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

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The three of us went out to warm up. Bill Dickey had caught for the Yankees for twenty years and was elected to the Hall of Fame, and here he was, catching me. I wondered whether Dickey would be able to catch me. I was eighteen years old. What did I know? And Dickey caught me like I was throwing butter. I was throwing real hard, but he had great hands, and caught everything so easily.

I threw my fastball from a windup, and then threw my fastball from the stretch. Whitey wanted to know whether I had any other pitches.

“Yeah, I have a slider,” I said.

“Oh, he has a slider,” Whitey said sarcastically. “The kid has a slider. Let me see it.”

I threw it, and Whitey said, “Holy shit, you do have a slider.” I had learned a slider through reading an instruction book written by pitching great Sal Maglie.

I threw a little more. I was concentrating, throwing strikes and hitting Bill Dickey’s target, and without my noticing him, a batter had wandered toward the plate.

“Do you mind if I step in here?” he asked.