Marty was at his locker putting his own clothes back on after he showered when Ruth walked by. The Babe turned to him saying “If you think you could steal my turn in the rotation, you have something else coming.” “Relax, Ruth.” said Marty, “There’s more to baseball than pitching.” “You think so?” asked Ruth. “I know so.” said Marty, “In fact, when they put you in the outfield, you’ll be one of the greatest sluggers of all time.” “Outfield?” exclaimd Ruth, “Slugger. Why I’ll slug you now.” He made a fist and started after Marty when he was held back by his teammates. “Com’on, Babe.” said one of them, “You’re out of the rotation now. Don’t get yourself suspended as well.” Ruth gave Marty a hard stare before he turned to leave.
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Meanwhile, Binford Tannen overheard Bendix’s statement. Outfield? he said to himself, He’d better not replace me in the lineup. After that, he returned to his locker.
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Marty pitched four innings in his first start and pitched well. As his turn in the rotation came up, his innings increased. Then came the cutdown date.
Monday, April 10, 1917
Winter Haven, Florida
3:10 p.m.
Marty stood out there on the mound pondering his fate. He knew that the concoction he drank back in 1987 still had weeks to go before it wore off. But what if he made the team. How long after it wore off would he stay on the team? By then, Doc would be looking for him. What if he found out that he was on the team, Marty would never hear the end of it. He’d be getting the standard lecture about interacting with the people of the past and all that. His thoughts were interrupted when Ruth came out of nowhere and said “So you think you’re so smart trying to be better than me. Why don’t you throw a few to me?” Marty turned to the man and said “No thanks.” “Com’on.” said Ruth, “You’d said that I would make the outfield instead by being a slugger. So pitch to me.” He picked up a baseball and tossed it to Marty. Marty hesitated. Then, Babe asked “What’s the matter, chicken?” That got Marty’s ire. He picked up the ball as the Babe picked up a bat. With the Bambino poised to take a swing, Marty went to a wind up and threw. Babe swung and missed. “A slugger, you said.” said Babe, “How come I can’t hit that curve ball?” “If I told you,” said Marty, “you wouldn’t believe me.” Then, he threw a slider. Babe swung and missed. “Relax.” said Marty, “You’ll get the hang of it.” He threw Ruth a fastball. Ruth swung and missed. Ruth slammed his bat down and charged after Marty saying “This is frustrating.” Marty backed away but the Babe was almost on top of him. Then, the other Red Sox came out of the clubhouse to restrain the two. When calm was restored, Manager Barry turned to the Babe saying “Ruth, you’re off the team.” Marty overheard this and was shocked. Oh geez, he said to himself, I’ve just got the Babe kicked off the team. Marty turned to Barry saying “You can’t kick him off the team because I pitched better than him.” “It’s not that.” said Barry, “He’s been overweight, drinking alot and voilating curfrew.” Turning to Ruth, he said “Go clean out your locker.” Ruth turned and headed into the clubhouse.
Marty followed Ruth into the clubhouse and tried to comfort him saying “Don’t worry. Someone would pick you up.” “Who would want me?” asked Ruth. “The New York Yankees.” said Marty. Ruth looked at Marty saying “Kid, the Yankees want sluggers not pitchers.” “Trust me.” said Marty, “You could hit.” Ruth gave Marty a hard stare saying “I couldn’t hit you.” Ruth turned to clear out his locker. Deep down inside, Marty had done something wrong in striking out the Babe.
Friday, April 14, 1917
Boston, Massachusets
1:35 p.m.
Fenway Park
Marty was chosen as the Opening Day starting pitcher. After the festivities, the Red Sox took the field. Marty was taking his warm-up tosses. Son of a bitch. he said to himself, I’m actually on a major league team. And an Opening Day starting pitcher to boot.
After his warmups, he faced his opponents, the Cleveland Indians. And he won 2-0 shutting out the Indians on two hits. He was an overnight success!
Saturday, April 22, 1917
Winter Haven, Florida
6:00 a.m.
