Ep7: Diamonds are a Tomboy's Best Friend

Baseball diamonds, that is.

A unique triple-header of an episode, combining two baseball-themed mini-stories with a brief overview of the sport's greatest heroes, presided over by Tomasina Boyd herself.

PART ONE: A BATTER'S DREAM 

“It’s an easy out, everybody, an easy out!” the shortstop teases, “Everyone move in!”

The girl in the batter’s box is noticeably nervous, and her helmet is too big on her, dropping over her forehead and blocking her vision.

The infielders and outfielders trot and stroll toward home plate, further intimidating the girl, and taking her from nervousness to fear.

The fielders began their chatter.  The pitcher winds up, and throws the ball.  She suddenly screams like little girls sometimes do, drops her bat, and runs crying to the dugout.  The umpire yells, “STEE-RIKE ONE!”

“TIME OUT!” shouts Tomasina “Tommy” Boyd, seventeen year-old coach of this local team.  The umpire holds up his hands to stop the game.  Tommy enters the dugout, kneels down before the crying girl, and lifts her face.  “Lisa, honey, are you all right?” she asks softly.  Lisa jumps up, throws her arms around the older girl, and buries her sobbing face into Tommy’s neck.

“Oh, Tommy! Tommy! I can’t do this!” she cries, “Those boys are so mean, and I’m afraid they’ll throw the ball at me!  I thought I could be like you, Tommy, but I can’t. I just can’t!”  The child almost convulses in her coach’s arms.  “Oh, Lisa,” Tommy says to her, feeling every inch of this girl’s personal pain.  “You shouldn’t want to be like me!  You should want to be like you!”

“But I wanna play baseball and basketball and run fast like you!” she weeps, “But I’m so scared!”  

Tommy pulls back slightly and looks her little charge directly in the eye.  “Lisa, sweetheart, you look at me and listen to me,” she declares.  “When I was a little girl, about your age, I played my first baseball game, and I was just as scared as you are.”

“You were?” Lisa asks, “But you’re the bravest person I know!”

“Well, I wasn’t back then,” Tommy answers, “In fact, Daddy said he could see me shaking with fear in the batter’s box.  But he also told me that it was just a ball, and if it hit me, then it’ll sting for a bit.  But I’ll get to go to first base, and that was the important thing, because I was playing for my team, and not for me.  So I knew I had to do my best, because my team was counting on me.”

“But those boys are so mean!” Lisa cries, “It’s like they’re trying to scare me.”

“And they are, sweetheart,” Tommy explains, “but they do that to everyone.  Just don’t listen to them – listen instead to your teammates, who are yelling to you ‘Go, Lisa! You can do it! Show ‘em how it’s done!”

“They yell THAT, to ME? I never heard them!”

“Yes they do, and so do I, every time.  You’re not up there alone.  Your team is behind you.  Now, I’ve seen you hit a ball, and hit it hard!  I know you can do it.  You just have to believe you can do it.  Now go on out there, pound the plate with your bat, and dig your back foot into the dirt.  Then you give the pitcher the meanest look you can, and listen for your teammates and me.  Keep your eye on the ball, and your bat will follow your eyes.  And when that ball crosses the plate, you just explode!  Like I said, I’ve seen you do it before.  Can you do it again, here and now?”

The girl suddenly feels courageous.  She wipes her tears from her face, streaking a little dirt where tears used to be.  She clenches her fists and her teeth. “You bet I can,” she growls.

“That’s my girl!” Tommy says, “Now go get ‘em!”

Lisa storms out of the dugout and snatches a bat from the ground.  She then stomps to the batter’s box.  “Are you ready?” the umpire asks.  “You bet I am,” Lisa snarls.  The ump holds up his hands and yells, “PLAY BALL.”

The fielders start their chatter and their taunting, and for moment Lisa feels the old fear coming back.  But then she hears Tommy’s voice yelling, “Go Lisa!  Slap that ball, girl!”  And then she hears her teammates encouraging her just as Tommy had said.

