McCurdle's Arm
A Fiction
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McCurdle’s front teeth were in the back of his throat. They’d been sent rattling back there by a smoker that’d flown up and in on him. He’d tracked it fine emerging from the pitcher’s hand until sunlight danced off some lustred surface beyond centrefield and the orb went from visible to invisible as though a sash had been pulled down before his eyes. Then the godawful impact, like a kicking horse. He sprawled in the dust, staring up at the tranquil blue sky. Southern Ontario, 1892. The Ashburnham Pine Groves are a semi-professional baseball club in the South Western Ontario Base-Ball...
McCurdle’s front teeth were in the back of his throat. They’d been sent rattling back there by a smoker that’d flown up and in on him. He’d tracked it fine emerging from the pitcher’s hand until sunlight danced off some lustred surface beyond centrefield and the orb went from visible to invisible as though a sash had been pulled down before his eyes. Then the godawful impact, like a kicking horse. He sprawled in the dust, staring up at the tranquil blue sky. Southern Ontario, 1892. The Ashburnham Pine Groves are a semi-professional baseball club in the South Western Ontario Base-Ball Players’ Association, sponsored by the Grafton Brewery, makers of Ashburnham’s Famous Pine Grove Ale. When sober the Ashburnham players are an impressive group, though coarse and occasionally cretinous, and as with any collection of men, not without their peculiarities. Robert James McCurdle is one of their most formidable pitchers, though he understands that his body won’t let him perform at a high level forever. McCurdle’s Arm is an account of a particular man in his particular time, playing a version of baseball devoid of the comforts of the modern game, rife with violence, his employment always precarious. Against this backdrop McCurdle must choose between his love for the game and his desire to be reunited with the woman who loves him.
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