Do Baseball Owners Dream of Playing Baseball?

[Arroyos]

Do Baseball Owners Dream of Playing Baseball?


Slummings did not sleep well.

He tossed, he turned, he had to get up to go to the bathroom, which required permission from the orderly assigned to the ward for the night, and then the young man insisted on escorting the white bearded owner of the Arroyos up the sloping hallway to the men’s room and waiting outside while Slummings did what Slummings had to do.

His fingers tingled and he sighed deeply when he was done. He had waited too long, lying there in a room full of snoring men, unsure where the bathroom was or whether he’d be yelled at the moment his feet touched the cold cement floor. But now, as he shook off, he almost felt human again. Strange, he thought, how needing to pee can make your hands and toes ache with pain until you do, and then tingle afterwards like when your extremities are “asleep.” At least that’s what we call it, he thought, stretching his fingers out in front of him, but they’re not asleep, it’s more like recovering from paralysis, from not feeling at all. Insensate, that was the word he wanted, and what a word. His whole body felt insensate, his mind felt insensate, and as he staggered back to the ward the orderly had to grab his elbow to keep him from falling.

“Slippery floor,” the young man said, but Slummings knew it wasn’t the floor slipping, it was him. He was losing sensation in his legs and feet, they were going to sleep, even as he stumbled the last few steps to his bed.

He was asleep so quickly he forgot to pull the covers up over himself. And the sleep he slept was a deep sleep, like falling into an endless mine shaft, nothing but darkness all around, no sense of falling, just … nothing.

Then someone leaned over his bed, a large shadowy figure. He could feel their breath on his face. They smelled funny, like … like nothing he’d ever smelled before. And then they were reaching for him, reaching in slow motion, and he struggled to move, to put his hands up, but his limbs were fast asleep, his whole body was insensate, and he wanted to open his mouth to scream, but his muscles wouldn’t respond, his mouth wouldn’t open, he couldn’t make a sound, and he began to writhe on the narrow bed. He forced his mouth to open a little, pushing his jaw muscles to spread enough for sound to come out, but none did. He sucked in air and forced it out like he was bellowing, like a cow forced down the chute in the slaughterhouse, he pushed, he screamed, he bellowed, but no sound came out. The shadow covered him, its arms reached for him, and he tried one more time to scream out a word, a name, anything, and he could hear, as if underwater or a great distance away, the hollow sound of an animal dying, moaning its last moan, and he knew it was himself he heard, he knew it, he understood it, and so he gave up, gave it all up, gave in to the darkness.

Someone was shaking him. “Mr. Slummings, Mr. Slummings, wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”

And he woke and saw the orderly leaning over him, the same one who’d escorted him to the men’s room, and he reached out to grab him, to thank the young man for saving him, but he still couldn’t move his arms, couldn’t speak, could only moan again.

“It’s okay,” the orderly said and held him by the shoulders. And he shook, an old man shaking in the arms of a younger one, he shook and he moaned and he cried and then he fell back asleep, just like that.

And though he didn’t know it, the orderly lay him back down in his bed, pulled the covers up over his ancient legs, and then stood over him until he was certain that whatever demons had frightened this old man did not return.

In the morning, when Slummings awoke, light streamed in through the east-facing windows and men in beds all around him rose, put on their slippers, maybe a ratty old bathrobe, and staggered, stumbled, and slid their way out of the ward and into the hallway. Slummings didn’t move, he just watched. He was afraid if he tried to move that his legs wouldn’t respond, his body would just lie there inert, and he wasn’t ready to face that fear.

The young orderly walked down the length of the ward, helping the old men put on their robes, telling them all that pancakes were waiting for them in the cafeteria. When he got to Slummings’ bed, he stood at the end and smiled.

“How are you this morning?” he asked.

Slummings smiled and said something, he didn’t know what, he was simply surprised that he could speak.

“Can I help you up?” the orderly asked.

“Yes,” Slummings said, and then, without help, he slipped his legs off the bed and found himself in a sitting position. The orderly took his elbow and helped him stand. For a moment, Slummings felt like he would fall over if the young man removed his hand, but the feeling passed, all feeling passed, and yet, all feeling returned, his legs were no long insensate, he could feel his weight upon his feet and he lifted a hand, just to see it move, and it did. He smiled, amazed that his face muscles worked again, so he smiled some more, a grand smile, like a man who has just discovered the earth’s richest vein of gold.

Slummings smiled.

And with the help of the young orderly, he stumbled, then slid, and finally walked, slowly, out of the ward and up the long, sloping hallway toward breakfast.

Not a bad start for the day, Slummings thought.

“What’d you say?” the orderly asked.

Slummings wasn’t aware he’d spoken. “Nothing, just … I think it’s going to be a good day.”

“I hope so,” the orderly said. “After the night you had, you deserve it.”

And the young man and old man walked, arm in arm, down the long hallway. Halfway to the cafeteria, they met a nurse coming out of another ward. After exchanging greetings with the orderly, she turned to Slummings and said, “How’d our newest patient survive his first night?”

“I survived it,” Slummings said, “that’s enough, isn’t it?”

The nurse nodded and joined the two males on the trek to breakfast. After a moment, she asked, “So, do baseball players dream about baseball?”

Slummings laughed. The orderly laughed. Then the nurse laughed too, and said, “Silly question, I guess.”

Up the hallway they walked in apparent agreement that, yes, it was indeed a silly question.

[Borealis]

After exchanging greetings with the orderly, she turned to Slummings and said, “How’d our newest patient survive his first night?”

Uh, oh... Run, Taffy, Run...

[Arroyos]

After exchanging greetings with the orderly, she turned to Slummings and said, “How’d our newest patient survive his first night?”

Uh, oh... Run, Taffy, Run...

He’s too old to run.

[Borealis]

Crawl, Taffy... Crawl...

[Arroyos]

Crawl, Taffy... Crawl...

[Sandgnats]

Slummings is a guy you could have a beer with.