Henry's Hammer (2) “What do you mean?” John looked up realizing that a couple of hours had gone by, as it was late in the day. The Voice of John Henry laughed louder than it had before pushing John back a few feet. “Come on I’ll show you. You just walk back there a few feet past that last rail by the base of that mountain. Just to the right. That’s it. Now step back a bit and watch what legends can still do John.” John stepped back holding his breath for something truly spectacular and dramatic. The thing that only a legend who comes back to help you can do, the earth shaking, Mountains crumbling type of stuff. But that didn’t happen. Instead from the ground slowly pushing up came two sticks, no they where to big and smooth to be sticks. He walked over to them placing each one of his hands on the handles and pulled them straight out of the ground lifting John Henry’s Hammers up high into the air. He could feel the strength in the wood and the harmony in his hands and instantly he knew what John Henry the legend wanted him to do. He laughed as he heard John Henrys voice fill the air around him. “Son We are going to play some baseball!” **** Twenty days later John Henry walked into the locker room of Hammer High school, suited up, and slowly entered the baseball field for the opening game against their schools archrival Mechanics High. The small stadium was bursting with spectators and reporters. For weeks the newspapers had been covering the remarkable recovery of John Henry but no one knew for certain if he could really play or for that matter hit the ball at all. There were even Television coverage and college baseball scouts. Everyone was here to see John Henry hit that ball that is if he still could. The National Anthem began, the spectators stood up taking their hats off, the ball players stood, as everyone joined in a chorus of patriotic unity. It would be the only time in the next several hours that to a person everyone agreed. No sooner had Mechanics High taken the field and the first player for Hammer High strided to the plate than the division of cheers and boos began. First up for Hammer high was little Bobby Brown. Who couldn’t but stand two baseball bats high. He crouched and crowded that plate, protecting the strike zone, corked up to unwind into the ball. Unfortunately the long standing rivalry between the schools wouldn’t allow for a friendly game that over the years had developed into a blood feud. It was more than just a game between players. No it was bigger than that. It was tradition against progression, men versus machines, and aluminum baseball bats against wooden ones. It was a war that had been waged since the time of the railroads itself. For Mechanics High was a vocational school built and taught about the superiority of machines while Hammer High was laid with stone and carved an education with books and minds. The two schools and town folk simply hated each other, had for years, and that hate all came clearly through with the first fast pitch directed right at poor Lil Bills head. Fortunately for Lil Bill who for the past four years was the first batter of every game played against Mechanics high, he was prepared. He had learned that that first pitch no matter what would come directly at his head. So he ducked just as the ball rocketed over his helmet missing it closure than inches. “Ball One!” The umpire stood and shouted as the stands erupted with jeers and cheers. Lil Bill stood up and dusted himself off from the ground. He approached the plate with a grin to match that of Joe Pitard, the pitcher of Mechanics High. Without wasting a moment Joe wound up tighter than a corkscrew and unleashed another fastball. This time Lil Bill was prepared and he connected bat to ball that sent a screamer over the second baseman’s and center fielders head. Tommy made first base before the center fielder touched the ball. The crowd for Hammer High exploded with Cheers, a sound that shook the rafters above. And so the game began, as it had every year, batter after batter, out after out, inning after inning. Unfortunately for poor John Henry the game wasn’t going well to the delight of Mechanics High. Every time the former home run power swinger came to bat, his self doubt was so great that it seemed not only to effect his timing and swing but the crowds as well, resulting in three swings and an out. The announcer for the game said it best as his mechanical static voice crackled over the loud speakers. “Well folks even young legends have limits I guess.” The crowd split in two as it was came together once again in agreement. John Henry was finished that was certain and so was the chance of winning the game for Hammer high. Going into the bottom of the ninth with two outs against Hammer High the crowds started to thin out and leave as the score was 9 to 6 in favor of Mechanics high and their aluminum bats. “Remember John Henry you’ve got the blood in your veins.” John heard the familiar Voice of his Great Granddad, the