CHARACTERFARM

I was at my first Little League practice. As we practiced, a boy walked around around and around the outside of the field. He kept his legs stiff (a modified goose-step I would call it now, though I didn't know the term at the time) and his arms locked at the elbow. He walked slowly and deliberately and pumped each arm in synchronicity with the opposite leg.

"Who's that?" I asked a teammate.

"That's John's little brother," he said, pointing to the third baseman. "His name is Robert. They call him Robert the Robot."

I didn't have to ask why.

All season, at every practice and game, Robert patrolled.

The next year Robert was old enough to be on the team. When he batted, he held the bat as he must have envisioned a robot would. It was next to impossible for him to swing. He either struck out or walked every time he came to bat. When he walked, he robot walked to first base. When he struck out, he robot walked back to the bench. It was all the same to him.

In the beginning of the year Robert played right field. Any ball hit his way was an automatic home run. Finally, our coach moved him to second base. Robert still never fielded any balls, but with another fielder behind him the automatic home runs were avoided.

Robert only played Little League the one year.

The next year he was back on the other side of the fence where he belonged, robot walking to his heart's content.