Mercer University in Atlanta - Phoenix Yearbook (Atlanta, GA)

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The Trip Back The clock on the office wall read 11:45 as the manager of the team picked up the phone. Hello, Mr. Johnson? Yes, I know Fred's fastball is gone. Yes, we've told him to lose weight . . . Mr. Johnson, l hate it, but we'll have to let him go. I let him hang around after the first cut because, well, you know how popular he was. I even liked him myself and I kept hoping for . . . yes, sir. First thing tomorrow morning. Can you go over with me? He's staying at the Oak Street Boarding House. The same place he stayed during his first camp in '56, kind of a sentimental thing. But, there's no use in his showing up for practice No, I'd rather tell him personally, sir Yes, sir. Good night It was 5:30 when Fred woke up. lt was still dark, so he switched on the little table lamp. The light rays shone on an old picture of Fred, taken the day that he struck out 14 batters. He'd make it again, just wait and see . . . No, he thought. Those days are over. You ought to give up and go home now. The sky was just getting light when Fred, suitcase in hand, walked out of the boarding house. How different the old place looked from the big city hotels he used to stay in. He'd stay there again, but not as a baseball player. He might be a salesman or a . . . or what? What could he do? Aw, no need to worry about that. There'd be jobs enough back home. Matter of fact, he'd almost taken one last winter. There would be other good things, too. No more hopping from city to city every few days. No more games. He could have a home year round. It was what Becki had always wanted, and now he could offer it to her. g r Well, here he was at the bus depot. He'd buy a ticket and wait. Should he call the manager? Shucks, No - he'd still be asleep, Fred figured. Oh, well, l can call him later. As the bus pulled out, the team's manager and Vice-President were driving toward the boarding house through the early morning fog. I sure hate to tell himf boss. He's washed out, Shorty. Yeah, but - I waited two years and a month on 'Yeah but's'. We havento let him go. Maybe we can use him as a coach somewhere, but he just can't cut it this year . . . Look out, Shorty! I declare, if you managed xlike you drove, I'd be firing you instead of Phillips! . Well, I didn't see the bus pulling out! How about watching it? Okay, okay. Looking out the window, Fred mused, I wonder what those fellows were thinking about. They sure weren't watching the road. And the red lights of the bus sped on and were gently swallowed in the fog. ' Ray Coleman

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