You Gotta Have Faith

By DHMcCarty

Baseball, faith, green grass and an $8.00 beer. That's America

"Just cause you got the monkey off your back doesn't mean the circus has left town." George Carlin

. . . . . . . .

I knew he was the real deal the moment we met. He carried all his worldly possessions on his back. Wearing a bandana and the serenity of Ghandi. Now I am not naive. He may have been hiking the Appalachian Trail, it's not far from Asheville. But I'm going to go with 'The Real Deal'............

Ya gotta have faith.

He was with his traveling companion, Captain Jack. They were offering blessings for two dollars with a picture thrown in for free. Make it a fiver and they would throw in a prayer.

There was a vibe in the air.

When I reached for my wallet, a few of the locals sidled over. I had the pleasure of meeting Ike from Youngstown and Big Daddy Steggy from Ellis Island. They had a Tuesday special of $2.00 each or a group shot for $3.00. I had to beg a pass. I was feeling the call and didn't want to keep Rev. Al and Captain Jack waiting.

Sometimes the vibe doesn't last forever. Strike while the oven is hot.

"So, Reverend Al. I'm going to go with the prayer special and the second picture with passion, $7.00, right?"

"Oh yeah brother. I like to make the prayer personal. You a baseball fan? Who's your favorite team?"

Big Daddy Steggy yells out, "The Yankees" and immediately Ike from Youngstown cracks up so hard he's jigglin' in his pants.

"NO.....Aw hell fuggin' NO. I ain't saying no prayer for the fuggin' Yankees for $5.00. I ain't doing it for twenty..........Bless my ass."

"You'll have to excuse my companion, Captain Jack's profanity. He can't stop thinking like a pirate even when he is among the brethren. But, He IS a man of principle. Now what is your favorite ball team?"

"Uh, I'm a Tampa Rays fan, but I haven't attended recently.......but I do try to keep them in my prayers."

"OH! Now that's a different matter entirely. 'The Devil Rays'. Just across the bay from 'The Buccaneers,' We go way back."

"I believe You've met Captain Jack's favor, brother. So what's your moniker?"

"Dan, er, Daniel. I go by Daniel."

"I am ready when you are Captain Jack." Al closed his eyes, bowed his head and reached his arms to the firmament, fingers spread wide.

"It was a day game at the Tropicana. Hardly 1,500 retirees in the stands and a bare sprinkling of sportswriters in the press box. A beautiful Florida day, everyone must have been at the beach. Yet the pennant race was in full swing.

The dreaded Yankees and our beloved Rays were in a tie for first place. Manager Joe Maddon stood like a Buddha. He wasn't giving an inch. The score was 3-2 Yankees with two outs in the top of the ninth. Cosmo Benini was on first base with a bunt single. Maddon looked down to the end of the bench at my boy Daniel staring at his shoes. "Hey Thumbs.....got any magic left in your bag?"

Daniel stood slowly and twisted his shoulders left to right and then back again. He did two 360's with his neck, one clockwise and then one counter-clockwise. He limped over to the bat rack, went to his knees and pulled out a hand made ash club with a lightning slash and the words 'Wonder Boy' burned into the barrel.

As Joe raised his hand to the box to make the substitution, Yankees Mgr. Billy Martin headed to the mound slapping his left bicep and gazing to the bullpen. He hawked a Louie in Maddon's direction and grinned. The bullpen gate swung open and Big Geno Pistachio, 6'10" tall and built like a Sicilian orangutan, loped out.

Joe looked at Daniel's left leg and smiled. "it's a one shot deal Danny-Boy."

"Life's always been a one shot Joe."

Big Geno waved off the ump after only 5 warmup pitches. He was ready. As the ump dropped his face mask into place and yelled 'PLAY BALL", a lone figure rose to his feet in Section L, second row back, dead center field. It was my companion, the Reverend Al Mamater. He raised his arms to the sky, much like he is now, bowed his head and closed his eyes. The sun slipped behind a cloud.

Big Geno had a wingspan so huge that when he terminated his follow through, his hand was only twenty feet from the batters face and the ball closing that space at a 120 miles an hour. That ball is rocking the catcher's mitt before the batters eyes even pick up its flight.

Now my boy Daniel, having no fear of death or The New York Yankees, looked straight out to centerfield, so passive he may have been meditating for that blink, and locked in on Reverend Al Mamater. His peripheral vision picked up on Big Geno's windup and as Geno reached his peak, Daniel's bat started a swing from the 7th level of hell. The whip of the bat was approaching the speed of light as it reached chest level. As it passed Mach One it contacted the ball.

The sky's over Tampa Bay erupted and a lightning bolt crashed through the roof of the Tropicana. That ball was carrying a flight crew, 3 stewardesses, a pilot and co-pilot that deftly managed the passageway and headed out to Tampa Bay. When it finally came back to the welcoming waves of the Bay, it was quickly swallowed by a Red Grouper.

Game over. 4-3 Devil Rays. Big Geno to the showers though I doubt he even worked up a sweat..

Two weeks later, I was working a trawler west of Sarasota when we hit a school of Red grouper. Guess what we found when we dressed out a 75 pound Red Grouper. Yep. You guessed it. Aye. The Lord do work in mysterious ways now don't he?"

Captain Jack reached onto his bag and pulled out a baseball that was charred black on one side.

"Like it was struck by lightning. Broke fuggin' Mach One. That hit was a career."

Reverend Al opened his eyes and dropped his arms, spreading them out hands up as he drawled , "Hey, what can I say."

Captain Jack dropped the ball back into his bag.

"Uhm, about that ball. Would you be willing to sell that?"

"Oh no. That ball is just too precious to my partner and I.

Is it really important to yuh Mate?

We couldn't sell it but maybe if you wanted to make a $100.00 contribution to the Relief Fund. I mean, seeing how it is so personal to you as well. My benevolence gets the best of me at times."

I pulled out my wallet. $100.00. That was a bargain. Jack handed me the ball with a gold toothed smile and bid me adieu. I rounded the corner to Patton Ave. whistling 'Take me out to the Ballgame' and turned down the alley to 'The New World Speakeasy'. Maybe Charmin was tending bar tonight.

As Reverend Al watched me retreat he smiled at Captain Jack, "Now faith is a beautiful thing, isn't it Jack?"

"Aye, Reverend. Got any more of those baseballs?"

"Yeah, bottom pocket of my backpack. The Zippo's in the side."

Pictures are of Reverend Al Mamater and Capt. Jack of the Asheville Street Mission