Storymania - Cashen's Curse by Elio P Evangelista

Cashen's Curse
Elio P Evangelista

Cashen's Curse

Cashen toed the bag at third and awaited the inevitable call from the dugout. Even the Lions’ pitcher hesitated an extra moment before he stepped onto the rubber. Murray waited an extra second before walking from the on-deck circle to the plate. "Time ump!" was finally called from the third base dugout. Cashen had played his part once again. It was the top of the ninth inning and he was on third. The Tornadoes were losing 7-4. He was 0 for 3 before his triple and any run now could start a rally and Cashen didn’t want to jinx the chance of that happening. He stepped off the bag and gracefully headed for the bench, his cap tilted up in salute to the crowd. Lopez, the rookie from Florida, came out to pinch run. Cashen’s day was done.

The outlook was never brilliant for Kevin "Jay" Cashen once he reached third base. He had stood there close to a thousand times in his major league career, but he knew that no matter when he got there, the outcome would be no different from the last. It was one of those quirks about the game that kept the fans talking at the corner bar every night, and kept them interested in the game for more than a century. In his thirteen years of service with the Kansas City Tornadoes, his 5 foot 6 inch diminutive body had never hit a home run, had never scored on a sac fly, had never been driven in from second on a single, and therefore, by simple deduction and process of elimination, he had never once scored a run for the team. One may be left to wonder, "Why would any team keep such a player if he could never reach home?" Well, aside from that tiny statistic, Kevin Cashen was a legendary ballplayer in his own time.

In his first season, he struggled mightily against his setback. He started out well, which is no surprise considering his accomplishments since then. He batted leadoff in the first game of the year against the Chicago Crows. After he worked the pitcher from an 0-2 count to full in his first plate appearance, he saw the pitch he was waiting for and slapped the ball down the rightfield line and into the corner. Cashen was so fast back then that he was able to round first base before the sound from the hit reached the upper deck seats behind rightfield. At least that’s how the story goes. After rounding first with ease, he quickly circled the bag at second, and was on his way to a third where he found himself, comfortably, ninety feet away and to the left of the plate which he had been standing at only moments before. A standup triple in his first major league at-bat was definitely a good foundation for a legendary career to be built upon.

But after that hit, Cashen’s luck began to run out. Eric Flynn stepped up to bat next. On the first pitch to Flynn, he roped a line drive single into leftfield far enough to score anyone from second, let alone the young, healthy rookie on third base. And, when Willie Abrams, the centerfielder for the Crows, picked up the ball to throw it to the shortstop, he bobbled it in his glove. Cashen was as good as home at that point. The speed he had as a youngster should have proved no match for the aging arm of Abrams; but when Abrams gained control of the ball, as if God or fate or whatever muse directed Kevin Cashen’s life had interjected, he fired the hardest thrown ball imaginable to the catcher. Amazingly, the ball and Cashen made it to the plate at the same time. He was quickly tagged and the umpire called him out. That was the closest Kevin Cashen ever got to home plate.

The Lions intentionally walked Murray when he came up to bat. His power was too dangerous to overlook. With Lopez on third, it meant that there were runners on the corners and Jack Dugan at the plate. Dugan was the team’s leading RBI producer, though he rarely put the ball over the fence. He was sure to break 90 for the year and challenge the team record of 109 for one season, set by Cashen 6 years earlier. Dugan took the first pitch. "Strike one!" the umpire screamed.

Dugan always took the first pitch for as long as Cashen could remember. He was one of those players who stuck to routine. From taking off his socks right foot first to showering in the third to last stall in the locker-room after the game, Dugan never strayed from custom. Dugan stepped back into the batter’s box and awaited the next pitch. From the third base dugout, Murray was able to see Cashen flash the steal sign from his seat in the dugout without the other team noticing. When the Lions pitcher wound up, Murray took off. "Ball one," called the ump. The throw to second was high and Murray was safe. Dugan stepped back into the batter’s box and stared down the pitcher. He took his time releasing the ball but when he did, it came at Dugan as fast as lightning. "Ball two."