real John Henry, echo in his head. He had been talking to him throughout the entire game, a lot of good it. “I guess people were right about me all along. A whooping strike out. A big failure. A big Nobody.” John whispered under his breath.” to no one in particular. John kicked the dirt of the dugout floor watching the dust particles fly from his foot. “If that’s what you believe that’s all you’ll ever be.” John lifted his head to see his old Grandma standing by his side, at the end of the bench, away from everyone else. He felt like crying but fought the tears back as strongly as he did the urge to just leave. His grandma reached into her purse and pulled at a cold can of coke and handed it to him. John pulled the tab roughly and swallowed the whole contents of the can before burping bigly. “Man that must taste good. Wish I had me some of that carbeenation.” The Voice of John Henry just wouldn’t leave him alone. “Grandma we’ve lost, I lost the game. I let everyone down.” John knew he couldn’t hold back the tears so he put his hands to his eyes in shame. His grandma leaned over to him and kissed his forehead with her wrinkled lips. “Now John Henry there’s nothing to be ashamed of. So long as you did your best, you tried your hardest, there ain’t nuthin to be shamed of. You hear me.” John was about to say something, even lifted his head to speak but his weak words were drowned out by the roar of the crowd as the announcer screamed. “It’s another hit. Can you believe it? Hammer High has loaded the bases with two outs in the bottom of the ninth with one batter to go.” John’s heart sank right to the center of the earth when he heard that. For he knew he was the next batter up. How could he be the last batter with bases loaded? “Come on John your up. You gotta do what comes naturally to you son. Get on up there.” The coach for Hammer High was urging him to the deck, to the plate, the last player of the last play of the game. John’s body felt like liquid molten lava, thick, heavy, and on fire with pain. “No this isn’t right,” he thought, “not me, not now,” but he knew he had to go. With great effort he slowly stood up wishing he could just stay there in the dug out. Just then the announcers voice crackled louder than it ever had. “Wait a minute folks, Mechanics High is calling a time out. No wait a minute they’re calling for a substitution of pitchers. Now why would they do that?” The announcer wondered. His question was answered before the sound of his voice dissipated into the distance. Out strode from the warm up field, Josh Haley for Mechanics High. John Henry’s heart would have fallen further if it wasn’t for the fact that it was already at the center of the earth. He looked up and saw Josh Haley and knew, just knew that he was finished. That somehow he, John Henry was atoning for all the sins of man, and that all the pain and suffering that had happened in his life was nothing compared to what was about to happen to him now. For approaching the pitchers mound was Josh Haley and he was in fact the fastest pitcher that ever was. He was so good and his pitches so fast that he was skipping college altogether and going directly to the Pro’s, the Major Leagues. He had transferred out of state to Mechanics High to live with his Grandfather and it was said to pitch against John Henry. It was personal some say as he was the great grandson of the man who made the machine that challenged and then killed John Henry so long ago. Now he had come to do the same thing again, to end John’s life like his great Grandfather had to John Henry. John’s life, he was certain, would end in three pitches. Josh Haley strode to the pitchers mound with such confidence and force that people said you could feel it in their feet in the stands. He even waved off the warm up pitches, instead deciding to yell out his challenge. “Come on out John Henry. It’s time to face what’s right!” Josh Haley laughed loudly and seemed to with that laugh pull toward that field dark rain clouds overhead. “Well I’ll be.” The voice of John Henry sounded. His Grandma even blessed herself when she saw Josh Haley for she knew the evil in that family. John looked at his Grandma, his eyes reflecting his inner fear. “Grandma I…” His throat was as tight as piano strings and he couldn’t finish the sentence. Just then the clouds erupted and thunder boomed across the field matching the laughter of Josh Haley. “Come on out John Henry. I’ve waited a long time for this. Every one wants to see you get crushed.” Josh Haley’s taunts registered straight to the nerves of poor John Henry and to compound matters the bleachers started to fill back up with people as word spread of the impending dual, of repeating history. For deep down people felt, despite the years of jokes that John Henry was the great Grandson of the legend himself. It was just that no one wanted to let others know what they felt, you know “just in case it wasn’t real.” John’s Grandma looked at her grandson and knew as