"Twenty years old," says Jim. "And I wanted it when I was a kid."
The brothers walk out to the basketball court and play HORSE and one-on-one. Jim is a good shooter and beats Henry at most of the shooting games. When they play one-on-one, however, Jim cheats openly, yelling "Foul!" and "Out of bounds!" and "My ball!" at random. When Henry drives, Jim bear-hugs him, lifts him up and takes the ball.
Later, Jim takes Henry to Three Rivers Stadium and into the Pirates' locker room. It has been said that the Pirates have the wildest locker room in sports. Today, even though the team has just dropped two straight to Atlanta and fallen into second place behind Montreal, the place is alive with yelling, bad jokes, swearing and loud music. Jim fits in nicely, giving and taking insults with the best.
Henry is somewhat aghast. "I don't think many basketball coaches would like this," he tells Jim when they're outside.
During batting practice Jim and Henry sit in the stands near the Pirate dugout and chat about Jim's game. There's an easiness to it all—the afternoon sun beaming down, the crack of bats in the empty stadium. Jim and Henry seem to be proud to be in each other's company. For years Henry got most of the sports glory. "Really?" people would say. "Henry has an older brother in baseball?" Now it seems Jim will be getting more attention; sometime soon he may be getting all of it. The brothers have different personalities, each suited to his game. They are different people—they have come to know that—and it makes things easy.
Henry has to catch a plane, and Jim walks him back through the cacophonous locker room, through the halls and out to the sidewalk that encircles the stadium. He and Henry say goodby, thank each other and promise to stay in touch. There are no hugs, no theatrics.
On the way to the airport Henry slouches down in the seat of his cab. The trace of a smile stays on his face. After a while he looks up at the ceiling. "That was good, seeing Jim," he says. "I kind of didn't want to leave."