Winchell Franks walked into the clubhouse feeling the southern heat already killing him as the walk from the bus to the field was in the open summer heat. Earning the nickname "Win," which changed to "Fin" over time, instead of being called Winchell was a great nickname but walking into a D-league clubhouse being demoted made him think the nickname would end with his season here. The north did not have the sweltering heat that Georgia had and being demoted made it feel like this was hell.

 

The manager knew who he was because Win had been ready to be called up to the majors when his swing left him. Skipping college to play ball was a sure rise to fame he felt, but two years in and being sent to the lowest league was making him think that this was the end of the road. Everything was clicking in high school and even up to being ready to make the step up to the big leagues until it all went downhill.

 

It started with a strike out, and he lost his stellar batting average. Then the pop-ups came. Night after night it was the same thing of popping the ball up to the outfield and walking back to the dugout in frustration. The manager was prepping him about what it would be like in the minors and then talked to him about finding his swing in the lower leagues. Nineteen twenty-five was supposed to be a big year, and now he sat at his locker looking at the uniform of the lowest league team that was in last place.

 

The apartment that was setup for him was more like a room in a boarding house and the pay was practically not enough to live on either. The town was small and poverty was everywhere. Playing in wealthy towns in the North made him think that he really never knew what lay beyond the small area of teams that he did play in.

 

The first week was the same thing of popping the ball up, but the frustration was more like giving up as he knew that this was the last year to prove himself. Writing his parents about the prospects of him coming home and working in the family store made him think about the future in sales. His parents earned a good living and the idea of him doing the same was nice, but it was without baseball; he hated that.

 

Practice was nice as most of the guys on the team knew that they were just playing for fun and had no aspirations of making it above the minor league system. It was a laidback team that joked around and didn't take anything serious. They tried to win and even played well, but the pitchers were not able to deliver what was needed. Win knew that a few of the players were not destined to stay on the team long and were ready to be promoted, too. The only reason he knew that they were stuck on the team was because their positions were not needed to be filled at a higher level.

 

It was a nice easy Saturday practice of hitting and fielding when he saw a little Black kid wander out to the field and start fetching the balls. He saw him around the clubhouse a few times and a few of the players always harassed him to leave. Win thought he was a cute kid of about seven or eight and just liked baseball. He was doing no harm and looked like he needed a meal and some clothes too. His shirt was ripped in various places and was dirty enough to tell that he wore it all the time too. He was barefoot and had pants on that were ripped on the bottom just so they would fit him.

 

He always had a smile on his face, was eager to please, and Fin liked that he seemed to love the sport. He had so many questions and would run to fetch anything if asked. A few of the players called him "Blackie" and said that a good negro boy like him was nice to have around but bad luck. Win still got his real name of George, but George liked to be called "Blackie," thinking it was a nickname that made him fit in.

 

Fin liked the kid and offered for him to stick around him to keep the other southern players away from him. He asked so many questions, and Fin did his best to entertain him. Every practice he would be there helping out what he could with him still being a young boy. His enthusiasm was contagious and showing him how to play ball just came natural. The team had a left over glove, and Win gave it to him since it was going to be thrown out anyway. It was like he was given a Christmas gift early too he was so excited.

 

Still trying to get his swing back was not working, but Fin was able to keep his batting average at a respectable level. The coach knew he was doing everything and that he was the one player on the team that had a legitimate shot at making it. His fielding was excellent, but his hitting just wasn't there yet. His hits were just singles, and he wasn't crushing it like he knew he could.

 

Three weeks into the season, and he was still practicing his swing after the game. It was a hot Saturday, and it was late in the afternoon for hitting slow pitch balls into the outfield. George was helping out when Fin started just missing a few pitches. The frustration was there, and he decided to call it a day and come back Sunday morning for more batting practice.

 

Since George stayed later than normal, Fin decided to walk him home. He said his place was only a couple of miles, and they chatted the entire walk. It was like George's energy could not be contained, and he was almost running in circles and talking the entire time.

 

George took Fin down a dirt path, and Fin figured that he lived in the segregated poor area. His assumption was right when they arrived at shanty shacks with doors barely on and metal roofs that had rusted holes in them. There was a dirt path to each house and people outside tending to gardens and fixing wagons. There wasn't a car to be found, and there were horses being used only for the small farm that was off in the distance.

