The Earth Baseball Tourney: an Invitational to Disaster

By Claude Walker

When water magnate (and owner of the minor league Springfield WaterDogs) Reynolds Beckert learns he has a short time to live, his dream of extending the reach of baseball becomes a holy mission. Determined to find the next Clemente in a place like Fiji, he organizes a tournament with the largest purse in history and a lottery which will make some lucky fans billionaires.

His innocent aim - to share the game he loves with the whole world - goes horribly wrong when it is threatened by ninjas, flaming flamingos, anti-baseball protests, echo clones and killer cellphones. Greed and nationalist zeal take the inaugural Earth Baseball Tourney - and humanity - to the apocalyptic brink.

A dark comedy about baseballs globalization and technology-run-amok, The Earth Baseball Tourney: An Invitational to Disaster is an ode to the greatest game ever devised. The lyrical tale reminds fans of their first game with their grandfather, aromas of grilled onions and fresh-cut grass, and that distinctive crack of the bat.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475939552

Claude Walker

Author of novels about quakes, baseball, politics, the Seminoles, the Eastland Disaster and drones, Claude Walker was inducted into the Society of Midland Authors in 2003. He has spent decades in politics, including service as Senior Writer for the Illinois Governor. Walker is a top contributor to TripAdvisor.

Book preview

The

Earth Baseball Tourney:

An Invitational to Disaster

Claude Walker

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

The Earth Baseball Tourney: An Invitational to Disaster

Copyright © 2012 by Claude Walker.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-3871-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-3955-2 (ebk)

iUniverse rev. date: 07/23/2012

Contents

Author’s Notes

The Earth Baseball Tourney Team

Other Players, Slayers, Betrayers

Pre-Game

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Epilogue

Appendix #1

Appendix #2

About the Author

Reading list

Novels by Claude Walker

The Earth Baseball Tourney:

An Invitational to Disaster (2012)

The New Madrid Quake Chronicles (2011)

Currents of Power:

A Modern Political Novel, Revised Edition (2009)

Seminole Smoke:

An odyssey of power, love and blood in the Seminole Wars (2009)

Currents of Power:

A Modern Political Novel (2001)

Dedication

For my grandfather, Claude, Sr., a semi-pro athlete, legislator and newspaperman. Pop took me to my first game at Wrigley in 1960 (starting me on a path of hope and heartbreak). We sat near the Cubs dugout; the battery was Glen Hobbie and Moe Thacker. I ate blue cotton candy.

For my dad, Claude, Jr., who always found time to play catch. And for my mom, Nancy, who cheerfully tolerated the magnetic pull of baseball on the men in her life.

For my wife, Ngoan, who has endured countless Cubs’ broadcasts, my quest to find baseball in remote places and the writing of this tale. Happy 25th, Honey!

For Richard Ferraro (still playing in his 80s), Rich Harris, Joe Moore, Bob Wedell and all who share our love of the game.

Author’s Notes

Crack of the bat: the sweetest sound in sports. Maybe the best sound ever heard by a human ear.

Oh, sure, other sports sounds are thrilling, memorable, possibly uplifting. Some rattle your spine: a hockey check or linebacker sacking a QB at full-speed. The exquisite sounds of a perfect pool shot or nothing-but-net tray. The zipping through the air of a boxing glove delivering a jab or 110-mph tennis ace. And to stand at the finish line of any horseracing track in the world as the ponies near the finish line is to witness more than a sound; it’s a primeval echo in the gut.

As a Little League 2nd baseman and later a park district softball league 1st baseman, that crack of the bat has always spurred an immediate clenching of throat and tummy. Get ready, here it comes, CW, focus, don’t blow it, man. That sound caused as much anxiety to an infielder as joy. For a batter, though, making perfect contact with a baseball or softball is nirvana, a fleeting moment afforded us by sport to feel excellence.

The Earth Baseball Tourney: An Invitational to Disaster is my ode to baseball’s ability to make us better, to American Dreamers, to a shrinking globe. It can be termed a dark comedy in its critique of materialism, nationalism and a technology that’s developing faster than humanity’s ability to use it appropriately.

Just as the novel’s protagonist asks why it is called the WORLD Series, I’ve always been fascinated with baseball’s reach, sparked by a 1964 Masanori Murakami baseball card.

In 1997, my essay on the history of Asian baseball and marketing of baseball to Asian-Americans was the cover story in AsianWeek magazine. During vacations with my wife to Cambodia, Peru and Costa Rica, itineraries included futile searches for baseball diamonds; finding a mosquito-infested field in Eleuthera was a highlight of our Bahamas trip (well, for me.) My wife’s cousin—Danny Graves—was the first Vietnam-born player in the Bigs. I’ve seen games in Puerto Rico and Mexico, as well as such remote and strange places as Dodger Stadium, Fenway and Comiskey.

