Chapter 4

Geneva's granddaughter, Kelly Joelson, subdued the Florida State Seminoles without notable difficulty. The final score was 2-zip, and, as was often the case when I watched softball games, I was disappointed at the lack of action. Fast-pitch softball, whether played by men or by women, tended to feature too much domination by pitchers. This game had been typical -- Maryland's two runs had been produced with a minimum amount of offense: a walk and two singles had done it. Florida State had two scratch hits to show for the day.

But the quality of play had been good. Geneva's granddaughter could throw hard! I wouldn't have wanted to try to hit her -- not even with that grapefruit-sized ball they were using. Both teams had performed well defensively, and Patti Wyman had played a solid third base, handling four chances flawlessly. She'd even started a double play in the fourth inning that had pretty much squelched Florida State's only offensive threat of the day.

I cheered loudly for the Terps at every opportunity, and loudest of all when Patti was in on the play. When she got the first of Maryland's two runs batted in, I applauded with great fervor. It turned out to be the only run they'd need.

After the game, the Maryland women celebrated briefly before clearing the field. The tournament schedule called for still-another game to begin immediately after theirs, and two more teams were waiting to take the field.

"What now?" I asked Geneva.

"I'm taking several of the girls out to dinner," Geneva said. "Want to join us?"

"Is Patti going to be one of them?"

"Probably," Geneva said. "... unless she decides to pass, when she sees that you're coming along."

"Why would she do that?" I asked.

"I get the impression that your interest is embarrassing her a little," Geneva said.

"Well, count me in, anyway," I said. "I'll join you and the girls -- if that's all right -- whether Patti comes along or not."

Patti did come along, although it wasn't clear whether she'd been aware that I was accompanying the group until after she'd committed herself. We had six team members, Geneva, and me, so I took three of the team members in my car and followed Geneva. Patti and Kelly were both with Geneva.

She led us to a country club about ten minutes away from the campus, on the road back to Baltimore.

As soon as we were all seated around a big round table in the club dining room, I congratulated all the girls on their victory and asked them about how the tournament would be conducted thereafter.

Kelly told me that it was a double-elimination tournament and that their next opponent, in the "winners' bracket" would be today's opening-game winner, North Carolina State. That game would be played as tomorrow's opener.

"I didn't see much of their game today," I said, "but they scored six runs. That's pretty major for a softball team, isn't it?"

"Depends on how they got 'em," Kelly said. "Maybe the other club's defense was poor. But, yes, you're right, six runs is a lot, in fast-patch softball."

"Who's your pitcher tomorrow?" I asked.

"Me," a tall, thin brunette answered shyly from across the table. "I'm Juanita Helstrom."

"Nice to meet you, Juanita," I said. "I wish I could watch your game tomorrow, but we have a game of our own, tomorrow night."

"We play early -- 12 o'clock, I think," Juanita said encouragingly.

This girl really likes me! Why can't Patti Wyman show this much interest?

"We don't play until 7:05," I explained, "but we're due on the field at 4. I think it would be cutting it kind of close to try to make it to your game tomorrow."

"Some of us will be coming to your game," Kelly said.

"Great! I'll check on how you made out when I see you there!"

That night, during warm-ups, I recognized all four of the girls from Maryland in their usual position in the stands behind third base. Kelly was there, along with Juanita Helstrom, another young woman I'd met at dinner called Norma McConnell -- and Patti Wyman.

"How'd it go?" I asked, approaching their box and directing my question to the starting pitcher, Juanita.

"We won, 3-1," she said, all smiles. "I pitched a complete game!"

"Fantastic!"

"Patti hit a homer!" Norma McConnell offered.

"Congratulations, Patti!" I said, hoping, this time, for a complete-sentence response from the inscrutable Ms. Wyman.

"Thank you."

Maybe the woman's got low blood-pressure.

I went back to the business at hand before Paul Warren started giving me dirty looks from the dugout. My rival third-baseman, Patti Wyman, had hit a homer.

I hadn't hit a homer since last month.

Early last month.

But then, the Orioles didn't rely on me for power hitting. They had plenty of guys to do that. I was a get-on-base guy. I hit for average. And, until this week, I'd been leading the league in doubles. Right now, I was leading the league in "oh-fers." In the second game of the doubleheader, I'd been 0 for 5. That meant I'd been two for nine in the two games -- not so terrible. But I was two for 17 in my last four games, and that spelled S-L-U-M-P.

I'd better get something going tonight, or I might be seeing some bench time when we went on the road next week against New York and Boston.

Time to get my mind off Patti Wyman and Maryland University softball. Time to get my head in the game.

Well, my head was in the game, all right, but my bat was mostly in the rack. I struck out three times that night, going 0 for 5 again, and we lost, 8-3. I not only left three guys on base, I failed to so much as advance a runner. I was now at two hits in my last 22 at bats -- a bona fide slump going on.

I stayed on the field after the game and signed autographs, as usual. There weren't too many takers, though, on this particular night.

How soon they forget.

Just when I was ready to head for the locker room, I noticed that Patti Wyman was still there -- standing in the box seats area where she'd recently watched us lose our game.