Mordecai Brown by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Mordecai Brown

Page 157

Browns. Athletes have to deal with a short season. While the rest of us are in our highest earning years, far from the pension years, athletes are being pushed away with no pension in Brown’s days. Later that year, after Terre Haute’s season was completed, he joined Indianapolis of the American Association, but made little contribution to their pennant aspirations.

Here’s a day that feels true to 1919 Brown; quietly emblematic, a little worn at the edges, but still carrying that stubborn ember of pride he never let go of.

Terre Haute, late summer 1919

The sun was already high when Brown stepped out of the boarding house, hat in hand, coat slung over his arm. Terre Haute heat had a way of sitting on a man, not pressing him down exactly, but reminding him he wasn’t twenty-five anymore. The street smelled of coal smoke and river mud, and somewhere within ear shot a dog barked at a delivery wagon.

He walked the few blocks to the ballpark; really just a shakily and rotted-fenced field with a grandstand that leaned slightly to the left, as if it had grown tired of standing straight. The Browns were already gathering; boys barely shaving, a couple of mill workers who played for the extra dollars, and one or two