It’s a Grim New York Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, there was a 12-year-old boy named Little Jeffrey, who liked to go to New York Yankee baseball games. Little Jeffrey always brought his baseball glove, just in case a ball should come his way.

“Now, remember, Little Jeffrey,” his father said. “We are sitting in fair territory, not foul, so you cannot catch a ball unless it leaves the field of play.”

“Yes, Father,” Little Jeffrey said.

That day, a baseball hit by a Yankee player came straight at Little Jeffrey in the right-field stands. Back to the fence ran the Baltimore Oriole right fielder, who reached up toward the ball to catch it.

“I will catch it, Father,” Little Jeffrey said.

“No!” cried his father.

But it was too late. Little Jeffrey reached his wee arms over the top of the fence, stretching as far as he could. As the player from Baltimore prepared to catch the ball, Little Jeffrey extended his tiny hand. The ball fell snugly into the pocket of Little Jeffrey’s little mitt.

“Look, Father!” he exclaimed.

The player from Baltimore looked up in disbelief. He was very upset. “Why, oh why, did you catch that baseball, you little scamp?” the player called up to Little Jeffrey. “That was not a very nice thing for a youngster to do.”

But all around Little Jeffrey, the fans in the stands scoffed at the player from Baltimore, using a number of words that Little Jeffrey had never heard before. Strange people patted Little Jeffrey atop his head. When the ball was knocked loose from Little Jeffrey’s glove, several of the Yankee Stadium fans said, “We will get your ball back for you, young friend.”

Little Jeffrey could scarcely believe what happened to him after that.

The next day, his picture was on every TV and in every newspaper in the city of New York. Running down to the corner store, Little Jeffrey bought a copy of each of the New York papers. The headline in the Daily News was: “KID GLOVE!” The headline in the Post was: “CHILD’S PLAY!” The headline in the Times was: “CLINTON, DOLE CONTINUE TO SAY NOTHING AS ELECTION NEARS.”

A limousine pulled up in front of the house.

It carried Little Jeffrey into midtown Manhattan, where he appeared on many morning television programs. Little Jeffrey discussed the O.J. Simpson civil trial with Geraldo Rivera. He helped Katie Couric bake a pie. He was asked by Joan Lunden if he thought Boris Yeltsin’s actions in firing his security chief were wise. “I don’t know,” said Little Jeffrey.

As a guest on Regis and Kathie Lee’s show, the littlest hero of New York received a standing ovation from the studio audience.

Regis asked, “Where did you get that glove?”

Little Jeffrey shrugged.

“Because Kathie Lee owns the factory where the kids make them.”

“Oh, Reeg!” she said.

During all this time, Little Jeffrey’s father was uncomfortable with his child’s new fame. After all, a boy who interferes with a game of baseball while in progress is almost as bad as a boy who uses a reproduction of a baseball telecast without the expressed permission of Major League Baseball, which is strictly prohibited.

At their New Jersey home, Little Jeffrey’s father tried to think of a suitable punishment for his son. He thought about sending him to his room without supper, but Little Jeffrey had eaten 22 complimentary hot dogs at the ballgame, so he wasn’t really hungry. He thought about taking Little Jeffrey to a New York Jets football game, but that seemed particularly cruel.

On the kitchen table, Little Jeffrey’s column in the New York Daily News was read aloud by his mother to his father. Little Jeffrey wrote that in his opinion, the Yankees had “a real neat team,” and that each of George Steinbrenner’s players was “a real cool guy.” In the opinion of Little Jeffrey’s father, this was the first positive story he had read in the Daily News in years.

But wrong is wrong.

“I have World Series tickets,” he told Little Jeffrey, “but you cannot go.”

“Why not?” Little Jeffrey whined.

“Because somewhere in Baltimore, little boys like you are crying,” he said.

Little Jeffrey went to his room to cry, but found George Steinbrenner waiting there with $1 million. He patted Little Jeffrey on the head.

The end.