Thoughts from Mark "Hat" Rackley

I’m Pink Lady Apple Yeggs and my friend, and brother-in-law, Deviled Yeggs suggested that I record each project that I set up in the hopes of reforming the people who continue to work for Lily the Pink Enterprises.  If for no other reason, it would show how God is at work.

The combination of weather delays and a strange softball schedule had the two rival schools playing a double header, the Vitamin Flintheart Multivitamins versus the Diet Smith Slimmers.  Those of the Mommie’s club that could make it to the games gathered down the first-base line behind the dugout.  Missy and Angus were a couple of rows behind us.  Somehow Kanok was mildly interested in the games.  Naomi brought Gigi, but she fell asleep quickly.  Just beyond the dugout, Catherine and Greta were playing with all their children, kind of half watching the game.  Levi was still back in the nursery.  Samuel was playing with Lauren and Sammie near the dugout entrance.  Every time Menzie came in or out of the dugout they cheered, but they had no idea whether she did something good or she struck out.  Lauren and Sammie were known by everyone on the team, and they were the unofficial mascots.  Sammie just cheered, at inappropriate times, but Lauren was old enough to know the names of some of the players.

The first game pitted the Diet Smith ace pitcher versus the third pitcher in the Flintheart lineup.  Menzie got spiked trying to turn a double play, and she sailed the ball over Carla’s head.  That put a runner on second base.  Menzie was fine, but somehow the pitcher was momentarily distracted.  She allowed the next batter to hit one through the gap made by Sophia covering second base.  Then, with one run scored and another runner on second base, the Diet Smith batter hit a home run.

They were three runs down, and it remained 3-0 until the bottom of the seventh, and final inning.  The right fielder and the left fielder quickly were put out.  Sophie, the leadoff hitter in the lineup, came to the plate.  She slapped a ball down the third-base line and was safely on first base.  Menzie then hit a line drive over the girl playing second base.  The centerfielder was out of position, but Sophia stopped at third base.  She turned and applauded Menzie.

Angus muttered, “Our Lassie should have a Run Batted In.  Sophia stopped.  Doesn’t she know the team is down three runs?”

Missie said, “The centerfielder caught up with the ball and has a good enough arm to throw it all the way.  It was a risk.  Besides, we’re down by three runs, getting one is not important.  Getting three is.”

Angus asked, “All season you have been talking about the games like you played it all your life, but your mother kept you imprisoned at home.  How do you know so much?”

Missy snickered, “Angus, I was trapped in my room, but I had a radio, and I fell in love with baseball.  It was like the prisoner of war who closes his eyes and imagines himself playing a round of golf or building a house.  I swung my imaginary bat.  I dove onto the bed to catch the imaginary flyball.  And I listened to the announcers and learned the strategy of the game.  If Brooke can hit one to the opposite field and down the line, she could score both Sophie and Menzie and get into scoring position herself.  You cannot count out the Mighty Carla.”

Brooke kicked the dirt out of her cleats and settled into the batter’s box.  The pitch came inside.  Was it a brushback pitch that went wrong?  Anyway, Brooke was on the ground crying.  She’d been hit on the shoulder.  Goober shook the fence near home plate.  “Ump, look at the pitcher.  Look at her eyes.  She meant to do that!  Throw her out!   Throw her out!”

The umpire ignored his shouts.  Coach Kessinger and Tammie were looking after Brooke.  Tammie helped Brooke up while Coach Kessinger yelled at the umpire that the pitcher should be tossed, but the umpire did not think the pitch was intentional, even with the pitcher sneering and then smiling when she was allowed to stay on the mound.

A big hit by Carla could tie the game, Sophie on third, Menzie on second and Brooke, sore shoulder but nothing wrong with her legs on first.  Carla smiled and waved at the crowd.  The first pitch was a strike.  Carla took no notice.  The next pitch was a strike, but Carla left the bat on her shoulder.  The crowd booed.  Carla stepped out of the batter’s box to ask for timeout.  She seemed to bow her head.  I had never seen her do that.  She pointed skyward.  There were murmurs in the crowd.  Then with the bat in her left hand, she pointed to the bleachers beyond the leftfield fence.  Had she prayed?  Had she given God the glory?  Had she called a home run like Babe Ruth had done one hundred years ago, or about that long ago?

