‘How do you know the Panhandler didn’t sell the ticket or give it away?’ Dennis asked.

‘That’s why I’m the brains of the outfit,’ said NcNutty. ‘He was wearing a brown and gold baseball cap. That means he was a Hawk fan. A free season ticket would be too good to pass up.’

‘But what if he’d found the cap and was only wearing it to keep his head warm?’

‘What if? What if? Don’t confuse the issue.’

‘Sorry, Fido.’

‘If I hear that one more time I’ll scream.’ McNutty was at the end of his short tether.

‘Sluggerrr..Samsonnn,’ came the announcement over the PA and the crowd went nuts. Slugger Samson, the Hawks batting sensation was the reason the stadium was packed this day. He needed one more home run to set a new all time record and everyone had come to see him do it. A hush came over the crowd as the Slugger stepped up to the plate and the pitcher wound up.

Samson swung and connected with fresh air.

‘Steeerike one!’ came the call and the confirmation on the electronic scoreboard.

Fizzy started yapping excitedly. ‘It’s him! It’s him!’

Fido McNutty and Dennis ran down to where Fizzy stood next to the man in the aisle seat who was trying to shoo her away.

‘Get lost,’ hissed the Panhandler swinging a boot at the little Terrier who avoided it easily.

‘Aha!’ Mr Heinemann, in company with Old Pete and several security people, pointed an angry finger down at Dennis from the back of the stand. ‘I knew we’d find you here. Thought you’d just be able to rock up and use your stolen ticket, eh? Well I’ve got news for you.’

Mr Heinemann and his entourage descended the steps.

McNutty recognized Old Pete at once. He had never forgiven him for his missing front tooth. The fact that it was entirely his own fault for biting a man with a wooden leg who’d done nothing wrong didn’t matter.

‘What’s going on?’ said the Panhandler angrily. He thought Mr Heinemann was talking to him. ‘This is my seat and my ticket.’

‘Is that so?’ said Old Pete quietly. ‘I think, Mr Heinemann, that you owe Dennis an apology.’

McNutty snapped at Old Pete who jumped back out of harm’s way, tripping over the step behind him and falling on his back.

‘What are you doing, you bully?’ Fizzy was horrified and rushed to lend her support as Old Pete regained his feet.

The pitcher caught the catcher’s signal and launched another missile at his glove. This time, however, Slugger Samson was equal to the task. He struck the white ball with all his might and it sailed out over the left field wall.

Old Pete saw the five ounce leather covered sphere rocketing toward them. ‘Look out!’ He called, taking a step forward.

McNutty, with his back to the action, saw the old doorman coming toward him and snarled with delight. ‘I owe you, Pal,’ he growled, ‘and I always get even.’

The baseball hit Fido McNutty on the back of the head, kayoing him, and dollied up gently for Old Pete to take a simple two handed catch.

The crowd went wild. The scoreboard flashed its neon congratulations to Slugger Samson on achieving the new record and the great man jogged around the bases to home plate where it was high fives all round with excited team mates.

Mr Heinemann and the security people gathered around Old Pete to stop others in the crowd trying to grab the ball off him.

‘What happened?’ McNutty came to in a daze.

‘You know what this means, old timer?’ said one of the security guards. ‘That ball’s gotta be worth a quarter of a million dollars and it’s all yours!’

‘Some bozos have all the luck,’ whined McNutty.

‘Some bozos deserve the luck they get,’ observed Fizzy.

Fido McNutty just snarled at her.