Chapters 30 and 31 Billy's Victory
Despite having just nine players, nothing seemed to stop the surging Tigers as they kept winning, knocking off Ridgedale, 5-2, and Brighton, 6-1. Both games were at home in front of their home crowd.
Carl Perkins had moved Timmy to center field and decided to rotate his pitching staff — Carlos, Willie, and Lenny — to left field and center field to fill the void in the absence of the O’Hara twins.
.
Whatever Carl came up with seemed to work. It seemed like nothing could stop the Tigers.
Billy, all of a sudden, was getting pitches to hit. He was 2-for-2 and a walk against Ridgedale. He singled, doubled, and tripled in three at-bats against Brighton.
All the hits were ropes — shots up the middle or hard-hit balls down the first or third base lines.
He was a terror on the field as well. With nine games in the books, Billy had yet to make an error, and he had teamed up with Clayton for 12 double plays.
By the time the Tigers headed for Red Oak for the regular season finale, they had already clinched a spot in the district final and were on the verge of completing their regular season unbeaten.
The Orioles would like nothing better than to knock off the high-flying Tigers. Like everyone else in the southern region, the Orioles were already in wait-until-next-year mode, but the Red Oak team had enough talented players to make the game interesting.
Red Oak would finish third in the standings, behind Johnsonville and Clarkson, but they did have Todd Tolleson, their top pitcher with a 3-1 record and their top hitter with a healthy .400 average.
Willie, 3-0, would get the starting nod for the Tigers in this one.
Both pitchers settled into a pitching duel early on. Todd allowed only one runner to reach first base during the first three innings.
Billy was hit by a pitch to open the game, but was left stranded at first when Todd came right back to strike out Lenny, Willie, and Timmy to get out of the inning.
Willie countered, allowing only a single up the middle to Todd in the second inning.
Corky reached base in the top of the fifth after an infield hit, and Carlos walked. With two outs, Billy stepped to the plate.
He settled in, hoping to get a pitch to his liking. Once again, Billy felt a slight breeze. Dust blew across the infield. Billy picked up the pitch quickly as it left the right arm of Tolleson.
The pitch was inside, but Billy ripped a shot down the line and into the left-field corner. Both runners scored, and Billy went in, standing up at second base with a double.
The Tigers were up 2-0. Billy had come through with another clutch hit. The Tigers needed just six more outs to go 10-0.
Willie was in complete control the rest of the way. He struck out five of the last six batters, fanning Todd Tolleson on three straight pitches for the final out of the game.
Gloves were in the air. The Tigers jumped for joy. George was out of the bleachers and was the first to shake hands with Carl Perkins.
“What an amazing season. There will be a lot of fireworks on the Fourth of July.”
“Hi, guys. Can I have a moment of your time?” George and Carl looked around. Standing behind them was Willard Smith.
“Willard, what are you doing here?”
“It looks like the Johnsonville Tigers deserve a headline or two in the Grand Valley Dispatch. Don’t you think?”
“Well, I guess they do,” George said.
Carl agreed. “That’s Carl Perkins with a C,” the Tigers coach said as he shook hands with the reporter.
“George and Carl with a C, I’m also here for another reason. I’m going up to Green River tomorrow to cover a game.
“It might be of interest to both of you to come along. George, you’re welcome to bring your grandson along as well. I’ve got plenty of room. You might find the game very interesting.”
“I think we can make it,” George said.
“Good,” the reporter said. “Meet me at the paper, say three o’clock. I’ll drive from there.”
“See you there,” George said.
George and Carl knew what was up. They were going on a scouting expedition. They would soon get a good look at the Tigers’ next opponent — the team they’d be facing for the District Championship.
And thanks to Willard, they would use his gas to get there.
George had a feeling Willard had a lot more to tell them. George was sure there was much more to the story.
Chapter 31
George, Carl, and Billy pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the Grand Valley Dispatch building. The newspaper was the only daily paper in the region, and thanks mainly to the efforts of Willard Smith, it had an award-winning sports section.
Willard was waiting for them in the lobby.
“Hi, guys, you’re right on time.”
Willard picked up his briefcase, stuck the current edition of the Dispatch under his arm, and led his friends from Johnsonville back to the parking lot and into his Ford station wagon.
It would take Willard a little over an hour to get to Green River, plenty of time to enlighten his guest travelers on the latest news in the sports world, the world involving a 200-mile radius of Grand Valley.
Willard turned out of the parking lot, took a left at the next light, and then a quick right onto the on-ramp, which led up over the hill and eventually onto the interstate.
He handed Carl a copy of the Dispatch, reached into his briefcase, pulled out another one, and tossed it to George, sitting in the back seat with Billy.
