Chapter 4

This is what I long for, he thought. This is what I belong to.

He reared back. The hitter never saw it.

Strike three.

It was the same with the next batter and the next. Nine pitches, nine strikes. Three men up and three men down.

“From now on you play for us,” the pitcher said.

Quinnie was at once elated and deflated.

“But I have school,” he said. “I go to one of the schools President Barack Obama attended.”

“Ah,” the first baseman said. “Oh bah mah.”

He pronounced the name with equal emphasis on all the syllables, reflecting the uninflected aspect of the Bahasa language and the awe in which the Indonesian people held Barack Obama—a man they saw as a native son, one of their own who made good on the stage of the far, wide world. To invoke his name was to utter a password that provided entry to a magical kingdom.