safe, out, or maybe even thrown out of the game for unneccesary roughness. I was exhausted from running the bases. There was a sharp pain in my back.
I looked up for the umpireâs call, but he hadnât given it yet. He was looking to see if the catcher was holding the ball.
Something was jabbing into my back, so I rolled over to get off it.
It was the ball.
âSafe!â the umpire shouted.
The fans went nuts. The Chicks were out of the dugout before I could get up, shrieking with delight. They mobbed me, hugging me, kissing me, pounding me on the back. Max Carey told me I had âmoxie.â I didnât know what moxie was, but I figured it had to be something good, and I was glad I had it.
Final score: Chicks 7, Peaches 6.
And I, Josephine Stoshack, was the hero.
11
Play Like Men, Look Like Girls
THE GAME WAS OVER , THE CHICKS HAD WON , AND EVERYBODY was happy. As we piled triumphantly into the dugout, I had one thing on my mindâthere was an excellent chance that I would get to see the Chicks naked again.
Iâm not proud of it or anything. I know I should have been thinking about how I had contributed to the victory. I should have been thinking about Dolores Klosowski and her broken leg. My dad in the hospital back home. But Iâm being honest here. Iâm thirteen years old. I donât know about you, but I know what I think about pretty much all the time.
In fact, I had been thinking about it ever since they held me down and forced me to put on a dress. Right then and there, it had occurred to me that after the game Iâd be in the locker room again. If I could just blend into the woodwork, they just mightforget I was there.
âP.K. is coming!â Tiby shouted just as we entered the locker room.
âHeâs probably going to congratulate us on our stirring victory!â Ziggy beamed.
âQuick! Clean up the mess!â Connie shouted. âP.K. hates a sloppy locker room!â
The girls started running back and forth, throwing things into lockers, drawers, and cabinets. Nobody was taking any clothes off.
âWhoâs P.K.?â I asked Mickey Maguire.
âPhilip K. Wrigley,â she replied. âYou know, the chewing gum guy. He owns the Cubs.â
Of course, Iâd had Wrigley gum. I had even been to Wrigley Field in Chicago. But why was Philip K. Wrigley coming here?
âHe owns our whole league,â Mickey informed me. She said Wrigley started the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League because he was afraid the war might completely shut down baseball. With so many major and minor leaguers away fighting, there would be a lot of empty ballparks.
According to Mickey, P.K. was a little odd. He wouldnât dial the telephone, for instance. His wife dialed for him. He was a millionaire, but he rode a motorcycle to work. And he once paid a guy five thousand dollars to put a hex on the Cubsâ opponents.
The girls had just about finished tidying up the locker room when a voice boomed down the hallway.
âIf the boys in the lab canât create a chewing gum that doesnât stick to false teeth, then tell âem to create false teeth that donât stick to chewing gum! Get on it, Tommy!â
âYes, P.K.,â answered some other guy.
Suddenly, two men burst into the locker room. The older, grayer one was clearly Mr. Wrigley. The other one was short, geeky, and had the look of a low-paid, pencil-pushing yes-man. Each man wore a suit and a hat and carried a briefcase. I looked around for Max Carey, but he must have left already.
Suddenly, two men burst into the locker room. The older, grayer one was clearly Mr. Wrigley.
âOops!â Wrigley said, as if he had entered the locker room by accident. He covered his eyes with his hand. âIs everybody decent?â
âGood evening, Mr. Wrigley,â the girls replied sweetly.
âEvening, girls. Who wants gum?â
âI do!â everyone
I looked up for the umpireâs call, but he hadnât given it yet. He was looking to see if the catcher was holding the ball.
Something was jabbing into my back, so I rolled over to get off it.
It was the ball.
âSafe!â the umpire shouted.
The fans went nuts. The Chicks were out of the dugout before I could get up, shrieking with delight. They mobbed me, hugging me, kissing me, pounding me on the back. Max Carey told me I had âmoxie.â I didnât know what moxie was, but I figured it had to be something good, and I was glad I had it.
Final score: Chicks 7, Peaches 6.
And I, Josephine Stoshack, was the hero.
11
Play Like Men, Look Like Girls
THE GAME WAS OVER , THE CHICKS HAD WON , AND EVERYBODY was happy. As we piled triumphantly into the dugout, I had one thing on my mindâthere was an excellent chance that I would get to see the Chicks naked again.
Iâm not proud of it or anything. I know I should have been thinking about how I had contributed to the victory. I should have been thinking about Dolores Klosowski and her broken leg. My dad in the hospital back home. But Iâm being honest here. Iâm thirteen years old. I donât know about you, but I know what I think about pretty much all the time.
In fact, I had been thinking about it ever since they held me down and forced me to put on a dress. Right then and there, it had occurred to me that after the game Iâd be in the locker room again. If I could just blend into the woodwork, they just mightforget I was there.
âP.K. is coming!â Tiby shouted just as we entered the locker room.
âHeâs probably going to congratulate us on our stirring victory!â Ziggy beamed.
âQuick! Clean up the mess!â Connie shouted. âP.K. hates a sloppy locker room!â
The girls started running back and forth, throwing things into lockers, drawers, and cabinets. Nobody was taking any clothes off.
âWhoâs P.K.?â I asked Mickey Maguire.
âPhilip K. Wrigley,â she replied. âYou know, the chewing gum guy. He owns the Cubs.â
Of course, Iâd had Wrigley gum. I had even been to Wrigley Field in Chicago. But why was Philip K. Wrigley coming here?
âHe owns our whole league,â Mickey informed me. She said Wrigley started the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League because he was afraid the war might completely shut down baseball. With so many major and minor leaguers away fighting, there would be a lot of empty ballparks.
According to Mickey, P.K. was a little odd. He wouldnât dial the telephone, for instance. His wife dialed for him. He was a millionaire, but he rode a motorcycle to work. And he once paid a guy five thousand dollars to put a hex on the Cubsâ opponents.
The girls had just about finished tidying up the locker room when a voice boomed down the hallway.
âIf the boys in the lab canât create a chewing gum that doesnât stick to false teeth, then tell âem to create false teeth that donât stick to chewing gum! Get on it, Tommy!â
âYes, P.K.,â answered some other guy.
Suddenly, two men burst into the locker room. The older, grayer one was clearly Mr. Wrigley. The other one was short, geeky, and had the look of a low-paid, pencil-pushing yes-man. Each man wore a suit and a hat and carried a briefcase. I looked around for Max Carey, but he must have left already.
Suddenly, two men burst into the locker room. The older, grayer one was clearly Mr. Wrigley.
âOops!â Wrigley said, as if he had entered the locker room by accident. He covered his eyes with his hand. âIs everybody decent?â
âGood evening, Mr. Wrigley,â the girls replied sweetly.
âEvening, girls. Who wants gum?â
âI do!â everyone
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