Letter to My Dad

By Chucky Quartarolo

Kendall Robey has been an also-ran for the Washington Senators’ baseball team. A last-place club with a few bright spots until the club hires a new manager, Dusty Warner. A winner his whole career and determined to keep it that way, he starts wheeling and dealing to make something of a dismal start to the 1966 season. Many additions including an untried rookie Vinnie Quinelli, the son of one of Dusty’s former teammates, make things interesting to say the least. Dusty has Kendall and Vinnie room together and a friendship of nearly twenty years begins. Defeat brings sadness, and winning brings joy, and they experience a plethora of both.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532070556

Chucky Quartarolo

Chucky is a lifelong baseball fan who has been a season ticket holder and observed more than 1000 MLB games. A scolar of the game from its origin in the late 1800s to the mordern era. Married with two grown sons. Loves books and reading and has been writing his own work since the 1990s. Has two short stories and two children’s books to his credit. This is his first novel.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

HOME

October 9th 1966

Washington DC

Kendall and I watched from the on deck circle as Mercer took his warm up tosses for the bottom of the 17th inning.

He gave me his prediction of the very near future, Okay, I’m sitting on a fastball, I’m taking him out of here, I’m gonna be the hero, you can have the rest of the day off.

I snortled (chuckled and snorted) and said, Okay. I then jokingly turned and headed back to the dugout. After a few steps I turned and went back as he laughed a little.

He took the weight off the barrel of his bat and tilted his head to the side, Ya gotta wanna!

I smiled and nodded. He really got the crowd to start saying that, cheering that and screaming that. His catch phrase turned into the Senators fans’ rally cry.

I said, Just get on and I’ll drive you in.

He went up to the plate and gave me one last look and then faced the pitcher Ricky Mercer.

I couldn’t hear the words but I could hear the catcher Marty Spagnola say something to him and Kendall said to him, Shhh, quiet. I’m trying to think.

He worked the count then belted the 2 – 1 pitch to Left-Center, where the Center fielder Bennie Mendoza made a nice leaping catch on the warning track against the wall. Just short of going out.

Kendall stumbled coming out of the box and went down to his knees. He got up and started for first base and only got three of four steps up the line when the out was recorded. He jogged in and comes up to me. He said, Ahhh, man. I just got under it.

I shook my head and said, I thought you had it. I thought it was over. I knock the weights off my bat and was about to head for the plate.

Kendall puts his hand on my chest and said, He’s out of gas, wait for the weak fastball and put it in the seats. I nodded, Win this thing Flash.

Smiling, I continued to nod and said, No problem man. I got this.

I walk to the plate and adjust my helmet. I look behind our first base dugout to see you and Mom with Pete and Cindy. Behind them sat Rosie and her parents. You pumped your fist and Mom has her hands together in prayer. Pete points to me as if to say, ‘You’re the man cuz.’ Cindy is clapping and yells something, maybe a joke, she always kids with me.

You yell something, some form of encouragement and I nod but honestly I have no idea what you are yelling.

I get a toe hold and hold up a hand asking for time, as I do so.

The Giants catcher Marty Spagnola lifts his mask and says from his squat, Win or lose kid. It’s been a h**luva Series ain’t it? Hope it’s over soon.

I said, Man I do too.

Home Plate Ump Clint Yale says, "You hope so? I’ve been back here for 17 f**king innings. No breaks. You sit down every half inning, get cold drinks and I have to stand here for five f**king hours. I gotta p**s so bad I think I need a rubber band. Spags and I both chuckled while Clint ranted. He pulled his mask on and yelled, Play ball!"

I stood waiting for the first pitch.

Since Mercer entered the game in the 12th, I have faced him twice already. He threw at me twice in the first at bat, in which he hit me on the foot. Then twice in the next at bat in which I walked. Four times he has thrown at me. So that prompted me to turn and I said to the umpire, Clint I’m sick of picking myself up off the ground. If he throws at any one of us again there is gonna be problems.

He said, Take it easy Flash.

Mercer heard me as I wasn’t trying to be too quiet as I talked to Clint and he yells, Shut up punk! It’s part of the game, you p**sy!

I inwardly smiled knowing I was getting under his skin. Every little thing to take some sort of advantage. Not exactly the team motto but we make it work.

Clint said, Shut up Mercer. Then yelled again, Play Ball!

I want Mercer angry. Get him out of his game plan. I set waiting for his first pitch.

Kendall was right, the Giant’s pitcher started me off with a fastball and indeed it was pretty weak. I need to wait for him to put it over so I can crush it.

Mercer missed with a curve and the count went to 2 – 0 and I knew what was coming. The stadium full of fans knew what was coming; even the grandma watching at home in her rocking chair knew what was coming. Fastball.

So I waited for it and it comes, middle in and I put a good swing on it, I barreled it up and popped my hips.

I got all of it but hit it on a line. Not quite what Kendall did, he got under too much and I didn’t get under enough.

The line drive finds grass in the alley and skips to the wall. Corny King runs it down and gets a perfect bounce off the wall and turns and fires to second.

After I rounded first base and head to second, first base coach LeeRoy Spicer screams, Get on it! Get on it! Meaning to get on my horse this was not going to be a ‘stand-up double’.

With the play right in front of me I see King get the ball and throw it in, the throw is just offline and I slide to the opposite side of the bag and beat the tag. I put my hand up and to ask for time and the umpire yells, Time out. That was way closer than I thought it would be when I left the batter’s box.

I stand and hear the crowd screaming. It is deafening. I look for you, Mom and my cousins and see you four and pump my fist in the air at you all. You and 47,246 others do likewise.

