|term||German||function||occurring in chapters|
|second base||second base||“In baseball […], second baseman is a fielding position in the infield, between third and first base. The second baseman often possesses quick hands and feet, needs the ability to get rid of the ball quickly […]” (Wikipedia)||2|
|shortstop||shortstop||(see second base)||2|
SILAS JONES WAS his name but people called him 32, his baseball number (…).
(…) the drivers in cars on the highway glaring at him as if he’d chosen to be out here screwing up their day as if this had been his life’s goal, the reason he’d destroyed his arm pitching college baseball and joined the navy (…).
“Poor ole M&M,” she said. “Didn’t yall play ball together?”
“Back in the day we could turn the double bout as good as any two boys anywhere.” (…)
Silas regretted saying it. “I was in school with him’s all. Knew him a little way back when.”
“He didn’t play ball, did he?” Voncille asked.
“Naw. Just read books.”
“Horror books,” French said. “His house is full of em.”
As they walked, loaded down with rods and reels, the tackle box, their rifles, Silas asked if Larry was going out for baseball this year. Larry said he wasn’t, he’d never played, had never even considered it.
“I ain’t no good.”(…)
Because Silas had started playing baseball at school, Larry worried that he was losing him.(…)
From across the field he watched Silas standing on a pile of dirt he’d mounded behind the cabin. He looked back over his shoulder toward Larry, who ducked before he realized Silas was just checking an imaginary runner on first. Then he raised both his hands to his chest and kicked up one leg and fired a streak of gray toward the tree sixty feet away. Larry was impressed at the thwack the ball made when it bounced off the trunk and rolled back. Silas was already charging to scoop the baseball bare-handed out of the weeds and pretend to throw it back in Larry’s direction, as fluid a move as an Atlanta Brave on the television. (…)
Silas watched him. He still held his baseball and Larry wondered did he steal it from school.
Silas looked back toward his mound, the tree. “I bet I can throw seventy, eighty miles a hour,” he said.“Yeah,” Larry said. “It looked real fast from here.”(…)
Silas watched him a moment, then got his ball and began to walk toward home and Larry followed. It was cooler in the woods and they crunched over the leaves and ducked branches. At one point when the brush cleared Silas sprinted ahead and turned, still running, and pivoted and threw the baseball back toward Larry. Larry reached for it but closed his eyes and missed and it bounced behind him and disappeared.
“Shit,” Silas said.
He hurried past Larry and began looking for the ball.