Read Online Ball Four (RosettaBooks Sports Classics) by Jim Bouton - Free Book Online
Authors: Jim Bouton
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I was 1–3 and had a 5.10 ERA.)
Another thing about that spring. This was after I’d pitched about 25 marvelous innings. Houk sat next to me in the dugout and told me, very confidentially, “You know, you’re having a helluva spring, a better spring than Dooley Womack, and I think you’re just the man we need in the bullpen.”
What I wanted to say was: “I’m having a better spring than
who? Dooley Womack
?
The
Dooley Womack? I’m having a better spring than Mel Stottlemyre or Sam McDowell or Bob Gibson.” That’s what I
should
have said. Instead I just sat there shaking my head. He could’ve knocked me off my seat.
Instead he sold me to Seattle. Okay, so I had a lousy year there. That still doesn’t mean Houk knew it all the time. You can make a lousy pitcher out of anybody by not pitching him. I’ll always believe that’s what Houk did to me. Besides, there’s no way the Yankees can justify getting rid of a twenty-nine-year-old body for $12,000, and before the season is over I’m going to remind a lot of people that they did.
Steve Hovley and I had a discussion about Norman Vincent Peale’s power of positive thinking. We agree it’s a crock. Steve said it was like feeding false data into a computer. There comes a day when you realize you’ve been building a false sense of confidence and then it all breaks down and the dream is smashed.
I think that kind of thing happened with the Yankees. Houk used to tell us we were going to win the pennant,
we were going to win the pennant
. Then June rolled around and we knew we
couldn’t
win the pennant, but instead of trying for second or third everybody threw in the towel and we finished ninth.
We might be building ourselves up to that kind of fall with this club. Everybody is saying we’re going to be great. There’s a difference between optimism and wishful thinking.
Not only did I have some tenderness in my elbow today but Sal told me I’ll be pitching in the exhibition game Sunday. The tenderness will go away, but how am I going to pitch Sunday? I’m not ready. I haven’t thrown to spots yet. I haven’t thrown any curveballs at all. My fingers aren’t strong enough to throw the knuckleball right. I’ve gone back to taking two baseballs and squeezing them in my hand to try to strengthen my fingers and increase the grip. I used to do that with the Yankees, and naturally it bugged The Colonel. The reason it bugged The Colonel is that he never saw anybody do it before. Besides, it wasn’t his idea. “What are you doing?” The Colonel would sputter. “Put those baseballs back in the bag.”
Immediately Fritz Peterson would pick up two baseballs and start doing the same thing. One day Fritz got Steve Hamilton and Joe Verbanic and about three or four other pitchers to carry two balls around with them wherever they went. It drove The Colonel out of his mind.
The following spring Fritz was removed as my roommate. The Colonel kept telling Fritz not to worry, that pretty soon he wouldn’t have to room with “that Communist” anymore. And Fritz would say, “No, no, that’s all right. I
want
to room with him. I
like
him. We get along great.”
And The Colonel would say, “Fine, fine. We’ll get it straightened out.”
So one day Houk called me into his office and said, “Jim, we’re switching around roommates this year. I think it will be good for everybody to have pitchers with pitchers, catchers with catchers.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “I’m already rooming with a pitcher.”
“Well, we want young pitchers to room with young pitchers, and since you’ve been with the club so long, we feel you deserve a single room. It’s a status thing. Whitey and Mickey have single rooms, and we thought you should too.”
I said that was fine with me and if he wanted Fritz to room with a young pitcher I’d take a single room.
Then Houk called Fritz in and said, “Bouton deserves a single room and you wouldn’t want to stand in his way,
Another thing about that spring. This was after I’d pitched about 25 marvelous innings. Houk sat next to me in the dugout and told me, very confidentially, “You know, you’re having a helluva spring, a better spring than Dooley Womack, and I think you’re just the man we need in the bullpen.”
What I wanted to say was: “I’m having a better spring than
who? Dooley Womack
?
The
Dooley Womack? I’m having a better spring than Mel Stottlemyre or Sam McDowell or Bob Gibson.” That’s what I
should
have said. Instead I just sat there shaking my head. He could’ve knocked me off my seat.
Instead he sold me to Seattle. Okay, so I had a lousy year there. That still doesn’t mean Houk knew it all the time. You can make a lousy pitcher out of anybody by not pitching him. I’ll always believe that’s what Houk did to me. Besides, there’s no way the Yankees can justify getting rid of a twenty-nine-year-old body for $12,000, and before the season is over I’m going to remind a lot of people that they did.
Steve Hovley and I had a discussion about Norman Vincent Peale’s power of positive thinking. We agree it’s a crock. Steve said it was like feeding false data into a computer. There comes a day when you realize you’ve been building a false sense of confidence and then it all breaks down and the dream is smashed.
I think that kind of thing happened with the Yankees. Houk used to tell us we were going to win the pennant,
we were going to win the pennant
. Then June rolled around and we knew we
couldn’t
win the pennant, but instead of trying for second or third everybody threw in the towel and we finished ninth.
We might be building ourselves up to that kind of fall with this club. Everybody is saying we’re going to be great. There’s a difference between optimism and wishful thinking.
Not only did I have some tenderness in my elbow today but Sal told me I’ll be pitching in the exhibition game Sunday. The tenderness will go away, but how am I going to pitch Sunday? I’m not ready. I haven’t thrown to spots yet. I haven’t thrown any curveballs at all. My fingers aren’t strong enough to throw the knuckleball right. I’ve gone back to taking two baseballs and squeezing them in my hand to try to strengthen my fingers and increase the grip. I used to do that with the Yankees, and naturally it bugged The Colonel. The reason it bugged The Colonel is that he never saw anybody do it before. Besides, it wasn’t his idea. “What are you doing?” The Colonel would sputter. “Put those baseballs back in the bag.”
Immediately Fritz Peterson would pick up two baseballs and start doing the same thing. One day Fritz got Steve Hamilton and Joe Verbanic and about three or four other pitchers to carry two balls around with them wherever they went. It drove The Colonel out of his mind.
The following spring Fritz was removed as my roommate. The Colonel kept telling Fritz not to worry, that pretty soon he wouldn’t have to room with “that Communist” anymore. And Fritz would say, “No, no, that’s all right. I
want
to room with him. I
like
him. We get along great.”
And The Colonel would say, “Fine, fine. We’ll get it straightened out.”
So one day Houk called me into his office and said, “Jim, we’re switching around roommates this year. I think it will be good for everybody to have pitchers with pitchers, catchers with catchers.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “I’m already rooming with a pitcher.”
“Well, we want young pitchers to room with young pitchers, and since you’ve been with the club so long, we feel you deserve a single room. It’s a status thing. Whitey and Mickey have single rooms, and we thought you should too.”
I said that was fine with me and if he wanted Fritz to room with a young pitcher I’d take a single room.
Then Houk called Fritz in and said, “Bouton deserves a single room and you wouldn’t want to stand in his way,
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