Naomi started reciting an old poem, slightly modified.  “The sneer is gone from Carla’s lip, her teeth are clenched in hate, She pounds with cruel violence her bat upon the plate; And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now she lets it go, And now the air is shattered by the force of Carla’s blow.”

Then Naomi screams, “Forget it.  There may be no joy in Mudville, but Flintheart is on fire!  That ball won’t come down until it reaches Stout County!  Mighty Carla did not strike out!  Walk Off Grand Salami!”

The game had always been in doubt, but this was the first of a double header.  Sophie stopped near the plate and high fived Menzie, then they high fived Brooke, and then all three hugged Carla, who had won the game on a “last pitch” walk off Grand Slam Home Run.  For those who do not know the game, a Grand Slam is a home run with the bases loaded (someone on each base).

There was a brief intermission between games, and while Sophia came up to talk to her Mom, Carla came up to talk to me.  She asked, “Did I do something wrong?  Mommie Pinkie, I was not testing God or anything.  The coach said it looked like that, but I had been praying.  I got this calm over me, and I knew I was going to hit the next pitch a long way, and I wanted everyone to know God made that call, not me.”

I asked, “So, you have made a decision to ask Jesus into your heart?”

Carla shrugged, “I don’t know.  You said to wait until we know Jesus.  Brenton and I have been using abstinence.  We study the Bible instead of getting physical.  We love the Vespers services.  Ummm. Can we come by tomorrow night?  It’s the first time both of us can come by to talk.  With the rain last week, the schedule is messed up for both of us.”

I nodded, “Sure.”

Carla turned and yelled at Brenton, who was sitting next to Goober Gomez, Brooke’s boyfriend.

Brooke was getting a rubdown.  She had been scared, but she was only bruised.  The pitcher came over and apologized.  She admitted she wanted it to be a nasty “purpose pitch,” but she didn’t want her to be hurt.  The coach had signaled to walk Brooke to get a force out on any base.  They only needed one more out to preserve the victory and the shutout.  After all, it got nasty when this game was a rivalry game.

With Margie on the mound, the next game was much different.  Sophia struck out twice, but that was after a leadoff homerun.  Odd, two homeruns in a row, just in two different games.  A few innings later, Menzie and Brooke got on base and Carla hit another homerun.  Brooke hit a solo homerun the next trip through the lineup.  That put Flintheart up by five runs, but the story was that Margie went into the seventh inning with a perfect game.  No one was willing to say anything to jinx it.  Not even anyone on the Diet Smith side of the ballpark.  The top of the seventh inning was almost silent.  You could hear Lauren and Sammie giggling.  Gretchen Grunge finally looked at the players on the field and yelled, “There’s Menzie and Soapy!”  I don’t think Menzie and Sophie heard her.  They were intently looking at the batter.  The first batter struck out on three pitches.  The second batter fouled off four pitches in a row and then hit a foul ball straight up.  Josie got under it and caught the ball for the second out.  It was down to the last out.  The batter hit the ball in play, a lazy bloop hit that looked like it might drop for a hit, just beyond Menzie’s reach.  Menzie dove and she caught the ball before it hit the turf, but the ball was a snow cone on the edge of the webbing.  If she dropped the ball, it would ruin Margie’s perfect game.  The crowd gasped.

Kanok said, “Menzie didn’t catch it! It’s not in her gove.”

I said, “Just wait, Kanok!  She has the ball.  She just has to prove she won’t drop it.”  While prone on the turf with her gloved hand extended, Menzie reached with the other hand to grab the ball.  She turned to the ump and the out was called.

The entire team charged the mound and buried Margie on the bottom of the pile.

Margie yelled, “Where’s the ball?  I want everyone to sign it.  It was a team effort.”  Menzie practically rubbed Margie’s face with the ball.  Flintheart had not lost a game since Margie’s poor pitching two years ago knocked them out of the state tournament, but that was after she had been “abused” in the showers.  But this year was not like last year.  With mostly the same players, they were struggling to win the games.

