Clothing Optional Page 10
DONALD
I used to watch you play.
HAPPY
Oh, yeah?
DONALD
Yeah. My dad worked in the city…. I’m originally from Long Island. There’s a shocker, huh?
HAPPY
I didn’t say a word. But now that you mention it…
DONALD
(bracing himself)
You’re going to make fun of me now, aren’t you?
HAPPY
No. Maybe later. So, you were telling me about your dad.
DONALD
All I was saying is that lots of times I would go to work with him on the weekends and afterward we’d drive up to the Polo Grounds and I’d see you play. I was eight.
HAPPY
Polo Grounds ain’t there no more, huh?
DONALD
The city knocked it down and put up apartment buildings a few years after the Mets moved into Shea.
HAPPY
And is that how you found out where I lived? From the Mets?
DONALD
No. I learned you were down here from that article I read about you.
HAPPY
What article?
DONALD
In the New York Post. That series you were in?
HAPPY
Series?
DONALD
Oh…
HAPPY
What kind of series?
DONALD
Well…
HAPPY
Go ahead. Tell me.
DONALD…
The New York Post, in their sports section, has a feature called “What Might’ve Been.” And, about a month ago, they had a piece…
HAPPY
About me?
DONALD
I’m sorry. From the way it was written, I just assumed that they spoke to you….
HAPPY
What’d they have? A lot of that next Willie Mays stuff?
DONALD
Yeah.
HAPPY
Look, would you like to come in? Tenants catch me chatting like this, they’ll think I got too much free time on my hands and give me more stuff to do.
DONALD
Sure.
Happy indicates the inside of his apartment. Donald enters, and Happy closes the door behind them—revealing that he is walking with the aid of a cane.
HAPPY
Would you like something to eat?
DONALD
Yeah, I’ll have a slice of apple pie, heated up, and a large milk.
HAPPY
Now would that be regular milk or two percent?
DONALD
You have both? Wow.
(off Happy’s look)
On second thought I’m going to have a big dinner later—you know, at the seder. So maybe I shouldn’t spoil my appetite.
HAPPY
Damn, and here I was so looking forward to cooking for you. So, what are we talking about?
Donald opens his attaché case and takes out a clear plastic cube that has a baseball covered with signatures inside.
DONALD
Here. Check this out.
He hands the cube to Happy.
HAPPY
Wow…
DONALD
The 1962 team. Pretty amazing, huh?
HAPPY
No pun intended.
DONALD
Oh. No. Although that was the year they started calling you guys the Amazin’ Mets, right?
HAPPY
Right. Our amazing team that lost 120 games, which I believe is still the record for the most losses in one season by any major-league team in baseball history.
DONALD
Yeah, it still is.
HAPPY
Look at the names. Casey, there’s Gil Hodges, Elio Chacon…
DONALD
Yeah, my grandmother got really excited when she first heard Elio Chacon’s name because she thought he was Jewish.
Happy stares at him.
DONALD (cont’d)
She thought it was Eliosha Cohen.
Happy continues to stare.
DONALD (cont’d)
True story.
Happy continues to stare.
DONALD (cont’d)
Now you’re going to make fun of me?
HAPPY
No, not yet.
(re: the ball)
Say, is it okay if I take this out of the cube?
DONALD
Are your hands clean?
HAPPY
Excuse me?
Donald grabs Happy’s hands and examines them.
HAPPY (cont’d)
Look, I just want to see it, not perform surgery on it.
DONALD
Yeah, I guess they’re all right.
HAPPY
I’m flattered.
Donald takes the ball out of the cube and hands it to Happy.
DONALD
But try to hold it by the seams.
HAPPY
Are you always so annoying?
DONALD
Pretty much.
HAPPY
So, where’d you get this ball?