Cashen leaned over to Brooks, who sat beside him. "It’s funny how this game works, isn’t it?" Cashen said. Brooks smiled. "I mean," he went on, "nothing will happen for a few seconds and then all of a sudden, in an instant and faster than you can think, there’s tremendous action. It’s electric. Don’t you think?"

"Sure," said Brooks, "I guess so."

"CRACK!" Dugan knocked the ball over the second baseman’s head and into rightfield. Lopez scored easily and Murray rounded third and began his slide home a few moments later. The throw to the plate was too far to the right and Murray beat the tag. The score was 7-6 now, still in favor of the Lions, and Dugan, who advanced from first after the throw went home, was standing on second. The crowd was decidedly silent. After all, it wasn’t everyday that the last place Tornadoes had a chance to beat the first place Lions. Kansas City finished with the worst record in baseball eight of the thirteen seasons that Cashen played. One could argue that Cashen’s lack of run scoring was the cause, but the fans would never be convinced of that.

Cashen was by far the star player of the Tornadoes. Though Murray had power and Dugan hit well, they never came close to the numbers that Cashen consistently put up, nor had the romance that surrounded Cashen’s legacy. Over his thirteen year career, Cashen had 1365 RBI, 2634 hits: 868 singles, 809 doubles, 427 triples, only 583 strike outs, and a .323 lifetime batting average. Defensively, he had played second base in 1726 consecutive games. As a player, he was indeed a legend.

Flipping over his baseball card, however, one could find under the column heading ‘R,’ fourteen tiny zeros: one for every year that Cashen played, and one for the total. No, that number was not the result of a smudge left by the remnants of the hard pink stick of gum, it was an undeniable fact. Cashen seemed content with that figure, but that wasn’t always the case.

Midway through June of his first season, Cashen faced the worst slump of his career. Although his work in leftfield was average, he hadn’t gotten a hit since one of the games against the Kings back in mid May. He couldn’t figure out if his slump was due either to his inability to hit or some subconscious fear to reach base. Even if he walked, it would have hurt the team. No matter how he had gotten on base, he never came home. He had been steadily moved through the lineup from leadoff to behind the pitcher at the bottom of the order. His ability to hit early on produced a number of runs batted in, but it seemed that if he ended up on base and the best hitter of the club was on deck, then the best hitter would invariably become the worst hitter for that at-bat and retire easily. So, not only did Cashen feel like a jinx to the team as a whole, but he also felt like an unlucky charm for anyone who batted after him.

By the end of the All-Star break, Cashen was known around the game as "The Jinx." His pseudonym was later shortened to "Jay" for convenience. It became a joke around Kansas City: "Jay Cashen’s at bat. Might as well give up now," they’d say.

At 22, Cashen was quickly losing faith in his ability. He refused to believe that he would never break his curse, but all the signs pointed towards that fact. He didn’t break the spell until the day that he realized what was actually keeping him from hitting the ball: himself. He realized that his whole slump had been caused by his own belief that he could not score runs. Once he believed that he could be a productive player, he began to hit again. The hits came slowly at first, but by the beginning of August, he was back to his original form. He had even gotten his batting average up to a modest .270, effective enough to keep him in the lineup. Every time he reached base, he was determined to score a run. When the runs didn’t come though, Cashen turned his attention to the other bases. He began stealing bases with his quick young legs. That year, he set the team record for stolen bases at 38. This was the first significant achievement in Cashen’s long career.

He had seen players come and go through the locker-room, but never had he met his match. After years of consistent hitting and a consistent lack of runs, Kevin Cashen had made a name for himself. No, he wasn’t the kind of player that pitchers feared. He wasn’t the kind of player that anyone feared. His manner was always soft-spoken and gentle actually. He was a man of the people if ever there was one. It came to pass that fans across the country filled stadiums just to watch the mighty Cashen come up to bat and inevitably fail to round the bags.

