The Redwings were down by two. It was the bottom of the fifth inning when the old man appeared. Jace was on deck cradling his favorite softball bat. The old man caught his attention, Jace wasn’t sure how. Fatty Ketrick was at the plate, count two and two, with Smiler Sims on second. The old man motioned to Jace, and Jace, he wasn’t sure why, went over to him. “You may need this,” the old man said. He had something in his hand. It looked like a bone. “What? Why? Huh?” Jace asked. “Take it,” the old man said, offering whatever it was. “Trust me.”

“You want me to bat with this bone? It’s way too small,” Jace said.

“Not a bone, a sycamore root,” the old man said. “Take it.”

Jace wrapped the bone or root in the handkerchief he always carried for luck. It had been his grandfather’s. He stuck the wrapped root in his back pocket. It stuck out.

“What dat, a tail?” Coach Kerry called out as Jace returned to the on deck circle. “Look, Jace got a tail.”

Two pitches later Ketrick walked. First and second. Jace took his place in the batter’s box. The first pitch came in. Jace swung.

“Holy fuck!” Kerry or someone shouted. The softball soared. Jace ran. The ball disappeared into the sky and the rain came down.

Everyone ran for shelter.

About to get into his car, Jace remembered the root. He reached back. His grandfather’s lucky handkerchief was a sooty rag. Inside, the root was warm, and the handkerchief disintegrated.

“How was the game?” Janice asked when Jace got home. “I think we won. Or else it got rained out.”

“That’s nice,” Janice said. “Spaghetti for dinner? Why don’t you wash up? You’ve got smudge all over you.”

In the bathroom, Jace set the bone in a vase sitting on the windowsill above the bathtub.