After Lindy came the lesson from Romans, and when the meeting was over and everybody filed out, the reporter and the McDaniels finally had their baseball talk. The reporter did not mind at all this delay in getting down to the business of the evening, but he was surprised next morning when he found that he could not remember enough of the baseball talk to make a story.
Mr. C. is Topic A
In one little talk," said Gino Cimoli, "Campy did more than anybody to make me a big leaguer. It was on that trip to Japan in 1956. One day in Tokyo I scored from second on a fly to deep center. Campanula was sitting against the wall next to the dugout, and as I went by he said, 'Hey, Daig, I want to see you at the hotel tonight if you got time.'
"I was a busher and Campy was a star, so I had time. He talked to me for over an hour, and I don't suppose I ever spent time any better in my life. He said, 'Look, Gino'—he called me Gino most of the time, but sometimes he called me Daig and sometimes Crazy—he said, 'I watched you score from second today and you can run. Back in the States you been giving the impression that you couldn't do nothin', that you were lazy and didn't want to play.
" 'Some guys are lucky that they don't get to play much, because if they played, the club would find out how lousy they really are. You aren't like that. You can throw and hit and run, but that's not enough.
" 'I'm a colored player. I didn't have as tough a time as Jackie did breaking in, but I had my knocks. I had to hustle.
" 'I don't know why your attitude is like it is, but if you don't start hustling you'll just be a good minor league player all your life. When spring training starts, you do the same way you're doing here in Japan. Stop popping off, stay out of trouble and play.'
"Next spring," said Cimoli, "I remembered what he said. And I made the club because of Campy."
"We were in my office," said Charlie Dressen, "the day after the 1954 playoffs with the Giants, cutting up our second-place money. The whole bunch was there, and not feeling too happy. The phone rang, and it was for Pee Wee. I guess some friend wanted to tell him how sorry he was at the way things had turned out. Anyway, Pee Wee kept saying, 'Well, I guess the good Lord just didn't want us to win it.' When he hung up Campy said to him, 'Don't say that, Pee Wee. Don't go blaming the Lord for what we should have done.'"
"In 1955, we both had great years," said Don Newcombe. "Campy was MVP again, and I won 20. The phone was ringing in our room all the time—people asking us to go out, to make appearances, everything. Campy would answer the phone and then tell me, like a butler, 'Mr. Winston Churchill wants to know if we can make it for dinner tonight.' Or he might say, 'Cairo, Egypt is calling Mr. Don Newcombe.'