The fans trailed him out an exit, along a concourse and through a parking lot. They squeezed past his family to get to him. Ryne signed his name until he reached a guarded gate to a practice field and the players' parking lot, where the small mob was halted.
The game played on in the distance. The girls skipped across the infield grass. Margaret, after having the gate closed on her with the rest of the fans, caught up to Ryne. He smiled at the wonders of spring, looking even more boyish than he ever did in a tattersall shirt.