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

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“That has to be a baseball first with that signal,” Flodin said to me. “I’m dumb enough not to run out to the mound to talk to you about it. I’m drawing the sign in the dirt, you pick it up, and you throw a strike!”

Lloyd was terrific. Unfortunately, Lloyd couldn’t hit, and he never made it to the majors.

At Williamsport I had a solid infield behind me. Terry Christianson, a pitcher at Auburn, was moved to first base, where he did a nice job. Ken Boswell, who would soon move up to the Mets, was at second. Kevin Collins, another future Met, was at shortstop, and bonus boy Jim Lampe played third. Lampe was an outstanding fielder and a solid hitter, but he had one serious shortcoming that kept him from reaching the majors: He couldn’t catch a pop-up fly ball during night games. Jim wore really thick glasses, and at night, every time a pop fly would go up in the air, he’d yell, “I can’t see it. I can’t see it.” I don’t know how they signed that kid. They must have just scouted him during the day. If the shortstop couldn’t run over and make the play, the ball would just hit the ground.