atching baseball is a bit of an alien experience for me. And not just because I'm watching it while sitting next to Captain America, who's poorly hiding himself under a cheap Mets cap.
I've never been a fan of team sports, my interest has always been combat sports like boxing, or wrestling, but baseball especially feels weird to watch because I've never seen it played in real life, just the pop culture version seen in movies and TV. There's a very simplified version of baseball called "brännboll" that's a popular childrens game in Scandinavia, and my memories of being terrible at playing it in school is the closest thing I have to compare with Steve's childhood memories of watching the Dodgers. It's the first time I've heard him sound anything close to happy.
"No offense to Babe Ruth or DiMaggio, but I was a Dodgers fan born and raised, and I'd rather sit here in my birthday suit than wear a Yankees cap."
"I feel like that might be a bit counterproductive to not drawing attention to ourselves."
For obvious reasons, we left the costumes at home, though I'm keeping my bandanna and sunglasses in my coat pocket, because you never know, but even with Steve's identity being a secret, a 6'2 blonde bodybuilder sticks out quite a bit even if no one knows who he actually is, so before we step into the Old Pologrounds, and if that's not a ridiculous name for a sports stadium, I don't know what is, Steve tugged down the Mets cap I gave him, hiding his hair and most of his face, and allowing us to get lost in the crowd. I've tried to fill him in a bit on what happened to the Dodgers from what I've absorbed through pop culture, but what I know isn't much.
"The Dodgers in Los Angeles, I still can't believe it..." he shakes his head "What, they just decided to up and leave? They were the BROOKLYN Dodgers for crying out loud!"
"Some sort of real estate issue I think, you'd have to ask someone with more detailed knowledge about baseball history, I only know that the move happened in '57, not why. People still hate the guy who organized the move though, I heard someone say once that if they were in a room with Hitler, Stalin and that guy, and had a gun with two bullets, they'd shoot him twice."
"Tough but fair..." Steve says with surprising deadpan. Then he brightens. "I wish I could have seen Jackie Robinson play though."
The news about the Dodgers breaking the color barrier for baseball when they recruited Robinson, not to mention their subsequent victory streak, seemed to have helped smooth over the Dodgers moving quite a bit. "Yeah, those ridiculous segregated leagues are barely even around anymore thanks to him, because shockingly, turns out segregation is completely fucking retarded, and deliberatly hobbling your sport by denying opportunities to great players because their skin is darker than yours just so you can feel superior is exactly as idiotic as it sounds."
One of the fans sitting in front of us seems to have overheard my remark, and shoots me a sour glare, which I return just as viciously. Steve doesn't seem to have noticed.
"You don't have to tell me twice, I always hated it myself, but there wasn't much I could do about it, other than try to treat colored folks like I wanted to be treated myself. I'm glad they're finally changing those damn laws."
I pause for a moment to watch the current batter take a swing at the ball, only to miss rather embarassingly "Jeez, where did the Mets find these guys, a retirement home? Anyway, yeah, they're changing. I mean, they're not changing them WELL, or with any sort of dignity, and there's a LOT of people digging their heels in over it, but it's happening." Of course, with my own historical memories, I know for a fact that not only are the current, glacially slow changes nowhere near enough to even begin adressing the racial injustices in this country, things are going to get a LOT worse in the coming years.
The question is, what can I do about it? As much as I'd like to, this isn't a problem we can fix by going door to door in the South and punching every member of the KKK in the face.
Actually, maybe we can do that anyway, I'll make a mental note of it.
....
It's a few hours later when we step out of the doors to the Polo Grounds and into the streets of Manhattan, letting the exiting crowd lead us out. I drain the last of the godawful beer I bought in the stadium, tossing the cup in a waste basket as we walk past it. "I wasn't expecting much for a dime, but I think that was actually the second worst beer I've ever had."
"What was the first?"
"Some off-brand beer I had in Denmark once, I somehow managed to find the only bad beer in the entire country. I don't know how they made it taste like aspirin, but they did. I didn't even get buzzed from it, it just gave me a slight headache. I still don't know how they managed to make it that bad."
