Page 68 of Force At Third

“Gonna be difficult to walk away from the game.”

“You planning to retire?” I ask.

“Got a few things I’m considering.”

“Like?”

“Coaching would be really cool.”

I look up from my screen. “How’s that working between Bennett Jr. and Sr.?”

He sucks in a breath between his teeth.

“Right.” I nod. “I knew something didn’t look kosher between them. Tonight, I was pretty sure it was Jr. He seems?—”

“Angry?” he asks, and I nod. “I thought so, too. Like maybe a spoiled rich kid who thought he was above everyone, like all your college friends.”

“Ew, let’s not.”

“Moving on.” He smiles. “But no, he’s a good kid. He’s a great pitcher. What he lacks in passion for the game, he makes up for in the desire to prove to everyone who may assume what I did that he’s got mad skill.”

“You’ve always wanted to see the best in people”—I shake my head—“so maybe?—”

“No way. Back it up. I was on the fence about him until the other night at O’Donnell’s when I saw him talking to what’s left of the Jersey Ballbusters. They don’t talk to anyone. But every few seasons, they pick a player who they let into their little circle, and he was there.”

“The what?” I laugh.

“They’re old and grumpy as fuck. You know those two old guys from the Muppets. Waldorf and Statler?”

“Only because I took a psych class, and there is a syndrome named after them.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Explain.”

I shrug. “Openly critical of others’ efforts?”

“Exactly. I have a shit game, and they do a whole roundtable bit about it.”

“They sound like?—”

“The coolest guys, seriously.” His eyes light up.

I shake my head. “No. Just no.”

“I have a great game, and they’re my biggest fans.”

“I mean, you do you, but you think Bennett can handle it?”

“I think he needs it. He needs to know that people who are nice to him aren’t being that way because of his dad and flip that shit the other way. People are dicks, and it’s not because of his dad either.”

“So, Waldorf and Statler.” I roll my eyes.

“Archie and Oscar are still kicking, too. Lost one at the end of last season.”

“I’m sorry.”

We talk baseball and Walton, and he asks a million questions about my work until … well, until Marks wakes me up.

“Oh my God, I fell asleep and?—”

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