From the Relief Society Magazine, March 1964 –

Someone to Cheer for Johnny

By Myrtle M. Dean

Martha Lund planned her visit carefully. “I won’t want too many of my things. Just enough to get along for a few weeks. I don’t want to clutter up Helen’s house or cause extra trouble.” Martha had been a widow almost a year. This was the first extended visit she had made to any of her families. Now she planned to stay a whole month with Helen and Mark and the children.

The most important thing I must remember, is never, not even once, to interfere with the family affairs or give unsolicited advice. I mustn’t spoil the baby, or give the children sweet treats and ruin their appetites, Martha warned herself. But why should I be getting so worried? It seems such a little while since I was rearing my own children. I didn’t mind a few suggestions. Just a few. I’m not old and fussy, I’m only fifty-five. But here Helen and David are getting quite large families. I’m going down and just enjoy Helen’s children.

But from the very first days of her visit, Martha found that it was going to be much more difficult than she had expected to keep from speaking out of turn about the children. It was for Johnny, the oldest child, that caused her the most concern. Johnny was thirteen, and no one seemed to try very hard to understand his various moods or put up with his boyish ways. Many times, Martha felt like challenging the boy’s cause, but held her tongue.

There were three other children in the family. Anne, a delightful replica of her mother, Helen, when she was Anne’s age. She was now ten. Brent was seven, and he wore a wide toothless smile most of the time. Then baby Carol was two, an adorable child with blue eyes and dimples. Helen and Mark seemed content with life, and the whole family welcomed Martha warmly.

It was the very first afternoon of her visit. Johnny came bursting into the house, his eyes bright and his face sunny.

“Mom, Mom,” he called, “we are playing the Cubs tonight at five o’clock. It isn’t just a practice. It is a real league game, and they are one of the best teams.” Johnny had raised his voice louder than necessary, and it had skidded from high falsetto down almost to low bass.

Martha smiled. She knew that Johnny had wanted her to know that he was on a league ball team. He looked embarrassed at the way his thirteen-year-old voice played tricks on him. She was about to speak when Helen’s words stopped her.

“Johnny, don’t shout. I’ve told you before not to shout, I can hear.”

“O. K., I’m sorry.” Johnny’s voice was low, and he turned away to avoid Martha’s eyes.

Martha waited a moment before she could trust herself to speak. Then she addressed herself to Johnny.

“What place do you play on your team?” she asked.

“Oh, I play third base tonight. Sometimes I pitch for our team. Our coach uses three pitchers so none of us will tire our arm too much. I am lucky to get to play third. There were three other kids that tried out for it.” Some of the enthusiasm had returned to Johnny’s voice as he felt Martha’s interest.

“That boy,” Helen said in a troubled tone after he had left the room. “Would you believe, Mother, that this is the same boy? You remember how cute he was with his chubby legs and winsome smile and dimples. But now, those lanky legs — his trousers can’t keep up with them, and that sliding squeaky voice, and he simply shouts as though I were deaf.” Helen clasped both of her hands over her face, as though she were completely baffled.

Martha knew that her face showed her disapproval. She looked away from Helen and choked back her words that hurried to her mind. Maybe I should tell her now what I think. Maybe it is my duty to say something. If he shouts, it is because no one around here pays any attention to him, only to criticize. Johnny seems to be just a thirteen-year-old nuisance, who eats a lot and grows too fast and sometimes says silly things to get a little attention. This was what she wanted to tell Helen now, but she breathed deeply, and after a moment tried to make her voice sound natural and speak lightly. She must not break her resolve already.

“You know, Helen, I’ve heard that most all boys reach a stage when their voice slips from high C to low G, but maybe you would like Johnny to go through life talking like a girl. And good-looking men like your father were once long-legged, growing boys. His own mother told me how she was afraid he was going all to legs when he was a kid.”

“Well, I do hope he turns out as good as Dad and Mark,” Helen said a bit more cheerfully.