When the pile unfolded, Brooke and Goober asked if they could come with Brenton and Carla.  They still were not convinced there was anything to what I had said, but they had noticed a change in both Brenton and Carla.  I didn’t like mixing couples, but then Carla said it was okay.

With the next day being Sunday, we had set the meeting for after lunch.  They were in the living room of the Big House, which doubles as the waiting area when I had my open-door policy in what had been intended as the dining room.  The dining room had been my prison.  I ran the cider house, my only chance of leaving the room.  I thought for more than two decades that I would never return to the dining room if I was ever allowed to escape my prison, but it has become my office, and the other half of the room has been turned into a nursery for my little ones.

But as I looked at the two couples, it was like they came from two different cultures.  Really, they came from different cultures.  Brenton from old money and Carla from new money, but both with money.  They were dressed nicely.  Carla was wearing a nice dress, with the hem beneath the knee.  She looked like a fashion model instead of the power hitter for the softball team and the vacuum at first base.  In contrast, the middle-class couple were in matching gear, school clothing, their Flintheart hoodies and sweatpants.

I waved them into the office.  Brenton and Carla looked more eager.  Goober and Brooke looked nervous.

As we came in the front door, Kanok came in the connecting door with Thanh and Valin.

Kanok ran over.  She said, “Mommie Pinkie!  It’s Brent It and Carla and Booger and Book.”

Goober asked, “Does she get it wrong on purpose?”

Brooke elbowed him in the side.  “Goober, she is just a little girl.  How old, Mommie Pinkie?”

Kanok held up three fingers.  I sharply corrected her.  “Kanok, you know better than to tell a fib.”  Kanok frowned and reached up with her other hand to fold one finger down.  Okay, she was two and a half.  Kanok went back to get some toys, and they were going to the sandbox outside the nursery.  My Daddy, Ash, was supervising.  Daddy tipped his hat.  And I mouthed a thank you.  I had no idea which way this conversation would go.

When Daddy closed the door behind his little adventurers, I turned to get started, but Carla spoke up.  “Mommie Pinkie, Brooke and Goober, or should I say Ricardo Francisco, have some strange ideas about what happened when we came over here the last time.  Can I set the record straight?  Then, you can corroborate what happen or correct Brenton and my misunderstanding.”  I nodded.

She continued, “Before we came here, neither Brenton nor I were getting a good night’s sleep.  That is whether we slept together or if we each went to our own bedrooms.  We tossed and turned.  Both of us thought we had made a mistake.  Since neither of us were raised in a Christian home, there should be no Christian moral norm that should apply, but the lack of sleep was affecting us physically, mentally, and emotionally.  Mommie Pinkie suggested that the Holy Spirit might be talking to us.  Romans 1:20 says that none of us will have an excuse.  God’s presence should be obvious, and it is our sinful desires that drown out that voice from God.  Or something like that.  I don’t know if Mommie Pinkie used that verse, but she suggested that Brenton and I should turn to the Bible for answers.  When we asked if she wanted us to accept Jesus, she said that she wanted everyone to accept Jesus, but she would not ask us to do so until we knew who Jesus was.  We both respected that.  There was no hard sell.  In fact, she did not even say for us to stop having sex.  She said that was a sin outside marriage, but she could not impose her moral code upon us.  We had to discover that for ourselves.  Is that right, Mommie Pinkie?”

I nodded, “We talked quite a lot, but that was the gist.”

Brooke said, “But you have puritanical rules inside the Crystal Mountain.  Why impose your will in one place and not in another?”

I smiled, “Brooke, it is my property and when you go to visit your grandparents or a stranger’s home, you live by their rules when under their roof.  It is just polite.  But as for the rules here, the original employees of the cider operation had also been sex workers.  They decided as a group that overt romantic activity beyond a basic kiss might remind them of what they were forced to do by my cousin, Baldwyn Apple.  It was the employees, as a group, that made the designated areas for kissing and necking, nothing beyond that, at designated areas.  Those areas were covered by security cameras, so people would know not to get carried away.  But anyone could sneak off with their boyfriend and do just about anything in an apartment.  The rules were designed to protect those who did not want the reminders from their past.  Do you understand?”

Brooke nodded.  Goober said, “I guess that makes sense, but how did Brenton and Carla turn into two little holy rollers?”

