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he says he’s in trouble, he sounds scared, he’s got something he wants to show me, and I told him I’d be there.”
    â€œHeigh-ho, Silver,” said J.W.
    â€œAw, you’re worse than Evie. I’m just a lawyer doing my job.”
    â€œI’ll see you at the dock in Woods Hole, noon tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll have a nice sail, go to the house, have a beer, visit with Zee and the kids. You can use Zee’s Wrangler for as long as you need it.”
    â€œI appreciate it,” I said. “Thank you.”
    â€œFinish up with Mr. Bucyck,” he said, “we can sneak over to Cape Pogue, catch us a mess of bluefish.”
    â€œThat,” I said, “is an incentive to finish up with Mr. Bucyck. See you tomorrow.”
    When I put the phone down, I caught Evie frowning at me.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” I said.
    â€œYou better tell me who Larry whats-his-name is.”
    â€œIf you’re a true-blue Red Sox fan, you’d know.”
    â€œI’ve only been a Red Sox fan since I met you,” she said.
    â€œYou’ve missed most of the angst, then,” I said. “This was back in ninety-one. The Sox made up four or five games in the standings in September, didn’t nail down the wild-card spot till the last day of the season. The media were resurrecting old Red Sox phrases like Cardiac Kids and Impossible Dream. It was pretty thrilling. Anyway, they called Larry Bucyck up from Double A in the middle of August. He was a right-hander, a power pitcher. Major-league fastball, nice quick-breaking little slider, decent control. Local kid, grew up in Waltham, pitched for B.C. Made second-team All NCAA, pretty obvious he was going to get drafted early, so my old buddy Charlie McDevitt, he was a friend of the Bucyck family, he recommended me. To handle Larry’s contract.”
    â€œLike a sports agent?” said Evie.
    I shrugged. “Larry was drafted in the third round. The contract was pretty much boilerplate except for the specific numbers. It was all routine, but I think Larry and his folks felt good, having me help out. So anyway, he spent two and a half years working his way up through the minors, getting people out at every level, and when the Sox called him up, everybody in New England was pretty excited about it. Local boy makes good, you know?”
    Evie smiled. “What about you? Were you pretty excited?”
    â€œSure,” I said. “I get excited by the Red Sox anyway. But this kid was my client. That was very cool. So like I said, this was the middle of August, and the Sox were in second place, chasing the Yankees as usual, still in the hunt for a playoff spot. Larry pitched pretty decent in long relief, the Sox had that great September, and they put him on the playoff roster. He was the last man on the depth chart, didn’t figure to get into a game unless it was already one-sided, just there to maybe absorb some innings, save the other arms on the staff. Lo and behold, the Sox kept playing well, winning playoff games, and they made it to the American League Championship. So it comes down to the seventh game. They’re playing the Angels in Anaheim, and by game seven both pitching staffs are used up. So wouldn’t you know, the game goes into extra innings. It’s after our bedtime back in Boston, but of course all of New England’s watching. So finally, the top of the fourteenth inning, the Sox manage to eke out two runs, and all they’ve got to do is get three outs and it’s on to the World Series. Whoever they had in there pitching, can’t remember his name, he goes back out there in the bottom of the fourteenth and promptly gives up a hit and then a walk to the first two Angels. Tying runs on base, nobody out. You look out to the bullpen, there’s only one arm left out there.”
    â€œLarry Bucyck,” said Evie.
    â€œPink-cheeked rookie Larry Bucyck himself,” I