This story has been rattling around in my head for some time. Thanks to Nanowrimo (the annual National Novel Writing Month), Earth Baseball Tourney fled my head in November 2009.

Designed to encourage everyday people to flex their writing muscles, Nanowrimo gives 125,000 writers an excuse to write that novel once and for all . . . in 30 days. In November 2008, I’d used the Nanowrimo vehicle to pen a pre-version of my second novel, Seminole Smoke: An odyssey of power, love and blood in the Seminole Wars. This was a story about a slice of U.S. history that would not have been told unless Nanowrimo forced my hand. Similarly, The New Madrid Quake Chronicles was the fruit of my 2010 Nanowrimo effort.

Researching this book was eye-opening. America’s Pastime has been played for decades in unlikely places from Aruba to Sweden. Big Leaguers in the 1890s hailed from Australia, France, Germany, Holland, Norway, Scotland, Ukraine, Wales. Hawaiian players have been coming to the Bigs since 1914. Polish-born Pep Peploski was a Boston outfielder in 1929. Leagues exist in dozens of countries, featuring teams with such excellent names as Belgium’s Borgerhout Squirrels, Taiwan’s Brother Elephants and the Oslo Pretenders.

As baseball lends itself to statistical analysis, so too does it unselfishly offer itself up as a topic of haiku, dreams, tales. Chess on grass, a ballet move called the 6-4-3. Scent of grilled onions, an icy cold beverage, blue sky. The greatest game. Play ball!

Claude Walker

Chicago, Illinois, 2012

The Earth Baseball Tourney Team

Manager—Reynolds Beckert Jr., 81. The Boss. WaterPure CEO and son of Founder; among the world’s richest people; baseball fan.

The Starting Nine (in order of plate appearance):

Kip Smythe, 58. Beckert’s Executive Assistant, handler, go-fer. First to see The Boss each day and last to tuck him in at night. With WaterPure since 1988. Bahamian-born, London-raised.

Rick Sully Sullivan, 44. Public Liaison Level-4 at WaterPure. MBA, speaks Spanish. Managed oddball Little League team to State Championship. Widowed; daughter in grad school.

Sam Calabria, 35. Chicago-born pitcher who had the greatest rookie season ever before losing an eye to a line-drive. Beloved pitchman for WaterPure, as well as colas, cars and clothes.

Cat Chinn, 31. Scheduler for The Boss. Makes the Beckert train run on time. With WaterPure since college. Granddaughter of Louie Chinn, Beckert’s drinking pal who brought WaterPure to Asia.

Chickie Borromeo, 62. WaterPure’s CFO. Flinty-eyed appraiser of risk who built WaterPure-Philippines. Among the few who can tell The Boss he’s wrong. Infielder on 1973 Filipino national team.

Mallette Birra, 42. Attorney, diplomat, marathoner. Led WaterPure-East Africa. Played on Ethiopia’s field hockey team in the Olympics while at Georgetown. Now in Chicago HQ.

Paco Ruíz, 60. One-time Big League manager hired by The Boss to run his Springfield WaterDogs. Scoured Central and South America in search of the next Clemente.

Ren Beckert IV, 33. Grandson of WaterPure Founder. Music ethnologist and animal-lover running a Costa Rican hummingbird project. Enjoys ballgames with his grandfather (The Boss).

Bea Czyz, 63. WaterPure’s Public Relations Czarina for 30 years until her recent retirement to a Baltic mansion. Spin-doctor, crisis manager, creative spirit, consigliore, lover.

Other Players, Slayers, Betrayers

(In order of plate appearance)

Xiao Luan, 49. Highest-ranking woman in WaterPure’s Beijing HQ; PhD in Statistics (random sampling); ran Macao lottery.

Nila Sham, 26. U.S.-educated aide to Uzbekistan President Sayfiddin Badai. Fan of Green Monster and Big Papi.

Amalia Figueres, 38. President of Costa Rica; early EBT booster.

Ibi Salih, 28. Uzbek nationalist; ex-boyfriend of Nila Sham.

Pepe Barragán, 65. Former Philly outfielder; runs baseball academy in Yucatan, Mexico.

Jo-Jo Dubbs, 35. Seattle computer hacker; hates baseball.

ruffytamayo (aka Dolores Tamayo Hidalgo), 25. Mexico City videographer; activist in REBS (Reject Earth Baseball Scam).

The Stranger (aka Illya Burköc), age unknown. Kazakh-speaking Uzbek with global ties.

Dickie Walkowiak, 43. Ex-Marlins slugger; Poland player-coach.

Kwame Mahama, 44. Georgetown Hoyas hoops star; New York trial lawyer; plays 1st Base for Ghana.

