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

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One of my finest performances came against the Elmira Pioneers, managed by Cal Ripken, Sr. I was warming up before the game, and Bob Johnson, who had moved up with me from Class A, was watching me throw.

“Are you really going out to the mound with that shit?” Bob wanted to know. “Jesus Christ, we’re going to have to take the married men off the infield. I can catch that fastball with my bare hands. We’re in trouble here.”

But there’s a difference between warming up and pitching in the game. Bob was taunting me about my fastball as I warmed up, but once I got out there, I struck out sixteen batters. The only hit I gave up was to Felix Delgado, the Elmira pitcher, a swinging bunt down the third base line that we let roll, and it ended up sitting on the foul line.

I may not have been throwing very well in warm-ups, but once I got into the first inning, man, my juices just kicked in, and that was the best game I pitched in the Eastern League that year.

My most memorable weekend during my season with Williamsport came after I met a stunning stewardess on one of the team’s flights. She had been Miss Alabama, she was living in New York City, and I couldn’t believe it when I asked her for her phone number and she gave it to me. She warned me, though, not to come over without calling first.