"The fans admire Cashen’s zeal," Stanley Finch of the Kansas City Herald once wrote after a particularly good outing by the Tornadoes. Cashen had hit four singles in that game. Finch continued, "Never before has the game seen such a determined player of such deserving quality. There is no doubt in any of the fans’ minds that Kevin Cashen is one of the game’s most inefficient, yet effective players."

The jocular aspect of Cashen’s jinx had all but worn out by his fourth season and Cashen was coasting into his second straight All Star game as a reserve, nominated, of course, for his outstanding abilities as a second-baseman. The Tornadoes were quickly becoming the worst team in baseball and though Cashen was continuously offered much higher pay in much better franchises, he remained with the club.

"The Tornadoes ballclub is my team," he once told reporters. "And, Kansas City is my home. I love the fans and they are always supportive of me. I see no reason for wanting to leave this great atmosphere." In a time when devotion for one’s team was rapidly becoming scarce, Kevin Cashen became the posterchild for loyalty. It came to a point where he was even offered an endorsement contract with Niceday tires to promote their reliability.

The Lions fans jeered at the appearance of Babyface De Luca in the on deck circle. In the last two weeks, De Luca had done nothing but launch the ball over the fence 400 feet away in leftfield. As a starting player, you couldn’t find anyone worse that Babyface. But when it came to tight situations, he was the one that they called upon. He sat on the bench every day awaiting the call which came all too infrequently with the Tornadoes. The only times he got to play were when it was late in the game and the score was either tied or the team was down by one. Or, when Babyface was able to stay out of trouble.

Early on last season, De Luca had been arrested for allegedly betting against the Tornadoes. He was cleared of all charges due to an insubstantial amount of evidence to prove any wrongdoing on his part. When the scandal broke, it was believed that

De Luca’s Mafia ties to the Garafalo family in New York had something to do with his acquittal. Since then, everywhere De Luca played he heard the catcalls from the crowds. This sometimes led to Babyface’s lack of playing time since the fans in opposing cities often resorted to tossing fruit at him during the game. Therefore, when he did get his chance to play, he made the most of it. In his 96 at bats, Babyface had hit 16 home runs, all of which were game winners. He also had 31 other game winning hits for the season, altogether a well rounded clutch player.

De Luca slowly stepped into the batters box, understanding his purpose in the Tornadoes’ present situation. Dugan inched his way off the bag at second as the Lions’ pitcher took a moment to wipe the sweat off his brow. The 265 pound De Luca looked intimidating 60.6 feet away to say the least.

The pitcher stepped on the rubber. De Luca stepped out of the batter’s box, he was playing the game. It takes more than just power and agility. The game requires strategy and intelligence to break down the other team’s defenses. De Luca was doing just that. He stepped back into the batter’s box again. The pitcher brought his arms up to his chest, turned his head to look at Dugan, turned around again to face De Luca, and let the ball glide through his fingers in one swift motion.

Babyface took no time in deciding what to do. The instant he saw the pitcher’s hand release the final seam, a tiny smile had appeared on his face. His eyes widened, and he turned his torso. The swing was graceful and seemed to come with ease. The ball sailed over Macelli’s head in centerfield and landed over the wall 404 feet away.

The crowd had begun to empty out of Ruby Stadium even before Babyface De Luca had touched second base. Norton, the next batter for the Tornadoes, struck out. But the damage was already done. The Lions provided no offense in the bottom of the ninth inning as the three batters all grounded out to the infield.

The game was over. The score stood 8-7 in favor of the Tornadoes. It was a rare victory but an important one for the team. As the fans emptied the stadium, some of them cursed Cashen for beginning the whole rally in the first place, others just hung their heads down. And there were, of course, the optimists who regarded the next day’s game as the Lions’ saving grace.

Both teams played the game well, but the better team in the match was the underdog. The Tornadoes and the Lions would meet again in less than a day. Cashen undressed and headed for the showers. A tiny grin flashed across his face as he left the locker-room.