Not Your Father's Cardinals
In the summer of 1961, if it was daylight, I was playing ball. Most nights, I pretended to be asleep while listening to broadcasts on the earphone of my transistor radio and reading by flashlight about the Pastime and its history. I was a good reader for an eight-year-old, and there weren't enough books in the local library to satisfy my curiosity about Ruth, Cobb and DiMaggio. I liked aggressive players and "characters," so the Gashouse Gang had special appeal.
In the summer of 1961, if it was daylight, I was playing ball. Most nights, I pretended to be asleep while listening to broadcasts on the earphone of my transistor radio and reading by flashlight about the Pastime and its history. I was a good reader for an eight-year-old, and there weren't enough books in the local library to satisfy my curiosity about Ruth, Cobb and DiMaggio. I liked aggressive players and "characters," so the Gashouse Gang had special appeal.
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