After the light dissapated, Doc looked down at the family vacation resort. It looked quiet. Marty must still be asleep. he said to himself. So, he set the car down in front of the cabin. Getting out, he went to the door and knocked. Nothing! Doc looked into the window. “Marty.” he said, “It’s me, Doc.” No response. Reaching into his pockets, he produced the key to the cabin and unlocked the door. Going inside, Doc looked around. Where’s Marty? he asked himself. He went into the bedroom. Marty wasn’t there. What was more, it looked like the bed wasn’t slept in since Marty was here. Where did he go? Doc asked himself. Leaving the house, Doc went back to the DeLorean . I’d better backtrack the last two months he was here. he suggested to himself. But, before he did, he noticed a discarded sports page of a newspaper being blown about. Doc noticed a familiar picture. Picking it up off the ground, Doc studied it. It was Marty. He was wearing a Red Sox cap. But under his picture was the name, William Bendix. It also had an article on him being 2-0 with an 0.00 era. Great Scott! he said to himself, That looks like Marty!
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The next thing he did was he went to the library to research the newspapers. What he found was shocking. During the last two months, Marty was using the name William Bendix and have been impressing the manager with his pitching during Spring Training. Obviosly, the serum that Marty drank was helping him along and now he was on the team. Going to the newspaper of the day that he was in, he looked up the league schedule. To his gratification, he found Marty’s alias was pitching that day. It showed him against what team he was pitching and where. Leaving the library, Doc returned to the DeLorean which was all the while invisible. Setting the locator for Washington, D.C., Doc lifted the car off the ground and kicked it up to 88 miles per hour.
Saturday, April 22, 1917
Washington, D.C.
1:05 p.m.
Within minutes, Doc was over the Nation’s Capital. In the distance was the home ballpark of the Washington Senators. Doc stirred the car towards the stadium.
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Marty was making his warmups on the visitor’s bullpen mound. The Senators had taken the field. As he was watching his team’s at bat, Marty felt a little strange. “Hey Bendix.” said the bullpen catcher, “Are you alright?” “Yeah.” said Marty. He continued his warmups. But the next pitch was acting very strange. “Are you sure you’re alright?” asked the bullpen catcher, “That last one seemed slow.” Marty studied the catcher saying “Yeah, it sure was.” Doc’s potion. Marty said to himself, It’s wearing off. Then, Marty realized something else. Doc. he said to himself, Jesus Christ. Doc should be arriving at that vacation resort. He doesn’t know that I’m pitching for the Red Sox. Marty continued his warmups.
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Buying a ticket, Doc entered the stadium. When he found his seat, the Red Sox had taken the field after they had there at bats. There, on the mound was Marty. Doc was shocked. My God. he said to himself, I told Marty not to interact with anyone. Doc sat there perturbed.
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Marty stood out there on the mound taking his warm-up pitches. The pitches, by now, were not the same kind of pitches he was throwing as before. When he was finished warming up he faced his first batter. The first pitch was high and outside for ball one. The next pitch was low and away. The catcher called time and went out to the mound. “Hey Bendix.” he asked, “What the hell are you doing? I’ve never seen you make pitches like that?” “I don’t know.” said Marty, “And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you because you wouldn’t believe me.” The catcher gave Marty a peculiar stare. Then, the umpire said “All right, break it up. Let’s play ball.” At that, the catcher went back behind the plate. The next pitch Marty threw the batter connected and hit one over the fence for a home run.
Marty didn’t get out of the first inning. In fact, he couldn’t get anyone out. Even his pitching opponent homered over the fence. Manager Barry took the ball from him and sent Marty to the showers.
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After seeing Marty relieved, Doc snuck down to the visitor’s clubhouse sleep-inducing any security guard that would stop him. Upon entering, Doc saw Marty changing out of his uniform in preparation for a shower. “Marty.” he said. Marty looked up. There was the Doc. “Doc.” he said. “Marty.” said Doc, “What in the name of Sir Isaac H. Newton were you doing these last two months.” “Hey Doc, Relax.” said Marty, “I was passing the time.” “I know, Marty.” said Doc, “I know. But doing what? Making a fool of yourself on that pitcher’s mound?” “Oh that!” said Marty, “Doc, that serum worked. You should’ve seen me during theses past two months. I was pitching great.” “Marty.” said Doc, “How many times did I tell you not to interact with others in the past?” “Relax, Doc.” said Marty, “No harm done. And now that it’s worn off, we could go back to the future now.” “Not so fast, Marty.” said Doc, “We can’t just can’t leave 1917 until the team releases you.” “Why?” asked Marty. “Because of that awful, awful performance you put out there today,” said Doc, “if we leave now, the newspapers are going to read that you disappeared from sight because of embarrassment. We’ll have to wait until the team releases you so we could return to our own time.” Marty shrugged for a minute. Then, he said “You’re the doc, Doc.” After that, he headed to the showers.