I dust myself off and stand on second base as I watch the Giant’s Manager Hank Graves come out to pull Mercer. But to my surprise they keep him in to pitch to American League home run champ Dutch van der Boom.

I yell to him, If you ain’t Dutch, you ain’t much! One of his favorite sayings, the other being Kiss my Dutch a**. He pumps his fist in the air at me. The crowd goes wild once again as they see Booms give me the fist.

He steps in and I take my lead. I look in and see Spags put down one finger and Mercer nods.

As I take my lead I tell Dutch a fastball is coming by putting both hands on my helmet as if to adjust it, once I saw the catcher’s sign.

The crowd starts a chant of, Boom-Boom, Boom-Boom. One of Dutch’s many sobriquets.

As advertised the fastball comes and Dutch rips it at the shortstop.

I start for third at the crack of the bat. I then see the shortstop Freddy Groves going up the ladder to haul it in.

I slam on the brakes and start back to 2nd to avoid getting doubled off. I look back and the ball tips off Grove’s glove and into Left field.

I slam on the brakes again and reverse directions again. I get to 3rd and make a wide turn but Tommy has one hand up and the other pointing to the bag, signaling me to stop there.

Corny King came in hard, fields and fires home. If I had tried I would be dead. If I had just kept running from Jump Street I would have made it home and the Series would be over.

The roar of the crowd went from cheers to boos in a heartbeat. They know I made a rookie move heading back to second. I just shook my head and closed my eyes. The Washington crowd has never booed me before but then again; I have never cost the city their first World Series championship in 42 years before so I had it coming.

Tommy puts a hand on my back and chides, Vinnie-Vin. Looks at me not de ball. Dat’s a rookie mistake. He pats my back and steps back over the foul line into the coach’s box. One out naw, go hard on a ground ball, taggin’ on a fly.

I nod and take a small lead into foul ground.

Hurricane Hayes steps in.

They leave Mercer to face the left handed hitting Hayes and maintain a slight advantage. Their bullpen has been used every game and with all the extra innings are worn out. Mercer is the best they have left and they are going to ride this pony as long as possible.

Mercer throws a curve in the dirt and Dutch pulls off a delayed steal and swipes second base without a throw. Now the double play is off. A ground ball or deep fly could drive in the winning run without the benefit of a hit.

Tommy says, Dat was a good move but dey just gon’ walk ‘Cane naw, sets up a douba play.

I nod in agreement.

But I guess Mercer didn’t want to waste three pitches when he can put Hayes on with just one and drilled him in the ribs.

Hurricane throws down his bat and runs on a dead sprint to the mound.

The catcher Spags right behind "Cane, Clint Yale right behind Spags.

Mercer takes off his glove and then fires it at Hayes and hits him in the face and ‘Cane gets to Mercer and punches him twice.

Spags gets there and starts punching Hayes in the back.

I know you’ve seen plenty of guys charging the mound after a hit batsman but it is usually the batter who charges the mound, not the runner from 3rd base.

Mercer had thrown at me four times in this game and twice in each of the other two games, hitting me a total of three times. I agree with Hayes but this is not a fair fight. Spags and Mercer together are going to mess Hurricane up. Someone has to stop this.

My helmet comes off as I sprint to the mound and Tommy yells after me, Don’t git hit by nobody Vinnie-Vin.

My football skills kicked in and I tackled Spags knocking him to the turf and myself in the process. We grappled a second and I ended up kneeling on his upper arms sitting on his chest, holding him down.

I didn’t hit him, I wasn’t going to.

I was keeping him from hitting Hurricane, trying to stop the fight which was clearly a bad idea. Spags grunted, Get off me so I can kick you’re a**.

I looked down at him and said, Spags take it easy. This doesn’t make any sense. I’m staying here until you calm down. He kicked and tried to remove me but I stayed put. Come on Spags, we just want to play baseball, not this. He stopped struggling and looked as though he was coming to his senses.

Without any warning I’m hurled off Spags and I’m lying on my back looking up at the October night sky. It is cold and I start to get chills, it feels much colder in an instant and I began to shake.

I lay there a long time it seems. Then standing over me I see Kendall’s unshaved face as he looks down and asks, You alright? as he extended his hand and arm to help me up.

I reach up and his strong grasp locks around wrist as I grab around his and he lifts me off the turf with little effort. He is surprisingly powerful.

Dusty and Skinny start to lead me off the field to the dugout with Kendall in tow and I stopped and say, Hey where are we going?

Dusty says, Flash, you gotta get that noggin checked out.

I said, "Right after I score the winning run Dusty. I’ve gone all the way on this crazy ride. I’ve given all I have, my blood and sweat. I owe it to my teammates. If I can still walk I should be in this game. I haven’t missed a game this season. I never come out. Don’t you think I deserve this?" I said all that like I’m negotiating, not begging. (Almost and I would resort to begging if he takes me out. I’m not gonna lie.)

He relents and I gently pull out of their grasps and jog back across the diamond and take my place at 3rd base. Tommy hands me my run-away helmet and asks me how I feel.

I put my helmet on and feel a sharp pain on the back of my head. Tommy, I said, I have a whale of a headache.

Tommy replies, Well afa Milt Fontaine cracked y’all in the haid with a bat y’all bound to have a haidache. Boy I tot Kendall was gon kill hi a**, chased his a** all ove’ da field.

I hear those words but it doesn’t make sense.

My head?

A bat?

I rub the back of my head and it hurts. I look at my hand and it is covered in blood.

I hear Tommy say, Vinnie-Vin…take a lead.

I hear him but I can’t move my legs. I just stand there. Nausea floods my insides and I bend over at the waist. I think I’m gonna puke, right here in the World Series. I say, Look out Tommy.

I don’t want to be put out and I can’t step off the bag to puke so still on the bag I lean over and barf into foul territory.

Everyone was back to their positions.

I face home plate again. Everyone is looking at me. Everyone in the Park saw me toss my cookies.

Things are bad. I get the spins. Still bent over I look sideways at Tommy and ask, What’s happening, Tommy?

Looking pretty concerned Tommy said, Vinnie? FLASH? Then his look of concern turns to panic, he looks to home and yells, Time! Time!

Everything begins to spin and I feel the ground come up and slam the side of my head. I had fallen over onto my right side. I don’t know for sure but I hope not in the puke.

Kendall? Kendall? I called for my best friend, the only one I trust as much as family.

In a moment he is there and kneels down beside me and says, I’m here Flash.

I’m hurt man. I say, What’s happening?

Just stay still and let the doc check you out. Kendall said, as Dusty and Skinny and Dr. Roughensore came on the run, Kendall had beaten them to me by 15 seconds or more, he said he didn’t touch the ground he flew over to me. I believe him.

I’m dying Kendall. I said and looked into his eyes to see his honest reaction.

He looked shocked but assures me, No, you’re not.

I see clouds, I’m going to heaven Kendall it’s over, I see clouds.

I really do, as far as I can see. I feel like I am sliding down a chute into the unknown. Bye Kendall, here I go. I hear my voice trail off as I slip away.

The last thing I heard is Kendall, I’m right here, I won’t leave you man. I’ll never leave you.

I can’t feel anything, I can’t move. I’m floating, swirling.

I still feel the field against my face.

Smooth.

Cold.

Slick.

May 3rd 1966

Washington DC

I hear a voice waking me up say, Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to make our final approach into Washington D C. Please return to your seats, extinguish any smoking material and fasten your seatbelts. We will be landing in ten minutes; local time is 1:24 PM.

I open my eyes and feel the plane window in seat 24 F pressed against my face. Clouds as far as you can see then as we descend you can see the landscape of the flight path below.

Next thing you know the plane shutters and the engines wind down and you feel the ground come up to meet the landing gear, brakes applied and we are getting off the plane.

I get my bag and wait at the cab stand.

I waited five minutes or so and then I was next in line and the cabbie pulls up in cab #24 and jumped out, grabbed my bag and stowed it in the trunk.

I got in and he did as well. He asked, Where to Bud?

I said, Walter Johnson.

Ya sure ya don’t mean Howard Johnson’s? He asked with a laugh.

I fell for it and said, No Walter Johnson Park. Where the Senators play.

"Play? You mean lose. Dey da worst team in both leagues. He added, Yessir, Washington DC. Fust in war, fust in peace but last in de American League."

I just sat there thinking that this was the club I was going to be playing for hopefully for the rest of my career and they are not liked even in their own city. This could be rough.

We rode in silence for a few and then he said, So wat. You a big Nat fan?

I heard that and didn’t know what he said meant, A what?

Nat fan.

What’s a Nat?

Dere’s two reasons I hear. Dey used to be da ‘Nationals’ and Nat is short for National. Or the middle three letters of Senator is ‘Nat’. Either way dey is de Nats. He then went on and asked again, So are you a big Nat fan?

Not yet but I am sure I will be soon?

Yeah. I tink I know who you is?

I was honestly intrigued. Really? Who am I?

He holds up the newspaper, Says here on page three of the Washington Star we got you in a trade. I see my picture is on the page he holds up. Looks like the publicity picture for the scorecard of the 1961 Rose Bowl. I hated that picture. The Washington Huskies are always photographed in a suit and tie, so at least I was dressed nicely in that picture.

He says, Yep, says here you de next Babe Ruth.

I asked, Seriously? It says that?

Yeah it says you hit .524 in AAA.

For a month I did. I seemed to be in a slot, everything is making sense and I’m seeing the ball really well.

I said sarcastically, Yeah, I’m Babe Ruth.

We pulled into the parking lot, thankfully and I got out. I paid him and he got my bag for me. As he started to drive away he called out, Hit a homer for me Babe. He drove off laughing.

I felt like the butt of his joke which made feel like an idiot.

I took my bag to the guard’s gate.

The old, old guard sat up when I approached. He said as I got to his desk, How can I help you Kid?

I told him I needed to get to the player’s entrance to the home clubhouse.

He said, Oh I need to see your American League ID card.

I replied, I’m new to the Senators and the American League. I was traded here from the Denver Bears of the Pacific Coast League.

He looks at his clipboard and says, I don’t see any new players but Dutch van der Boom and he already came through. Gimme your name, Kid.

Vinnie Quinelli.

He looks at all the names and finally says, Sorry Kid, you ain’t on the list anywhere.

I stood dumbfounded for a sec then said, Have you got today’s paper? The Washington Star.

Yeah, somewhere. He roots around on his desk and pulls up the Washington Star. Yeah here it is.

I said, Turn to page three of the sports section.

He does and looks at my picture and then back at me and back to the picture and says, Yeah that’s you. Go on down this hall and stop at the second door on the left. That’s security; they will take your bag to the hotel once you are assigned a room. Then go through the double doors at the end of the hall and check in with the equipment manager/trainer Skinny.

I nod and take my bag down the hall and he calls after me, Good luck Babe.

I mumbled, Thanks, as I continued down the hall. Is this gonna be the joke I am the punch line to from now on?

