In Honor Of The Centennial Of The Birth Of Bernard Malamud- The Natural- Slim Jenkins’ Dream- Take One

 

 

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman

…He, Slim Jenkins, did not know when he had picked up his grandmother’s household broom, had taken it outside and ball-less had begun to swing that instrument into the fierce Indiana farmland winds. Swung that broom, that faux Louisville Slugger as that was what he called the handle from the first no fiery superstition nicknames like Wonderboy or the Bomb from a no-nonsense world, for all it was worth. At first slapdash as one would expect from an ageless farm boy who would have picked up that slap-dashery from watching the farm hands carrying on the merciless fall harvest where every blade was whacked to perdition, no prisoners taken.

Later, later after Slim had seen balls, Grandpa’s pellets thrown at high speed at him to be swished at by a real bat, later after he had taken his, maybe ten thousandth swing, when he was seven, just turn seven that summer of his decision he would hoist that bat to his shoulders for he believed, fervently believed that his life entailed an ability to hit baseballs from both sides (left or right, right or left depending on his mood and the day) and make a memory of where the ball would land in Wrigley Field. Yes by then he had the bug, the dirt farmer’s son bug to get that hell out of dirt-rich Indiana and make himself the king of diamonds just like the Babe, just like Joe, just like the Kid.

And so he whiled away his childhood, becoming strong, farm boy harvest strong, practicing every day after school (and on some school hooky days all day) and always wondering where that damn ball would land in Wrigley Field, although he had never seen the field. All he knew was that he was destined to be the savior of that club and bring back that gold ring that every Hoosier around would be willing to pay big money just to peek at, although he had determined not change for that privilege. At about twelve he began to get picked for pick-up games over in Emmetsville by the bigger boys who saw the power of his wrists, the steadiness of his eyes and his ability to hit their fast balls and change-ups.

In the fall of his sixteenth year, after leaving school the previous spring (book learning school he had called it not wise to school of life thoughts) Slim headed to Indianapolis to find a job in a factory, the Sims Steel Plating plant, to support himself and to get himself ready to try-out off for the Indianapolis Wolves, a farm team for the Cubs. And so his new life started as Slim proved very competent at his place of work welding everything in sight and mixing it up with other guys at night in the pick-up games that each factory sponsored as part of an informal industrial league among the working stiffs of the town.

It was in that industrial league that a scout for the Cubs noticed Slim’s power, his ability to lay off bad pitches and to drop balls into spots when nobody could caught them. One day the scout showed up at Slim’s workplace with an offer for him to go to Florida come that following spring and try-out with the Cubs. Slim was as happy as he had been since he first started swinging old grandma’s broom (now deceased). One night just before he headed south for his try-out in order to celebrate his good luck Slim’s factory mates and a couple of others went to Jimmy Jacks’ Lounge over on Fourth Street for a party. It was there that he met Maggie Mason, Maggie of his dreams, Maggie of his…