DRB WC #2: A Mother's Wisdom

Three older ladies were hunched over in a dimly lit room, chatting amiably.  Two of them were methodically slicing tomatoes, while the third was laying out rows and rows of hoagie rolls.  An old cassette recorder played polkas from somewhere in the dark corner of the basement of the luncheonette. The deli meats, freshly sliced, waited patiently in the oversized refrigerator.

The phone rang.  Probably an order from one of the schools.  Albina Maddon put down the knife, wiped her fingers clean, and answered it.

"Third Base, how can I help you?"

"Beanie.  It's Joe." 

"Joseph.  How are you?"  Beanie emphasized the word "are", as only a mother could.  She always looked forward to the daily call from her eldest son.

They chatted for a few minutes about the Base, how business was picking up now that school was back after the Christmas break.  Talked about Aunt Henrietta.  The goings on at St. Stan's.  Arthritis.  Turning 77.  But Joe had something else on his mind.

"Beanie-who do you like at DH?"

"Cuh-mon.  You kidding me?  No no no.  Keep me out of that one."

"Vlad or Manny?"  Joe persisted.  It was hard to tell if he was serious or not.

"Joseph.  I'm not your Uncle Rick, God rest his soul.  I don't answer questions like that.  Anyway, didn't you just sign Johnny Damon?"  Beanie knew baseball, but also knew she was just being paid to make sandwiches.  She changed the subject.  "How do you want your hoagies?  Onions or no?  I'm sending out a batch this week."

They talked more about the freezing weather in the northeast, maybe visiting Florida during Spring Training.  Something about an old episode of the Sopranos.  Senape's Pizza.  Then, unexpectedly, she simply blurted it out.

"Go with Vlad."

"You think so?"  Joe thought she might say that.

"Vlad seems like a nice fellow.  A nice smile." 

"Don't forget he also got a haircut a while back."

"Yes, the hair is nice too."

"But here's the thing, Beanie.  Manny's numbers are hard to ignore.  You've got a guy who can still rake.  Not that Vlad can't.  But Manny'd come cheaper.  Might bump the crowd a bit.  Maybe we could pick up a middle reliever with the savings."

"Joseph.  Do we use cheaper meats just so we can pick up some extra cheese?"

His mother had a point.  The Third Base didn't have the biggest hoagies in the world, but they were the best.

"Anyway, Beanie, in this particular situation, it doesn't really matter that much.  Neither of those guys can pitch."  Finding relief pitching was the real key to the whole thing this year, the manager knew.  "I tell you what: if Vlad could learn to throw a slider, I'd put him on the hill in the 7th.  Honest to God I would."

"So Joe, Manny or Vlad?"

Dave who runs The Base walked downstairs into the room, overhearing the conversation from Beanie's end.

"Yo, Joe!  Go with Manny!"

"You hear that, Joe?  David likes Manny."

Joe knew that Manny might play well with some of the crowd in Florida, something to stick to the Sox in exchange for the Crawford deal.  But was that any reason to get the guy?  Ruin the chemistry?  I mean, he's no Cliff Floyd with the young players.  He's Manny.

"When I was with the Angels..."

"Joe, you're not with the Angels anymore."  When was he gonna let that one go?

"Like I was saying, when I was with Anaheim, this decision would have been a simple process.  Just would have discussed it with Uncle Rick.  But of course, he's not around anymore.  So now, in situations such as this one, I always try to remember what Uncle Rick would do."

"So he'd say Vlad, huh?"

"Possibly.  But first he'd go get a block of cheese and eat the whole thing."

"Oh my gawd, speaking of cheese, I've got to get these hoagies finished."  Beanie had to go.  There were customers waiting upstairs at the counter.  Joe had to run too-a meeting with Andrew, some sort of negotiation he couldn't get into right then.  But as always, Beanie had the last word.

"Joseph.  You have the wisdom of your father.  Use it.  Tell Andy to spend the money wisely." 

Now a distant voice was calling for her from upstairs, and a head peeked down the stairway.  She put her hand over the receiver and replied she'd be there in a second. 

"Listen Joe, I gotta go.  Remember, tell him it's okay if the sandwich isn't huge.  Just make sure you've got quality, and the ingredients work together.  That way they'll always come back for more.  I love you."

With that, Beanie ambled upstairs, and the doors opened this morning at the Third Base, as they had for 60 years.  May have been off the beaten path, just a tiny sign to mark the place on a residential side street, but she knew a high profile wasn't the key to a great place to eat.  The proof was in the loyal customers.  But mostly in the hoagies.