Angels in the Outfield Page #4

Well, you needed help, didn't you?

- We sure did.

- I prayed to St. Gabriel personally.

He's our patron saint.

Good man, Gabriel. What's your name?

Bridget White, 8 years old.

- How long have you been here?

- Eight years.

I have to shove off now, Bridget.

It has been nice talking to you.

- So long.

- So long.

Oh, Bridget, about those prayers?

Keep them coming, huh?

He's nice, isn't he?

No, no, no, you can't see her.

I'm sorry. Now, please go away.

- We won't hurt the kid.

- The whole story is ridiculous.

"No angels," says Sister Edwitha.

Can we quote that?

- Don't you dare.

- Sister.

- Don't you print that picture, young man.

- Evening Post, Sister. It's a beauty.

- Hi, how's the angels?

- Look out, let me out of here, will you?

Guffy? Oh, boy, there's Guffy.

- How about a statement, Guffy?

- No comment. No comment.

Maybe he believes in them.

How about it?

What are you doing here?

Where's your harp?

Lay off me.

If you want to know about angels, ask her.

She wrote the story.

Look out, now, I'm getting out of here.

Now what did I do?

Oh, nothing personal, eh?

Well, Miss Household Hints.

What can I do for you?

You can listen while I say I'm sorry.

Honestly, I had no idea

that story would raise such a fuss.

If I had, I never would have...

Oh, what a mess this place is.

I never would have written it.

Your mistake was showing up

at the orphanage.

- The papers will make a monkey out of you.

- Goat, monkey, I'm used to it.

If I were you, I'd protect myself,

McGovern. Make a statement.

- To you?

- Why not?

Miss Paige, you're ruining my carpet.

Don't be afraid of mud stains. They're

very easy to take out. Here, do you mind?

Stuff them with newspapers,

turn on the oven and put them underneath.

- What kind of a parrot is this?

- It's a parrot.

- Does it talk?

- Yes.

- Did you teach it?

- Yes.

Scratch my head, please.

Well, he's very polite, isn't he?

Why shouldn't he be?

What else does he say?

"Hello," "How've you been?"

And "goodbye."

Joe, say goodbye to the lady.

- Goodbye.

- That's wonderful. But doesn't he ever...?

Well, with you teaching him...

Miss Paige, a man only swears

when he's annoyed. Joe never annoys me.

We're very happy together, Joe and I.

Well, frankly, I don't see how you can be

in a shambles like this.

How do you ever find anything?

There isn't even a place

for a guest to sit down.

There might be an idea in that.

Well, you can't get rid of me just yet,

so you might as well make the best of it.

You know, I've always wondered what

baseball players did on rainy afternoons.

Entertain lady reporters

who drop in uninvited.

Well, you're not being very entertaining.

What about the story of your life,

McGovern, while my shoes are drying?

Were you always so tough?

Even when you were little?

You had a boyhood, of course.

Tilton Falls, Wisconsin. I looked you up.

- Sounds like a nice little town.

- It was.

Four pool halls, five saloons

and the biggest pants factory in the state.

- Did you play ball there?

- I sold peanuts.

- You're folks weren't very well off?

- My folks did fine.

They had one of the saloons.

And one day they gave you a ball and a bat,

and that's how you got started.

Not exactly. I used to throw snowballs

at the cop on the corner.

It was a long block and a long winter,

so I finished up a third baseman.

Any more down-memory-lane stuff

you'd like?

No.

Are you cooking something?

- My shoes.

- Yeah, they're kind of crisp.

I said under the oven, not in it.

- Of all the stupid, asinine...

- Not in front of Joe.

How do you suggest I get home?

Well, I could loan you a pair of my shoes,

or I'll call a cab.

- Where do you live?

- Delaney Street.

And how do I get to the cab?

I weigh 110 pounds.

When the cleaning woman comes,

tell her to burn the old papers.

Put an Air Wick in

to get rid of that cigar smell...

- I like cigar smoke.

- Scour the ashtrays with ammonia.

To take the ink stains

off that burgundy chair...

- What chair?

- Burgundy.

She can call me at the office,

extension 1173.

- Will you open the door?

- There.

I could be a big help to you.

Just what I always needed,

a girl with turned-up shoes, 110.

- A hundred and 15.

- Yeah.

Here, take these to Delaney Street.

If I took her to the ball game and we sat

in the grandstand out of the sun...

...she wouldn't see any angels.

I'd write the story just that way,

and that'd be the end of it.

All right. Bridget. Bridget!

- Bridget White, Miss Paige.

- Hello.

Would you like to go to the ball game

with her this afternoon?

Can I?

- Will we speak to Mr. McGovern?

- Well, we can wave.

All right, run along.

Comb your hair, put on a hat.

With a brim.

Bridget and I got pretty chummy during

the game, exchanging girlish confidences.

The boys in the press box

kept showing up...

... with a steady stream of hot dogs

and Eskimo Pies...

... and asking Bridget

if she saw any angels.

Vanilla okay?

- Oh, thank you.

- Mac, I think that's enough.

How's it going, honey?

The angels working yet?

Well, now, you'll let us know, won't you?

Oh, Jenny, how about dinner

after the game?

Oh, thanks,

but I'm testing new recipe tonight.

- Well, have fun.

- Bye.

- Do you live alone?

- All by myself.

- That must be nice.

- Why?

I mean, instead of having a lot of kids

around all the time.

Kids are such a bother, aren't they?

- It depends.

- I always say, why not live alone...

...if you can live alone?

Take like if you have someone around

the house all the time...

...you couldn't even come to the ball game

when you wanted.

Not unless I brought her with me.

- What's the matter?

- They're warming up.

- Who?

- The angels.

Oh, now, Bridget, no.

There they come, out on the field.

- There's no one. Nothing.

- Look, don't you see?

You couldn't possibly see anything there,

do you hear me?

But I do.

There's one behind every player.

Oh, no.

Come on, get out of here, quick.

They're going. Jenny.

Jenny, wait a minute. Honey.

- Jenny, what's the story?

- We're leaving, that's all.

Honey, did you see any angels?

- How many were there, Bridget?

- Nine.

Nine!

Reynolds here. Take this.

"The angels were out in force today,"

said little Bridget White.

- Wait in here, please.

- Thank you.

Hey, I hear the kid's sick.

- What did you do to her?

- Nothing.

I think it was just the ice cream

and the four frankfurters.

Nice food for a kid.

You ought to know better.

Why'd you want to drag her out there?

I didn't drag her, she was dying to go.

- I only wanted to help.

- Help?

Fine help.

"McGovern's Angels Strike Again."

What you trying to do,

laugh me out of baseball?

Mr. McGovern, I haven't laughed

since the day I met you.

Were they boy angels or girl angels?

Boy angels.

Did they look like people...

...or did they look like the pictures of angels

on our little prayer cards?

Prayer cards.

Sore, huh?

What color robe did they wear?

White?

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