Chapter Three

The cheers were still ringing out around the ground as the players left the field.
The crowd was happy. The home team, the Red Sox, had won. They had beaten Oakland Athletics by eight runs to three.
Cody had enjoyed the game. He thought he would like to play it himself one day. But at the moment he was feeling very tired and if the truth were known he had even fallen asleep at one stage. His dad took one look at him and knew what he had to do.
"Come on Code," he said, picking him up and lifting him over one shoulder. Within seconds the little boy had fallen asleep.

Underneath the bench the little Teddy Bear was glowing with pride. His team, the team he had supported since leaving the factory, had won again. He had enjoyed the game and, though the sun had now gone in and it was really quite dark, the little spark in his eye was still there. Fenway Park, his home, the only home he had ever known, was a happy place to be on a night like this.
As the crowd dispered and the litter blew in circles around him he didn't mind that he was a bit grubby and dirty, that he had tomato sauce sticking to his fur and a crisp bag hanging from his foot. It was all part of the experience. He would sit here now, with the dark sky overhead and the silence only interrupted by the sound of distance cars honking their support from the freeway, and wallow in his feeling of satisfaction.

As he replayed the game over in his head he thought about how he had originally ended up in this place and what a miracle it had been. He had been part of a shipment of bears that had been sewn together and stuffed in the factory, then loaded into a big packing crate and squashed together before being deposited into the back of a van.
In pitch blackness they had made the half hour journey from the Boston Bear toy manufacturers to a warehouse, where he had spent the night lying crushed against the other bears with nothing to see apart from the million beady eyes around him.
In the morning there had been a loud, crunching sound and suddenly daylight flooded in and two men in blue overalls had roughly lifted them out of the crate and thrown them onto a trolley, where they were wheeled into a big building.
From here a man shouted instructions and they were divided up. The little bear and around 20 of his fellow travellers were put into a big box. A sticker was slapped on the side and a man ordered "this one's going to the ball park shop".
The box had been bumped and banged, and eventually unloaded. Looking up, the bear saw a large sign reading: "Fenway Park, home of the Red Sox". What did it mean? At that time he didn't have a clue.
But a man came and picked up the box, carrying him and his fellow travellers through a gate and into the stadium that was to become his home.
"Right you lot," he said. "It's the shop for you. If you are lucky you will have some nice little child come along and buy you and take you back to their house."
For the little bear it sounded comforting and he hoped he would be going to a nice home.
But he was never to get that far.
"Hurry up, we want to get them on display before the game starts," another man shouted and, with that, the ride suddenly became more bumpy as their carrier started to run. Before he knew it the little bear was bouncing about, then falling, falling over the edge of the box and onto the stone hard ground, before coming to rest behind a big, smelly dumpster full of half empty takeaway boxes and cartons of Coca Cola. So much for a nice, comfortable home, thought the bear. Little did he realise, then, that he had found the perfect place to live.

"Well, what do we have here?" said a gruff voice.
The voice belonged, as far as the little bear could see, to a pair of gnarled hands with dirty fingernails.
Before he knew it the teddy bear was being lifted up in one hand by the fur on the back of his neck. He came face to face with a spotty faced, ginger haired man in overalls. "Who left you behind?" he asked.
"No one," the bear wanted to say. "This is my home!"
But spotty face had obviously not heard him.
"Aah, what's this?" he said. Reaching down again he picked up the bag.
Putting the bear on a seat, he opened the bag and looked inside. There were pens, a colouring book, some sweets and a stuffed toy tiger.
Looking at the bear he said: "Oh, someone will be missing you, that's for sure."
He reached down and lifted the bear as before. "Ouch!" said the bear, but the man was obviously deaf. Either that or just plain rude. Whichever, he failed to register the bear's protests.
"Better get you back to your rightful owner," he said, then roughly pushed the bear into the bag so that he was jabbed in a rather uncomfortable place by a rather pointy implement. "I've got a pen up me bum, be careful!" said the bear. But the man pretended not to hear him.
"You're sitting on my tail," came a rather slow, mournful voice from the recesses of the bag.
The bear froze. There was somebody in the bag with him!
He looked about as best he could and noticed a yellow and black striped thing at the bottom of the bag.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Stripey and I'm a ti-ger. Who are you?"
"Well, I'm a bear and ..."
Suddenly, the little bear realised. He didn't have a name.
"I don't know who I am, to be perfectly honest. You see, I've never had an owner. I guess you could call me a Free Bear."
"Oh, right," said Stripey. "Never heard of one of them."
"Well, you have now," said the little bear rather grumpily. "And I have to get out."
"Hmmmm," said Stripey slowly. "Maybe a bit difficult that. We have just been locked in."
"Oh no," said the Bear. "But... there is another game tomorrow. I CAN'T miss it. I really don't want to be here."
Stripey looked at him now and let out a weak growl. "Yeah, can't say I want you here either. You're very dirty and a bit smelly... and you've got tomato sauce on your head."