big and as strong as he once was, and was becoming again, that the weight of the world was crushing him. She also knew he was John Henrys great grandson and that deep down in there his blood flowed. What she didn’t know was poor Johns blood that was flowing in his veins was heavy molten lava. “John. You got yourself a choice here. You know what it is, and I can’t help you do the right thing neither. I’ll tell you something though no matter what I still love you.” John’s Grandma kissed him and sat at the edge of the wooden bench besides the burlap wrapped bag John had brought. John took a deep breath, looked out at the field, at the full stadium, and Josh Haley, the pitcher who stood tall and defiant, hungry for his feast. “Tell you something I didn’t tell no one before John.” Great as if all this wasn’t enough now his great granddad was going to add the last bit of guilty weight that was for certain going to drown him. “What’s that?” “I wasn’t certain I could beat that machine. Yes sir wasn’t certain at all. You should have seen it snarl and smoke, just like the man who drove it, Josiah Haley. Just like his great grandson out there.” The voice of John Henry paused a bit. “One thing I was sure of though. I was going to die trying.” Oh that’s reassuring John thought. “But you did die. And so am I if I go out there!” John pointed to Josh Haley, the crowd, and the dark rain clouds above. “Might be…but you is a John Henry and you got heart and a will and a talent that no one or even a fire can take away from you. Others aren’t so lucky as that. Now pick up that bag and go show them what a John Henry can do.” John sighed deeply taking his right hand and grabbing the heavy bad before stepping out to the soaked ball field. To a person, on both sides, and for a third time in the game everyone was unified in thought and action for no one moved despite the rain and thunder and everyone knew that what was happening, no matter what it was was going to be something to see. “Think he’s going to find himself Grandpa.” John’s grandma whispered to the air. “Wait till he grabs those hammers he will. Yes sir that boy knows the will of the wood like I did.” John’s grandma opened her purse and pulled out the last of her cokes opening it up and gulping it down till it was empty. In seconds she belched so loudly that the entire team of Hammer High heard it. “Yes sir, sure could use one of those carbeenation drinks right now.” The Voice of John Henry for the first time ever sounded tense. So did the voice of the announcer in his protected booth as he grabbed the steel mike and shouted into it. “Yes ladies –N- Gents that’s John Henry down there on the deck. I know what you all been thinking too, as I’ve had the very same thoughts for years. Could all those stories be true? Is it possible that that boy is the great grandson of the Big man himself? Can history be repeating itself? Well I reckon I don’t know but I am certain of this. That down there, on the field, in this rain and lightening are two boys with very famous namesakes. One is just hell bent on finishing the game and John Henry’s baseball life for good. And big ole boy John himself has to be feeling the weight of the world as he faces that pitcher. Yes ladies and gents this is a match up to remember. And I want you to remember this. That despite what happens down there that boys got heart. Five times at bat and five strike outs. Now with bases loaded and a chance to win this game he’s not just facing mechanics high but himself. Yes sir that boys got heart!” John could hear the announcers voice crackle over the old loudspeaker system despite the noise of thunder and the rain on his face. Especially those last words about having heart. Only thing was his heart was a couple thousand feet below in the center of the earth not where he needed it most now, within himself. “Come on John Henry lets get this over with. I’m waiting!” Josh Haley voice seemed to echo louder than the thunder itself. John took off his cap and rubbed his head before putting his hat back on. He looked at Josh Haley, the people in the stands, and the bag by his side before kneeling down and putting his hands inside. In one move he pulled out both the hammers of John Henry and held them up over his head as the lightening split the sky. “Now we’re going to see something. Now we going to see the real John Henry at that plate.” The voice of John Henry chuckled still wishing he had that sodee. Immediately the coach for Mechanics High charged the field waving his hand with the rulebook in it as he ran to the referee. So too did the coach for Hammer High. The Referee called a time out with a whistle that was lost to the sound of the wind. Both coaches were arguing feverishly with the referee but all that was lost to John Henry. He just held both those hammers, feeling the strength of the wood and the power in his hands. As the coaches continued to argue John Henry approached home plate. The catcher for Mechanics high with his arms