She grinds her rear foot into the dirt and gives the plate a sharp whack with the bat. She looks at the pitcher and narrows her eyes in determination.  The pitcher winds up and throws.  Lisa watches it like Tommy said, but just as the ball comes to the plate, she swings the bat with all her might – and shuts her eyes.  The ball glances off her bat toward the other team’s dugout, causing the coach to suddenly and comically jump to avoid being hit by it.

“FOUUUUL BALL – STEE-RIKE TWO!”

Lisa is surprised, and she looks at Tommy. “Lisa!  That was a good chop!  You got a piece of it!  Now see what happens when you keep your eyes open!”

Lisa grins and resumes her batting stance.  “Keep your eyes open.  Keep your eyes open!” she repeats to herself.

Another wind-up, and the ball is on its way.  Lisa watches it like a hawk.  Suddenly, everything begins moving in slow motion.  Lisa hears nothing, feels nothing.  The ball crawls to the plate.  As it arrives, Lisa – with her eyes wide open – swings her bat as though she were trying to stop a car with it.

The sharp, loud CRACK! of an unmistakably well-hit baseball pierces the air.  Jaws everywhere drop as the ball flies over the heads of the infielders like it had been shot from a cannon.  The center fielder knows he’s in trouble, because he - like everyone else – has moved way in, expecting a powder-puff hit, if any hit at all.  But he is too late.  The ball sails gracefully and rapidly over his head.  He turns to give chase, but he stumbles over his own surprised feet. Then, things resume their normal speed, but the crowd remains silent.  Lisa stands at home plate, not realizing that it was she who sent the ball airborne.  “Run, Lisa!” comes Tommy’s voice, “RUN!”  With that, the crowd snaps back from its collective stupor, and begins cheering for their respective team.

Lisa drops her bat and takes off for first base.  When she gets there, she looks at Tommy, who is waving her arms and yelling “RUN!  RUN!”  She bolts for second base. Again she looks at Tommy.  “Run, Lisa!  Keep going!”  So she heads for third.

The centerfielder has recovered and finally catches up with the ball.  He pegs it to his cut-off man near second base, just as Lisa rounds third on her way to home.  The cut-off man hurls the ball to the waiting catcher at home plate.  Again, the crowd goes silent, and slow-motion resumes.

Lisa’s legs are pumping as hard as they can.  The catcher focuses on the ball heading his way. The ball hits the ground at the same distance as Lisa is from home plate.  It takes one bounce to the catcher, who grabs it and swings around to tag Lisa.  Just as he turns to her, she plows into him.  He sprawls to the ground.  Lisa steps on the plate.  The ball rolls from the catcher’s glove.

“SAFE! SAFE! SAFE!” the umpire yells. “THAT’S THE GAME!”

Lisa jumps up and down, clapping her hands and squealing with girlish delight.  Her team pours from their dugout and gathers around their new star  “We won, Lisa!” some of them say, “You won the game for us!”

“Huh?” Lisa responds, confused.  “What do you mean?”

Tommy comes over to her.  “What they mean, Champ,” she happily explains, “is that the game was tied when you went up to bat!  Your inside-the-park home run gave us the game!”

Lisa is utterly shocked.  But she recovers, and runs to Tommy, leaping into her arms and hugging her for all she’s worth.  “Thank you, Tommy!” the grateful girl says over and over, “Thank you, so much.  I love you, Tommy!”

“I love you, too, Lisa,” Tommy responds with bright eyes and a warm smile.

It's been quite an afternoon for young baseball players and their parents.  After the crowd disperses, and just as Tommy packs up the team’s gear, a distinguished-looking man approaches her.

“Miss Boyd?” he asks.

Tommy turns to him.  “Yes, I’m Tommy Boyd.  Can I help you?”

“You already have,” the man says.  “I’m Stanley Boswell, from the State Amateur Athletics Hall of Fame.  I watched the game.  I saw what happened with that little girl.”

