I got out of there quick and took off down the street. I don't
know what street it was, and I'm not sure where I was headed, but I do
remember that I was awfully tired. It was the middle of the morning and
I had hardly slept a wink the night before. I had staggered about three
or four blocks when I passed by a fire engine house. Evidently all of
the firemen were out at a fire, because the place was deserted. I was
tired, very tired, so I went in and sat down. Well, they had a big
bellied iron stove in there, and it was warm. I guess I must have fallen
asleep, as the next thing I knew, a couple of firemen were shaking me
and doing everything they could do to wake me up. They called me a bum
and a lot of other bad names, and told me to get out of there or they'd
have me thrown in jail.
"'I'm no bum,' I said. 'I'm a ballplayer.'
"'What?' the firemen laughed. 'You, a ballplayer? