"Mr. Barrow, Mr. Barrow, sir! Charlie Graham is on the phone, and he says—"
"What is a Charlie Graham?"
"He's the owner of the San Francisco Seals, sir. He says that he wants to talk about a deal for Joe DiMaggio. He says that any five ballplayers and $25,000, and he's ours!"
"DiMaggio, DiMaggio...isn't he that kid who blew out his knee back in August?"
"Yessir. But Mr. Graham says the knee is fine now, and we can have him examined and everything. He'll even keep him for another year, just in case we want him to prove it."
"Yeah, I bet he would. I remember Charlie now. Always was a slick one. And now he wants us to take his broken kid off his hands—for only five players and 25 large! He's got balls anyway, I'll say that for him."
"But sir! DiMaggio plays the best centerfield anybody's ever seen!"
"Did, son. Did play the best centerfield anybody ever saw. That knee went, how? Crumpled when he stepped out of a cab? Yeah, he's gonna cover a lot of ground with that."
"But sir—"
"Forget it, nameless minion! We already got Ben Chapman in center, he made the All-Star Game this year, hit .308, led the league in triples, and stole 26 bases. Is this DiMaggio kid going to top that?"
"Chapman hit five home runs, sir. And led the league in times caught stealing, too. And sometimes he likes to turn around and call the fans in the bleachers, uh, anti-Semitic names, sir."
"Yeah, well, if we have to, we can always move Twinkletoes Selkirk into his spot. These are the Yankees, kid! Nobody's indispensable!"
"But Mr. Barrow! DiMaggio's not just a great glove. He was hitting .341 when he got hurt. In the Pacific Coast League, which is almost the majors! And the year before, when he was still 18, he had that record, 61-game hitting streak—"
"Jesse Hill?"
"Look, kid, last time I looked, there was still a Depression going on, am I right?"
"Yessir."
"But I'm supposed to pay $25 g's to this Charlie Graham joker. And then, with all the publicity, whattaya think DiMaggio's gonna want? I'm bettin' we can't get away with paying this kid anything less than, oh, $8,500—and that's just to start! Where if we give Jesse Hill five grand, he'll be more grateful than a Bowery hooker with a finiff."
"But don't you see—"
"No, you don't see! These days, we got enough payroll for one big star on the Yankees. We got that big palooka, Ruth, down to $35,000 before we fobbed him off on the Braves just now. That leaves Gehrig, and the big galoot is so naive we can get away with paying him just $25,000. In fact, I think I can cut him another $2,000 for next year. All he did for us was win that Triple Crown thing—"
"But that makes this the perfect time to add someone like a Joe DiMaggio! Why, we get him and the future's unlimited! Even with this Depression, we could take, maybe, I dunno, seven pennants in eight years, maybe win six World Series. We'd be making money even with what we pay him—"
"Nix, kid, nix! The fans'll be satisfied watching Gehrig. And maybe throwing things at Ben Chapman. Joe, Joe DiMaggio? We don't want him on our side."
Horace, I can't help but feel if our current empty suits were a bit more, as you put it, "cold-hearted bastards" as you described Rupert, we'd still be swimming in the luxury of the whole world hating the Yankees as they rang up another 10-12 rings in this century.
ReplyDeleteAs it is, we have two of the lowest forms of human life sucking on the blood of a unicorn to stay alive.
Another great bit. Happy Christmas to you and yours. If that's the way you swing.
Thanks, DickAllen! And the same back at you—Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and many more.
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