Twelfth Angel Read Online Free Page B

stepped down into the dugout and sat on the wide green bench. “The field is in great shape,” I said. “This place must get a lot of tender loving care.”
    “Yes, they’re just about ready for the season’s start in three weeks. Tryouts are this Saturday morning. The field is ready—but I’m afraid the league isn’t.”
    “What’s that mean?”
    “Well, with the exception of one year in the pasttwenty, we’ve always been able to come up with enough kids to fill our four-team league with at least twelve players on each squad, and it looks like we’ll have enough personnel again this year, just barely.”
    “So what’s the problem?”
    “John, my two boys are now in college, so it has been many years since they were involved in Little League. I can’t say the same for their father. As you remember, it is tough for many of the players’ dads to offer their services as coach or manager because they have jobs that would make it difficult for them to be at most practice sessions, whereas I pretty much make my own hours. So each year I continue to offer my services as coach, and if any of the four team managers can use me, well, I’m his for the season.”
    “Bill, I think that’s great. With your knowledge of the program and experience dealing with these kids I’m certain you’re a great asset to any team.”
    “I hope so,” he said. “Anyway several months ago Tom Langley, whose boy was the league’s all-star catcher last year, had been selected by the league president and board members to be one of the four managers this year, and he asked me to assist as coach. I agreed of course. Then my angina acted up, and I was pretty sure I’d be out of it this year, if not forever. But when I heard about your … your trouble, I had to come home in case I could help in any way, and now there’s another reason for staying. The league needs me. It seems that Langley was promoted by his company, a month ago, and has already put his house up for sale and moved to Atlanta.So, one of our teams needs a manager, and there’s not much time.”
    We had been friends for many years. I was almost positive I could sense what was coming. Bill leaned close to me and said, “John, remember I told you that I needed a favor?”
    I couldn’t look at him. “I thought you just wanted to take me for a ride.”
    Bill chuckled. “Well, I do in a way. A twelve-game ride. The league officers were a little bit intimidated by your position and success and were hesitant to contact you, especially in light of your great loss, so I offered to explore with you the possibility of your managing a Little League team this year.”
    “Old friend,” I said sadly, “I can’t even manage my own breakfast, much less deal with a dozen hyperactive kids straining to break loose from parental authority. I could never do it.”
    “John, we’re all convinced you would make a fine Little League manager. With your background you are familiar with the program and its goals, would be a wonderful teacher and role model and your players would certainly learn plenty from your baseball savvy as well as how to handle victory, defeat, and how to treat your teammates and your opponents. I remember a lot about you, my friend. I know the kids would love you.”
    “But that love has to flow both ways, Bill, and I’m afraid all of mine is now buried in Maplewood Cemetery.”
    “I’ll help you, John. I’m a damn good coach. And nowthat Millennium has given you the summer off, this would be a great way to fill your time for the next couple of months. Might be the best kind of therapy for you, old friend.”
    I shook my head. “Sorry,” I muttered, “I just can’t do it.”
    Bill stood, walked slowly up the dugout steps and headed toward home plate. Suddenly he paused, turned toward me and said, “John … our last year of Little League together. Remember it? We went undefeated. League champions. Do you happen to recall our team’s name?”
    “Of