“Take a look; there will be a question and answer period later,” Willard said jokingly.
Both men went right to the sports page.
The first headline that caught their eye read: Tigers go 10-0!
'Johnsonville qualifies for the District Little League Championship.'
“Look, Billy. There’s a picture of our team celebrating after the Red Oak game,” George said. “There’s a picture of you when you back-handed that grounder in the second inning.”
“Cool, Grandpa,” Billy said as he leaned over to get a view of the rest of the article.
“That’s a nice story, Willard. You talk about our undefeated season and everything,” Carl said. “You devoted a whole page to the Tigers. That’s nice.”
“You'd better turn the page,” Willard said. “You’re going to find the next page very interesting.”
The headline on the next page read: “Boomer McPherson tosses perfect game; strikes out 15 as Green River demolishes Henderson, 10-0.”
“Who the heck is Boomer McPherson?” Carl said.
“You guys better read on,” the reporter insisted. George read fast. The Green River Rats would be the Tigers’ final opponent.
George quickly realized that the Tigers were not the only unbeaten team in the region. “Is that a picture of their coach?” George said.
“No, it isn’t, George. Read the caption. That’s Boomer McPherson. He stands 6-feet-1 and weighs 200 pounds.”
“Has anyone checked his birth certificate?” Carl said as he removed his Tigers’ hat and rubbed his brow with his right forearm.
“He’s legit. He’s a farm boy. The oldest son of Joel McPherson,” said Willard. “There are four boys, and they all play for the Rats.”
“What the heck are they feeding them up there?” said George as he handed the sports page to Billy.
Billy looked at the picture of Boomer McPherson. Billy couldn’t take his eyes off the photo. There was something eerie about the picture.
Willard kept his eyes on the highway, but that didn’t stop him from talking. The reporter knew everything there was to know about Boomer McPherson and the Green River Rats.
They had won eight of their nine games by the mercy rule. They took no prisoners; that was the bottom line. The only team to even score on them was Grand Valley.
“I thought the Grand Valley Giants had the best team in the northern region until the Rats showed up three weeks ago and walked away with an 8-1 victory. I think they picked up their only run in the final inning, long after Boomer McPherson had retired to the dugout,” continued the reporter as he rolled on down the highway.
By now, Billy was listening to every word out of Willard’s mouth.
Billy looked up from the newspaper and saw a green sign that read: Green River, 35 miles.
Willard said the Giants would get another shot at the Rats tonight. But even if Grand Valley could pull off the win, they’d still finish second in the northern region due to the fact that they already had two losses — their other loss coming to Cameron, 4-3, last month.
Willard was also quick to admit that he was a sportswriter, not a fortune teller, but if he was to change professions just for tonight, he certainly wouldn’t have any problem predicting the game's outcome.
“Boomer has pitched just four times. He’s thrown two perfect games and has yet to allow a hit...not one hit. He’s walked maybe four or five batters all year, and that’s because that blazing fastball of his will take off on him.”
“My goodness, when Boomer and the Rats came to Grand Valley, I saw him unleash a throw over the head of the catcher. The ball ripped into the backstop and tore a hole through the webbing.”
“Gee, Willard,” said George. “Can you give us some good news?”
“Well, I guess I can. Defensively, your guys may have the upper hand. I think you have a little more speed on the bases, and you’ll have the home-field advantage. Unfortunately, someone will have to get to Boomer, and so far, nobody has come close to even fouling a pitch off.”
George put his arm around Billy and pointed to the Green River City Limits highway sign.
“This is a poor town,” Willard said as he took a right and then a left and headed to the south end of town.“
"The ball field is nothing like what you guys are used to. It’s no Johnson Park. It’s a dirt field. The lights flicker occasionally, and I’ve seen many outfielders spend a moment or two picking up pebbles before the start of a game.”
Willard gave them a rundown of Green River's history. A few years back, Green River was booming. The population doubled almost overnight as oil companies moved in. However, after a few years of drilling and numerous behind-the-scenes political issues, the oil companies were gone, taking with them half the residents and half of the businesses.
“It’s a tough town now,” Willard continued. “As for the Green River Rats, they are a tough bunch of kids. Boomer and his brothers, Bugs, Bumper, and Booker T, all smack the ball. The locals call them the “Rat Pack.”
They bat second, third, fourth, and fifth in the lineup, and the opposing pitchers cannot take a breath until they maneuver their way through those four.”
Willard turned on his windshield wipers. “I can’t believe this; it rains whenever I come up here. It looks like a pretty good storm is brewing.”
The reporter pulled into a muddied parking lot. The rain had stopped as quickly as it had started. Both teams had returned to the field to warm up. Willard, George, Carl, and Billy found seats in the bleachers behind home plate.