"Heh, I'll take your word for it, never was much of a drinker myself. Before the serum, I could barely be in the same room as alcohol without passing out from it, and after, I might as well have been drinking soda pop for all the effect it had."
"Wow, you had to fight in a war AND be sober the whole time? That's rough."
That actually makes him chuckle a bit "Yeah, it... it was not great. Still, it had to be done, I was happy I finally got to serve my country" He looks around, taking in the sights of Manhattan "You know, most of the time it doesn't look all that different from my own New York, but then, I see something like..." he blinks in surprise as we're passed by a pretty young woman with long blonde hair, dressed in a white miniskirt and knee-high boots despite the enroaching chill of autumn. She gives him an appreciative glance as we pass, before she disappears back into the crowd "...well, not that I'm complaining, but yeah, something like that dress. You'd never have seen someone wear that on the street in the 40's, unless it was on the cover of a pulp magazine. It's the little things like that that really throws me."
"In a good way or a bad way?"
"Both, I suppose..." I'm waiting for him to continue, and we walk in silence for a few minutes before he speaks again "I just wanted to thank you, for taking me out today. Just going to the ballgame like that, it made me feel... a bit more like myself again. So, thanks."
I nod "No problem, man. Sorry I was kind of an unsupportive jackass yesterday. I could probably have told you that stuff in a better way, or atleast not dumped all of it on you at once. I'm just... I've never been very tactful, but I know that doesn't excuse it..."
Steve shakes his head "No no, you might as well have gotten it over with, this is reality, and I need to deal with it sooner or later. Still, it was nice to be able to be Steve again, if only for an afternoon."
"You know, you don't HAVE to stop being Steve if you don't want to, right? I mean, I think if you really wanted to hang up the shield, you could. You must be owed quite a bit of backpay by now, you could just retire on that, buy a house in some nauseatingly peaceful suburb somewhere, and just try to live the American Dream best you can."
We've wandered into a park, mostly empty except for a few kids running around and making a game of scaring the hell out of the pigeons, and two old men playing chess on a picnic table. Steve sits down on a park bench, and I slump down next to him. We simply watch the kids play for a little bit, then he answers me.
"...I actually thought about it, after Fury debriefed me back on that floating death trap he runs these days. I could just hand over the costume, let someone else take over, and try to catch up on everything I missed. Fury offered me a place at SHIELD, you know that?"
"I didn't, but I'm not the least bit surprised he did." Opportunistic old jackal.
"President Kennedy too, when we met. He told me there'd always be a place for me in the army, even if the war I was trained for is over. And I was tempted, lord knows I was, even with my doubts, when the President offers you something like this, it's hard to turn down. But back in the war, it felt like there was a tangible enemy, one that desperatly needed to be defeated. And now..."
I nod "Now there's just this general sense of foreboding. Look, Cap, can I be honest?"
"You were holding back before?"
"Touche. But seriously, I have a ton of respect for President Kennedy, he's one of the reasons we're not all just piles of radioactive ash right now, but I don't think you should work for him just because you feel you have to. Or SHIELD. Or even The Avengers, even though we'd love to have you! You said it was good to be Steve Rogers again, maybe do that for a little while? Even if you're not going to retire, take some time off, go out into the world and look at it through your own eyes rather than that of a symbol."
"So... just leave?" he says, surprised.
"Sure, there's a whole big country out there, maybe you'll get a new perspective on things. Or maybe you'll decide that the world still needs Captain America after all. Because there's no lack of injustice to fight, I promise you. Just, if you do decide to hit the road, please leave a note or something, otherwise Tony will probably send out a search party for you."
I pat him on the shoulder before getting up from the bench. "Whatever you choose, there's a room at the mansion for you."
I give him a final wave as I leave him sitting on the bench with a toughtful expression, before I dart behind one of the trees and focus my power, forming into a beam of light as I head back home.