Maybe Just Maybe They Were

Crackerjack dept.

“There’s a fastball swung on and missed and the count is oh-and-two,” said Phelps.

The crowd was quiet. You could hear the “thunk” of the ball being returned to the pitcher’s glove.

“That’s inside for a ball; he was lucky to lean out of the way,” said Phelps.

The two old men, Phelps and Kingery, sat slumped over, elbows on knees.

“Comes in with the overhand curve, and it’s raked over third, that looks like two for sure. Clayton is around first and slows up into second with a standup double.”

The crowd cheered, buzzed and settled.

“Clayton dusting himself off as he takes a moderate lead off of second,” said Phelps, “let’s see if the batter elects to lay one down.”

“Look,” said Kingery, “why don’t you just shut up?”

“What do you mean?” said Phelps, “I didn’t think I was bothering you.”

“If I wanted the play-by-play I would’ve brought a radio, for Chrissakes.”

They were silent for almost half an inning.

“Excuse me very much,” said Phelps.

Kingery just grunted.

“Didn’t know I was ruining the game for you.”

Kingery made a face. “It’s just annoying.”

“Well sorry!” growled Phelps, “I’ll never do it again! I’ll just come here and shut up so you can have your good time.”

Kingery said nothing.

The Crackerjack vendor came by.

“Crackerjack!” he called.

“Want one?” said Kingery.

“No,” mumbled Phelps.

“Crackerjack here!” cried the vendor.

“Look,” said Phelps standing up and addressing the vendor, “Why don’t you shut up? You’re disturbing my friend here! He’s very sensitive to noise!”

“Oh, sit down,’ said Kingery.

“Sit down!” yelled someone from behind.

Phelps sat back down.

“You’re nuts,” said Kingery.

“Why the hell am I nuts? Just ‘cause I like to announce the game?”

“What are you, five years old?” said Kingery.

“Why do you care, if I enjoy it?”

“It’s annoying, that’s why."

“Annoying,” spat Phelps. He watched the game glumly.

Harry Caray

“Want a Coke?” said Kingery. Phelps didn’t reply.

“Oh, hell,” said Kingery, “announce the damn game.”

Phelps was silent.

“Go on,” said Kingery, “announce the game. Do the damn play-by-play.”

Phelps just sat there.

“Well, don’t then,” said Kingery, “I don’t care.”

An inning passed. The two men sat there.

“Fastball over for a strike,” said Phelps.

There was a pause.

“Here’s the oh-one delivery—wheels and throws to first; he’s back in time! I thought it was close—Joe?”

Kingery sighed. “Yah,” said Kingery, “close play, but his foot just did beat the throw.”

“He’s got a move like a young Drysdale,” said Phelps.

“Yes he does. I’d like to remind you that we’re being brought to you by Keebler—ccokies so good you think they were made by elves; and maybe just maybe they were. Keebler.”

“And by Yago Foods. Yago—now that’s class.”

“And by Budweiser. Budweiser—tastes pretty good, and gets you drunk.”

“Hey, would you guys shut up!” yelled a guy from a couple rows down.

“You shut up!” shot back Kingery.

“Go to the library, you want peace and quiet,” added Phelps.

“Idiot,” said Kingery.

“Stupid kid,” said Phelps.

—

“The Golden Voice of Vin Scully”: