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SelzShoes · 11-21-2006, 10:10 PM

Billy Herman bounced to his feet with an audible "whoop." Keller's throw was perfunctory making no effort on Reese sliding at home. The Brooklyn contingent jumped to the top of the dugout, welcoming the three returning Dodgers as heroes. Leo grabbed Dihigo and pulled him close, "Tell the kid he's off the hook for this one." Dihigo nodded and pulled Minoso aside and conveyed Leo's forgiveness.

Minoso was having a brutal day in the field; throwing away three easy ground balls. The kid didn't speak English and Leo knew little Spanish; there was no mistaking what was being said. All game long, Leo chewed on his liver. Now Leo needed the kid's head to be clear for at least three more outs.

McCarthy was making the switch on the mound; Leo looked for his notes, "Another damned player I don't have a scouting report on." Even if he did have a scouting report, Leo knew it was worthless anyway. The opinion based on a memory from four years ago.

Briefly Leo considered sending the left-handed Padgett to hit for Owen. Good match up for the struggling catcher. The roar of the crowd was growing again, making him sick to his stomach. Good match for Padgett, but Owen would move the runner. Mickey wasn't much of a hitter but you could trust him to put the bat on the ball.

Right to Gordon, right on cue. Hugh Casey paused in the on-deck circle long enough to hear Leo call him back to the dugout. "You got it today, Joe?"

Medwick nodded. Ever since the beaning in '41 the relationship with Durocher had become strained. Ducky had become an albatross. Paid $42,000 a year and playing not worth ¼ of it. Joe grabbed his bat and headed to the on-deck circle. Dihigo took a walk and Medwick strolled to the plate.

The crowd was back to a full boil; the lungs of 62,000 baseball mad fans. All but a small minority pleading with the Yankees to hold back those bums, to hold on to the lead. Just the day before the Yankees had reclaimed their rightful spot in first place, it was no time to surrender the lead.

Everyone knew Joe Medwick was swinging on the first pitch. Billy Herman edging down the line knew it. Joe McCarthy in the Yankee dugout knew it. Sixty-two Thousand Nine Hundred Sixty-four baseball fans standing as one knew it. Catcher Buddy Rosar set up on the outside edge; Norm Branch could throw the ball anywhere as long as it wasn't a strike.

It was not a good pitch. Down and away-but over the plate. Medwick contorted mid-swing changing the motion of his body. His right knee hung barely above the grown; it appeared to the closest of the crowd that Medwick held the ball the smallest of fraction of time. Enough time for him to change direction again and flip the ball towards the gap in right center. Herman broke into a jog while Dihigo ran full bore around second. The lead was finally Brooklyn's.

"You hear that boys?" Durocher yelled at his charges, "That's the sound of sixty thousand m**********rs shutting the hell up!"

11-21-2006, 10:10 PM	#151
SelzShoes High School Varsity Join Date: Apr 2005	April 28, 1946: The All-American A*e Billy Herman bounced to his feet with an audible "whoop." Keller's throw was perfunctory making no effort on Reese sliding at home. The Brooklyn contingent jumped to the top of the dugout, welcoming the three returning Dodgers as heroes. Leo grabbed Dihigo and pulled him close, "Tell the kid he's off the hook for this one." Dihigo nodded and pulled Minoso aside and conveyed Leo's forgiveness. Minoso was having a brutal day in the field; throwing away three easy ground balls. The kid didn't speak English and Leo knew little Spanish; there was no mistaking what was being said. All game long, Leo chewed on his liver. Now Leo needed the kid's head to be clear for at least three more outs. McCarthy was making the switch on the mound; Leo looked for his notes, "Another damned player I don't have a scouting report on." Even if he did have a scouting report, Leo knew it was worthless anyway. The opinion based on a memory from four years ago. Briefly Leo considered sending the left-handed Padgett to hit for Owen. Good match up for the struggling catcher. The roar of the crowd was growing again, making him sick to his stomach. Good match for Padgett, but Owen would move the runner. Mickey wasn't much of a hitter but you could trust him to put the bat on the ball. Right to Gordon, right on cue. Hugh Casey paused in the on-deck circle long enough to hear Leo call him back to the dugout. "You got it today, Joe?" Medwick nodded. Ever since the beaning in '41 the relationship with Durocher had become strained. Ducky had become an albatross. Paid $42,000 a year and playing not worth ¼ of it. Joe grabbed his bat and headed to the on-deck circle. Dihigo took a walk and Medwick strolled to the plate. The crowd was back to a full boil; the lungs of 62,000 baseball mad fans. All but a small minority pleading with the Yankees to hold back those bums, to hold on to the lead. Just the day before the Yankees had reclaimed their rightful spot in first place, it was no time to surrender the lead. Everyone knew Joe Medwick was swinging on the first pitch. Billy Herman edging down the line knew it. Joe McCarthy in the Yankee dugout knew it. Sixty-two Thousand Nine Hundred Sixty-four baseball fans standing as one knew it. Catcher Buddy Rosar set up on the outside edge; Norm Branch could throw the ball anywhere as long as it wasn't a strike. It was not a good pitch. Down and away-but over the plate. Medwick contorted mid-swing changing the motion of his body. His right knee hung barely above the grown; it appeared to the closest of the crowd that Medwick held the ball the smallest of fraction of time. Enough time for him to change direction again and flip the ball towards the gap in right center. Herman broke into a jog while Dihigo ran full bore around second. The lead was finally Brooklyn's. "You hear that boys?" Durocher yelled at his charges, "That's the sound of sixty thousand m**********rs shutting the hell up!"