Wednesday, February 22, 1917
Winter Haven, Florida
6:00 a.m.
THE Delorean materialized out of thin air in the crisp pre-dawn sky. Spotting the resort, Doc went towards it landing the car down in front of what it looked to be a cabin. When they got out, Marty whistled. “So this used to be in your family, Doc.” he said. “Precisely, Marty.” said Doc. Then, he gave Marty some money. “This will hold you down for the next two months.” he said, “It’s money capatible to the period. The only time you leave the premises is to buy necessities. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t look or touch anything, and don’t interact with anybody.” Marty looked at Doc before saying “You’re the doc, Doc.” “Okay, Marty.” said Doc, handing Marty the keys, “I’ll see you in two months.” After that, the two embraced.
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After Doc left, Marty went into the cabin. Looking around, Marty saw that it looked more like a family home than any cabin he and his family used to stay in. It had a living room, a kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom. Geez, said Marty to himself, Doc really had a rich family. Too bad he had to give it up to finance his time-travel idea. Indeed it was. For the place itself was capatible to the era. There was no cell-phones, but there was a phone on the wall. It had a sort of a wind-up lever at the side just like those that he saw in old photographs of that his grandfather had. The bathroom sink was like those in antique stores. The kitchen had no dishwasher. The sink had no garbage disposal. In the living room, there was no TV sets since the television wasn’t invented yet, but there was the old style radio. Marty flicked a switch and a light went on. At least the lightbulb was already invented. he said to himself. It was eight when Marty went out to breakfast. By then, the sun was shining brightly. The first stop he made was at a restaurant. After being seated, he looked at the menu. After studying the menu, he said to himself Geez. Haven’t they heard of the Whopper yet? Realizing that it was still breakfast, Marty decided to look up a Chicken McNugget not realizing that he was in 1917. Finally, when a waiter came to his table Marty said “I’ll have a Chicken-fried Steak and Eggs.” The waiter gave him a peculiar stare saying “I’ve never heard of it.” It’s not Denny’s either. said Marty to himself. Then, he said “Just give me whatever is special today.” The waiter turned to go back to the kitchen. As he was waiting, a voice could be heard from another part of the restaraunt. It seem to come from the coctale lounge that it had. “Hey Babe.” it said, “You’re in here too?”” “Lay off of me, Tannen.” said another voice, “This ain’t your concern.” Tannen? he asked himself, Could it be? Marty got up from his table and went into the lounge. There were two men talking. Marty recognized one of them as being Babe Ruth. Oh geez. said Marty to himself, That’s Babe Ruth. He was listening to another man who said “Wait till I tell Mr. Barry about this.” “What can he do, Tannen?” asked Ruth, “He can’t release me unless there’s another good fifth starter in the rotation.” The man he was talking to got up saying “Just you wait.”Then, he turned to Marty showing his face. Indeed, he looked like a Tannen. Marty gasped. “Biff?” he said aloud. “What are you looking at kid?” asked the Biff look-alike. Marty froze. It can’t be. he said to himself. “Biff?” he repeated. “It’s Binford.” said the Biff look-alike, “Binford Tannen.” Turning to Ruth, Binford said “You’d better not let Mr. Barry see you in here.” After that, he turned to leave.
Marty approached to get a good look at Babe Ruth. Ruth was taking a sip before turning to Marty and demanded “What?” Marty stared at him before saying “You’re Babe Ruth.” “Yeah.” said Ruth, “And who are you?” Then, a bartender came over to ask Marty “Can I get you something.” Marty turned to him saying “Yeah. I’ll have a Tab.” “A tab?” exclaimed the bartender, “I can’t give you a tab unless you order something.” Marty paused for a minute before saying “Okay, give me a Pepsi Free.” “If you want a Pepsi pal, you have to pay for it.” said the bartender. Marty peered back at his table. Someone was coming with his food so he said “Forget it.” He turned to leave. Before he did, he took one good look at Babe Ruth. Someday he’s gonna hit 714 home runs. He said to himself.
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After breakfast, Marty headed back to his cabin. On his way, he spotted an old-style minor league ballpark. Curious about this, he headed towards this park remembering seeing old photographs of this. Upon arriving, he notice some activity inside. He saw a door opened with no one there to keep him out so he entered.
This ballpark had the old style amenities, like a concession stands, old restrooms, and zoom doors. These kinds reminded him of the same things that he saw at the recreational parks.
Marty approached one of these doors and opened them. It resembled the Giants clubhouse at Candlestick Park but more primitive. There were clothings bearing the resemblance of baseball uniforms. However, they were of the old-style kind. There were only two kinds of color uniform. Gray uniforms and white uniform. The white uniforms had the words “Red Sox” written on the front of the jerseys and the grey ones had the word “Boston” written there. There were water coolers, showers, sinks and toiletries. Marty was looking around when a voice was heard. “Hey you.” it said, “What are you doing here.” Marty turned to look. It was one of the players. Marty apologized immediately. “Sorry about this.” said Marty, “I’ve never been in a major league clubhouse before.” “It’s not.” said the player, “It’s a minor league clubhouse.” “Minor league clubhouse?” exclaimed Marty. “Yeah.” said the player. “Then what the hell...” asked Marty before he realized something. “Of course.” said Marty, “At this time of the year it’s spring training.” “You’ve got that right.” insisted the player, “And you’re trespassing.” “I’m leaving now.” said Marty.
