ScatterBrain52 , sorry about the wait! And this wasn't exactly what you asked for, but I did my best. I was a little stumped. Hope you like it anyway!

***

"Man, what I would give to go to a Giants game," Race said wistfully. He'd managed to convince Specs to read the article about the New York Giants' last game, and was now resting his chin in his palm as he imagined himself at one of the games.

"Well why don't ya go?" Mike asked, scratching his head.

"I don't got tickets else I would, brainless!" Race stated, knocking the younger boy's hat off of his head.

"Why don't you buy tickets?" Jojo suggested.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Race scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I don't have no fifty cents to watch baseball!"

"Fifty cents?" Crutchie gasped.

"I don't believe you," Romeo challenged, crossing his arms.

Race blinked as if offended. "You don't believe me?"

"Nah, youse full of hot air!"

"I'm right, ain't I, Specs?"

"Hmm?" Specs mumbled. He looked up at Race from the book that was balanced across his knobby knees.

"I'm right about the tickets, ain't I?"

"Sure, sure," Specs agreed.

"Told ya so," Race gloated. His lips slipped into a smug grin.

"Why would anyone pay a half dollar to watch a dumb game?" Ike asked. Fifty cents could buy two weeks of food!

"Baseball ain't dumb!" Race immediately defended the game.

"Well it ain't worth no fifty cents," Jojo agreed.

"How would you know? You never seen a game before."

"Neither have you!"

"Have too," Race said proudly, sticking his chest out. "When I turned ten back in April, Spot and me snuck into one of the Grooms' games."

"Really?" Crutchie's eyes widened and he moved closer to Race.

"You think I'd lie about something as important as baseball?" Race shook his head.

"It ain't that important," Romeo rolled his eyes.

"Is too!" Race argued. His cheeks were turning red as he glared at Romeo.

"Why do you like baseball so much?" Finch asked. "Is it fun? I don't even know how it's played!"

"Me neither," Crutchie added. "What about you Ike?"

Ike shrugged. "I don't have a half dollar to waste. I've never seen a game. I think you have to hit a ball sometimes."

"Youse all dumb," Race said sourly.

"Why don't you teach us?" Jojo suggested.

"That ain't a bad idea," Race mulled over the idea. His smile slowly returned and he nodded his head. "I can teach you."

"Great!" Crutchie said excitedly. "So Race, how do you play?"

Race began, explaining all about the different positions and where they stood. His friends tried to keep up, but there was too much information coming at them too quickly.

"The catcher sits behind the batter and catch the ball if the batter misses. The batter can miss three times before theyse out."

"Out?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, they don't get to play anymore and have to go sit down."

"That doesn't sound fair," Crutchie pouted. "You just throw them out on the street? Do they ever get to play again?"

"Course they do? Why wouldn't they? They just have to wait for the next inning."

"Oh," Crutchie mumbled. "What's an inning?"

Race sighed. This was going to take a long time.

***

"And sometimes you hit a home run!"

"Home run?" Ike echoed. "That sounds terrible!"

"Terrible? That's the best!" Race exclaimed.

"But what if someone from Boston is playing the Giants and then they have to home run. That would take too long! Would they be allowed to get a train ticket?"

Race stared at the nine year old incredulously. "Mike, youse a few cards short of a deck."

"Hey!"

"He's right Race! Their home is far away!" Ike defended his brother.

"They don't go to their house! They run around all the bases and score when they step on home plate!" Race exclaimed, aggravated.

"Don't the plate break when they step on it?" Jojo's eyebrows knitted in confusion and his face scrunched up. If he broke a plate at the orphanage he would've gotten a beating!

Race's jaw dropped. He looked more frustrated than the boys had ever seen him and Romeo was convinced that the boy was one more confused comment from crying.

"I'm goin' inside," Race said, shaking his head. "I can't do this anymore. You're all dumb!"

"What was that about?" Finch asked as Race disappeared inside.