Rudy Nilson, 33. Flashy shortstop for Rockies, Norway.

Chhom Teuk, 27. Olympic gold medalist (women’s badminton); Khmer knuckleballer.

Otto Bellows, 63. Veteran Major League umpire known for bellowing his punch-outs.

Dr. Azman Daw, 27. British engineer, inventor.

Ana Boudreau, 32. Paris-born intern at EBT Headquarters.

Pre-Game

Prologue

Crack of the bat. Costa Rica’s shortstop fouled off another.

Bottom of the 9th; one away. The tiny Cambodian pitcher peered in to the catcher for the sign. But she knew what the next pitch would be. She knew, the batter knew, 58,000 delirious fans in Singapore’s new Stadium Solaria knew, and most of the 5.2 billion viewers and listeners around the planet knew.

Chhom Teuk would throw her knuckleball.

The same knuckleball that had propelled her Cinderella team to this dramatic championship game. The same knuckler that had baffled foes throughout the 1st Earth Baseball Tourney, including all 27 batters in her perfecto against Fiji. The same odd pitch that was about to give Chhom another shut-out, making her the best-known Cambodian in history.

Casually perched on the mound, Chhom Teuk was the picture of poise, Zen nonchalance in cleats. No stranger to the spotlight, she had been the waifish darling of the Summer Olympics. Winning the gold in Women’s Badminton, she charmed the world with her wicked serves, shaved head and easy smile. When the Games were over, she returned to Phnom Penh a celebrity and played badminton every day along the busy riverfront. She made a decent living from a racquet endorsement deal and coaching diplomats’ kids, but missed the competitive life.

When Cambodia was invited to play in the inaugural Earth Baseball Tourney, Chhom was determined to make the team. A natural athlete, her strong wrists and long fingers enabled her to master the knuckleball. A Seattle cousin sent her a glove and a DVD called Baseball’s Top 50 Pitchers. She set up a backstop made of fishnet in a dusty park overlooking the river and practiced the hard-to-control, harder-to-hit pitch. Crowds gathered as the Badminton Queen experimented with different grips and deliveries. She studied video of Tim Wakefield (who she had a crush on). She taught herself how to throw with no spin, to make it jiggle and jump. Like a badminton grip, with a little wrist-flick at the end to give the projectile personality.

Maz Nishi, a translator at Phnom Penh’s Japanese Embassy, had his old catcher’s mitt shipped via diplomat pouch from Yakult, where he once sipped a cup of tea with the Swallows. Hearing of a phenom on the Phnom Penh, Nishi strolled by and invited the pixyish woman to play some catch. They became battery-mates, the first in Cambodia’s golden history. He helped her adjust speeds on her lovely knuckler and taught her the screwball. In the shadows of Cambodia’s gilded Royal Palace, Chhom Teuk learned to throw shadows.

Resembling a butterfly on meth, each of her pitches was a tiny work of art, a 4-D sculpture, a delight to see. It would flutter and float, uncertain about where to land. Sometime it would take its sweet time as it left Chhom’s hand, then accelerate at the end. She invented the Khmer knuckle-scroogie which mocked laws of physics and decency. The ball would suspend itself in mid-air, taunt the batter, then rush in.

Chhom’s quick grasp of baseball fundamentals made her an easy choice when the Cambodian national team was assembled. She became the team leader and ace pitcher. Among the few female starters in the 16-team Invitational, she was on the verge of becoming the Earth Baseball Tourney’s first MVP.

Now, in the final inning of the final game, Cambodia led Costa Rica 1-0. Each player and coach on the winning team would get a $4 million bonus, while runners-up each got $2 million, so national pride wasn’t the only thing on the line.

When the name of the next batter was announced—Costa Rica shortstop Pío Lyra—five billion people carefully wrote down his name: Pío Lyra in Urdu, Yoruba, Aleut. Minutes earlier, the world had jotted the name of the previous batter—Bert Rocha—who was now forgotten. Pío Lyra in Basque, Swahili.

In 24 time zones around our orb, people crammed into kitchens, internet cafes and bars to witness this. Mexico City’s zocalo, Tiananmen Square, Red Square. All jammed with viewers of jumbo TV screens, carefully recording the name of the batter and game score, waiting for that life-altering phone call, email or text, all playing the biggest lottery in history.

This finale of the Earth Baseball Tourney was now the most-watched sports event in history, edging the World Cup’s 3.3 billion viewers. In fact, 89 percent of humans with TVs or other electronic devices were tuned into this game, the largest market share since MASH in the 20th Century. The Internet was experiencing unprecedented traffic. Sports wagering was never more intense. Any human who was awake, stopped what they were doing. Singapore’s stadium was rocking, everyone on their feet, including most heads of state (such as