 

George ran right up to his mother and started talking about the game and how he wanted to go to tomorrow's game, too. Fin saw that George's mother looked young but older than Fin's nineteen years. George's mother looked to be about twenty-five or so.

 

She was a petite woman standing only a couple of inches above five feet. At his six-foot frame, he seemed to tower over her. She was quite skinny and her ragged white summer dress clung to her body showing off her complete lack of body weight. Her short black hair was natural, and her face showed a delightful cuteness to it. Her high cheekbones and narrow chin made him think she was some dance girl in a way.

 

Getting closer, he saw that her dress was almost form-fitting on her and her cleavage, on the smaller side, was showing just slightly. He knew that colored girls like her did domestic work, and her placement in front of a large water basin with laundry hanging up close seemed to fit the profile too.

 

"You must be George's mother," he said smiling at her as her face looked cautious.

 

She stepped closer with an almost worried look on her face. "He be causing trouble at the field. I tell that boy to stay clear of there. I sorry if he givin' problems."

 

"No, no. Not at all ma'am. I just walked him home is all." Fin responded trying not to look at her dress as it showed off her petite and cute figure.

 

George ran up to her tugging on her dress. "No, Ma. Thats Mr. Franks. He gave me the glove."

 

She then looked down at him pushing him off of her and smiling at him. "So sorry, I thought George was botherin' you. He be talking about you all day. He won't shut up about you and how you be teaching him to play baseball."

 

George scurried away, and Fin watched him run towards the porch that was not too far away. "Well, he is a good boy, and I was willing to teach."

 

"You not from around here. You from the north?" she asked with a curious look on her face.

 

"Yes ma'am. I am from a small town in New York." Fin answered thinking that his town was small and was used to rural country people in a way.

 

"Well, I know you players come down her for a short time before moving along. If George be a pest, you just tell him to run along. Don't want him messin' round with some of those players on the team."

 

He knew that some of the players treated George as a nuisance and would love to smack the kid back home. Thinking that she didn't have a problem with him though, he decided to calm her fears. "No worry ma'am. I will keep an eye out for him."

 

She walked back to the basin and looked back at him. "Thank you, Mr. Franks. I really do appreciate you taking time with him."

 

Just as she was reaching in he saw George run over to him and then lose his balance when he got close. It was like slow motion as he watched George trip at the last minute and hit the side of the water basin. The height of the water basin and George made him slam into the side without falling in. The scrub board that was close fell in causing a splash. The water cascaded up hitting his mother and splashing her chest though.

 

She leaned back up hollering at George with anger burning in her eyes. "You get inside right now boy, and I am going to beat the tar out of you."

 

While she screamed at him, Fin saw that her white, thin dress now clung to her mocha skin showing off her breasts completely now. Her breasts were small with rounded sides. It was her hard, dark nipples that pointed out that were as clear as day through the wet fabric of her dress, though. It was like he saw her topless, and his eyes could not break free. The image burnt into his brain, and her petite body now became a sight to remember forever.

 

She leaned in again pulling the scrubbing board up and just as she did his eyes saw more of her body. Her hanging dark breasts were held in place by nothing, and he could see the firm nature of them as well. She lifted back up as his eyes were still on target for what he knew was the best sight he ever saw. Rose was his former girlfriend, but she did not have perky firm tits like George's mother.

 

She locked eyes on him, as she knew instantly what he was gawking it. "Mr. Franks!"

 

"Sorry. I best be off." He called out and left, not wanting to confront her over his embarrassment of staring at her. He knew it wasn't a glance or a hard look, but a full-on stare like he was a painter about to memorize the subject.

 

The entire walk home, he could not stop thinking about her body. She was petite, skinny and her firm, perky tits were perfect. Some guys love a woman with giant melons on their chest, but her dark, firm tits seemed to be what he liked. He never saw himself liking negro girls, and the few he did see seemed a bit overweight or had large hanging tits. George's mother was like some skinny waif that could be blown away by a stiff breeze, and yet the excitement of her wet dress showing off her body was turning him on.