Clothing Optional (11 page)

Pretty much.

HAPPY

So, where'd you get this ball?

DONALD

My dad…. Like I said, we used to go to the games all the time. He'd been a New York Giants fan, you know, before they moved to San Francisco. So when the National League came back to the city, well, it didn't matter that the Mets stunk. In fact, that was part of the charm. I'd sit there and see the players letting ground balls go through their legs, and tripping over their feet when they were rounding bases, and I'd look at my dad and say, “I can do that,” and he'd look back at me and say, “I believe you can,” and we'd laugh about that all the way home.

Donald laughs at the memory.

HAPPY

So, where'd you get this ball?

DONALD

You see, the Yankees were too good. They were exciting. But there was no way an average kid like me could ever actually relate to those guys. But you…

Again Donald shakes his head and savors the laugh.

HAPPY

Ball? Get? Where?

DONALD

Well, look who's being annoying now! And where's my pie? I got this ball the first day you played for the Mets.

HAPPY

Really?

DONALD

They'd just brought you up. On September first. The day the teams can expand their rosters for the final pennant drive, right?

HAPPY

(smiling)

Yeah. There I was, sitting in some Howard Johnson's down in Tidewater, when they call me with the news that I'm going up—for the pennant drive to a team that was fifty-seven games out of first place with only twenty-eight left to play—and it was the greatest day of my life. They gave me a plane ticket, I called my folks, and when I landed in New York and stepped up to that plate for the first time, I was…

DONALD

Happy.

HAPPY

Happy. I grew up across the street from the Polo Grounds. Used to watch Willie Mays do what he did from our kitchen window. So now here I am, playing his old position, hitting those two home runs, and I'm…

DONALD

Happy.

HAPPY

Happy. And that's what I told those sportswriters and that's how that whole Happy Haliday business got started. All those banners, those pins, that billboard near the Holland Tunnel…

DONALD

That's also when my dad started calling me that.

HAPPY

Happy?

DONALD

Uh-huh.

HAPPY

Happy Rappaport?

DONALD

Well, I'll admit it didn't have the same ring to it that Happy Haliday did, but dads don't usually say the last name when they're calling their kids so it worked out okay…. This ball? The second time you were up?

HAPPY

The single?

DONALD

The pitch before it.

HAPPY

The foul ball?

DONALD

This is it.

HAPPY

That's the ball?

DONALD

Yep. We were sitting in the second level, behind the plate, and this ball came screaming back at us. I brought my glove to the game, but there was no way I was going to catch this thing without it ripping my entire arm off my body. So my dad just nonchalantly reached over, stuck his huge meat hook of a hand in front of me, snagged the ball out of the air, and said, “Here you go.” And here we are. It's thirty-five years later, and this is still the closest I've ever come to catching a foul ball at a game.

HAPPY

And what about those signatures? I don't remember swinging at any balls that had all those names on it.

DONALD

Those I got on the last day of that season. Someone who worked for my dad had a friend who got us passes to the clubhouse. So I brought this ball so I could get your autograph after the game. I ended up getting everybody's except yours. We waited for you, but…you never came back from the hospital. So we went home and just figured we'd get your autograph the following season.

HAPPY

Sorry. Imagine how
I
felt, though. I get hit by a pitch, run to first, steal second, steal third, score on a sacrifice fly, collapse in the dugout, get taken to Lenox Hill for “precautionary” X-rays, and the next thing I know they're drilling holes in my skull because I had blood clots. Before that day, I'd never even heard of blood clots; but now I had some and they were going to keep me from doing the only thing I ever cared about doing.

DONALD

I wrote to you that winter.

HAPPY

A lot of people sent cards, get-well wishes…. At one point they were actually delivering mail that was just addressed to “Happy, New York City.”

DONALD

That was me.

HAPPY

You sent those?

DONALD

Yeah. My father said you needed your rest, so I just wrote “Happy, New York City” on the envelope and put a blank sheet of paper inside because I didn't want to tire you out by making you read too many words.

HAPPY

I appreciated it. Your father still call you “Happy” after it was all over for me?

DONALD

Yeah.

HAPPY

Really?

DONALD

A lot. He always pointed to you as an example of how a person should enjoy life in the moment because you never know what's waiting around the corner.

HAPPY

You mean, sort of like a “Man makes plans and God laughs” kind of thing?

DONALD

No, I'd say more along the lines of “Be careful what you wish for because you might get it.”

HAPPY

Why?

DONALD

Because you got hit in the head with a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball.

HAPPY

I didn't wish for that.

DONALD

Yeah, but…you didn't?

HAPPY

Who would wish for a thing like that?

DONALD

I see. So maybe it was more in the “smile is a frown turned upside down” area.

HAPPY

That must've been it.

Donald looks at his watch.

HAPPY
(cont'd)

Late for something?

DONALD

Huh?

HAPPY

You keep looking at your watch.