Tommy smiles. “That was Lisa.  She’s a sweet kid.”

“I think to everyone here,” Mr. Boswell says, “she looked like a terrified little girl.  I don’t know what you said to her in the dugout, but the metamorphosis in young Lisa was amazing.”

“Oh, she was just nervous,” Tommy replies.  “She has a lot of talent and a lot of heart. She just needs to realize that she has everything she needs to be a strong, confident girl.  That’s why I like to encourage girls to take up a sport.  I have nothing against boys, other than the ones who behave like sexist jerks, but girls can use confidence and learn from teamwork, too.”

Mr. Boswell looks admiringly at Tommy, nodding his head. “Indeed, young lady, indeed.”  He pauses.  “Miss Boyd, as I… “

“Tommy,” she interrupts, “you can call me Tommy.  Everyone does.  Well everyone except Aunt Edwina.”

“Oh, uh, well, yes, if you insist . . .Tommy,” Mr. Boswell continues.  “But as I was saying, I’m from the State Amateur Athletics Hall of Fame, and every year we conduct a search for amateur athletes in the state who best exemplify the highest principles of amateur sports.  We look for people who are highly regarded in their communities, people who pursue sports for the sheer joy of it, and who see the possibilities presented by sports for moral and character development.  In short, we want to recognize outstanding, excellent citizen-athletes, Miss Bo – uh. . .Tommy.  People like you.”

Tommy is very surprised.  “Mr. Boswell, are you saying that you want me … to be in the State Amateur Sports Hall of Fame?”

“It’s not just me, who wants you in the Hall, Tommy” he replies with a friendly grin, “but just about everyone in Lincoln Heights.  Over the years we’ve received sacks and sack of letters from different people here, all singing your praises, not just as an athlete, but as a community role model.”

“But, I… I never,” Tommy stammers, “I never thought about the Hall of Fame.  I mean, I’ve heard of it, and I always thought it’s a great thing.  But I never tried to…  to…”

“Get inducted?” he asks.  “We know that, Tommy.  Which is why you are an obvious choice.  You do what you do simply because it’s what you are, and that makes you an inspiration.  So, what do you say, young lady?  Will you accept our invitation to join the State Amateur Sports Hall of Fame?”

Tommy is absolutely stunned.  But Mr. Boswell needs her answer.

“Sir,” she says, “it will be an honor and a privilege.”

Mr. Boswell smiles.  “Very good, Tommy.  Then I have your permission to tell the Board of Directors of your decision?”

“Oh!  Yes, sir!  Yes, you do!”

"Excellent.  Then I'll make the arrangements, and I'll be in touch with you and the local sports authorities.  We'll have two ceremonies, one here in Lincoln Heights, so your family and all your friends can honor you, and one at the state capitol, where the Governor will formally induct you.  The Lincoln Heights ceremony will be in two weeks.  I'll send you and the press the details.  And on behalf of the Hall of Fame, let me thank you, Tommy, for all you've done for sports in the state, your community, and for that little girl, Lisa."

Overwhelmed and overjoyed, Tommy beams with pride.

And the she opens her eyes.

The familiar surroundings of Proper Little Miss correctional school invade her senses.  Tommy realizes she's sitting on the floor with a stupid doll in her lap, and she's wearing an equally stupid dress better suited to a six year-old.  And an undiscriminating six year-old, at that!

A dream.  That's all it was.  No ball game, no Lisa, no Mr. Boswell, and most deflating of all, no Hall of Fame recognition.  It was just a delightful fantasy Tommy Boyd conjured up while falling asleep during her monotonous, mandatory doll-rocking exercises.  Which, of course, are all part of Aunt Edwina's determined efforts to rid her trouble-prone hoyden niece of worrisome tomboy/lesbian tendencies, and why Boyd's being re-programmed, from scratch, with overtly feminine instincts and interests.  This controversial form of personality conditioning certainly explains the dolls and toddler dresses Tomasina must contend with, but makes the PLM experience no less frustrating for her.