An hour later, Mark came home from his game of golf. He had gone to play straight from his office. He was smiling and gave quite a recital of the game.

“Brad Clark says I’m doing so well ril be in the league play by late summer. I’m sure glad you gave me those golf clubs for my birthday, Helen.” Mark went about calling loudly from bathroom to hall to living room talking enthusiastically about his game.

“He shouts every bit as loud as Johnny when he is pleased with himself,” Martha told herself.

“Brad Clark is Mark’s best friend. He says that the fellows always take their wives along when they go for tournament playoffs. If Mark makes it, just think, I’ll get to go to Las Vegas, and California and even Sun Valley.” Helen spoke excitedly.

“Don’t count your chickens yet, Helen,” Mark said. “Is dinner ready? I’m plain starved. Golfing sure make a fellow hungry.”

“I told Johnny to be home by six for dinner. It is almost time,” Helen told him.

Johnny came in before dinner was on the table. He hurried in to the bathroom to clean up and get out of his ball suit. Helen caught a glimpse of him and exclaimed, “Johnny, you look like you had rolled in the dirt. Don’t wear that suit again until I take it to the cleaners.”

As Johnny took his place at the table, Martha knew by his solemn face that they had lost their game to the Cubs. For once she was glad that everyone paid little attention to him nor questioned about the game. Perhaps it might be a good idea to get Mark to talking again about golf.

“Your father made quite a hit at the golf course today, Johnny,” Martha said. “Tell us about it, Mark.”

Mark obliged by giving a minute description of how he teed off and survived so many hazards. He had played eighteen holes, he said.

Helen laughed heartily as Mark went on telling how his ball landed so near the water’s edge by a little pond that it took a really miraculous shot to get it away, and it landed safe near a cup. Johnny was smiling and as enthusiastic for his father’s skill as the rest.

“Boy, I’d like to go and watch you play. Dad. Maybe I could even caddie for you.”

Just why can’t they notice Johnny’s games that much? Martha wondered.

A few days later, Johnny made another effort to gain a bit of attention.

“I get to pitch for our game against the Bears, tonight,” he said, looking mostly at his grandmother, but watching the rest of the family, too. Helen was busy starting dinner, and Martha was holding the baby.

“What is your team called?” Martha asked.

“We are the Lions. We have a pretty good team, but sometimes we are quite tame for Lions. We don’t beat all our games.”

“Well, neither do the Yankees,” Martha said. “One must learn to be a good loser. That is half of the object of playing a game,” she explained. She knew that Johnny was still smarting under his team’s last loss.

“It is a warm afternoon. You will be tired riding a bike to the park. I will drive you down in my car, Johnny. I think I’d like to watch the Lions and the Bears play. It is a long time since I watched boys play ball.” Martha tried to sound convincing.

“Oh, I can go. Grandma. You don’t need to take me.”

Now Martha didn’t really know whether Johnny was afraid he would be a bother to her, or did not want to be seen coming to a game with just an old lady.

“I’d sure like you to see our game, though,” the boy hastened to say.

Helen heard the conversation and spoke up promptly, “Goodness, Mother, you would be bored stiff. They are just a bunch of kids. Thirteen and fourteeners. You don’t want to go and sit an hour or two on those seats. They are just board benches and no back rests.”

Right now is the time for me to speak up to Helen. Right now I will tell her that showing your interest in a boy’s doings when he is thirteen and unsure of himself and the world he lives in, is more important than worrying about a hard bench to sit on, or being busy with many little trifles, or even a round of golf for an adult. But no, Helen and Mark must learn this for themselves. Martha counted ten, then turned to Johnny.

“You know when my David was about your age, I went often to watch his team play. He pitched sometimes, too. Your Mom used to go along. She liked to watch her brother play. Don’t you remember, Helen?”

