Mickey & Me Read Online Free PDF

pay.”
    Mickey wrapped some tape around the wounded leg and also around two of her fingers, which she said she had sprained in a collision at home plate during the last game. Then she strapped on her shin guards and chest protector. There was a knock at the door leading to the dugout.
    â€œMay I come in?” a man asked.
    â€œIt’s Max,” the tall blonde announced. The door was opened and a thin, older man came in. He was carrying a clipboard and wearing a regular baseball uniform, but with the Milwaukee Chicks logo on it.
    â€œGood evening, Mr. Carey,” the girls chanted respectfully.
    â€œWho’s he?” I whispered to Mickey.
    â€œMax Carey,” she replied. “Our manager.”
    â€œ The Max Carey?” I asked in awe. “The Max Carey who played for the Pittsburgh Pirates?”
    â€œYup.”
    I knew all about Max Carey from my baseball books. He played twenty years in the majors and led the National League in steals ten times. And I was in the same room with him!
    â€œMr. Carey doesn’t like mascots,” Mickey whispered. “So keep your beak shut.”
    â€œGather around, girls,” Carey said, pulling up a chair to put his foot up on. Merle—who I couldn’t stop staring at—turned off the radio, and all the players obediently clustered around Carey. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be part of the discussion, so I hung back.
    â€œWe had the day off yesterday, thanks to President Roosevelt and General Eisenhower,” Carey told the group. “We needed it. Girls, we’re not hitting. Our bats are about as quiet as a busted clock. We’ve only won five games so far, against seven losses. That’s not good. But it’s still early. We can do better, and we will do better. Wisniewski?”
    It was the very tall blonde who raised her hand. Now I knew her name. Connie Wisniewski. She was the one my little cousin idolized.
    â€œCan you go nine innings tonight, Connie?” Carey asked.
    â€œI think so, sir.”
    â€œI hope so,” Carey continued. “A few of the girlsare sick today, and we’re shorthanded. Everybody needs to pitch in and pull up the slack.”
    â€œI can pitch an inning if you need me,” the serious girl with the glasses volunteered.
    â€œGood, Doris. We’re playing the Rockford Peaches again. We went over their lineup the other day, so I won’t repeat myself now. You know what to expect. They’re fast, they play hard, and they play aggressively.”
    â€œSo do we, Coach!” another girl said. Except for Merle, she was the shortest one on the team.
    â€œThat’s what I like to hear, Ziggy,” Carey said. “This is a team sport. It’s never I , it’s always we . So let us all clasp hands.”
    The players formed a big circle around Max Carey.
    â€œMay this chain,” he said, his head bowed, “with its golden links, its ideals and principles, carry us through to victory in the test just ahead and also through the years that are to come. Okay, let’s get ’em!”
    The players let out a whoop, grabbed their gloves, and charged out of the locker room in single file.
    I realized this would be a good time for me to bail out of this situation. Clearly, I wasn’t going to meet Mickey Mantle here. I had told my cousin I would be right back. It would be simple to take one of my new baseball cards, go sit in a quiet corner of the locker room, and send myself away from 1944and back to my own time. Nobody was around. It would be easy. They’d never miss me.
    On the other hand, not more than ten minutes before, I had seen the entire roster of the Milwaukee Chicks totally naked! Maybe I should stick around awhile.
    I was mulling over this crucial decision when the voice of Max Carey echoed off the walls.
    â€œHey, you! Chicken!”
    Being the only one dressed up as a chicken, I figured he had to be talking to me.
    â€œYes