Up in Flames

Comets Story 18

My third year with the Comets began with the Tournoi de la Licorne, an annual invitational baseball tournament aimed at kicking off the new season. Teams from Normandy and Brittany would be competing.

The Comets, however, were a far cry from the championship team of the year before. Most of the players were young and inexperienced. The oldest, after me, was a chef in his forties who had the physique of one who clearly enjoyed the fruits of his labors. He had never played baseball before. There was also Lo Lo, not to be confused with Mo Mo, who was in his thirties and who thought learning baseball would assist him in his job of working with troubled youngsters.

Although Dr. Cauchois had given me the green light to begin pitching again, I still had qualms.

Warming up, I felt fine but in the end nerves got the best of me and I begged off, telling Axel I preferred to start at first base.

Our first game had just begun when it was abruptly halted because of a flare-up involving the manager of the host team.

Carlos Jiminian, a serious trencherman if there ever was one, was blanching French fries for the concession stand when cooking oil for the frites spilled into the fire he had built in an oil drum. Flames roared up along with clouds of black smoke, engulfing the entire area. Within seconds, the diamond was totally obscured from the bleachers. Carlos and others ran around trying to find the fire extinguisher as players and spectators began coughing from the smoke. To everyone’s relief, the extinguisher was finally found. To everyone’s dismay, no one could figure out how to use it.

Fire trucks eventually appeared and the “inferno” was quickly extinguished. When play resumed, the stench of oil and burnt French fries hovered over the field. Beside the concession stand, an enormous bag of previously frozen French fries lay soggy in the mud.

It came as no surprise that we lost that first game. We lost the second one, too and were promptly eliminated.

I was in good spirits, though. I’d gotten several hits and my shoulder was feeling great. No pain whatsoever. The season ahead was looking better and better to me.

That evening at dinner, Axel asked if I could stay over an extra day, saying there might be a consolation game to play on Sunday. “If so, and if you are up to it, I’d like you to pitch.” I happily agreed. Time to give it a try, I thought. Axel promised to confirm everything in the morning.

Next morning, we were up early. Plenty of time for croissants and a couple of espressos before Axel called.

As nine o’clock approached, I looked at my watch. “I thought Axel would have called by now.” An hour passed. Still no call. I was getting antsy. “I don’t get it. Let’s go outside and try to find out what’s happening.”

A game between the top contenders was already underway on the main field so we decided to check the other one. That field was being used as well and, from a distance, it looked like a game was about to start. “Can you tell who’s there?” I asked. Petie shook her head.

We continued walking when I suddenly stopped. “I don’t believe it!” Then I started to run, and Petie saw why. One of the teams was the Comets. Players were standing near the third base line about to take the field.

“What’s going on?” I demanded, out of breath and unable to hide my irritation. “Where’s Axel? Why didn’t anyone call and tell me we had a game?” The Comets looked at each other sheepishly, and a bit confused. Finally, one of them said that Axel was umpiring a game on the other field.

“But why didn’t he call me?” No one answered. “He was too busy? I was supposed to sit in my hotel room, cooling my heels, while you guys played?” I was so angry I thought I would explode. An uncomfortable silence ensued before I pointed at my teammates and started to count. “One, two, three…” up to twelve. “Okay, you’ve got enough players. You don’t need me.” With that, I turned abruptly and stormed off.

“No o o o!” cried Jean-Phi. He was on school break and had re-joined the Comets for the tournament. I kept walking. Petie was heartsick and lagged behind, hoping I would come back. “Can’t you talk him out of this?” pleaded Jean-Phi.

Petie hurried ahead and grabbed me by the arm. “Think about this, Klad. Think about what you are doing. Please don’t do something you’re going to regret!”

“Whose side are you on anyway?” I snapped. I was burning inside, and so furious that I couldn’t stop shaking.

“Yours, of course! That’s why I want you to remember what’s at stake: all the friendships, the kids who were so thrilled and welcoming when you joined the team, your relationship with Axel and all the hard work you’ve done over the winter. Don’t throw it all away!”

“To hell with it! Axel forgot all about me. Just get in the car. We’re out of here!”

As we neared the auto route for the long drive home, Petie tried again. “Please Klad, it’s not too late. We can still turn back.” I shook my head, gripped the steering wheel tighter and gunned the car onto the auto route. It was a bright Sunday morning but my mood had never been darker.

The message light on our phone was blinking when we arrived home. It was Axel, and he sounded shaken. “I looked all over for you, Don. I couldn’t believe you left. We actually had two games today and I wanted you to pitch one of them.” Axel went on to explain that the tournament had been short of umpires and that he’d been asked to fill in. “I didn’t have any choice. I’m sorry I didn’t call but it came up at the last minute and I just forgot.” He then added in a voice filled with hurt, “I thought we knew each other better and could always talk if there was a problem. Please get back to me.”

Petie begged me to return the call. “It really was just an accident, Klad. You know how he is. He forgets stuff sometimes.”

“How could he just forget?” I snapped. “We talked about this at dinner the night before!”

Next morning, I dug a big padded envelope out of the drawer and stuffed my jersey into it. “I’m going to mail it back to Axel.”

In despair, Petie begged me to hold off. “Just give it a little time and see how you feel then.”

“No! I’m not waiting!” Grabbing a pen, I scribbled Axel’s name and address on the envelope, sealed it and stormed off to the post office.

I was through with the Comets.

— Don