After dropping off my bag I went through the clubhouse doors and found a pretty nice clubhouse. Minor league clubhouses are a joke. AAA is pretty nice but the lower you go the worse it gets. I was never lower than AA but I hear stories.

I work my way around and see a tall skinny man drying his hands on a towel, he is looking right at me as he must have heard me walking through. You must be Vinnie Quinelli…you’re late.

I shrugged a little and said, Plane issues. I was supposed to be in the third row and I got bumped to row 24. Took awhile to disembark. You know?

He nodded and said, What size are you, 44?

Yeah, 42 or 44.

He says, Let’s go bigger, last place you wanna split your pants is on the baseball field.

He started to gather some uniform items.

I heard a voice from above. I think he may be waking up.

He chuckled a bit, as I nodded smiling. So what number do you want?

I thought about it for a second it would be funny to wear Babe Ruth’s number, since everyone keeps calling me Babe Ruth. So I said, I’ll take 3.

Nope, taken. van der Boom, try again.

I always wore 34 in football, with the Huskies and the Titans. So I said, 34.

Nope, taken. Try again. He waited a second, Hey you wanted row 3 on the plane and got row 24. Maybe that is your number. You wanted 3 and it isn’t available. So why don’t you take 24? It is available.

I nodded, Yeah, I’ll take it. Made as much sense as anything else.

Why not wear a new number? It’s a new town, a new start; maybe a new number might be the way to take on a new start.

Skinny handed me a uniform to get into and told me he would put two more in my locker. I asked which locker is mine and he said, We keep it simple here. Your locker is number 24. So suit up and head out to the field, BP started and the new manager Dusty Warner said to send you out when you got here.

I suited up, put on my new cap, grabbed my glove and went up the tunnel to the dugout.

As soon as I entered the dugout and saw that sunny field and the green grass I knew this was my home. I had thought New York was my home. I thought St. Louis was home. I even thought the Twin Cities were home but I was sadly mistaken each of those times. I feel wanted and I felt I was home.

CHAPTER TWO

WELCOME TO THE SHOW

I laid my glove on the bench and I see the Senators taking batting practice with five or six guys batting or waiting to bat and the rest of the club shagging flies or completing infield and outfield drills.

One of the older men, I assume a coach, pointed at me as he spoke to another older man. The second man took a few steps toward the dugout and said, Come here Vinnie.

I literally jumped up the dugout steps and was beside him in two or three strides. I put out my hand and he shook it and said, I played for Brooklyn with your father.

I was a bit star struck…this was Dusty Warner. The great former ball player and now great manager.

He had taken the reins of the Senators yesterday after the firing of Dan Harding and his entire staff. Dusty’s first move after bringing his whole coaching staff from the Cardinals, was acquiring Dutch van der Boom and me from the Twins for four Senators and two minor leaguers. I knew that a lot was expected since so many were traded to make room for me. van der Boom was already established but I was going to have to prove myself from the start.

I almost stammered as I asked, "You played with my Dad?"

I sure did. Good hitter, shame what happened to him. How’s he doing now?

I said you had a restaurant in Seattle where you’ve been raising my two older sisters and me.

He said to get in the box after the current hitter was finished with his five swings. Bunt the first two and then swing away at the next ten.

I nodded and when the batter was finished I stepped in but I had no bat. I asked the hitter that was exiting the cage if I could use his. This was the Center fielder Kendall Robey; he smiled and said, Sure, I know what being the new kid in town is all, about.

I took his bat and squared around to bunt and laid the first two pitches down, then stood in to show Dusty and whoever else was watching what I could do.

I lined the first one down the line, the second one as well. Then most of the rest into the gap in Left. I stepped out after ten swings and went off to the side next to Kendall to watch the next hitter and wait for my turn to come up again. I handed him his bat back.

Kendall said, You have a wicked swing. Like the crack of a whip.

Dutch came over and said, Hey kid. Can I show you something? I nodded; I mean ‘of course, this is a former homerun champ’. He continued, Once you hit the ball come all the way through with your body, twist at the end and put your hips into it. Pop your hips. He did a slow swing and showed Kendall and me. His turn came and he said, I’ll show you, as he went into the cage.

Kendall and I watched closely as he stepped in and drilled a ball into the seats. He looked back and nodded his head as if to say, ‘See?’ We both nodded to let him know we were indeed watching the clinic he was putting on.

Kendall went up a few moments later and handed me his bat when his turn was up and I tried it.

Boom.

I crushed it. The next one, same thing. Then the next and the next.

Wow, such a simple thing and I was a different hitter.

When the next group came in to hit Dusty had us shag flies.

I got my glove from the bench and went out to right field. Kendall was in Center field and jogged over to me and said, The group coming up are all right-handed, come over to Center where we get some action. So we jogged out to Center and the hitter smashed one over our heads and I sprinted back and grabbed it.

I heard a few of the others saying, Knock that s**t off and Who’s that for?

I threw the ball in to Kyle the batboy behind second base with a big bucket he collects the balls in to give later to the batting practice pitchers when they are running out.

I jogged back over to Kendall and asked him why I was getting the riot act. He told me that during BP the fellas kind of coast. Anyone running hard, making tough catches will only get the manager and coaches excited to see effort and expect everyone to be hustling. They don’t want to work hard during drills.

I said, Sorry but I gotta show the boss what I got. I wanna start. I’m gonna bust it out on every play or every BP ball hit.

He replied, You know they are gonna hate you. But they can hate me too.

To accentuate his point right then a ball was hit over our heads and he kind of pushed me in the chest toward the infield and sprinted back to get it. The push was enough to slow me down so he got there before me. He was being friendly and playful and I knew I was going to get along with him.

He threw it in and was laughing when he jogged back into position. I chuckle and say, Okay. It’s on. We competed chasing down flies for the next 30 minutes or so and were all finally called in as the Indians were taking the field for their drills.

We jogged all the way to the first base line and walked the rest of the way into the dugout and then the clubhouse.

Dusty and his coaches all go into his office and close the door. They are all seen through the big window in his office, where they can see all of us as well.

Kendall comes over and sits next to me at my locker. His number is 22 so his locker is one over from mine. Dusty wears 23 so no one will be in between us till Dusty gives up his number.

A few of the other Nats close in and we hear, So what the h**l is this? You trying to make us look bad Robey?

Kendall looks back over his shoulder and says, No you do that just fine by yourself, Magoo.

Another Nat spoke up and said, I don’t think you two are going to be showing us up anymore.

Kendall stood and I think there is going to be a fight.

I can’t decide if this is a gag or for real. But I conclude that no matter how badly someone wants to be funny, this is not a good gag. These idiots are serious. I look at Kendall and catch his gaze and nod ever so slightly letting him know I am right with him whichever way this goes.

I stood up right as Dutch van der Boom comes over and says, Well you four a**holes are only being shown up because you don’t play hard before the game and you certainly don’t play hard during the games. Four wins and twenty six losses? Are you proud of that? I’ve never seen a club 22 games under .500 in May. You losers don’t need to harass these two because they work harder than you do.

These four see that we three are not intimidated by them.

Dutch points to himself with his thumb saying, I know Dusty and he won’t be putting up with you putzes jerkin’ your gherkin. He looked at each one and continued, The way I see it is the only ones who need to worry here is the likes of you jokers. Now move along before I turn the kid loose on you. He put his hand on my shoulder as if to hold me back.

One of the losers piped up, Who says we need to listen to you Grandpa?

I do. Dusty said from the office doorway.

van der Boom said, Kiss my Dutch a**, Stevens! Getting in his face.

The lead loser, Tom Stevens said, Warner I want out of this cess pool. In fact…

Dusty cut him off saying, You are already gone Stevens. Get outta my uniform, pack your personal s**t, go to the secretary’s office for your plane ticket to Houston…you too McGuire. Good luck to you. Now get out. He thumbed toward the doors.

He looked around and said, Lawson you are on your way to the White Sox. Hendricks, you are going to the Angels. Perkins and Wilson are headed to Kansas City. Lastly Peters you are going to the Braves. That’s all for now. He walked back into his office and closed the door behind him.

As soon as the latch clicked on his office door I turned to the group and said, Bye Stevens, good luck in Houston. With that I turned back around and Kendall and Dutch both snortled as the group disbanded going their separate ways.

Dutch sat on the stool between us and said to me, I remember you. You got called up to the Twins last September.

I nodded, Yes I was. Played right field a few games and one in center, all late innings defensive replacements. Pinch ran four times, scored twice.

Dutch’s face lit up as he recollected, Yeah I drove you in, in the pennant clinching game, right? A walk off single in the 9th.

Yeah, I was nodding, "funny thing is I score and the bench and bullpen clear and all the Twins players run out and pound you on the back. Maybe two guys congratulated me and then they took off to celebrate with you at first base."

Well my being 37 and had never to the World Series, everyone knew how much it meant to me. I was smiling as he said this, I got it. Sorry you were not on the Series roster. Maybe some other year.

I hope so. First I would like to get an at bat. I said.

Kendall asked, You have never had an at bat in the bigs?

Shaking my head, Nope. Then added, I don’t think Alf Taylor liked me too much.

Dutch said, Well he’s old school. He likes players from the sticks and down south. Anyone from big towns or college has to prove themselves to him. Managers like him like dumb players, the dumber the better. If they think too much they may over think. Dumb players don’t think, they just react.

Kendall and I nodded understanding.

Kendall looks at me and asks, You went to college?

I nodded, Yep, Washington. Won two national championships in football.

Oh yeah? Football huh? Kendall asks, My older twin brothers went to the University of Nebraska. They played football there.

I remember going to Nebraska and playing in a snowstorm, barely getting out of there with a 24 - 23 win on my last second field goal. I recalled.

Kendall said, We almost pulled it off. I remember that game. The next day the paper had a headline, ‘Huskies show the Huskers how to run in snow’, my brothers must have been so mad.

I said, That was 1960, we went on to the Rose Bowl and beat Wisconsin for the National Title.

That’s all you remember about that? Dutch asked.

What do you mean? I asked confused.

"Come on we’re both football fans…we know who you are," Dutch nudged Kendall and continued, Right Robey? Kendall nods.

Yeah, Quinelli. He said, Do you think it is a secret?

I said, Yeah I guess. Now I noticed several more players had gathered around to hear.

You guess? Joked Kendall, Come on man, you set a record that can never be broken.

I recognized a pitcher, Jeff Brickey who asked, Come on, tell us what you did?

I felt put on the spot being asked to regale my past successes with a bunch of guys I don’t know or hardly know. But you know I love the spotlight.

I love to tell this story. I’ve told it a lot and I people seem to love it.

I threw the longest pass in the history of the NCAA and the Rose Bowl.

Shortstop Joe Bersch asked, How far was it?

I said, 99 yards.

He whistled and people were making a bunch of comments.

I said, Well it sounds better than it was. I began, I was with Washington who at the time was ranked #3 in the country. We were playing the #1 team, the Wisconsin Badgers. They had an incredible defense and we had one of the best offenses in the NCAA.

I stopped for a second and took a breath then went on. We kicked off and the Badgers returned the ball to the 50. They then went three and out and punted. A pretty good punt, it bounced on the 15 yard line and rolled almost to the goal line. Our first play from scrimmage would be from our own one.

What position did you play? Asked pitcher Mark Tobello.

I’m the Washington fullback and Place Kicker. Our quarterback, Steve Foster (now of the 49ers), calls a semi trick play to get us out from under our own goalposts. The play was supposed to be a naked reverse. We ran this all season and it catches other defenses flat footed. Once the ball is snapped the tight end on the right side of the line seals the edge by blocking the defensive end across from him toward the center. Both guards pull and sweep left. The entire backfield goes left pulling off a perfect student body left, then I plant my foot in the ground, pivot and start back to the right and Steve Foster flips me the ball and I head right as everyone else goes left.

I paused for effect, I get to the end of the line and start to turn up field and this is where I see not one guy went with the fake. Everybody stayed home. They scouted us pretty well. They knew what we were doing. There I am looking at a sea of red jerseys. I feel like I’m the photographer taking the team picture for the Wisconsin Badgers.

A bunch of the fellas start laughing lightly.

I’m still in the end zone and am about to get tackled in the end zone for a safety. I think about reversing and following the blockers but the defense has me cornered. I think if I throw the ball out of bounds we can get away with an incomplete pass and avoid the safety. I look left for a receiver and Steve raises his hand and asks for the ball. I float it over the on rushing lineman and Steve hauls it in. I see very little after that as I am buried in a sea of red Jerseys. The offensive unit surrounds Steve and the gauntlet marches all the way down field for a touchdown. We end up winning 17 – 16. So not giving up that safety was the difference in the game.

Jeff Brickey asked, What happened to you after the pass?

I laughed, Oh it wasn’t pretty. They were very angry I burned them.

Dutch laughingly said, Yeah, imagine that.

So that is a record that will never be broken? Asked Tobello.

Dutch said, Since 99 yards is the longest pass possible. Can’t throw one from farther away.

I nodded, It was a fluke. I had never thrown a pass before.

Why didn’t you play pro football? Asked Joe Bersch.

I said, Oh, I did. I had a good senior year. We won the Rose Bowl and the National championship again in 1961, actually January 1st 1962. We beat Minnesota 44 – 7. I was lucky all year to get many attempts inside five yards and led the nation in TD’s with 24.

Skinny laughed a short burst and said, 24 again. That is crazy.

I was taken aback and kind of laughed as well. I scored five TD’s in the Rose Bowl all from four yards or closer. Stats made me look much better than I really was. I was drafted by the Cleveland Browns and the Titans of New York of the AFL. I graduated early and skipped the college baseball season. I was a three year starter for the Huskies baseball team and was also drafted by the St Louis Cardinals baseball club my junior year. I chose to go to the Titans and earned a starting spot. I played there till the franchise went under in 1963 and went back to baseball. They continued to play under new ownership as the New York Jets.

Dutch said, Yeah coming out of high school I was pursued by several colleges to play football and basketball but when the Boston Red Sox came along with a big cash signing bonus, I went with baseball. Paid off my parent’s house, bought a car and proposed to my girlfriend. Only played 51 minor league games and have been playing in the bigs for all these years. Baseball was the right move for me.

I said, I’m not doing anything else. I should have done this from the start.

Dusty and his coaches were standing near his office door and he says, Alright boys, everybody grab a seat. We all pulled stools around and sat in front of him.

He says, Those who I have told are being traded go ahead and pack your gear and see the club secretary for your pay and plane tickets, good luck to you.

A few of the players got up and did just that. Where is the guy who pitched yesterday? Brickey?

A tall redhead stood and said, I’m Jeff Brickey, you can call me Brick.

Dusty said, Well I usually give out the nicknames but if you want to be called Brick, you got it. Still talking to Brick he said, I will never do that to you and leave you out there when you are trying to protect a lead and watch you give it all away and take a loss like that.

Brick nods.

He went on, When they brought me in as General Manager yesterday I decided to let Manager Dan Harding go. I’m taking over as field manager on an interim basis till I get a manager who sees things like I do and can visualize my goals. That being said, I have a very difficult task in front of me. Building a winning club from a mess that was left for me. We have a terrible win loss record, a pitching staff that needs a couple of starters and a bullpen that is over worked due to lack of starting pitching. We can score but losing 10 – 6, 14 – 9 and 7 – 6 in the last three games is proof of that. We score enough to win, we just need to play good defense and get men out. Simple as that.

I look around briefly and see the others looking at Dusty.

There are small things that need to be consistent, He puts a cigar in his mouth and strikes his lighter three or four times until a very small flame comes out, the lighter looks to be out of fluid but it burns just enough to light the cigar. He continued, …small things can make a big difference. Holding up the lighter he says, This thing is a piece of s**t. Unreliable, poor functioning not living up to expectations. Like some ballplayers. But…

Long pause for effect as he takes a drag on the cigar, this lighter makes a small flame, it can light a stick of dynamite and when ignited it can make an explosion and blow a big hole in this stadium. Even a poor functioning item can function well enough to complete a job. Say you are a light hitting catcher and you are up in the 9th down by a run with runners on first and second and one out. I can let you hit away but a double play ends the game. But say I have you bunt, move the runners along and then send in a hitter for the pitcher who delivers a hit that scores two and we win the game. This is what I am talking about. He takes another drag and speaks as he exhales a large cloud of smoke.

