The 40-minute walk from Homewood to sunny Forbes Field never seemed longer. James had made the trip last year to see Josh Gibson play for the Homestead Grays, but this was different.

This was the big leagues. This was 1947, and the Pirates were hosting the Dodgers. The Dodgers ... and Jackie Robinson.

Ben boarded a South Side streetcar, and tightly gripped his mitt. In 15 minutes he would be at Forbes Field to watch the Pirates' new slugger -- his hero, Hank Greenberg. Finally, he would get to see "Hammerin' Hank" swing for the fences right here in Pittsburgh.

In the ticket line, James was amazed by all the colored people coming to the game. "It's like a holiday," he said to his Pa, "everyone fussin' so."

"We're all here to see Jackie," explained Pa.

Pa usually kept his eyes to the ground when standing in line, but today, James noticed, he held his head high.

"Do you reckon he'll try to steal home, Pa?"

Pa smiled. "Doesn't much matter what Jackie will do, does it? He's here, ain't he?"

Ben took his seat behind the visitor's dugout, and watched the massive man in the batting cage crush a ball deep into "Greenberg Gardens" -- the left-field section of Forbes Field.

"Do you think he wears a Star of David like mine?" Ben asked his Pop.

"Remember," said Pop, "Hank is not just your hero, but the hero of thousands of other Jews, too -- from all over the country."

"Like Robinson is to the Negroes?"

"Yes, Ben, like that."

James followed Pa to their seats, but, this time, they weren't in the bleachers. "We ain't never been down here before!" he said.

"I been savin' up for these here," said Pa. "With Jackie at first base, we'll see him real good."

Then he held out a baseball for James. "Here, boy ... for autographs."

Ben clutched a baseball -- one he longed to have signed by "Hammerin' Hank". He was about to set off for the Pirates' side of the field, when some Dodgers skipped up the dugout steps to greet the fans.

Without thinking, Ben dashed over. He stretched his arm through the crowd, and tried to wait patiently for an autograph. Finally, a large, brown hand plucked his ball away.

"Aw, man, now I ain't never gonna get him to sign," muttered James. He watched hopelessly as Jackie and a group of Dodgers retreated to their dugout to get ready to bat. "If only Pa could afford to take the streetcar from Homewood ..." he thought. "If only we got to the ballpark sooner ..." He was 10 seconds too late.

By the time Ben reached the Pirates, Hank Greenberg had left the field. Disappointed, he returned to his seat to watch the game with Pop.

"I know it's not Hank's autograph," said Pop, "but that Robinson fella is a special player, too."

Ben slipped the ball into his coat pocket, still wishing it was signed by Hank.

---

Before returning to his seat, James scampered down by the Pirate's dugout. The usher hadn't seen. From there, he hoped to get a good look at Jackie across the diamond.

"Here, son ... let's see that ball." A tall, muscular player had spied James from the corner of the dugout. It was the great first baseman he had heard about on the radio -- the one he knew the Jewish fans liked to call "Moses in Cleats." James flipped him the ball.

The player signed his name, and tossed the ball back to James. James looked glumly across the field, then turned to the smiling Pirate.

"Thank you, Mr. Hank."

From opposite sides of the field, James and Ben sang the National Anthem, and then took their seats when the umpire yelled, "Play ball!" While thrilled to be at the game, the baseballs in their pockets reminded them of the opportunities they had missed.

At the end of the second inning -- and with Jackie leading off the third -- both boys headed for the area behind home plate. Ben hoped to see the pitcher throw some curves from behind the screen, while James came to see Jackie swing from up close.

As the rookie approached the plate, colored fans cheered like mad. Most white folks hoped for the "dipsy doodle," yet some shouted, "Hit him in the head!" But whether colored or white, no one at the game that day would forget what happened next.

On the first pitch of the inning, Jackie laid down a bunt and raced to the bag. The pitcher's wide throw pulled Hammerin' Hank into the baseline, where he collided with Jackie.

As the speedy Dodger got up and zoomed toward second base, Forbes Field fell silent. No one knew what to expect next. Hateful words? A fight?

But when the Pirates' first baseman dusted himself off and returned to his position, the game continued as if nothing had happened at all.

James and Ben saw everything, and couldn't wait to get back to tell their fathers.

Without looking, the two boys burst away and ... crash! ... down they went -- like Jackie and Hank.

The boys were OK, but their baseballs had tumbled out of their pockets when they fell.

Ben scrambled after the closest ball, thinking it must be his. It wasn't. Gee whiz, he marveled, Hammerin' Hank!

James, who collected the other, couldn't believe his eyes. Jackie ... it's Jackie's name!

The boys looked up, and froze at what they saw. The gleam of a dangling Star of David mesmerized James, as Ben stared deeply into a dark brown face, merely inches from his own.

James gazed at the autograph he wished was his, then slowly lifted the ball to its rightful owner. He held it up for Ben to take, but a hand never came. Instead, Ben looked down at the ball, and then back up at James. James' eyes widened, as, at once, he understood. When Ben presented the ball signed by Hammerin' Hank, James did the same as Ben.

The two boys never looked away as they picked themselves off the concourse floor. A nod from each, three backward steps, and a dash to their seats was as fine a handshake that ever was.

Through the remaining innings, James and Ben listened to their fathers tell stories of Cool Papa Bell, Pie Traynor, and other Pittsburgh legends who came before. They munched on hot dogs and gulped down pop, kept their scorecards the best they could, and cheered everything that Jackie and Hank did for their teams.

But they never told their fathers about the swap.

At the end of the afternoon, like everyone else, James and Ben filed out of the stadium recalling the great collision that would make the next day's headlines. As they shuffled toward the exits, the two boys spied each other from a distance and stopped.

While their puzzled fathers watched, the boys pulled their baseballs from their pockets and held them out high.

Two smiles later, they left Forbes Field behind.