And another: "D-u-u-u-ty!"
Duty eyes an elderly woman, getting off the elevator.
"There's my girl," he says. "Come here."
Ted Radcliffe, a Chicago White Sox fan who attended Opening Day, once tried to rekindle people's love for baseball after the shady scandal of 1919.
(Dudley M. Brooks -- The Washington Post)
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She laughs, pats him on the shoulder and keeps going.
Duty has been invited to attend a Negro leagues celebration at RFK Stadium that the Nationals have scheduled for May 13. He hopes to be there, although he's not keen on flying.
A few years ago, an acquaintance told him there was no reason to worry.
"Duty, when your number's up, it's up," the man said.
Duty replied: "The pilot's number may be up before Duty's number's up."
He wishes Debra would come because he wants to see the start of the game. "What time do you have?" Antsy though he is, he's still happy to talk about his playing days. He is asked how he dealt with the racial prejudice he encountered. His response is that in spite of it, playing baseball was a fun way to earn money even if it wasn't much. "I never worked a job in my life. Some people weren't nice when I played, but you always meet bad people no matter what you do. The majority weren't like that. People loved baseball when I played."
They still do -- there's an almost-impossible traffic jam near the stadium on 35th Street. Debra is driving, Duty alongside urging her on: "Go ahead. Go ahead."
But there's nowhere to go. The turnout is more than they expected. It's a gorgeous day, sunny and 67 degrees. Finally when they reach Gate 4, the handicapped lot looks full.
"I've got 'Double Duty,' " she shouts out the window.
Attendants scurry to remove the orange cones, then wave her in and clear a parking space.
It's the second inning by the time she wheels Duty to the handicapped portion of Section 133, behind the top row on the first level just to the left of home plate. He smiles as he looks out on the game in progress and the crowd of more than 38,000. The scene couldn't be more perfect.
Debra brings Duty a lemonade and a hot dog, smothered with everything available. His chair is on the aisle, and every now and then a fan stops to wish him well. "I just wanted to see a legend," says Bob Flynn, after meeting him.
Duty is withholding judgment on Ozzie Guillen, who is beginning only his second season as the White Sox manager, because Duty wants a division title, at least. But he likes what he sees: the pitching of left-hander Mark Buehrle, a run-producing double by Paul Konerko and the look of newcomer Jermaine Dye.
The Sox are winning 1-0 after seven innings, when Duty is ready to leave. It's cool for him in the shade.
The game ends with him still in the parking lot, posing with two young boys as their father snaps a photo. The crowd is filing down the ramps and out the gates, everyone happy because the Sox won, which makes Duty happy, too. He's sitting in the warm sunshine, looking up and smiling. "That's more like it," he says.
