A False Spring

That night I lay in my cot thinking Billy Smith would admire me for my standing up to Joe. At that moment the scouts and managers and executives were assembling to pick tomorrow's teams. I could almost hear Smith's high voice as he picked me: "That's my kind of player." But the following morning I was assigned to Travis Jackson, manager of Davenport, Iowa of the Class D Midwest League. I discovered that what Billy Smith had actually said was, "I won't have no hothead guinea on my club." Surely he meant Torre, I thought. But Joe's name stayed under Smith's while mine remained under Travis' for the rest of the spring, and when the season opened I was 1,300 miles southeast of Boise, Idaho—in Davenport.