DONALD
My dad…. Like I said, we used to go to the games all the time. He’d been a New York Giants fan, you know, before they moved to San Francisco. So when the National League came back to the city, well, it didn’t matter that the Mets stunk. In fact, that was part of the charm. I’d sit there and see the players letting ground balls go through their legs, and tripping over their feet when they were rounding bases, and I’d look at my dad and say, “I can do that,” and he’d look back at me and say, “I believe you can,” and we’d laugh about that all the way home.
Donald laughs at the memory.
HAPPY
So, where’d you get this ball?
DONALD
You see, the Yankees were too good. They were exciting. But there was no way an average kid like me could ever actually relate to those guys. But you…
Again Donald shakes his head and savors the laugh.
HAPPY
Ball? Get? Where?
DONALD
Well, look who’s being annoying now! And where’s my pie? I got this ball the first day you played for the Mets.
HAPPY
Really?
DONALD
They’d just brought you up. On September first. The day the teams can expand their rosters for the final pennant drive, right?
HAPPY
(smiling)
Yeah. There I was, sitting in some Howard Johnson’s down in Tidewater, when they call me with the news that I’m going up—for the pennant drive to a team that was fifty-seven games out of first place with only twenty-eight left to play—and it was the greatest day of my life. They gave me a plane ticket, I called my folks, and when I landed in New York and stepped up to that plate for the first time, I was…
DONALD
Happy.
HAPPY
Happy. I grew up across the street from the Polo Grounds. Used to watch Willie Mays do what he did from our kitchen window. So now here I am, playing his old position, hitting those two home runs, and I’m…
DONALD
Happy.
HAPPY
Happy. And that’s what I told those sportswriters and that’s how that whole Happy Haliday business got started. All those banners, those pins, that billboard near the Holland Tunnel…
DONALD
That’s also when my dad started calling me that.
HAPPY
Happy?
DONALD
Uh-huh.
HAPPY
Happy Rappaport?
DONALD
Well, I’ll admit it didn’t have the same ring to it that Happy Haliday did, but dads don’t usually say the last name when they’re calling their kids so it worked out okay…. This ball? The second time you were up?
HAPPY
The single?
DONALD
The pitch before it.
HAPPY
The foul ball?
DONALD
This is it.
HAPPY
That’s the ball?
DONALD
Yep. We were sitting in the second level, behind the plate, and this ball came screaming back at us. I brought my glove to the game, but there was no way I was going to catch this thing without it ripping my entire arm off my body. So my dad just nonchalantly reached over, stuck his huge meat hook of a hand in front of me, snagged the ball out of the air, and said, “Here you go.” And here we are. It’s thirty-five years later, and this is still the closest I’ve ever come to catching a foul ball at a game.
HAPPY
And what about those signatures? I don’t remember swinging at any balls that had all those names on it.
DONALD
Those I got on the last day of that season. Someone who worked for my dad had a friend who got us passes to the clubhouse. So I brought this ball so I could get your autograph after the game. I ended up getting everybody’s except yours. We waited for you, but…you never came back from the hospital. So we went home and just figured we’d get your autograph the following season.
HAPPY
Sorry. Imagine how I felt, though. I get hit by a pitch, run to first, steal second, steal third, score on a sacrifice fly, collapse in the dugout, get taken to Lenox Hill for “precautionary” X-rays, and the next thing I know they’re drilling holes in my skull because I had blood clots. Before that day, I’d never even heard of blood clots; but now I had some and they were going to keep me from doing the only thing I ever cared about doing.
DONALD
I wrote to you that winter.
HAPPY
A lot of people sent cards, get-well wishes…. At one point they were actually delivering mail that was just addressed to “Happy, New York City.”
DONALD
That was me.
HAPPY
You sent those?
DONALD
Yeah. My father said you needed your rest, so I just wrote “Happy, New York City” on the envelope and put a blank sheet of paper inside because I didn’t want to tire you out by making you read too many words.
HAPPY
I appreciated it. Your father still call you “Happy” after it was all over for me?
DONALD
Yeah.
HAPPY
Really?
DONALD
A lot. He always pointed to you as an example of how a person should enjoy life in the moment because you never know what’s waiting around the corner.
