Loving The Game. Pete Hines

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ aligned it to look like no one had tampered with it. It wasn’t the greatest job in the world but maybe it would pass. Charles kept close to the building as he tried to flatten the old jersey that was under his shirt.

      Just then Officers Lauritsen and Murphy came around the corner. Charles waved at them, but they just looked irritated.

      “What are you doing here?” asked Lauritsen. Charles was thinking of the jersey balled in the back of his shirt, how much it may be worth, and how crazy it had been for him to be walking around a basketball court in the dark.

      Charles took the headset off and put it around his neck.

      “Uhhh, nothing,” he stammered. “I . . . I just wanted to see what the gym looked like.” He tried to make his voice sound calm and relaxed, but it didn’t help that he was sweating.

      “Do you know that you could be arrested for trespassing?” asked Murphy.

      “I didn’t see any trespassing signs posted,” Charles said. Being an attorney, Charles knew the law and figured he would have a good case because he was on public property. Murphy started walking toward the door and glanced at the chain and lock. He said it looked like someone had been tampering with it. Charles just knew the officers could hear his heart pounding loudly. They looked at him and Charles thought it was an eternity before Murphy finally said, “You better get out of here. This neighborhood can be pretty rough.”

      Charles started walking sideways towards the car, hoping the officers wouldn’t detect the jersey bulging from his back. Luckily, they were examining the front door again. Charles got in the car, put his headset back on, and told Ralph, “Man, that was close.” He then thanked Ralph for giving him the warning to get out of the gym.

      “What did you find in there anyway?” asked Ralph, who was always curious.

      Charles shrugged and pulled out the balled-up jersey.

      “Nice, very nice,” nodded Ralph, “but you’re lucky you didn’t land in jail.”

      They both chuckled and Charles figured it was time to get back home. He had had enough excitement for one evening. He wondered again what teams had played in that gym – victories and defeats. The old gym had a lot of history locked up inside, waiting to be discovered.

      A Game in the Gym

      March 25, 1935

      The steel factory had blazing streaks of light coming from the molten steel, jumping into the air after hitting the enormous kettle pots it was being poured into. The steel took on a life of its own as it flowed down the metal chutes. It looked like a snake in pursuit of its prey, turning and twisting as it headed to its destination. It was hard to believe that this liquid metal would be used to create the automobiles the American public so coveted.

      At the end of the corridor Jake, a foreman, walked with two factory workers. The men liked Jake because he had an easygoing personality; also, if they had a problem they could confide in him. Jake had started out in the factory as a maintenance worker and had worked up through the ranks until he had been promoted to one of the top jobs. A tall man with curly black hair, he was an excellent go-between when the men had a grievance against the company. He was a good listener. Jake also knew a lot about sports; in fact, he had a passion for sports.

      Jake and the two men stopped at the place where the molten steel was beginning to harden. They were discussing which basketball team was going to win tonight. Jake said he was placing his money on The New York Renaissance Five (the Rens), an all-black team. The other two men were betting on the Original Celtics, an all-white team. The Celtics were having a great season and were expected to win most of their games.

      The anticipation for tonight’s game had been building for several weeks with bets being taken over breaks in the lunchroom. A few men had even bet their entire week’s paycheck because they were sure the Celtics would win. This was going to be an exciting game.

      Most of the steel workers, including Jake, were going to be heading over to O’Brien’s, the local tavern. Their shift had ended and the men gathered in the restroom to clean up. Leaning over the washbasins and scrubbing their hands and faces with the warm soapy water, it would take a few minutes of scrubbing to get rid of this reminder of the day’s work. Some of their faces and arms were almost completely black and the water felt so refreshing.

      In the next few minutes, there would be a mass exodus of steel workers heading down the few blocks to O’Brien’s. The men pulled up the collars on their coats and yanked down on the bills of their hats as the late winter cold and wind bit at them.

      O’Brien’s was the tavern of choice, a simple place with a lot of character. On this particular night, O’Brien’s was starting to get packed as the men from the factory poured through the front door. The establishment had dim lighting and Jake could see the wisps of cigarette smoke floating in the air.

      Jake walked over to a round table that was crowded with a group of men smoking Lucky Strikes, telling jokes, discussing the economy, sports, and anything else that was on their minds. Jake listened as the men tipped their bottles of Hamm’s beer while expressing how they were glad to be done with work for the week.

      Claire, the waitress, skillfully maneuvered around the small tables. She smiled at Jake. She knew what each table of men liked to discuss and what type of beer the regulars drank. She gave great service and the men rewarded her by leaving good tips.

      They especially liked arguing about sports. Tonight’s first topic of discussion was who was the best hitter in baseball. Roger, a muscular steel worker, said Jolt (Joe DiMaggio) was the best. Ken, another steel worker who was always smiling, thought Babe Ruth was at the top. Someone from the next table shouted out that Roger Hornsby was king. Bruce, who was probably the strongest of the bunch and had an insatiable thirst for beer, said he would put his money on Lou Gehrig. Jim, who could lift more steel beams than anyone in the room, said Ted Williams was ahead of anyone in hitting. Williams’ stats would prove it, too.

      Bill, a pretty skinny fellow, but one who could stand up to most anyone in a fight, said Bob Feller who played for Cleveland was the best pitcher. Most of the table agreed that the New York Yankees was the best team to ever play baseball. Everyone raised his bottle, toasting the Yankees. Jake was getting hot from heat and laughter.

      When they put their bottles down and quit laughing, Jake said, “The best baseball team was the 1932 Pittsburgh Crawfords. They had the best pitcher who’s ever pitched in baseball, Satchel Paige, and the best hitter in Judy Johnson. They also had the game’s best all-around player, Josh Gibson. They won like they invented the game.”

      Ken and Bruce nodded and said Jake just might be right. The conversation then turned to boxing.

      Bruce said, “Max Schmeling’s the best boxer.”

      Jim nodded, but added, “Jack Dempsey was the toughest.”

      Ken argued, as he tipped back his beer, that Gene Tunney was the best.

      Then Jake said, “Jack Johnson was the toughest boxer who ever lived.”

      “No,” answered Bill, leaning back in his chair and motioning Claire for more beer, “Jess Willard was as good as any boxer to come along.”

      “Hey,” interjected Roger, “Joe Louis, the Brown Bomber, could beat them all.” They all raised their beer bottles and saluted Joe Louis as the king of boxing.

      After СКАЧАТЬ