldiers and sailors.
Finally, Jonica has had enough. And she lets everyone in the park know it.
“Oh, for crying out loud, Foster! If you don’t haul your prissy ass in the damn batter’s box in two seconds, I’m coming in there and kicking it all over the park!”
The Sweethearts all try to hide their smiles behind their mitts. Some fail. One or two even laugh out loud, along with the fans in the stands. In the Sweetheart dugout, manager Walters forgets how pissed off he is for a minute. He leans back on the bench, lowers his cap over his eyes and let outs a laugh that he tries to mask with a not very realistic sounding cough. Jenn Peccavi rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Even though she is just as exasperated as her players and the hometown fans by the antics of the pig-tailed blonde, she knows the strict rules set down by the league officials: The girls must try to be ladylike at all times. She knows there is an official at the game today. And that both teams are probably on thin ice because of all the crap that already happened. She prays that he didn’t heard Jonica’s outburst. She leans forward, cranes her neck to peer into the stands and heaves a relieved sigh. The league official, a jovial man with a bulbous spidery veined nose and perfectly round belly, is laughing uproariously at something his neighbor just said.
Over in the visiting team’s dugout, the Princesses hurl angry catcalls back at the brash center fielder. Jonica smiles sweetly, blows them a kiss and then quickly gives the entire Parker Prairie team the finger. Her teammates laugh, the fans cheer, Jenn Peccavi groans and mutters, “Well, that’s just dandy!”
Her primping finally finished, Heidi steps in to hit. Jessika flashes the signal, Justine nods, goes into her windup and throws a high and tight fastball at the blonde’s head (commonly known as ‘chin music’). Heidi’s cap goes one way, her bat goes another way and she hits the dirt in a very unladylike manner as she bails out of the batter’s box.
“Aw, did you get your precious uniform all dirty, princess?” Jessika laughs as she throws the ball back to Justine. Heidi bites her lip and pouts as she gets back to her feet, picks up her bat and jams her cap back on her head haphazardly. Forgetting to primp for once or even dust herself off, the determined blonde steps back into the batter’s box, taps her bat on home plate and gets ready to hit.
Jessika winks at Justine. Justine nods, winds up, rears back and gives Heidi a second chorus of ‘chin music’, sending her right back into the dirt. This is too much for her mom to take. Stevie storms out of the dugout, her skirt swishing as she strides over to the home-plate umpire, screeching every step of the way. She and Heidi doubleteam the poor fellow, giving him a double earful of bitching.
“Didn’t you see that? She threw at my daughter’s head!”
“She – She coulda hit me in my face! Omigod! My face! I don’t even wanna think about what coulda happened if she did!”
“She did it on purpose too!”
From the mound, Justine calls out, “I did not! My grip slipped!”
Heidi stamps her foot. “Twice?!”
Stevie folds her arms as she glares at the still silent umpire. “I demand you do something. Right this instant! Throw that animal out of the game!”
“Oh, shut the hell up, Stevie,” Jenn Peccavi snaps as she joins the group with Tony Walters. “Stop your whining! There’s no whining in baseball!”
Tony adds, “Accidents happen, don’t you remember? If your girl can’t handle it, she can just go home.”
The umpire cuts in before Stevie can answer. “Accident or not, let’s try real hard to make sure that was the last one. And I’m sending the band home, I don’t want any more chin music. From either team. Got it? Good! Now let’s play ball.”
Heidi sticks out her lower lip as she stomps back to home plate. Justine was keeping her arm loose throwing warm-up pitches. Having restored order, the umpire pulls his mask down and takes his position behind the catcher. Heidi is so furious; the only thought in her mind is to knock the ball down Justine’s throat. She takes two mighty swings at the next two pitches and catches nothing but air. The next pitch is high and about a foot outside. Heidi lunges at it and swings with such force that the bat flies out of her hands and sails directly at Justine’s knees like a whirling wooden propeller. The pitcher has to leap in the air as the bat whizzes past her and lands in the grass in front of second base. Marie walks over from her shortstop position and picks up the bat.
