"We got 38s and 40s," said Larry.
"You'll never make it on this club," said Rocky. "We go by sizes."
"Anyone we can option out wear a 32?" asked Larry.
"Don't be surprised by the umpires, Coutts," said Rocky. "I'm tired of complaining. What I'm really tired of is running. I pick my spots now. When they're close by. Another thing, you won't hear too much yelling out there. It's kind of a mutes' convention. As long as they play good, though, I don't care if they yell good."
"What time do I report here tomorrow?" asked Coutts.
"Around 6," said Rocky. "This is a kind of a do-it-yourself ball club."
"I don't have a sweat shirt," said Coutts.
"Here, take one of mine," said Rocky, reaching in his locker. "I hope you don't mind if it's a little damp."
Jack Quinn, the general manager, came in. Jack is the son of John Quinn, the general manager of the Phillies, and Rocky says Jack's so thin he could tread water in a test tube. Jack came to San Jose in 1962, the first year the franchise had been active since 1958. Jack won the pennant, drew 62,000 and was named minor league executive of the year (lower division) for performing these feats "in the shadow of Candlestick Park." The Giants' park is only a 45-minute drive up 101 from San Jose. ("We ought to advertise that there's good reception for all Giant games at Municipal Stadium," says Rocky.) Carried away, Jack bought the franchise and sold 300 season tickets. ("He ought to have a saliva test," says Rocky.) The Bees finished seventh in 1963, and last winter Jack could only sell 204 season tickets to such San Jose concerns as The Nite Kap, Ann Darling Bowl, Unicorn Pizza, Mid City Magnesite and O'Brien's Almaden Liquors. By mid-season Jack Quinn always seems to be looking forlornly over his shoulder. He gets that way watching foul balls vanish into the parking lot. "There goes another $1.50," he has been known to sigh many times a night. Jack's baseball bill is $1,700 per annum (see box).
"How'd you come out to the park, Coutts?" Jack asked.