I asked Brenton, “What did I say about my role in bringing someone to Christ, Brenton?”

He smiled, “You said something about how you could do nothing unless the Holy Spirit was working within us.  You could pray and you would continue to do that, but it would always come down to a decision that Carla and I individually made.  And now, I think you might be telling us that we have already made that decision.  Our desires have changed, but our plans for our lives and our life together have not changed.  And what I personally feel inside is a new purpose.  I wanted to make a lot of money, just to have a lot of money.  And I wanted to win golf tournaments.  Now, I want that win to be a platform to tell people that God can change your life.  And I had always heard that you had to say a salvation prayer or something.”

I smiled, “And I have talked to some of my Christian friends and Dev Yeggs said it best.  When we honestly say the salvation prayer, so that the prayer sticks, God has already done the work of salvation within us.  The prayer just affirms what has already happened.  After all, salvation is by faith and not by works.  Saying a prayer is a kind of works.”

Carla snickered, “We picked up a tract at First-Third this morning.  We prayed the salvation prayer before coming over.”

I shook my head, “But I did not see you.”

Brenton laughed, “We went to the early service, and we did not stay for Sunday school.  We agree with you.  Rev C.S.L. explains things in common language.  Thanks for the suggestion.  And as for Carla saying that we have not been sleeping together, we watched a video of a television show and one of the pastors said ‘God Bless this Mess’ can only be found on the refrigerator door, not in the Bible.  We looked at each other and laughed, but he was talking about sleeping together.  Carla wants a church wedding or a wedding here in the Crystal Mountain.  And we want God’s blessing, so we cleaned up our mess.  We repented, and God promises to wash away that sin.”

Goober said, “But Brooke and I do not see our relationship as a sin.  We do not intend on stopping what we are doing.”

I asked, “So, why did you ask to come here today?”

Brooke said, “Carla is about the best friend that I ever had, and I noticed the change in her.  She has it together, and it even affects her play on the field.  She does not get rattled, and I have no idea what that was at the end of the first game yesterday.  Calling a homerun?  She’s never done that before.”

Carla said, “I pointed to the sky.  I knew what was going to happen.  I was so calm.  I give all the glory to God, but even if I feel that way, I won’t dramatically point the next time.  The coach said that might have been too much, but she still gave me a hug for doing it.”

I smiled, “I expect Coach Kessinger would do that.  I think she loves Jesus, too.”  I then turned to Brooke and Goober.  “So, it is up to you.  You can come to Vespers, if you want.  You can attend Sunday school.  If Carla and Brenton want to attend Jemima Yeggs’ Sunday school class, which is mostly young couples, they can go to church from here.  The class is the same time as the early service, then the buses get you to church in time for Sunday school there.  Stinker’s class is a warmup class.”

Brooke said, “Do you say ‘Stinker’ as in the Turtle Team?”

I nodded.

Brooke said, “I heard what she said at an assembly earlier this school year and I have downloaded the local weather app.  She has a Sunday school class here?”  I nodded.  “Why is she here?”

I said, “She married my nephew, Easter Yeggs, code name Easy.  I have donated a maintenance bay next to shipping and receiving where they make modifications to the Turtle.  You and Goober could attend her class.  I hear they have a lot of fun.  There are a few adults in the class, but it is mostly children your age up through twenty-somethings.  Margie, Sophie, and Menzie are all members of the class, along with their boyfriends.”

Brooke smiled and looked at Goober.  She nodded and he shrugged.  Then she said, “I guess Samuel Farquharson is Menzie’s boyfriend.  He babysits her children.  He is super nice.  And Lauren smiles and cheers when I come into the dugout, even when I strike out.  It cheers me up.  I know that I am loved.”

I smiled, “And just like Lauren, God loves you too.  I hope you learn that too.”

I said a little prayer and the four left together, and it looked like all four would be back for Stinker’s class.

Credits

You could sing the title, almost, to the tune of Take Me Out to the Ballgame.

The modified poem quoted by Naomi Yeggs was the next to last stanza of Casey at the Bat by Ernest Lawrence Thayer.

The comment about “God Bless this Mess” came from Hard Questions, a television show on the Cornerstone Television Network.