One Hot Spot After Another

"Charlie, you can get sued. I don't have any proof, you don't have proof. But it's your club."

I was fired, and still we just sat there, talking.

And we talked and talked. And talked some more. And I found myself telling him what a terrific bunch of boys he had, that with them and the ones he had coming up—Reggie Jackson was just a year away, Sal Bando was coming up—he would win a pennant for sure, and it wouldn't take long. And we kept talking. And finally he said, "How'd you like to manage two more years?"

I said, "Fine, Charlie, but you just fired me. You going to hire me back?"

"How about two more years?"

I said, "Fine."

I should have left right then. Ten minutes later a reporter called and said that a statement was out, by the ballplayers, ripping Finley about the Lew Krausse case. Charlie hung up the phone and looked at me. "Did you know about this?

"About what?"

I said I knew they were planning a statement, but I hadn't read it.

Charlie said, "Get Jack Aker."