Billy....

Billy was your average kid, but then again he wasn't. Born at 10 lbs, 11 ounces - he had his fair share of baby fat to work off.   Wouldn't take long though.  By the time he was four, he could be found virtually EVERY night in the backyard, smashing whiffle ball pitches from dad. Every time, he'd stare out this solemn stare at the 'pitcher', tap the plate with the end of his bat, tug his hat down a touch, and perfectly time his swing.. the ball usually ended up someone near the rosebushes. by the time Pa fetched it, turned around - Billy was sliding his needless slide into home plate for a four-bagger - just like his hero Ken Griffey Jr.

Dad worked the graveyard shift at the charcoal plant and the kids rarely saw him sleep.  Kids being Billy and his older sister Sally, better known as Sal. If he wasn't orchestrating batting practice in the backyard, dad could be found on the losing end of a game of Clue, Monopoly, Candy Lane or Jenga against Sal. Mom was fine with all this, and the biggest cheerleader to each.. habit had it she'd bring a jug of Koolaid to the backyard - or, a batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies to the living room.  Yum.

Billy and Sal were perfect kids.  Well, almost.  There was that one time in High School, Billy was driving the hand me down family Chevy Truck, and best buddy Scooter was out and about too in his dad's F-150 truck. They'd just resurfaced Highway 47 North of town - but that didn't stop Billy and Scooter from having a quarter mile race down the new surface, unfortunately on the side of the traffic cones that had just this afternoon been poured.  Ouch. Still tacky.  Very tacky. Still oily. Very oily. Billy's truck was red, Scooter's was blue - but upon completion of the race they were both pitch black in color.

Billy knew his dad would be upset, but he wouldn't smack him, Scooter wasn't so sure about his dad - so, off to Billy's they both went. Dad went to Stewart's Hardware, bought two big cans of tar remover, and he, Billy, Scooter, Mom and Sally spent the next few hours getting smelly, dirty, yucky from all the tar - but mission accomplished, Scooter's dad would never know.

Billy transferred his backyard skills to the High School ball diamond. By the time spring baseball rolled around, he'd already been named all conference in both football (running back, defensive back) and, all conference/all district in basketball - point guard.  Bigger accolades were sure to come from baseball, because even as good as Billy was in football and basketball - he was even a sight better in baseball.

He was approaching small town legend status in Greenfield, and the big game against the much bigger Stone Mountain Cardinals had finally arrived. True to the print of the Greenfield Tribune Sport's writers claim, head Seattle Mariner Scout Conner Jacobs was there in fact to see Billy live and in person.

He didn't disappoint. Double, single, opposite field homer in his first three trips to the plate, not to mention several sparkling plays at shortstop. Bottom of 7th, tied 4 apiece. Scooter, Billy's running mate in football (QB), basketball (small forward), and drag racing (F-150) had singled with two outs.  Up stepped Billy.  Fans in the stands swatting away the skeeters the bright lights invited - all stood to cheer Billy. A triple was all that was needed for him to hit for the cycle.

Brush back pitch. The Stone Mountain pitcher wasn't stupid.  Billy had already lashed three hits off of him.  His coach wanted him to walk Billy - but the pitcher talked his way into letting him pitch to Billy.  Outside curve, Billy not fooled, ball two.

Billy stepped outta the box, peeked at Satch, the 3rd base coach, just as Scooter stood on first base peeking too.  Wow.  Hit and run sign.  Two outs, bottom of 7th, tied. Count 2 and 0. Another bender coming Billy's way.  Peripherally he could see Scooter already heading to second.  He reached out - made good contact and the ball headed to right center field. By the time Billy was ascending on 2nd base it was plain to see Scooter was assuredly going to score the winning run.  Nonetheless, Satch, knowing Billy needed the triple to complete hitting for the cycle, was furiously waving his arm like a wagon wheel for Billy to keep coming to third.

As the ball was racing Billy to the bag, Billy lifted his legs, let his hips fly up to ready for the slide - as his cleats hit the ground, one of them stuck, his leg was severely twisted in a way it shouldn't be twisting...a cloud of dust happened.. ump, right on toppa the play extended his arms, hollered "SAFE", game over, Scooter scored, 5-4, Billy hit for the cycle - but he wasn't getting up. For sure in immense pain, you still couldn't wipe the smile off his face as Satch bent down to see if he was ok.

Well, he was, but he wasn't.  A trip to the doctor revealed torn ligaments - surgery ahead, maybe he wouldn't end up playing shortstop for the Pocatello Mariners after all.

Days,  months, years would pass. Nope, baseball wouldn't be in his future. From his days of sacking groceries at Clem's, he'd always had a special eye when Charlene would come with her mom to shop. That special eye translated to a first date in the Chevy truck, Homecoming.  Prom. To a year and a half later, wedded bliss.

Soon, Charlie (that was Billy's loving nickname for Charlene). and their boys Stuart and Scotty (nicknamed Scooter for some reason!), would be found peeking out the front window as Billy would drive up in his new Chevy truck after completing his shift at his second love, law enforcement.  Ok, well, third love. First there was Charlie, then baseball, then being a cop.

Billy and Charlie's backard never had a chance for a green, lush lawn. With two budding Greenfield Bulldog baseball players to raise, whiffle ball after whiffle ball was bought, cracked, taped, bought.  Homers happened. Stu even learned to switch hit. Hog heaven, they were in. Charlie's homemade chocolate chip cookies were just about as good as mom's, but insteada Candy Land, Clue or Jenga, dad refereed WWF battles between the boys. Oh sure, occasionally one would get bent outta shape - but nothing a trip to the Dairy Joy, or, to the Drive Inn Theater couldn't fix.

One day, THREE DAYS FROM NOW, Stu and Scooter were off a hunting their own Charlie - but mom was still on the couch awaiting Billy to come home from his law enforcement shift.

He never did.  The phone would ring.  The worst would be communicated. He'd been shot and died protecting the Capitol Building.

All Charlie and the boys could do is ask "Why?".. and "For what?"

Grass would eventually fill in the basepaths in the backyard, but there was forever a big hole in their hearts.