Even though she just struck out, Heidi has a smirk on her face as she skips back to the dugout. Just before she goes down the steps, she turns to Justine and mouths the word “Oops”. Justine rushes over to Marie, snatches the bat from her hand and would have charged the Parker Prairie dugout if Kayla hadn’t been there to restrain her.
“Cool down, Justine,” the first baseman urges. “You don’t want to get thrown out of the game, do you?” She leads the pitcher back to the mound and stays there with her just in case Justine tried another mad dash.
“And that was the third warning. There was no doubt about it anymore. All hell was about to break loose and all the angels in heaven couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.”PRINCESSES 000 00
SWEETHEARTS 010 02
It happened in the sixth inning. Sisseton had scored two more runs in the bottom of the fifth. Marie led off with a walk and advanced to second base when Jonica followed with a sharp single right at Princess left fielder Steph. Justine moved the runners up with a perfect sacrifice bunt and Kayla drove them both home with a double.
But she was left stranded on second when Parker Prairie pitcher Jenna settled down and retired the next two batters.
Leading off the sixth, Candy the rookie is determined to make up for her fielding miscue. And she does, by hitting a line drive single over the head of tiny Marie at shortstop.
“That’s what happens when you have a midget on your team,” cackles a Princess from their bench.
“A normal sized girl woulda caught that easy,” adds a second one.
Marie kicks at the dirt and mutters under her breath as she forces herself to focus on the game and not the taunts from the other team. Candy is being careful, not taking a big lead off first base as Kasia steps in to hit. It becomes a duel as the pesky blonde fouls off four pitches and finally bloops a single down the right field line, with Candy stopping at second. Heidi sacrifices the runners to second and third with a perfect bunt to Kayla at first base.
The next batter is Jenna, the pitcher, who is also a dangerous hitter. With one out, the outfielders move back a step. Sara in left field and the right fielder protect the foul lines as Justine throws the first pitch, a fastball on the outside part of the plate. Jenna watches it go back and the umpire calls out, “Strike one!”
Justine tries to throw the next pitch in the same spot but she’s more than a little bit off. Jenna’s eyes light up as the pitch comes in, like a meatball, right across the heart of the plate. She swings and connects, hitting a high drive to deep left center, between Sara and Jonica. The “Bayou Bird Dog” takes off like a shot, running at full speed and just barely manages to get her glove on the ball as it starts to come down for a sensational catch, robbing Jenna of at least a double. Without breaking stride, she flips the ball to Sara who is in perfect position to throw the ball back to the infield. Candy and Kasia, who both started running when Jenna made contact, now slam on the brakes and scramble back to second and third so they don’t get doubled off. Sara throws the ball to second base where Laurie stands waiting for it.
And that’s when it happens. The straw that breaks the camel’s back. The flame that lights the fuse on the keg of dynamite. The move that triggers the great Fourth of July Basebrawl of 1943.
Running at full speed back to second, Kasia sees Laurie waiting for Sara’s throw. She launches herself like a rocket at the second baseman, spearing her as ball and blonde arrive at the exact same second. The ball bounces off Laurie’s glove as Kasia’s shoulder drives into her ribs sending them both crashing in a writhing ball in the dirt. Candy sees the ball rolling away and dashes for home plate, scoring the first run of the game for the Princesses. But Kasia isn’t getting up. She can’t. Laurie may have gotten the wind knocked out of her but she still manages to grab hold of the blonde’s uniform blouse and hangs on for dear life as she starts flailing wild punches at Kasia’s face. Kasia retaliates with some punches of her own and the two girls continue to roll around, kicking up clouds of dirt as the Sisseton players hurry in from their positions and the Parker Prairie players leave their bench and rush the field.
Ami never makes it to second base. She never even gets on the playing field. Sadie is watching her like a hawk and she wastes no time paying Ami back for the earlier play. She tackles the Princess on the sidelines right in front of the dugout, to the absolute delight of her two biggest fans.
While some of the girls either pile on or try to stop the melee at second base, other individual skirmishes start up all over the field as players decide this is the perfect time to settle personal grudges.
After scoring the run and seeing the fight break out between Kasia and Laurie, Candy is the first Princess to reach the tussling pair. She tries to pull Laurie off her teammate by grabbing the Sweetheart by her hair and yanking viciously. Laurie lets out a yelp of pain as her head is jerked up and back. Kasia bucks up hard and pushes Laurie off her. From out of nowhere … well, that’s not really true, it was actually from out in left field … Sara comes to the aid of her struggling screaming teammate. She roughly grabs Candy in a headlock and pulls her away from Laurie. Then she thrusts out her hip and flips the rookie over it. Candy lands on her butt in the dirt and, with the meanest wickedest look on her pretty face that anyone has ever seen, Sara kicks the Princess in the back as hard as she can. She hisses “Welcome to the league, bitch!” as Candy arches her back and lets out a howl.
Meanwhile, Kasia has jumped on top of Laurie and the two of them engage in some mutual hairpulling and faceslapping. Marie and Kayla reach them and try to pull them apart, while getting in some hard punches and kicks on Kasia at the same time. But help is on the way for the beleaguered Princess being triple-teamed by the angry Sweethearts.
The shortest Princess, Jess the third baseman from New Jersey, appropriately targets the shortest Sweetheart Marie. The two mighty mites square off on the grass and flail wild punches and kicks at each other before they lock up and start tussling. Marie trips Jess and the Princess lands on her back on the grass with the blonde straddling her. But a hard knee into her back from Jess causes Marie to pitch forward and allows the brunette to wriggle free.
Jonica trots in from the outfield looking for someone to hit when, out of the corner of her eye, she spots Jenna making a beeline right for her. “You’re so tough and bad, giving me the finger from way out in the outfield,” the pitcher snarls through her gritted teeth. “Let’s see you back up your finger with the rest of you!”
The Cajun girl snaps back, “You want it, you got it!” She flings her glove at the pitcher’s face. Jenna reaches a hand up to smack it away, giving Jonica the opportunity to rush her and tackle her but Jenna has the presence of mind to wrap her arm around Jonica’s neck, pressing her head tight against her body as they both hit the grass.
Left fielder Steph jumps on Kayla’s back and wraps her arms around the tall first baseman’s neck. Kayla staggers back a couple of steps and leans forward, reaching both hands up to flip Steph over her head but the Princess wraps her legs around the Sweetheart’s waist and locks her ankles, hanging on for dear life. Kayla lurches around as she tugs at Steph’s arm but her grip is too tight and the first baseman is forced to her knees.
Heidi gets two steps across the foul line but stops short when she sees Justine thundering toward her with murder in her eyes. “Oh, crud!” the pig-tailed blonde squeals and she takes off running toward left field with the Sweetheart pitcher in hot pursuit.
Stevie is jumping up and down by the dugout, shrieking like a crazed banshee. She grabs Maya, the Princess catcher, by the wrist. “Maya, do something! Please! She’s gonna murder my baby girl!” With her shin guard still in her hand, the catcher chases after Justine who is gaining on Heidi out in the outfield.
Jessika, the Sisseton brunette catcher, and Natasha, the Parker Prairie blonde first baseman, haven’t liked each other since the very first game of the season and need very little reason or excuse to go at it. And that’s exactly what they do now. Right in the dirt on the pitcher’s mound.
The air is filled with cries, squeals, moans, curses, gasps, more curses, a high pitched wail of terror from the outfield, and even more curses.
The crowd loves the unexpected sideshow. Most of the crowd, anyway. Some mothers try to shield the eyes of their children who crane their heads to move away from the hands blocking their vision. The soldiers and sailors on military leave jump up and down in excitement, pounding each other on the back. They know they’ll have a hell of a story to tell their buddies when they get back to their units. Farm boys hoot and howl like rabid wolves. The Sisseton Fire Brigade Band plays
When The Saints Go Marching In as the fans clap along and stamp their feet. The fat AAGPBL official gapes in wide-eyed and open-mouthed wonder at the war happening on the field. “Girls fighting in public,” he thinks to himself. “There might be some money to be made on this.”