“I’m afraid it was Rod Barnes I was more interested in than Brother Dave or the game. I had a kid crush on Rod. He was catcher and I thought he was cute.” Helen laughed, recalling the days.

“You run along, Johnny,” Martha told him when they reached the parking at the ball park. “Looks as if they are about ready to play.”

Martha felt a bit self-conscious coming here, a strange woman following a boy along. She thought she would let him get on the field, then she would saunter over to a bench. She found a place where she had a good view of the batter’s box and of the bases. There were quite a number of watchers there already. Mothers, a few fathers, and many youngsters the age of the players.

As she watched Johnny it seemed that he knew all the tricks of the big league pitchers as far as she could tell. He stooped and picked up the rosin bag to use on his palms, then stood on one foot, then turned to view all of the bases carefully before he made a throw to the batter.

“Hey! Johnny, that was a swell curve you threw,” she heard a fan call as Johnny came in after the first inning. All through the game there were cheers for him from the crowd.

No wonder the boy comes home all excited and wants his family to know about his games. Martha hadn’t enjoyed anything as much as this game for a long time. If some of her enthusiasm could just seep over to his family!

“Boy, we just made that game by a squeak,” Johnny said, as they drove home. “Just by two runs. I was scared stiff.”

“You did a mighty fine job pitching, and you made two of the runs, too, if I counted right,” Martha praised him.

“I heard you cheering for me. Grandma, when I made those runs. It sure helps to hear someone cheer,” Johnny said.

“Well, and I heard a lot of other folks cheering for you, some 5aid you threw a good curve, and a drop ball, whatever that means.”

“I wish my folks liked to watch me play, like some of the kids’ parents do. I guess they just don’t care for baseball. Dad likes golf, and Mom is too busy or something.” Johnny’s voice was wistful, and his eyes held a yearning that made Martha have a choke come in her throat.

When they reached home, Helen was busy talking to Madge Call, planning a progressive dinner they were to head next week. Mark was cleaning up for dinner. Anne was excited about a dance program she was in and was dancing about the living room, practicing her new dance steps. The baby was tired and hungry, and even Brent’s usual toothless smile was turned upside down. Someone had accidentally broken one of his model airplanes that afternoon.

“Mother is a wonderful cook, Made, she can help me think up a good recipe. We ant something special, Mother, for the dessert for our dinner,” Helen said.

When things had quieted a bit, and the family came to dinner, Martha planned to talk a bit, if she could hold the floor for a change. She began before anyone else had time to get a start on her.

‘It was quite a ball game today that Johnny’s team played against the bears.” Martha raised her voice a bit louder than usual to be sure to get attention.

“You don’t mean that you went, Grandma?” Mark asked in surprise.

“Certainly, I went, and you should have seen Johnny pitch that game. Why he threw out-curves and in-curves and drop balls and really kept the batter guessing. He made two runs, too. It was two, wasn’t it Johnny, or was it three?” Martha talked on rapidly, not allowing time for interpolations from anyone on any other subject. Even Johnny sat wide-eyed and smiling as she extolled him. For a moment he was almost believing all she was saying about him. As she stopped talking for a moment, he lowered his eyes modestly, but Martha saw the sweet smile that clung to his lips.

“Must have been some playing Johnny did today,” Mark conceded. “I surely take my hat off to a fellow like Dan Hartley who will take the trouble to coach a bunch of kids.”

“Dan is sure a swell guy,” Johnny spoke up then.

Martha felt triumphant in the fact that Johnny’s game had taken up ten minutes of the dinnertime conversation, so, when Mark quite naturally remembered that he had been playing that afternoon, too, and needed some attention, Martha relinquished her time to him. Mark went into another vivid play-by–lay account of his two rounds of golf, not missing any of the details of his great tee-offs.

Mark is just a little boy, men are that way, I guess, but can’t they see that Johnny is a little boy, too? He is their little boy, Martha said to herself as they left the table.