crisscrossed in front of his chest looked at John. “You know you can’t use those things to hit the ball.” John looked at him. “I know.” The catcher’s eyes narrowed with confusion. “Then why bring them then?” John Henry looked at the catcher. He took one step back from the plate and with one mighty swing with the hammer of his right hand hit the head of the other hammer, which fell off, leaving only the long thick well-worn wooden handle in his left hand. John smiled as the two coaches and referee approached the plate having heard the noise. “That’s not legal!” yelled the Mechanics High coach as he pointed to the wooden shaft in John’s left hand. “Show me where in the rule book says he can’t use a piece of wood so long as it’s not squared off!” Shouted back the coach of Hammer High while pushing the rulebook in front of the other coach’s face. They both started to thumb through the pages, neither one quite certain the other was correct. The Referee stepped in between the two. “I know that book and every word in it cover to cover. I also know that despite what it says if it’s an area that’s not been tested before and falls between the rules, like it does now, the Referee makes the final call.” He pushed the coaches aside and stepped toward John. “Son let me see that piece of wood. John handed it over to the Referee who almost dropped it because the shaft was so dense and heavy. He flipped it over in his hands a few times, once bringing it close to his nose and eyes, examining it particularly closely. Finally he gave it back to John and walked in the rain back over to the coaches. There was a few heated words and John heard someone say “I can’t believe this,” but he wasn’t certain who said it or what the Referee decided until he saw his coach smile the width of home plate. The Referee took a step back and yelled as loudly as he could. “Play Ball!” just as a bolt of lightning flashed and the crack of thunder could be heard. “Doesn’t change a thing John!” sneered the pitcher as he spat on the mound. The referee walked over to home plate and tried to lift the hammers head off the ground wanting to move it to the side. But he couldn’t. It was too heavy. “Ahh could you move that thing John.” John looked down at the ground and picked up the solid steel head with one hand while slinging the other hammer over his shoulder walking toward his dugout. “Yep that’s a Henry for sure.’ beamed the voice of his grandma. “Now only if he believed it.” John didn’t believe anything at the moment least of all himself or that he could much less even hit the ball. He placed the hammer back in the dugout next to the feet of his grandma and the solid steel head by her side on the bench. His grandma turned and smiled at him not saying a word as John pivoted and walked back out into the field and home plate with the heavy wooden handle slung over his right shoulder. The umpire nodded his head, the catcher squatted, behind John the batter, and the crowd leaned forward in their seats. Josh Healey stared at the catcher for the first signal but waved it off. He did the same to the second and third hand sign. There was no way he was going to throw anything but a fastball straight through John Henry. People in the stands swear to this day that they could see the heated hatred that Josh Haley had for john as the very rain that was soaking everyone else to the bone was sizzling dry when it touched Josh Haley. The pitcher wound up bringing his right arm back and then forward with blinding speed and released the ball. John Henry took a breath but before he could exhale and swing the ball whizzed past him. “Striiiike Onnne!” Screamed the umpire as the crowd either moaned or jeered in the bleachers. John stepped back off the plate. His team mates on the bases, tried to cheer him on. “Come on Big John bring me home,” said the teammate on first base. “Come on man hit that ball I want to come home!” Shouted his teammate on second. “You just smack that ball Big John. I always knew you was the legend.” John could hear the voices of his teammates but he didn’t believe the words they said for he still didn’t believe in himself. “Don’t matter really…” the Voice of John Henry rung through Johns head suddenly. “Don’t matter if you don’t believe in yourself, not really, cause you can’t change the blood in your body or the history in your bones neither. What really matters now son is that others believe in you. That’s what caused me to believe that I could win…to beat that machine. I swear on my soul every time someone shouted my name or for me, my stroke became harder and faster. Every time someone said, “Come on Big John,” I could feel my own strength growing. Now you just listen to those hometown folks of yours, they’re saying the same thing ‘bout you son. Hear what they’re saying ‘bout big John Henry, he can do it.” John listened to the words in his head as he muscled up to the plate. “Striiike Twooo!” Yelled the Umpire. John’s head snapped around with disbelief at the