Peanuts, empty Cracker Jack boxes, drinking cups and other assorted garbage flies onto the field from the stands. A half-eaten hot dog land in the grass near Sadie and Ami. Sadie grabs it and evilly smushes it into the face of the shocked and furious Princess.
Laurie manages to get up to her hands and knees but Kasia is sitting on her back. The blonde laughs as she rides the squirming bucking Sweetheart like a pony, with one hand snarled in Laurie’s hair and the other smacking her in the butt.
Marie and Jess are locked in a death struggle, rolling around in the grass. Neither gives an inch as first Jess gets top position, then Marie. Their faces grow red from the exertion and from the force of the hard slaps they’re trading.
Sara drags a kicking screaming Candy around by her hair as the rookie flails her arms wildly, scratching and clawing. The Princess finally pulls free and scrambles to her feet, her eyes filled with tears. In a blind rage, she charges Sara who easily sidesteps her like a matador and kicks her in her butt as she passes by.
Steph has Kayla on the ground now, still riding her back with her arm pressed against the Sweetheart’s neck and her legs wrapped around her waist. As she tugs at Steph’s ankles, Kayla manages to pull her baseball shoe off her foot. She smacks the cleats of the shoe against Steph’s arm while she bends back the toes of the Princess.
Over on the mound, Natasha has Jessika in trouble. The Sisseton catcher is on her back and the blonde yanks her chest protector up over her face. She takes full advantage of her blinded victim as she rains down a flurry of punches.
Jenna has Jonica facedown on the ground as she sits on the Cajun girl’s back and grinds her face into the grass. Jonica kicks her legs wildly and slaps at Jenna blindly but the pitcher just laughs and yells, “Give me the finger now, bitch!” And Jonica does. With both hands.
Heidi is still galloping across the outfield followed by Justine who is followed by Maya. The Sisseton Fire Brigade Band switches songs and starts a rousing rendition of the
William Tell Overture. In total bewilderment, the Sweetheart right fielder stands in right field and watches Heidi whizz by, followed by Justine, followed by Maya, who is swatting at Justine with her shin guard.
All the noise finally wakes up the Parker Prairie manager. He yawns, stretches, scratches himself and blinks out at the field. Then he shuffles up the steps and onto the grass to try to break up the fight in front of the dugout. All he gets for his efforts are a couple of nasty kicks in the shin, one by Ami, one by Sadie. This makes him yowl in pain and hop up and down with one leg in the air and his round belly bouncing. Tony Walters and Jenn Peccavi work as a team but they aren’t having very much success. As soon as they pull two fighters apart and move on to the next skirmish, the first two rip into each other all over again.
A totally frenzied Stevie Foster rushes to the two umpires who are huddled behind home plate far away from the chaos. “What are you standing back here for, you useless cretins?!” she shrieks at the top of her lungs. “Go out there and do something! If any of my girls get hurt, you’ll pay, so help me!”
A firm hand clamps down on her shoulder, jerking her around forcefully. She turns and comes face to face with an unsmiling Jenn Peccavi. Face to face? More like face to fist. Stevie’s face and Jenn’s fist. Seconds later, Stevie is sprawled out in the dirt at the feet of the umpires.
Jenn smiles. “I’ve been waiting to do that a long long time.”
It takes the combined efforts of the umpires, the team managers, a few very eager volunteers from the stands and the voice of Stormy Storm blasting from the loudspeakers to finally put an end to the insanity. The umpires and the league official hold a quick conference and decide to call the game before another round of fights break out. Since the Sweethearts were leading 3-1 when the brawl erupted, the game is awarded to them. Stevie is carried off the field. The still seething players file into their clubhouses to shower and change. The fans leave Bossy Field chattering about the game and the fights they just saw. Stormy wishes everyone a Happy Fourth and tells them to drive safe and don’t forget to come back tomorrow for more exciting AAGPBL action.
The Great BaseBrawl of 1943 was finally over.
Or so we all thought.
It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
