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

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Clyde said to me, “I’m going to be in the lobby at five o’clock in the morning, and if you come in one minute before five, I’m going to fine you one month’s salary. I don’t care what you do, but it would be best if you went out and had a good time. Here are the keys to my car. See you later.”

“Okay, Coach.”

I spent most of the night drinking, and I came in as the sun was coming up. I spent much of the rest of the next day throwing up. I had my washboard abs from throwing up after drinking too much. That day was as painful as any day I ever spent. I drank some chicken noodle soup, but not much else.

I arrived at the ballpark, and Jimmy Callahan, our trainer, told me that Clyde wanted to see me. I walked into his office, and Clyde looked up from his desk, and he said, “You look terrible.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind if you let me stay in the clubhouse during the game and sleep it off.”

“I’d like to,” Clyde said, “but you’re pitching tonight.”

I went out and pitched six innings, which was as far as I could go before keeling over. It was my first win in pro ball. Clyde’s message to me was that I was too uptight. I was too focused on making it to the big leagues. I wanted to win too badly, and I needed to relax.