Referee. “Caught you napping Ya big nothing.” Snickered the pitcher. “But I wasn’t ready. I…” The referee just looked at John. “You know the rules, you entered the box. He threw the strike. Now get back in the game cause the counts 2-0.” John stepped away from the plate this time making certain he was way out of the batters box. 2-0, those numbers seared in his mind. That’s me a big fat zero. In the distance from the mound Josh Haley was laughing hideously and each time he did he seemed to pull down a thunderclap with him for emphasis. The announcer summed it up in one line. “Ladies and gents the counts 2-0, bases loaded, bottom of the ninth, last player of the game, last chance for Hammer High.” Last chance for Hammer High John thought. No it was his last chance to prove to himself that he was somebody, not what others thought of him. Every time Josh Haley laughed, John’s blood started to burn, not the hot lava ooze as before that just about paralyzed him. No this time he began to believe what some of the cheering hometown folks where cheering. That he could do it in this one last swing. Suddenly he felt he had a chance, and that’s all he ever really wanted anyway. Just one shot to show everyone that he John Henry still could do it and do it the best that ever had been done. “Come on up to the plate John Henry. Your Great Granddad was a lazy good ole good fer nuthin and you just following in his footsteps too. One more ball John and its over. You can go away and die like you should have in that fire.” John looked up at Josh Haley and could see the pitchers eyes were two burning coals of pure hatred. The Voice of John Henry calmed John down. “Son you just feel that power in that wood in your hands same as I used to. That’s all that matters now.” John wanted to mutter thanks but he had already stepped into the batters box and the Umpire had signaled to play ball. John shifted his weight back, muscling up all his strength and power into just one hit. He knew what was coming and he wanted that pitch more than anything else in his life. Just give me that fastball one last time he thought. The catcher knew too what John was thinking. Everyone in the stands knew it too. Two pitches, two fastballs, Josh Haley for mechanics high was at war, his one destructive weapon was that pitch and everyone just knew it was coming. John pulled in his breath, his scared hands tightening his grip on the well-worn and smooth handle of John Henrys Hammer, and waited. The pitcher knew what he had to do to finish not only the game but do what his great granddad couldn’t. Win. And win he would as he began his windup pulling in all the fury and anger of generations into one twisting movement. People in the stands leaned even further over almost on top of each other until Josh Haley released the ball like a rifle shot. Three things were have said to have happened in the next seconds that followed, at least that’s what people say who were there that day say. They’re not certain in what order it happened but the results none could argue. The announcer’s static voice perhaps more than anyone’s captured it all best. “The release sounds like the crack of a rifle shot…John Henry swings a big swing to the whack of his wood and the ball ladies and gents is…” No one was certain where the ball was at that second as nobody either saw the release of the pitch or the swing of the Johns wooden handle, nor the whack of the wood and ball until the announcers squealing voice about ruptured every ones ears there at the field. “Ladies and Gents…I don’t believe it…I don’t believe John Henry hit that ball way…way…up to the upper right. Just look at it fly like a darn missile…Look and see what John Henrys done with a grand slam home run!!!!” To a person in that field, from the smallest child to the oldest person, all eyes went to that spot to see that ball not just fly out of the field and over the outfield wall but zoom, shoot, rocket out of the park itself and out of sight. John just stood there for a moment watching the prettiest sight he had ever saw as he tried to put his heart back in his body. For with that whack his heart flew straight from the center of the earth, through home plate, and chased that ball as fast as it could. So too did the agony of a scream that came from Josh Haley, the pitcher from Mechanics High, who crumpled to the soggy and soaked mud mound. “Well run those bases boy!” Laughed the deep urging Voice of John Henry, which is precisely what John did, rounding first base, then second, third, and home plate before he was piled on with people celebrating his win. The crush of their combined weight didn’t hurt John Henry though. He could have taken a thousand times more of that laughter and joy. Yep John Henry, the great grandson of the greatest hammering railroad man ever lived was deliriously happy at the bottom of that pile and he didn’t care if he ever got up again.
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Copyright © 1999 Bradley Kabbash |