DONALD

Oh, just a habit.

HAPPY

What time's your seder?

DONALD

Sundown.

HAPPY

And what time is sundown?

DONALD

Whatever time that everybody's hungry. It's a Jewish thing. Look, would you mind signing that ball?

HAPPY

(surprised)

You want my autograph?

DONALD

Yeah.

HAPPY

You sure? I can't remember the last time someone asked me to sign something that didn't have an invoice number on it.

DONALD

You're the only name that's missing on it, and it would mean a lot.

HAPPY

If you say so.

Donald reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a fancy pen, and hands it to Happy.

HAPPY
(cont'd)

How should I do this?

DONALD

Well, you just find an open spot on the ball and sign your name there.

HAPPY

I mean the pen. Where's the point on this thing?

DONALD

Oh.

(showing him)

You just twist the top and…there you go.

HAPPY

And what about this shit over here?

DONALD

What shit?

HAPPY

This rubber shit.

Happy shows him the pen.

DONALD

Oh, that's just padding to rest your fingers on while you're writing.

Happy stares at him.

DONALD
(cont'd)

It's really comfortable.

Happy continues to stare.

DONALD
(cont'd)

It was a gift.

Happy continues to stare.

DONALD
(cont'd)

You're going to make fun of me now?

HAPPY

(nodding)

You've given me no choice.

DONALD

Go ahead.

HAPPY

Ready?

DONALD
(bracing himself)

Yes.

HAPPY

You're a Sissy Mary.

DONALD

…That's it?

HAPPY

That's it.

DONALD

Well, you nailed my fat ass on that one. So, now that that's over with…

(indicating ball)

…if you don't mind.

HAPPY

Oh. Boy, I'm really honored.

He spins the ball in his hand, looking for a place to sign.

DONALD

There's a spot.

HAPPY

Where?

DONALD

Between Marv Throneberry and Choo Choo Coleman.

HAPPY

Little tight, don't you think?

DONALD

Not really.

HAPPY

Oh, here we go. Now, should it be “To Donald” or “Don” or one of your kids?

DONALD

No, no, no. Just your name.

HAPPY

But…

DONALD

It shouldn't be “to” anyone.

HAPPY

But you flew down, you landed in West Palm Beach, you drove the rented Taurus to my house. I feel like I should say something special.

DONALD

I appreciate that, but it's much more valuable if it's not personalized to anyone.

HAPPY

What do you mean by “more valuable”?

DONALD

It's worth more.

HAPPY

To who?

DONALD

To a buyer.

HAPPY

Excuse me?

DONALD

Well, if a collector is in the market for something like this, he's more apt to pay top dollar if it just has the athlete's name on it—as opposed to something that's made out to a specific person, because when he goes to sell it,
his
buyer might not want a ball that's made out to someone else.

HAPPY

(suspicious)

You know, we both know what it is that I do for a living, but I don't believe we ever got around to talking about what you do. Would you mind it much if I ask what line of work you happen to be in, Mr. Rappaport?

DONALD

I deal in sports memorabilia.

HAPPY

And what exactly does that mean?

DONALD

It means that I go to shows—baseball-card shows, sports conventions, auctions—and buy mementoes from other dealers that I then try to sell to collectors who come into one of my stores, or sometimes I sell them privately.

He hands Happy a business card.

HAPPY

(reading)

“The Sports Kingdom.”

DONALD

I have four stores in the tri-state area.

HAPPY

So let me see if I understand this correctly. This ball with all these autographs on it is worth money.

DONALD

Yes.

HAPPY

And if I write my autograph on it…

DONALD

It will be worth more money.

HAPPY

Why?

DONALD

There'd be no other ball like it. That original team. Three of them Hall of Famers—based on the careers they had with other teams before they came to the Mets, mind you. But still, they're dead, so they can never sign another ball ever again, and the rest of these players are probably scattered all over the country and it would take a fortune to go track them down.

HAPPY

So how much could you get?

DONALD

For that ball?

HAPPY

Approximately.

DONALD

I can tell you exactly.

HAPPY

So tell me exactly.

DONALD

Twenty-eight thousand.

HAPPY

Dollars?

DONALD

That's right.

HAPPY

So let me see if I understand this correctly. You actually think that you can take this ball and sell it for exactly—

DONALD

I
know
I can sell that ball for exactly twenty-eight thousand dollars.

HAPPY

And how's that?

DONALD

It's already sold.

HAPPY

It is?

DONALD

Yes. Once you sign it, that is.

HAPPY

And, just so I know, how did that happen?

DONALD

I know a man up in New Jersey whose name is Joe Eastern, and he's a collector, and he called me. You see, Happy, there's so much memorabilia out there, the market is so flooded, that many collectors like to specialize in just one particular category that they have a passion for. The 1961 Yankees is a big attraction. Anything to do with Muhammad Ali, some of the great Boston Celtic teams, you know…and this guy…