"�Qu� pasa?" he says to first base coach Juan Gomez. "Why don't you drive with me tomorrow to the game? We can talk." Every day seems to be a succession of adventures. Mass and workouts and Spanish and baseball. His wife, Mary, and eight-year-old son, Bobby, are arriving in a day, and Bobby is bringing the Roller-blades. The Rollerblades! Maybe someone will even come along who wants to go to one of the local Rotary or Legion halls and play bingo. Bingo!
"Bobby's dying to play bingo, but no one will go with him," Grieve says. "Who would go? These people are serious about their bingo down here. Bobby would come in and start talking, disrupt the whole thing in about 15 minutes. He'd be yelling 'Bingo!' when he didn't have it. He'd be telling everyone how he missed by one number, just like about 700 other people in the hall. It would be terrible. Who would go?"
"I've already got my bingo daubers," Valentine says. "I'm ready." Bingo.
The season approaches. The survivor survives. If only he could find a little pitching, he would be a happy man. Then again, feuds and no feuds, winning and not winning, he seems pretty happy already. He is here.