World Series Read Online Free PDF Page A

Foster, Leonard’s handy man, coming in from the bullpen.”
    The Kid leaned across and switched the radio off. Shutting his eyes he could see Fat Stuff waddling across the field, his long arms swinging by his side, as he had hurried to help in a dozen games all season. Now it was too late. You don’t spot the Indians or any other first class club five runs and beat them in a couple of innings. Nope, you don’t hand them a lead like that and catch them in a few whacks at the plate. One game apiece. Well, it wasn’t a walkover. It was anyone’s Series.
    Half an hour later he turned on the radio just as the announcer was ending his description. “So on to Cleveland tomorrow, where it looks bad for the Dodgers. Leonard has used his star pitcher the first day, he’s got a rookie catcher behind the plate, and he leaves Roy Tucker, one of his best hitters, in a hospital here in town. Last news we have is that Roy is coming on, but he’ll have to stay several days for observation, and won’t play again until the team gets back to Brooklyn on Thursday.”
    So that was it. The nurses in this hospital wouldn’t tell you, the medicos wouldn’t tell you, a man had to find out how he was from some darn radio announcer. Several days! Well, that was something. Better than being on his back all through the Series. He began to feel fine, like getting out once more. For a while he was so excited he almost forgot that steady ringing in his head. Bong-bong-bong-bong-bong went the bell.

4
    R OY WOKE TO the sound of rain pelting on a roof. He sat up quickly in bed, forgetting. A shock of pain went up the back of his neck. But it was raining. Raining hard. Maybe it would rain all day.
    By noon it was still raining. Was it raining in Cleveland? He switched his radio on and twiddled the dial. “...And the third game of the World Series between the Brooklyn Dodgers and the Cleveland Indians to be held in Cleveland this afternoon was put off until tomorrow. The Dodgers won the first game, 6-1, and Cleveland the second, yesterday, 5-2.”
    Well, tomorrow was another day. And he was better, no question about that. While the rain descended on a dark and desolate city, he sat up, even tried walking around the room without much trouble. Only an occasional shoot of pain up his neck, an occasional feeling of dizziness, and that eternal bong-bong-bong in his head reminded him of the beaning.
    He hardly dared hope as he went to bed that it would still be raining the next morning. But it was! Never had rain meant so much to him, never was it so welcome, and rain in his life as a ballplayer was always pleasant to hear. Then the same question: was it raining in Cleveland? It was a long while before he could get any news on the air. When he did there was the war in Europe, an airplane accident in Utah, a robbery in the Bronx. Finally the welcome words came.
    “Judge Landis, with Managers Leonard of Brooklyn and Baker of Cleveland, made an inspection of the field just before noon today, and following a conference decided to call off the third game of the World Series scheduled for this afternoon in that city. You remember that the Dodgers won the first game by a score of...”
    Tomorrow. Maybe it would still be raining tomorrow. Or the field wouldn’t have dried sufficiently. Maybe he’d be able to get out himself! Late that afternoon the telephone rang. Dave Leonard had been in communication with the doctors at the hospital and told the Kid a place had been reserved for him on the early Cleveland plane the next morning.
    He reached the clubhouse just as the manager was finishing his pre-game talk. Over their heads he could see the old catcher, toothpick in mouth, leaning across the back of a chair. “’S I say, we took too many balls in that last game. We’re not gonna take today. We’ll beat those birds at their own game, go out and hit ’em. Everybody hit ’em. All right, le’s go now.” The crowd turned toward the door to see the Kid