HAPPY
You mean, sort of like a “Man makes plans and God laughs” kind of thing?
DONALD
No, I’d say more along the lines of “Be careful what you wish for because you might get it.”
HAPPY
Why?
DONALD
Because you got hit in the head with a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball.
HAPPY
I didn’t wish for that.
DONALD
Yeah, but…you didn’t?
HAPPY
Who would wish for a thing like that?
DONALD
I see. So maybe it was more in the “smile is a frown turned upside down” area.
HAPPY
That must’ve been it.
Donald looks at his watch.
HAPPY (cont’d)
Late for something?
DONALD
Huh?
HAPPY
You keep looking at your watch.
DONALD
Oh, just a habit.
HAPPY
What time’s your seder?
DONALD
Sundown.
HAPPY
And what time is sundown?
DONALD
Whatever time that everybody’s hungry. It’s a Jewish thing. Look, would you mind signing that ball?
HAPPY
(surprised)
You want my autograph?
DONALD
Yeah.
HAPPY
You sure? I can’t remember the last time someone asked me to sign something that didn’t have an invoice number on it.
DONALD
You’re the only name that’s missing on it, and it would mean a lot.
HAPPY
If you say so.
Donald reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a fancy pen, and hands it to Happy.
HAPPY (cont’d)
How should I do this?
DONALD
Well, you just find an open spot on the ball and sign your name there.
HAPPY
I mean the pen. Where’s the point on this thing?
DONALD
Oh.
(showing him)
You just twist the top and…there you go.
HAPPY
And what about this shit over here?
DONALD
What shit?
HAPPY
This rubber shit.
Happy shows him the pen.
DONALD
Oh, that’s just padding to rest your fingers on while you’re writing.
Happy stares at him.
DONALD (cont’d)
It’s really comfortable.
Happy continues to stare.
DONALD (cont’d)
It was a gift.
Happy continues to stare.
DONALD (cont’d)
You’re going to make fun of me now?
HAPPY
(nodding)
You’ve given me no choice.
DONALD
Go ahead.
HAPPY
Ready?
DONALD
(bracing himself)
Yes.
HAPPY
You’re a Sissy Mary.
DONALD
…That’s it?
HAPPY
That’s it.
DONALD
Well, you nailed my fat ass on that one. So, now that that’s over with…
(indicating ball)
…if you don’t mind.
HAPPY
Oh. Boy, I’m really honored.
He spins the ball in his hand, looking for a place to sign.
DONALD
There’s a spot.
HAPPY
Where?
DONALD
Between Marv Throneberry and Choo Choo Coleman.
HAPPY
Little tight, don’t you think?
DONALD
Not really.
HAPPY
Oh, here we go. Now, should it be “To Donald” or “Don” or one of your kids?
DONALD
No, no, no. Just your name.
HAPPY
But…
DONALD
It shouldn’t be “to” anyone.
HAPPY
But you flew down, you landed in West Palm Beach, you drove the rented Taurus to my house. I feel like I should say something special.
DONALD
I appreciate that, but it’s much more valuable if it’s not personalized to anyone.
HAPPY
What do you mean by “more valuable”?
DONALD
It’s worth more.
HAPPY
To who?
DONALD
To a buyer.
HAPPY
Excuse me?
DONALD
Well, if a collector is in the market for something like this, he’s more apt to pay top dollar if it just has the athlete’s name on it—as opposed to something that’s made out to a specific person, because when he goes to sell it, his buyer might not want a ball that’s made out to someone else.
HAPPY
(suspicious)
You know, we both know what it is that I do for a living, but I don’t believe we ever got around to talking about what you do. Would you mind it much if I ask what line of work you happen to be in, Mr. Rappaport?
DONALD
I deal in sports memorabilia.
HAPPY
And what exactly does that mean?
DONALD
It means that I go to shows—baseball-card shows, sports conventions, auctions—and buy mementoes from other dealers that I then try to sell to collectors who come into one of my stores, or sometimes I sell them privately.