“Tonight is our last game of this season,” Johnny announced that last week of Martha’s visit. “We play the Tigers, and they are the best team of all.”

Martha felt a tugging inside her chest of – maybe it was loneliness at the thought of returning home – home where there would be only quiet and no worrying about Johnny and his problems. And she was really going to miss hearing the talk of ball and dinner parties and even of Mark’s golf. She was glad, too, that she had, so far, held her tongue and not really spoken her mind as she had been tempted to do so many times here. Now this was Johnny’s last season game. She wanted to see him play, but it was such an important game to win to come out on top. She felt she could not bear to see Johnny’s face if they lost the game.

“Your last game, you say, Johnny?” Martha repeated.

“Tonight, did you say, Johnny?” Helen jumped up excitedly and started for Johnny’s room. “Your ball suit – I’ve had so many things, I simply forgot your suit. I’d be disgraced if you play in that dirty suit, your most important game.”

Martha let Helen finish before she interrupted her. “You won’t have to be disgraced, neither will Johnny. I hope you will forgive my interference, but I had some things that needed cleaning before I go home, so I took Johnny’s suit along.”

“Oh, Mother, thanks. I’d simply die if he went that dirty,” Helen spoke in relief.

After dinner was over, Johnny got into his ball suit. He seemed extra quiet and looked troubled. Martha, watching him, knew that he was nervous about the game.

“Just play your best, Johnny. If you lose you will know you did all you could. Do you pitch the game tonight?”

“Yes, Johnny, you can’t do more than try your best,” Mark spoke up.

“I play on third tonight. I’ll feel awful if I let a ball go by me. Some of those Tigers are really tough,” Johnny said.

“Lions are fierce, too,” Martha pointed out.

Three of Johnny’s teammates came by now on their bicycles. They called in for Johnny, as they were all supposed to get to the park early for final instructions.

“My Dad is bringing a load of folks down in his station wagon later for the game,” one of the boys said.

“Mom has to pick Dad up at his office, he gets off just near game time,” another boy remarked.

Martha noted that Mark and Helen heard the boys talking and looked over at each other. She watched Johnny’s face, too. It grew so serious and she thought that he was about to speak. He wants to ask his father to go to the game, but is too proud to ask when his friends are here. As he turned back to the boys, Martha spoke.

“You boys play real hard and I’ll bet on your winning,” she laughed. “But if you do lose, be good losers.”

“Don’t talk about losing. We gotta win this one,” the tallest boy said.

“I hardly ever let a swift ball pass me now. My Dad has been throwing balls to me for a week now, each evening,” one of the visitors said.

“Come on Johnny, or we’ll be late. Let’s go.” The boys all hurried away and pedaled down the street.

Martha felt a big lump in her throat and a stinging in her eyes. She wanted so much to see that last game. But she knew that it wasn’t what Johnny wanted most. He wanted his parents to witness this game. She started to leave the room. She heard Mark speaking to Helen.

“What kind of parents has Johnny got? Helen, we’ve got a boy playing on that team tonight. It’s their last game. Did you hear Johnny say this is the last one, and we haven’t been to one?”

“Yes, I know. We have surely let our boy down, Mark.” Helen was weeping.

“Well, hurry up everybody. We are all going to be at that game,” Mark spoke hurriedly.

“But, Mark, didn’t you say you told Brad you would meet him for golf?”

Mark was already picking up the phone. “I’m sorry but I can’t make it for golf tonight. Brad. No — No — I’ve got a kid playing ball tonight on the league. You see he’s already made league play, all on his own.”

“I’ll be glad to stay with the baby,” Martha offered.

“Oh, no, you won’t. Grandma. Johnny would feel let down if you were not there to help us cheer for his team,” Mark told her.

“I’ll call my regular baby sitter, Mother. You are coming along,” Helen said.

“Yes, and cheer loud everybody,” Mark called. “Just to see Johnny’s face when he sees us will be worth a million dollars.”