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though, usually, they would never consider signing somebody so young, under the circumstances, with the
kid tearing up the local pitchers and making a name for himself, there was no point waiting. His parents
had inked it for a three-hundred-dollar bonus, and the next day Lou was out at third base at Seals
stadium in front of a packed house.
And then Hun had swept in the way the Fire had in 06, and now San Francisco was back to where it
had been a hundred years ago. Hills and blowing sand. A ghost town. Quarantined. They thought maybe
Hun had come in with the rats that lived in the ships. They didn t know, though, not really. Whatever
caused it, in the end there were maybe two, three thousand people left now, none of them Lou s people.
All Lou s family five brothers and two sisters, his ma and pa, his cousins, the priests at St. Paul s
everybody, all dead.
Lou had tried not to think about it. He put all his sorrow and confusion into playing ball. When the Coast
League shut down he and what was left of the Seals moved to Salt Lake City and merged with the
Mountain League club there. After that, Omaha, and now here in Millie. And always, it seemed like he
was one step ahead of Hun, because everywhere he went got hit.
If everything had stayed the way it was supposed to be, Lou would have been called up to the big
leagues two years ago. He had never hit less than .375 anywhere. At Omaha he clubbed 43 home runs
and drove in an even 170. A fella couldn t hit any better than that and stay down, but two years ago, the
big leagues stopped taking new players from west of the Mississippi. So Lou had come here to Milltown;
only from the start, his luck here had been bad. He d hit okay, but his head wasn t right. Halfway through
the first year they stopped running eastbound passenger trains past Cincinnati. And rumor had it there
wasn t any organized major league ball in the East anymore. That made it hard for Lou to keep up his old
enthusiasm, which in turn put him at odds with Kelly, who had been with the Millers since 1912 and was
a half owner now, and who preached that people went to ball games to forget about their troubles, and
that he expected his players had to go out there like nothing was wrong. Lou still played spectacularly a
lot of the time. But he had lapses. Swinging on a 3-0 count. Missing signs. Booting them at third. And,
worse in Kelly s eyes, acting depressed all the time. That more than anything got him into hot water with
the manager. For sure, Kelly would fine him the rest of the year s salary for that stunt he d pulled, running
at Rogan like that.
Lou sat there on the bench holding his socks and thought about quitting the game, but didn t know what
else he could do. Ever since he could remember, all he d done was play ball. He could read a menu in a
diner and endorse his paycheck, and recite the Latin from the Mass, but otherwise everything he knew
was out there on that green field. What the hell else would he do if he couldn t play ball?
He d have to take it, that s all. He d sit there and wait for Kelly and the rest of the boys to come in after
the game and then he d take it, like he always did.
After a while he had a feeling somebody was standing behind him.
Beat it, Halsey, he said, thinking it was the clubhouse man. I don t need no shoe shine today.
I can see that, came the reply. It wasn t Halsey. Lou glanced back and saw a man standing near the
door, holding his hat. He was tall, with a vest that hung rather loosely on him, a farmer s haircut, and
two-toned shoes.
Mister, you d better get out of here. Ain t supposed to be nobody in here but players, and reporters,
after the game. You ain t a reporter, are you?
Not on your life, said the man.
Well, like I told you, this place is off limits. Better get back to the grandstand.
But I came to talk to you, the man said. Do you mind? I ll just take a minute of your time.
Insurance man, Lou thought. Halsey!
Halsey s stepped out for a little while. He s the one that let me in here.
You know Halsey?
Sure. Halsey and I are old pals.
You re wasting your time, mister. I ain t in the market for nothin .
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zanotowane.pldoc.pisz.plpdf.pisz.plkwiatpolny.htw.pl
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| Cytat |
Dobre pomysły nie mają przeszłości, mają tylko przyszłość. Robert Mallet
De minimis - o najmniejszych rzeczach.
Dobroć jest ważniejsza niż mądrość, a uznanie tej prawdy to pierwszy krok do mądrości. Theodore Isaac Rubin
Dobro to tylko to, co szlachetne, zło to tylko to, co haniebne.
Dla człowieka nie tylko świat otaczający jest zagadką; jest on nią sam dla siebie. I z obu tajemnic bardziej dręczącą wydaje się ta druga. Antoni Kępiński (1918-1972)
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