and Billee reached up to swing him all the way in.
“Dude,” said Billee as Stats hit the ground. “We’ve been booed so bad, I’m afraid to show my face around here. I hope you scored
some
thing. I need any shred of hope you can give me. The cosmic momentum of this deal is galactic. I tell you, it’s taking us all down.”
“I think I might have something. Not sure, but back in 2008, just before opening day, this mother hawk swooped down from her nest and attacked a girl here on a field trip. Scratched her head up and everything.”
“Well, that hawk was just protecting her young.”
“Yeah, sure, but Ol’ Red says they had to call animal rescue to come and take the nest away. And ever since then, they take down every hawk nest they find.”
“They do? So that’s what we’re dealing with.”
“What?”
“A hawk’s nest monster.” Billee winked and slapped the visor on Stats’s hat.
“Billee, focus!”
“Okay, okay.”
“Because the point is, ever since then, the Sox have never come close to another World Series.”
Stats let Billee digest the info while he tapped his eXfyle. Upcame a historical site for Fenway Park. “And, okay, one last thing.” He showed the screen to Billee.
“This article is a hundred years old, from back in 1912, the year they built the ballpark. The mayor was a guy named Honey Fitz, and he gave a little speech at the dedication ceremony.”
Stats read part of it out loud.
“This base ball playing field represents the sort of exceptional community involvement I support with all my heart. From the days of swamps and marshland where the only local occupants might have been a few frogs, muskrats, hoot owls, and hawks, to the more recent days of industry and all its dust and grime, this plot of land has come a long way. Today, with the completion of his improvements upon this site, Mr. John Taylor has given the city of Boston a sporting facility of national merit. May it shine forever.”
Stats looked up. Billee sat grim-faced with his arms pressed against his chest.
“It seems like all this fits together, right?” said Stats. “I mean, there must be a connection … somehow.”
Billee nodded. “There is.”
He rose. He said nothing as he walked to the bull pen fence and rested his arms on top, facing home. For a while he simply looked out over the ballfield.
“Can you see it?”
“See what?” said Stats.
Billee pointed across the diamond. “From ancient times, the balance of nature on this land meant a natural park, right here. White oaks and silver maples towering out of the marshlands, like we had out where I grew up.”
“Like you saw in that dream you told me about.”
“When did I tell you about that dream?”
“You know. In the hospital.”
“
When
was that?”
“Oh, never mind. I think I was dreaming.”
Billee stared. “You dreamed my dream?”
“Were you flying over Fenway?”
Billee nodded.
Stats opened his mouth wide. “Whoa.”
Billee stood stunned. “Oh, my goggles. Dude, I don’t believe that happened! Okay, okay. This is big. This tells me something. On this land, on this sacred ground we’re standing on, there has always been a balance. There’s been a special energy, a …”
“… a
chi
?”
Billee grinned. “Exactamundo. And what I mean is, it connects me and you as much as anything else.” He knelt down, facing Stats, taking him by the shoulders. “Stat Man, this is our big break. No wonder the first curse lasted eighty-six years. It’s not the ballpark that’s out of whack. It’s not even the team. It’s the balance of nature. It’s the chi. The hawks! That’s our wing flap.”
He turned toward the right-field bleachers and shouted, “We need to bring back the hawks!”
CHAPTER 21
As with any diagnosis, naming the problem and solving the problem were, of course, two different things. Billee was convinced that the natural chi must be returned to Fenway by way of bringing back the displaced
“Dude,” said Billee as Stats hit the ground. “We’ve been booed so bad, I’m afraid to show my face around here. I hope you scored
some
thing. I need any shred of hope you can give me. The cosmic momentum of this deal is galactic. I tell you, it’s taking us all down.”
“I think I might have something. Not sure, but back in 2008, just before opening day, this mother hawk swooped down from her nest and attacked a girl here on a field trip. Scratched her head up and everything.”
“Well, that hawk was just protecting her young.”
“Yeah, sure, but Ol’ Red says they had to call animal rescue to come and take the nest away. And ever since then, they take down every hawk nest they find.”
“They do? So that’s what we’re dealing with.”
“What?”
“A hawk’s nest monster.” Billee winked and slapped the visor on Stats’s hat.
“Billee, focus!”
“Okay, okay.”
“Because the point is, ever since then, the Sox have never come close to another World Series.”
Stats let Billee digest the info while he tapped his eXfyle. Upcame a historical site for Fenway Park. “And, okay, one last thing.” He showed the screen to Billee.
“This article is a hundred years old, from back in 1912, the year they built the ballpark. The mayor was a guy named Honey Fitz, and he gave a little speech at the dedication ceremony.”
Stats read part of it out loud.
“This base ball playing field represents the sort of exceptional community involvement I support with all my heart. From the days of swamps and marshland where the only local occupants might have been a few frogs, muskrats, hoot owls, and hawks, to the more recent days of industry and all its dust and grime, this plot of land has come a long way. Today, with the completion of his improvements upon this site, Mr. John Taylor has given the city of Boston a sporting facility of national merit. May it shine forever.”
Stats looked up. Billee sat grim-faced with his arms pressed against his chest.
“It seems like all this fits together, right?” said Stats. “I mean, there must be a connection … somehow.”
Billee nodded. “There is.”
He rose. He said nothing as he walked to the bull pen fence and rested his arms on top, facing home. For a while he simply looked out over the ballfield.
“Can you see it?”
“See what?” said Stats.
Billee pointed across the diamond. “From ancient times, the balance of nature on this land meant a natural park, right here. White oaks and silver maples towering out of the marshlands, like we had out where I grew up.”
“Like you saw in that dream you told me about.”
“When did I tell you about that dream?”
“You know. In the hospital.”
“
When
was that?”
“Oh, never mind. I think I was dreaming.”
Billee stared. “You dreamed my dream?”
“Were you flying over Fenway?”
Billee nodded.
Stats opened his mouth wide. “Whoa.”
Billee stood stunned. “Oh, my goggles. Dude, I don’t believe that happened! Okay, okay. This is big. This tells me something. On this land, on this sacred ground we’re standing on, there has always been a balance. There’s been a special energy, a …”
“… a
chi
?”
Billee grinned. “Exactamundo. And what I mean is, it connects me and you as much as anything else.” He knelt down, facing Stats, taking him by the shoulders. “Stat Man, this is our big break. No wonder the first curse lasted eighty-six years. It’s not the ballpark that’s out of whack. It’s not even the team. It’s the balance of nature. It’s the chi. The hawks! That’s our wing flap.”
He turned toward the right-field bleachers and shouted, “We need to bring back the hawks!”
CHAPTER 21
As with any diagnosis, naming the problem and solving the problem were, of course, two different things. Billee was convinced that the natural chi must be returned to Fenway by way of bringing back the displaced
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