On his way out, he passed a door. There was a conversation between two men going on behind it. “Listen Ruth.” said one man, “You promised that you wouldn’t be drinking this year.” “And if I did break that promise,” said the other man, it was Babe Ruth, “what are you gonna do about it? Let me go and you’ll have to have an audition for a good starting pitcher just to keep it at least four men.” The evesdropping was interrupted when someone else spoke up. “Hey you.” he said, “How the hell did you get in here.” Marty turned to see who it was. It was Binford Tannen. “You.” he said. “Oh geez.” said Marty, “Listen, I’m leaving now.” “Where you going?” demanded Binford. “Back to my cabin.” said Marty. “Yeah, do that.” said Binford, “Make like a tree and get outta here.” Marty paused for a minute before turning to him saying “That’s ‘leave’, you asshole. ‘Make like a tree and leave.’” “What did you just call me?” demanded Binford. “’Asshole’.” repeated Marty, “Are you deaf and stupid as well.” Binford approached Marty and throttled him. “Nobody calls me that.” he said, “Nobody.” “What are you going to do about it?” demanded Marty. “You’ll see.” said Binford. And he dragged Marty out to the baseball daimond.
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Marty was standing there on the mound with a baseball in his hand. At the plate was Tannen. “Com’on” he said, “Let me see you throw that curveball.” “No thanks.” said Marty. He was ready to walk off the mound when Binford demanded “What’s the matter, chicken?” Marty paused for a minute before saying “Nobody calls me chicken, nobody.” “Then, prove it.” said Binford. Marty looked at the baseball in his hand. Then, he said “Here you go.” Marty wound up and threw. Binford swung and missed. “Wow!” he said, “Where did you learn to throw a pitch like that?” “Believe me.” said Marty, “You don’t want to know.” “Try me.” said Binford. “Tannen.” said a voice. The two participants turned to see a group of baseball players looking on. Marty recognized one of them as Babe Ruth. But Binford was addressing someone else. “Mr. Barry.” he said. A middle-aged man approached Binford asking “What are you doing here? The rest of the squad don’t report until next week.” “I just wanted to get a head start on my spring training.” explained Binford. “It looks like you needed a workout after this kid made a fool of you.” said Mr. Barry. Turning to Marty, he said “Do it again.” This time, a man wearing catcher’s gear came behind the plate. Marty wound and threw. It popped the mitt. Marty threw again. Another strike.
Marty threw pitches for about twenty minutes after which Mr. Barry turned to Ruth asking “Now what do you think about that?” “Wait ‘til he starts pitching against the likes of Cobb.” Mr. Barry would hear none of this from Ruth. But, he approached Marty asking “What’s you name, young man?” Marty paused for a minute. Then, he remembered seeing a movie a long time ago called The Babe Ruth Story and answered. “Bendix. William Bendix.” “Okay, Mr. Bendix.” said Barry, “You’re on the team. I’ll get the equiment manager to take your measurements and fit you in a uniform. But if you want to make the cut, you’ve got to keep pitching the way we just saw you pitch today. The first exhibition game is in two weeks. You’ve got that much time to be prepared for that.” “Don’t worry.” said Marty, “You could count on me doing it.” “Good.” said Mr. Barry, “Now go see the equipment manager.” At that, Marty went off to the clubhouse.
Friday, March 10, 1917
Winter Haven, Florida
1:00 p.m.
The first exhibition game was against the Detroit Tigers. Babe Ruth was the starting pitcher. Marty was to follow after him. The Tigers had the vaunted Ty Cobb on the team. When he faced Ruth, the Babe threw his best and Cobb hit it into the corner. Standing at second, Cobb cried out “Lucky for you this is an exhibition game.” Ruth appeared steamed at this but continued to pitch.
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When Cobb came up again, Marty was on the mound. “Okay kid.” he said, “Do your worse. I can’t wait to hit it.” Marty stared out at Cobb saying “Wait ‘til Pete Rose breaks his record.” Cobb stood there for a minute before turning to the catcher asking “Who the hell is Pete Rose?” The catcher threw up his hands as if to say “Beats me.” Then, Marty was ready to go. He pitched, Cobb swung-and missed. Cobb was amazed at this. “Geez.” he said, “You’re a natural.” “No I’m not.” said Marty, “Paul Newman is.” Again, Cobb turned to the catcher asking “Now, who’s he.” “Damned if I know.” said the catcher, “That’s the first time I heard of him too.” Turning back to Marty, Cobb said “Com’on kid. Let me see that again.” Marty did. Right down the pipe. But, Cobb still couldn’t catch up to it. Strike two! “Eventually, I’ll figure out that pitch.” But not this time. Cobb swung and missed on the next pitch for strike three.
Marty pitched three perfect innnings that day and after the game Mr. Barry called him into the office. “Mr. Bendix.” he said, “How do you feel about being the starting pitcher Tuesday.” “Tuesday?” asked Marty. “Yeah.” said Barry, “Start instead of Ruth. I’ll give you four innnings of work.” “What about the Babe?” asked Marty. “Listen.” said Barry, “If Ruth thinks he could go out all night drinking and womanizing and get away with it, he’s got something coming to him. And you’re that something.” “I see.” said Marty, “And the prospect of having ‘the new kid on the block’ would bring him back to earth.” “Of course.” said Barry, “Can you do it?” Marty paused for a minute before saying “Sure.” They both shook hands on it.
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Ruth was upset. He came storming into the office demanding “What do you mean Bendix is starting the game Tuesday in my place? I’m your ace pitcher.” “If you want to be my ace, you have to stay in shape and obey those curfew regulations I enforced for the team.” “Sure.” said Ruth, “Start seeing that Bendix kid pitch in one game and you’re hooked on him.” He turned and left the office.