The Natural

Roy frowned. “Come out of the bushes.”

The Judge paused. “I was trying to help you assess this action in terms of the future.”

“You mean if I sell out?”

“Put it that way if you like.”

“And that maybe some good might come out of it?”

“That is my assumption.”

“For me, you mean?”

“For others too. It is impossible to predict who will be benefited.”

“I thought you said you were doing this to get rid of the gamblers — that’s good right off, ain’t it?”

The Judge cleared his throat. “Indeed it is. However, one might consider, despite the difficulty of the personal situation — that is to say, within the context of one’s own compunctions — that it is impossible to predict what further good may accrue to one, and others, in the future, as a result of an initially difficult decision.”

Roy laughed. “You should be selling snake oil.”

He had thought there might be something to the argument. He was now sure there wasn’t, for as the Judge had talked he recalled an experience he had had when he was a kid. He and his dog were following an old skid road into the heart of a spooky forest when the hound suddenly let out a yelp, ran on ahead, and got lost. It was late in the afternoon and he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the dog there alone all night, so he went into the wood after it. At first he could see daylight between the trees — to this minute he remembered how still the trunks were, as the tree tops circled around in the breeze — and in sight of daylight it wasn’t so bad, nor a little deeper in, despite the green gloom, but just at about the time the darkness got so thick he was conscious of having to shove against it as he hallooed for the dog, he got this scared and lonely feeling that he was impossibly lost. With his heart whamming against his ribs he looked around but could recognize no direction in the darkness, let alone discover the right one. It was cold and he shivered. Only, the payoff of it was that the mutt found him and led him out of the woods. That was good out of good.

Roy pulled the covers over his head. “Go home.”

The Judge didn’t move. “There is also the matter of next season’s contract.”

Roy listened. Would there ever be a next season? He uncovered his head. “How much?”

“I shall offer — provided we agree on the other matter — a substantial raise.”

“Talk figures.”

“Forty-five thousand for the season. We might also work Out some small percentage on the gate.”

“Twenty-five thousand for dropping the game is not enough,” said Roy. As he spoke an icicle of fright punctured his spine.

The Judge scowled and drew on his half-gone cigar.

“Thirty,” he said, “and no more.”

“Thirty-five,” Roy got out. “Don’t forget I stand to lose a couple of thousand on the pay I could get in the Series.”

“Utterly outrageous,” snapped the Judge.

“Don’t slam the door on your way out.”

The Judge rose, brushed his wrinkled pants and left.

Roy stared at the ceiling — relieved.

The Judge returned. He removed his hat and wiped his perspiring face with his dirty handkerchief. His head was covered with a thick black wig. You never got to the bottom of that creep.

“You are impossible to deal with — but I accept.” His voice was flat. He covered his head with his hat.

But Roy said he had changed his mind when the Judge was out of the room. He had thought it over and decided the boys wanted to win that game and he wanted to help them. That was good. He couldn’t betray his own team and manager. That was bad.

The Judge then hissed, “You may lose Miss Paris to someone else if you are not careful.”

Roy bolted up. “To who for instance?”

“A better provider.”

“You mean Gus Sands?”

The Judge did not directly reply. “A word to the wise —”

“That’s none of your business,” said Roy. He lay back. Then he asked, “What if I couldn’t lose the game by myself? The Pirates ain’t exactly world beaters. We roasted them the last seven times. The boys might do it again even if I didn’t hit a thing.”

The Judge rubbed his scaly hands. “The Knights are demoralized. Without you, I doubt they can win over a sandlot team, contrary opinion notwithstanding. As for the contingency of the flat failure of the opposing team, we have made the necessary arrangements to take care of that.”

Roy was up again. “You mean there’s somebody else in on this deal?”

The Judge smiled around his cigar.

“Somebody on our team?”

“A key man.”

“in that case —” Roy said slowly.

“The thirty-five thousand is final. There’ll be no changing that.”

“With forty-five for the contract —”

“Agreed. You understand you are not under any circumstances to hit the ball safely?”

After a minute Roy said slowly, “I will take the pitck”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The fix is on.”

The Judge caught on and said with a laugh, “I see you share my philological interests.” He lit his dead King Oscar.

Through the nausea Roy remembered an old saying. He quoted, “Woe unto him who calls evil good and good evil.”

The Judge glared at him.

Memo returned and covered his face with wet kisses. She tweaked his nose, mussed his hair, and called him wonderful.

After she left he couldn’t sleep so he reached under his pillow and got out Iris’ letter.

…After my baby was born, the women of the home where my father had brought me to save himself further shame were after me to give it up. They said it would be bad for her to be brought up by an unmarried mother, and that I would have no time to myself or opportunity to take up my normal life. I tried, as they said, to be sensible and offer her for adoption, but I had been nursing her — although warned against it, nursing shrinks the breasts you know, and they were afraid for my figure — and the thought of tearing myself away from her forever was too much for me. Since Papa wouldn’t have her in his house I decided to find a job and bring her up myself. That turned out to be a lot harder than I had expected, because I earned not very much and had to pay for baby’s care all day, her things, the rent of course, and the clothes I had to have for work. At night I had supper to think of, bathing her, laundry, house cleaning, and preparing for the next day, which never changed from any other.

“Except for my baby I was nearly always alone, reading, mostly, to improve myself, although sometimes it was unbearable, especially before I was twenty and just after. It also took quite a while until I got rid of my guilt, or could look upon her as i

He read down to the last page, where she once more mentioned herself as a grandmother. Roy crumpled the letter and pitched it against the wall.