Читать книгу Bad Boys, Bad Times. The Cleveland Indians and Baseball in the Prewar Years, 1937–1941 онлайн

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Oscar Vitt’s ball club worked out in New Orleans to get in shape for the upcoming season. Normally spring training came and went without any front-page news or shocking revelations. The players sweated through workouts, talked about how great they felt, and let reporters know big things were up ahead for the new season. The sportswriters sent home optimistic stories, exhibition game summaries, and the comings and goings of the players on the fringe. There was always time for everybody to go out in the evenings and check out the swinging night life in downtown New Orleans.

For the most part the players had their fun but knew enough to get back to the Roosevelt Hotel at a reasonable hour. At the end of March, Rollie Hemsley, unable to restrain himself with all the enticing nightclubs and hot spots just a few blocks away, went out for a late-night adventure. He partied hard, waking up in his hotel room in the late morning hours too sick to take part in batting practice. He notified Vitt and the coaches, then went to his room to try and sleep it off. A photographer had followed Rollie back to the hotel. He tried to get a picture as he entered his room, but Rollie slammed the door in the photographer’s face. About a half-hour later someone knocked loudly at his door. Exhausted and hungover, he opened it to find the same man still trying to get a photo. They struggled for a moment, then Rollie pulled out a dresser drawer and smashed it over the photographer’s head. The camera fell to the floor, broken into pieces.