Page 17 - Contrast1960v4n1

Upon hearing this, Dizzy jumped up and said, "Sure he can do it.
Why my brother Paul's the greatest pitcher in the world next to old
Diz, of course!"

"Sit down and shut up!" retorted Frisch.
"Why Frankie, you know better than to get mad at old Diz. Look
who got you in this Series in the first place. Why Paul ain't going to
have no trouble at all."
"Sit down," repeated Frisch. And Dizzy did.
Frankie turned and continued, "Go on Paul; we're all behind
you." His eyes glistened and his aged wrinkles showed the sigh of
fear, but I knew he spoke sincerely.

I turned and headed for the mound. My legs felt wobbly, weak.
I felt alone, deserted to face disaster, to face death; but I continued
walking slowly, methodically. I planted my foot firmly on the third
base chalk line. "I guess it's just a habit of mine, but it had got me
nineteen victories this year. It might get me one more," I thought.

Up onto the mound I strutted, trying to maintain some sort of
dignity in front of my large audience. I picked up the rosin bag,
rubbed my hands and hurled it down to the dirt. Onto the rubber
went my left foot and the distasteful warm-up had begun. Several
throws and it would be over.

The umpire stepped in front of the catcher and the Tiger second
baseman moved into the box. The umpire moved back into position
and I peered in for the sign. Gabby wanted a curve. Once, twice I
pumped. Around came the foot and in came the pitch. Strike one.
He didn't even swing. I turned and walked back to the rubber. The
tension had left; I felt relaxed. "I can beat these guys," I thought.

I got the first three men out with no trouble at all.
Starting my walk back to the dugout, all I could hear was the
roaring of the crowd; all I could see were my teammates running past
me, not saying a thing. I sat down and leaned up against the cold
wall. The bats were rattling in the rack; steel spikes clicking on the
cement. "I got to get my mind off the game. I got to think about
something else. It's no use! I'm too much in the middle of this battle
to evade it. Eight more to go. They'll be back harder. I've got to
stop them."

Marty Marion, our lead-off man, tried to bunt. The ball rolled
foul of third by inches. The next pitch he lined to their second base-
man. The next two batters struck out. "Wild Man" Donovan was
hot; I knew I was in for a battle.

Four more times I walked out to the pitcher's mound and on

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