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

61 страница из 92

I had spent the summer eating hot fudge sundaes and drinking milk shakes, adding weight, because I was told that I should bulk up before going to camp. What no one told me was that the added weight should be made of muscle, not flab.

“First thing we have to do,” Stanky said to me, “we have to get you in shape.”

Stanky gave me a nylon shirt with a rubber inner lining, and he put me through an exhausting regimen of sprints and pickups. Day after day, Stanky, or another coach, made me field 100 balls in the Florida heat while wearing that goddamn rubber shirt. Slowly, but surely, my weight dropped from 220 pounds down to 180.

Stanky was a great, great instructor, but he was also a ballbuster. One time he took me to dinner. I thought, Great, free food. We got in his car and he drove us to downtown St. Pete, where we stopped at Morrison’s Cafeteria.

I walked down an aisle of food past hundreds of different items, and as I pushed my tray along, I figured I’d order a couple of hamburgers, some ham, and a little potato salad, but then Stanky stopped me.