[SelzShoes]

" . . . Dickey leads off first as Raschi delivers. Rolfe squares to bunt and drops it; Riddle has a handle and fires towards second. . . Geary takes it and Dickey is out at second! The Reds cut off the lead runner, and now, it is runner on first with one out!"

The dugout phone rang. McCarthy felt the bile and acid fill his stomach as he reached for the receiver. Ever since Topping and Webb barred MacPhail from contacting McCarthy outside of Yankee Stadium every detail of the game was now under intense scrutiny from the General Manger. MacPhail's voice was hissing as Marse Joe lifted the phone to his ear.

"ofabitch is our hitting instructor? He can't lay a g-d d----d bunt down and he's the hitting instructor? I want him relieved of his duties immediately, I want."

"F-k you, Larry," Joe slammed the phone down.

"Rolfe with a small lead, Monk pushes it towards third-Hatton makes the grab throws to second? They do it again! The Yankees fail to bunt along the runner on two consecutive batters. Man, I don't think I've ever seen that. How about that!"

The dugout phone started ringing. McCarthy started walking towards the end of the dugout. The dugout phone rang. McCarthy kept walking towards the steps of the dugout. He caught Rosar out of the corner of his eye going to the phone. Marse Joe's neck whipped around violently, "$500 fine to anyone who answers that phone." Rosar's hand hung in the air. The phone kept ringing.

Rosar placed his hand on the receiver.

"$1000 fine to anyone who answers that phone!"

Rosar let go.

The phone kept ringing.