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In one game against Southington High School, I retired the first eight batters; the ninth batter was the center fielder, and I nailed him in the arm but good. “What the hell was that for?” Coach Pehota wanted to know. He had no idea the kid writhing on the ground was the batter designated to get drilled.

Somebody once said, “You could kill someone.” I said, “When I put that uniform on, I’m here to win the game.” I was once asked by Don Lombardo, a close friend, “What would you do to win a game?” “Fuck the rules” was my answer.

I dominated my senior year. I pitched 151 innings and struck out 288 batters, only fourteen strikeouts shy of striking out two batters per inning. I finished the year with a seven-win-and-two-loss record, helping Woodrow Wilson High win the 1964 Connecticut High School State Baseball Championship. Then I had a perfect record of nine wins and no losses in American Legion ball for the Middletown, Connecticut team. None of this gave me much pleasure, though. I was a perfectionist and wasn’t able to throw strikes as easily as I wanted.

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