The umpires had gathered at home plate with coach Filo Hamilton of the Rats and coach Charlie Wilson from the Grand Valley Giants.
Billy overheard the head umpire tell the coaches, “I’m not sure we can get this one in. Filo, get your kids on the field, and let’s give it a shot.”
Suddenly, the lights came on. Billy noticed that the lights were not very bright; there were shadows in the outfield, and a few low-lying clouds were moving in from center field.
And then Billy saw him. Boomer McPherson came out of the dugout and headed for the mound. Billy grabbed his grandpa’s arm.
“That’s him, Grandpa. That’s the monster in my dream.”
Boomer took off his jacket...the jacket was riddled with raindrops. The white lettering on his uniform read, “Green River Rats.”
“I know, Billy, I see him,” George said as he looked around for the whereabouts of Willard, who was now at the bottom of the bleachers talking to Carl Perkins and another reporter.
“Let’s keep this between us. We don’t want Willard to think we’re crazy. No telling what would show up in tomorrow’s paper.”
“I got you, Grandpa. But look at that kid. Look how big he is!”
“Billy, everyone on this team is big. Look at those outfielders. They’re bigger than the O’Hara brothers. This looks more like a high school team than a Little League team.”
Boomer toed the rubber, but lightning struck the fence in left field before he could unleash his first warm-up pitch. The storm had made a U-turn and was back with a vengeance.
“That’s it,” the umpire said. “There will be no game tonight.”
The fans hurried back to their cars. The players ran for cover in the dugouts. George, Carl, and Billy followed Willard back to his station wagon and jumped in seconds before the next bolt of lightning struck the fence in right field.
“It looks like a war zone out there,” George said.
Willard rolled down his window as he caught a glimpse of Filo Hamilton and his son, Ronnie, jumping into a pickup truck.
“Filo, I guess the game is history.”
“Yeah, they called it,” Filo said. “It doesn’t matter. We won the region title anyway. I guess we’ll see you down in Johnsonville. We’re just one win from the District Championship. We’ve pretty much crushed all our opponents. I figure we shouldn’t have a problem beating that team down there. You’d better save us plenty of space in the paper.”
“Oh, I will, Filo...I will.”
Willard rolled up the window and said, “He seems like a pretty confident fellow.”
George, Carl, and Billy kept quiet most of the way back to Grand Valley. They were a captive audience. Willard spent most of the time talking about the McPherson brothers, especially Boomer.
It was a tall tale, and before Willard was through, the three of them felt sorry for the McPherson brothers.
Supposedly, the boys were up every day at the crack of dawn — baling hay, milking cows, and shoveling manure. Then they’d walk two miles to school and two miles back.
At least they had their late afternoons free to play ball in the back pasture. It wasn’t long before they realized how fast Boomer could throw a ball. Bugs was the catcher; rumor is he spent his late evenings in bed, restringing his catcher’s mitt.
George, Carl, and Billy were glad when Willard pulled into the Grand Valley Dispatch parking lot. They shook hands with Willard, said their goodbyes, and returned to Johnsonville.
It had been a very interesting afternoon.
George rubbed the back of Billy’s neck and glanced over at his friend, Carl, who had both hands on the steering wheel of his El Camino.
“Carl, you look a little pale,” George said. “You shouldn’t believe everything that comes out of Willard’s mouth. His articles in the newspaper are pretty factual, but sometimes when he tells his tales, it’s hard to separate fact from fiction.”
“Yeah, I figured that. But, he told me a couple of tall tales about the “Rat Pack” that were very interesting.”
“Like what?” George questioned.
“Well, I guess the story goes, Boomer and Booker T are their real names all right...says right on their birth certificates, but Bugs and Bumper are nicknames.
Their real names are Frederick and Gerald. I guess both of them picked up those “handles” last year during their first year of Little League.
Supposedly, Bumper has a habit of falling down and bumping into people. He’s the most accident-prone of the brothers. As for Bugs, Willard made me laugh when he told me this one.”
Billy was intrigued. “Coach Perkins, what did he say about Bugs?”
“Well, Billy, Bugs has a habit of running the bases with his mouth open. Last year, during the Rats’ season opener, he hit a triple, but on his way to third, he encountered a handful of bugs, all of which decided to take refuge down his throat.”
“What happened then?” Billy said.
“Oh, he made it to third, all right. He called time out and had a little coughing spell. He later scored on a base hit by one of his brothers, but the nickname stuck with him from that day forward.”
Billy laughed.
“Yes, that’s a cute story, but there’s nothing funny about the 'Rat Pack.' I think they’re for real. As for Boomer McPherson, that kid is a monster.”
“No, he’s no monster,” George said as he winked at Billy. “He‘s a dream come true.”
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