Small things fellas, small things. We have some new talent, pointing to van der Boom, Dutch. As well as some current players and new players we are acquiring. Still and all we will not have the most talent in the league. To win, we need to do a few things. 1, we have to limit mistakes, fielding errors, missing the cutoff man, throwing to the wrong base, base running mistakes, leaving a pitcher in too long, pulling a pitcher too soon. Some mistakes are on me, some on you. We need to play with our heads in the game and limit those mistakes as well as others. 2, we need to manufacture runs. Bunt, go from first to third on a single hit behind you and know who has the best arms of the defense we are facing. Check the scouting reports and do your homework. Don’t think you just need to show up and swing hard and everything will work out. Sure if you want to finish 72 – 90 that will likely happen. I want to finish 90 – 72 or even better. Do we ever have a long haul to get there from here. 3, we have to win even when we are supposed to lose. When we play the top three clubs, we have got to win every series. Sweeping is not realistic but two of three or three of four.

Excuse me Dusty. A player I haven’t met to my left asked, Are you suggesting we turn this piece of s**t season around and actually contend for the pennant?

Who are you, now? Dusty asked taking a couple of steps toward him.

I’m Earl Grant, first baseman. He replied.

Well Earl, what do you want to do with this season? Give up? Toss it aside and hope for the best next season? Dusty points at Earl to emphasize each point. "How many years are you gonna play that this year is good enough to throw away? Doesn’t the owner pay you to play to win? Maybe just give him the money back if you are gonna give up…Sorry Grant, I don’t know who wants you or what we can get for you but as of right now you are suspended until we find a home for you. I don’t want you or your s**tty attitude around my club or infecting my players, so pack your s**t, you’re down the road."

Have it your way. He turned and headed for his locker, You are f**king dreaming. I wanna play ball, you want a pipe dreamer.

Dusty faced the rest of us and said, "I will never say this again. He looked at everyone in the room up and down and left to right. Who wants out? Right now I’ll send you to another club and I guarantee wherever you go they’re going to have a better record than we have. Stand up if you want to be traded."

I wanted to look around and see if anyone stood. But I looked at Dusty knowing that he wouldn’t want everyone looking around the room at the others instead of listening to him and waiting for him to finish.

He said, No one? Then I expect you all to do as I say and give me all you got. Slackers are leaving too. Show me you want to play baseball for me and you d**n well will.

Pitching Coach Skip Akimoto came in from the field, Dusty, it’s game time.

Dusty said, Thanks Skip, is Saunders ready?

Yep, just tossing in the bullpen to stay loose.

Alright then, batting order - Bersch shortstop, Scott second base, Robey Center, van der Boom 3rd, Hayes Right, Holman Left, Elmore catching, Fanning first and Saunders pitching. Let’s kick some a**.

We all stood and went up the tunnel to the first base dugout, our spikes clacking on the concrete floor of the tunnel as we went. I really love that sound.

The game went pretty quickly. Kendall drove in a run in the 1st with a double.

Saunders did a pretty good job until running into trouble in the 6th and giving up five. Dusty struggled with pulling him went to the mound and let him stay and Saunders pulled out of it.

Dutch homered with a man on in our 6th. Down 5 – 3.

I sat with Kendall in the middle of the bench and watched the game closely like I did with the Twins last season. I’d rather watch and learn than B. S. with the guys at the farthest end of the bench from the plate, opposite where Dusty and Skip sit. Well Skip started out sitting next to Dusty but from the 2nd inning on he was standing leaning on the stair railing the rest of the game.

In the Indians 7th Saunders hit the lead off batter. I looked at Dusty who said something to Skip and Skip shook his head. Saunders stayed in.

I watched the Indians’ manager Ted Ryan, flash some signals to their third base coach and I caught the bunt sign. They bunted twice in the 6th and I saw it again. I was pretty sure.

Bunt! I called out to Dusty.

He glanced at me and then yelled, Time. and jumped up and jogged out onto the field. He chatted with Mike Saunders and catcher Ray Elmore. He came back and told Skip to get on the horn and find out if the relief pitcher that was warming up in the bullpen was ready. He then looked at me and said, Quinelli, come here. He pointed to the spot on the bench next to him.

I nodded and got up and went to where he indicated and sat next to him.

He asked, You sure?

I was confident and said, I’m sure.

Dusty had told Saunders to pitch high strikes to make bunting more difficult.

We watched the first pitch to the next Cleveland hitter and it was a strike across the letters. The hitter went to bunt and popped it up and Saunders charged in and caught it as he dove forward and from his knees fired to first base and doubled off the runner from first.

I wanted to jump up and squeal like a little girl and say, ‘I was right!’ but of course I sat there quietly. I just looked over at Dusty and, Yeah, I caught that.

He smiled a miniscule smile and said, You sit here from now on and if you steal any flashes from the other manager, coaches or catcher I want to know about it tout de suite.

I nodded, Yeah Robey and I were sitting over there and I was pointing flashes out to him all day. I hope he keeps Kendall and me together.

He then said, As soon as the inning is over he sits here too.

Saunders retired the next hitter on a fly to left.

We came off the field and as Kendall came in Dusty said, Robey, come here.

Kendall jogged down and came over and Dusty said, I want the two of you sitting here until we part ways, hopefully a long time from now.

Sure thing, Dusty. Kendall said and sat down beside me. He looked at me as if to say ‘What’s going on?’ I smiled a bit and he nodded not knowing what was going on but was cool with it.

With none out in our 7th Dusty lifted Saunders for a hitter. When he was lifted Saunders left the on deck circle and walked to his seat many of the players he walked past said, Nice game Two Dogs, or Way to pitch Two Dogs.

