run more miles in this game than you've thrown strikes." Maglie tossed the
soup cup away and picked up his glove.
right-hander, are you pitching today?" I asked. "If you are I'm not
going swimming. I'm going to put my uniform back on and watch from the bench.
Because you are such a wonderful example to us young pitchers."
ought to try learning something instead of poppin' off, young man," Maglie
said. He walked out of the clubhouse as the loudspeaker started to blare out
the lineups. As the second pitcher of the day, he had to sit in the bullpen
until the sixth or seventh inning. I showered, put on a dry uniform, drank a
cup of soup, took a pack of gum and a bag of chewing tobacco from the trunk,
rolled up my sleeves to get a suntan on my biceps and joined Sal in the pen.
Grissom was there. We decided to agitate Maglie, since this was the first time
he'd be pitching in a game all spring. "Veteran right-hander, I was
beginning to think you were down here just to pitch batting practice," I
"It takes a
while," he said. "My back's been a little sore, and my arm's just
getting to feel good now. I'm a little bit older than you, y'know,
little bit older than everybody, Maglie," said Grissom. "They're making
me stay out here today just in case you get in trouble and I have to come bail
you out. And I could be fishin', too."
worse, old man," said Sal. "You don't have to walk so far to get me as
you did at the Polo Grounds. Who the hell you callin' old, anyway? That number
on your back is damn near right. Forty-two. No, that's shy a year."
Pollet cut the
comedy, asking, "Sal, how long you need? He's going two more
We scored two
runs in our half and led the Phillies by three in the seventh as Maglie
stripped off his windbreaker and said to the catcher, "Let's go, son, gotta
warm up my little dab. Shut up, Grissom."
I walked up to
the dugout for a drink of water, and sat next to the fountain where I was
almost in line with the mound and home plate.
Sal got a big
hand when his name was announced as the pitcher. But he was hanging his curve.
Two men were out when Ed Bouchee hit one over the center-field fence. After a
walk and a single Maglie got them out, but he looked like he'd already pitched
seven innings himself, and the tension of tightly strung nerves was