Читать книгу Rage. The Legend of "Baseball Bill" Denehy онлайн

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Kristin said, “Not really.” She always kept her real feelings inside. Heather said, “Yeah, play catch, Dad.”

That was June 15, 1992, and on the plane back to Florida I vowed that I would never have another drink or drug. I have been in recovery since that day.

But before I talk about my recovery, let me share some of my history. The root of my anger and my trouble with women began with the nuns in Catholic school. These sex-starved sadists never should have been allowed around children. I thought they were a menace to society.

Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.

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EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT I WAS

But my greatest trauma, one that caused me to feel great shame and guilt, came when I was ten years old. Richie Barone was my best friend. We were in Little League together. We lived in Middletown, Connecticut, and one winter’s evening I went to visit Richie at his house. After a delicious spaghetti dinner, Richie’s dad asked him to go out on an errand.

We left Richie’s house and headed into town. We had the choice of taking the long route around Pameacha Pond or taking a shortcut across the ice. My father had warned me never to walk across the ice during winter. The pond had heavy currents, and the ice wasn’t always solid and safe.