Keeping Score Read Free

Newcombe out on a slow roller to first.
    Then the new guy lay down right there on the pavement, on his back with his head next to his radio. He put his hands behind his head and grinned up at George. "I can hear just fine, but it won't mess up
your
game, see?"
    George slapped one hand against the other in disgust. "That's not the point, Junior. There's never been a Giants fan in this house—this here is a
Bums
house."
    "George..." Maggie hesitated, not wanting to contradict him. "My dad—"
    "Yeah, yeah, your dad's a Yankee fan. But at least they're not in the National League," George said. "And besides, he's not at this house no more, so—"
    He stopped and glanced at Maggie quickly, and she knew he was thinking about Dad's accident, maybe wondering if the reminder would bother her. She bobbed her head at him; it was okay because Dad was okay.
    New Guy raised himself up on one elbow and looked at Maggie. "You Joe's kid?" he asked. "Teeny Joe?"
    Maggie nodded, wondering. Dad's name was Joe Fortini. There were a lot of Joes around, so ages ago he'd gotten the nickname "Teeny Joe," which was funny because he was a big guy with a big voice and a big mustache and nothing about him was teeny. Only his good friends called him Teeny Joe.
    The new guy sat up and extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, miss."
    Maggie shook his hand. "Who are you?" Probably sounded rude, but curiosity won out over manners. "And how come you know my dad?"
    "Got me the job, didn't he," he said. "Name's Jim Maine."
    So that was it. Dad interviewed guys who wanted to be firemen. He talked about his work a lot; he was proud of picking out the ones who would stick, who would make it through the training and then do good on the job, and he called them his boys.
    "Hello, Mr. Maine," she said politely.
    Jim grinned up at her. "Jim'll do," he said. "And if you're Maggie-o, then it's true about your name."
    Maggie blushed. Dad must have told him. It was odd to think that they had talked about her.
    Her father had grown up in the Bronx, just a few blocks away from Yankee Stadium, a Yanks fan from the guts out. When Maggie's brother was born, he was named Joseph Michael—Joseph for his dad, sure, but also for Joe DiMaggio.
    Maggie had heard Dad tell the story a hundred times. "And when a girl come along two years later, I knew just what I was gonna call her," he would say whenever the subject came up. "Maggie-o! Don't matter that they're not exactly the same. DiMaggio ... Maggie-o, get it?"
    But Maggie's mother had refused to let him put "Maggie-o" on the birth certificate. It read "Margaret Olivia." Maggie's great-grandmother in Ireland had been a Margaret, and Olivia de Havilland was Mom's favorite actress;
Gone with the Wind
had come out two years before Maggie was born, with Miss de Havilland playing that nice girl Melanie, and "if Scarlett had been more like Melanie, there wouldn't have been nearly the trouble, so you're Margaret Olivia after your great-grandmother and Olivia de Havilland, never mind what your father says" was how Mom always finished the story.
    Now Jim put his hands back behind his head and chuckled. "Good ol' Teeny Joe," he said. "Your old man's really something, y'know? Even if you don't like the Yankees, you gotta give him credit. Naming
both
your kids after your favorite player—that's class."
    Maggie tilted her head and half shrugged, half smiled. She was pretty sure she liked this new guy.
    "So how's come you're not a Yankee fan like your dad?" Jim asked.
    Maggie frowned. The idea that she could be a fan of any team other than the Dodgers! But it wasn't a dumb question. The Yankees' and Giants' fans in her neighborhood were, as Mom might say, as rare as
peaches in winter, but they were usually whole families following the same team.
    "Dunno," she said. "Guess it's 'cause I was born here. I mean, I knew my dad was a Yankee fan, but me and my brother, we always listened to the Dodgers' games."
    "Yeah, and you know what