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94 Setting out the Puzzle Pieces When฀the฀long,฀slow฀quiet฀of฀lymphoma filled฀my฀father’s฀fingers,฀swelling฀them into฀a฀day฀when฀he฀could฀no฀longer฀pull the฀weeds฀from฀his฀gardens,฀he set฀up฀the฀card฀table฀his฀mother฀had played฀solitaire฀on฀and฀got฀out a฀jigsaw฀puzzle,฀one฀with฀photos of฀baseball฀legends—Gehrig,฀Cobb, Pie฀Traynor,฀Hack฀Wilson,฀Musial, Mathewson,฀Mel฀Ott.฀On฀the฀box’s cover,฀their฀cracked฀leather฀faces floated฀over฀fat-fingered฀gloves, barrel-handled฀bats,฀flat฀caps,฀baggy knickers,฀and฀wide-stitched฀baseballs. He฀dumped฀the฀pieces฀on฀the฀table, put฀the฀cover฀back฀in฀the฀cupboard, and฀turned฀over฀each฀piece,฀setting the฀straight-edged฀ones฀off฀to฀the฀side. I฀watched฀as฀he฀slowly฀wedged฀each piece฀between฀his฀forefinger฀and฀thumb. When฀he฀was฀seventeen฀and฀living on฀the฀brick฀streets฀of฀Pittsburgh, my฀father,฀a฀shortstop,฀was฀named the฀best฀schoolboy฀player฀in฀the฀city and,฀every฀time฀the฀Pirates฀had฀a฀day game,฀took฀infield฀with฀the฀team. Hall฀of฀Famer฀Honus฀Wagner,฀now 95 a฀coach,฀sat฀on฀the฀bench,฀stoic as฀a฀steelworker.฀My฀father,฀nervous as฀a฀supplicant,฀once฀dared฀to฀ask him฀for฀advice.฀The฀great฀ghost of฀a฀shortstop฀looked฀down,฀scraped his฀spikes฀along฀the฀dugout฀floor, and฀mumbled,฀“When฀the฀ball’s฀hit฀at you,฀catch฀it.฀Then฀throw฀it฀where฀you should.”฀My฀father฀wrapped฀his฀throwing hand,฀callused฀from฀his฀father’s฀tools, around฀the฀fingers฀of฀his฀glove. Yesterday฀I฀took฀the฀puzzle฀and฀dumped the฀pieces.฀Turning฀them฀over฀one by฀one,฀I฀felt฀my฀father’s฀fingers come฀alive฀in฀mine฀and฀remembered how฀he’d฀slap฀a฀baseball฀at฀me, skipping฀it฀off฀at฀a฀nasty฀angle or฀short฀hopping฀it฀at฀my฀feet.฀He’d say,฀“Watch฀it฀all฀the฀way฀into฀your฀glove.” ...

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