I turned to Kendall and asked, Why do they call Saunders, Two Dogs?

Kendall smiled and said, You better ask him.

I put that in my mental checklist of things I need to do.

Skip called to Two Dogs, Get your elbow in the ice bucket. He did and leaning forward and covered his head with a towel.

Utility man Joe McClellan went up and struck out. As did Bersch and Scott. Our guys took the field for the 8th.

Richard Lewis Young came in and got the Indians out in order.

In our 8th Kendall singled through the hole at short and Dutch went up.

Dusty turns to me and says, He’s gonna tie it up.

He did. Dutch swung at the first pitch doing that thing where he ‘pops’ his hips. Hitting a long drive to Left. Homering on consecutive swings.

Dusty sitting next to me didn’t jump up like the rest of the guys on the bench so I didn’t either. As we both sat watching the ball arc higher and higher Dusty yelled at the ball calling, Get out! Get out!

The ball was stung pretty good and went halfway up the lower deck in Left. Now it’s 5 – 5.

Hayes struck out, Holman popped to 2nd and Elmore struck out.

Young walked a hitter but retired the next three Indians. We came up in the bottom of the 9th.

Dusty said to the next hitter Hugh Fanning as he came down the dugout steps from first base, Hugh. Take a seat. I want a right hander up. Dusty turned to me and said, Show time. Let’s see what you got.

I looked for Kendall to borrow a bat but he was still coming in off the field.

Dutch came down the dugout steps from the field. He figured out what was happening and said, You need a bat? Here borrow one of mine. We need a tater and I’ve hit two taters this game with this one. He shook the barrel of the bat by his ear like a can of spray paint. Then said, I hear one more homer rattling around in here. Some players have some odd superstitions. But he has almost 600 career homers. He must know what works. I took the bat from him.

Kendall handed me his helmet to wear as he had come off the field by then.

I went up the steps. Dutch said, Pop your hips. I looked back nodding. The PA man announced me and a smattering of fans chanted, Babe Ruth. Baba Ruth.

I walked to the plate having not even taken a practice swing. It was okay. I had prepared for this moment most of my life.

Remember how mad you got when you saw how badly I damaged a new bat you bought me by hitting rocks into the woods behind our house? I was pretending I was in the pros and coming up in the bottom of the 9th with the game on the line. Well it is finally happening right now. I hope I sacrificed that bat for a good result. Oh yeah, sorry about that bat by the way.

I got into the right hand batter’s box tapped the edge of the plate and reached back with the bat and touched the catcher’s left shin guard to measure where he is in regard to where my swing will be and waited for the ump to call for the pitcher to pitch.

The catcher, Bruce Donoro lifted his mask and said, I just found out I’ve been traded to the Senators. We’re teammates now. How about a fastball?

I felt I was being put on and said, Yeah sure. Just in case I sat on a fastball.

As advertised a fastball comes. I did as Dutch just said and popped my hips as I learned in BP. The pitch was waist high pitch and I crushed it. It took off high and deep, a no doubter. It left the field real quick and I find myself rounding the bases on auto-pilot and scoring the winning run in a daze.

It was really a dream come true. I was practically floating from 3rd to the plate.

I was met at home by the whole club and was pretty amped up as we all grabbed our gear and went to the clubhouse.

After showering I was getting dressed into street clothes. I was just about to put on my shoes when Hugh Fanning came up behind me and said, Nobody makes me look like a fool. You showed me up Punk. Now you’re gonna pay.

Kendall stood and said, Fanning…

I stood and held my hand up to Kendall and said, I got this. Then turning to Fanning I said, Look. I want to win as much as the next guy. When I am called on, I answer the call. If I hit for you or anyone else it is nothing personal.

I turned back around and he shoved me into my locker and said, Don’t turn your back on me!

Everyone kind of took a couple of steps back to give us room to work this out. (You know what I really mean).

Fanning is pretty big, about 6’ 6 250. To get in my face he has to bend down to do so. I pick myself up out of my locker and turned back around and took the most unthreatening stance I could by folding my arms across my chest, Don’t do that Fanning. You may tick me off and then I will have to defend myself."

Kendall said as if to warn me and diffuse the issue at the same time, Okay, that’s enough. I put my hand up to let Kendall see it was my trouble and I was going to work it out myself.

Fanning put his arms out to the sides, Here you go tough guy. Take a shot.

I could see this going really badly and I don’t mean I may kick his butt but he could kick mine. Either way that would be really bad. I don’t want to get kicked off the team for something stupid or get the snot beat out of me. I figure the only course of action is to divert this situation as best I can.

So I say, Fanning, I don’t want to get into this. I see what’s going on. You came over here and you have no plan B. You thought the best thing to do was punch me out. But I am not going to back down. I may really hurt you and you don’t know that. You figure all your life you have been bigger than others and you can intimidate them with the threat of physical violence.

He was not ready for that. I’m talking calmly and he can’t figure out what to do.

I went on, Look everyone is watching, we all see you are mad and want to fix it. But hitting me is not going to fix it. I punching you out won’t fix anything. This is a lose – lose situation. Let’s get out of this with no one getting hit.

He looks at me funny and lowers his arms and says, How? quietly.

I look around the clubhouse and say, Okay everyone, Fanning is not going to fight with me. He is still a big tough guy, he’s not backing down and we are just settling this without violence. That’s all. Now everyone go about your business.

The boys all kind of milled about for a minute and started leaving.

As they began leaving Fanning was still standing there and I stuck out my hand and we shook. I said, "No hard feelings. We don’t need to hate each other.