Fortunately, Tommy's deeply-entrenched rebellious nature enables her to endure everything this ultra-conservative school assaults her with, causing fogy guardian Edwina an equal amount of aggravation.  Even so, waking up to PLM's brain-rotting reality is quite a comedown... Tommy's gone from helping little girls to realize their potential on the sports field to behaving like a little child herself, and a pathetically girly one to boot.

Sigh.  Wouldn't it be wonderful if young females like imaginary Lisa were encouraged by society to take an interest in athletic events and team sports, Tommy can't help thinking to herself.  Just s cool, wouldn't it be great if the Lincoln Heights locals truly considered Tomasina Boyd to be an exceptional athlete, a "community role model," instead of an unfeminine, emotionally-arrested misfit in constant need of discipline and rehab?

"Way to go, Lisa," Tommy says with an ironic half-smile, one again resuming her ludicrous doll-rocking therapy.  "Our dream's gonna come true one of these centuries, just you wait and see!"


PART TWO: TOMMY'S ALL-STARS

Baseball... what a game!

Tommy Boyd's been loving it and playing it for as far back as she can remember.  Even at age seventeen, she still makes a point of running bases and hitting homers for the pure athletic joy of it.

Just recently, community-minded TB has been organizing a modest but colorful baseball team with some local neighborhood boys.  This rag-tag group of adolescent misfits is soon dubbed the Lincoln Heights Blazers, with Tommy providing both inspiration and ongoing, semi-adult supervision.  So far, there's been only one problem with this eager-to-please outfit: the kids are really good!  Nice, fresh-faced winners, each and every one.

"We're gonna blaze our way to glory, guys!" laughing Tommy tells her only slightly younger charges.  Indeed, team captain Boyd manages to bring Chester's Garage aboard as a part-time sponsor.  Even so, these talented youngsters will need more neighborhood support if they intend to make a real name for themselves.

Anxious to nip all this activity in the bud is rich-bitch Marcia Sloan, Chad Parker's career strategist and TB's arch-nemesis.  "Wouldn't it just be like Tommy Boyd to put together a baseball team that starts attracting some local attention?" Marcia fumes.  then, in a typical "first phase" move, she sends local leather-clad hoods Frankie and Pimples into the field.  "Put these little goody-goody Blazer dorklings in their place by clobbering them decisively with an impromptu game," Marcia instructs.  After all, both Mr. F and Mr. P have pitched a few fastballs in their day, and making monkeys of Tommy and her toddler team promises to be pure pleasure for all baddies concerned.

Excuse me, Miss Sloan, but can you spell "b-a-c-k-f-i-r-e"?

The high-spirited Blazers make the Sluggers (Frankie's team of overconfident gorillas) look like a bunch of stumbling sissies!  They win three out of three games and even manage to emerge from the Sluggers' blatantly unfair rough-housing with only a minimum of bruises.  Talk about a totally cool wipe-out!

Badly-beaten Frankie glances at opposite number Tommy Boyd across the field.  The sexy young captain joyfully jumps up and down like an excited child herself, hugging and ruffling the hair of her victorious teammates.

"Baseball Broad is gonna pay," Frankie mumbles with consummate dread, to an equally dirt-smudged Pimples, who nods in silent agreement.

But not today, creep-os... today belongs to Captain Tommy Boyd and the Lincoln Heighs Blazers!  In a word: YAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!


PART THREE: HISTORICAL TAG

Non-fiction sports overview, not part of our story mythology.

Betsy Russell appears as Tomasina Boyd, looking pert and appealing in a full-out Little League baseball uniform, complete with cap.  In the "real" world, as opposed to regressively conservative Lincoln Heights, Tommy lectures to a group of boys -- AND girls -- about some of baseball's most famous players over the years.  Legendary heroes such as Babe Ruth, Jackie Robinson, and Shoeless Joe Jackson are profiled, along with more recent players, including female professionals.