"You guys was askin' dumb questions," Specs replied. He looked up to face them, also looking a little annoyed.

"Were not!" Romeo pouted. "Baseball is just dumb and Race realized how stupid it was! Walkin' on plates," he scoffed.

"They ain't real plat-," Specs stopped himself and shook his head. "I ain't getting involved in this."

"You know about baseball?" Crutchie asked.

"A little bit," Specs shrugged.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?" Finch asked. "You're smarter than Race, you can explain it better."

"I doubt that."

"Give it a try, please!" Crutchie begged.

"Okay," Specs sighed, setting his book down on the stoop.

***

"So the catcher is right behind the batter as he swings?" Romeo looked scared of the idea, his hand unconsciously moving towards the back of his head. "What if the bat hits you in the head?"

"I guess you're head will smart pretty bad, won't it?" Specs shrugged.

Crutchie also rubbed the back of his head. "I don't think I'd wanna be a catcher."

***

Specs had finished explaining to the best of his ability, but still the boys remained unimpressed.

"This don't sound very fun," Romeo said skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"It's sounds dumb," Mike agreed.

"I don't know," Crutchie shrugged. "I think I'd like to watch a game. Maybe even play!"

Finch looked at Crutchie, his nose scrunched as though he smelled something awful. "I think you're crazy!"

"Specs, how many people do you need to play baseball?" Crutchie asked, ignoring Finch's comment.

"Nine on each team. I guess you could play with less though. Why?"

"The Brooklyn boys like baseball, don't they?" After receiving a couple of nods Crutchie continued excitedly. "Maybe we could all go to Brooklyn and play baseball!"

"Did you hear anything we said?" Romeo groaned. "Baseball don't make sense! Why would we want to play?"

Crutchie's face dropped and he let out a long sigh. "Fine. We won't play," he said sadly.

***

Jack wasn't sure exactly what had happened while he was gone, but he intended to figure it out. Race had refused to speak with any of the boys apart from he and Specs.

This concerned him, but his attention was focused on Crutchie who had been sulking. It was extremely unusual for the ten year old to go very long without grinning or laughing and Jack bit his lip, worry washing over him. What if Crutchie's leg was bothering him?

"You okay Crutch?"

Crutchie looked up at him and shrugged. "I guess."

"No you ain't," Jack argued. "I know you better than that. Something's wrong."

Crutchie didn't seem in the mood to talk about it, so Jack sat beside him for a couple of minutes until Crutchie felt like talking.

"Race was talking about baseball."

Jack sighed. Just the thought of the blond talking about the game had Jack bored out of his mind. He wasn't a fan of the sport and Race could go on about it for hours.

Crutchie told Jack the whole story, including the part about none of the boys wanting to play. "I guess it was stupid of me; wanting to play, I mean. You gotta run and, well," Crutchie nodded towards his crutch. "I'm not too good at that."

"If you wanted to play baseball, you could," Jack insisted. He would never tell Crutchie that he was unable of doing something simply because of his leg.

"I think you didn't hear the part where I said you gotta run."

"Well I actually have a plan for that. When you bat, I'd stand behind you and as soon as you hit the ball, I'd pick you up and carry you to first base myself."

Crutchie laughed. "Thanks Jack!"

"I'm being serious, if you want to play baseball just let me know."

"I don't want to play so much," Crutchie assured him. "I'd rather watch it," he added quietly.

Jack thought for a second, then told Crutchie to wait for him. Jack hurried over to his bed and pulled the old woolen sock out from beneath it. It was full of coins.

They were meant to be saved for when he headed to Santa Fe when he was older, but he supposed he could spare a dollar.

"Here ya go!" Jack said proudly.

Crutchie gaped at the two quarters Jack was handing him. "What are these for?" He asked his friend, who was nearly twelve.

"The Giants have a game in a couple of hours. If we leave now, we'll get decent seats."

And so they went. Jack didn't like baseball at all, but Crutchie did, and to Jack that was all that mattered.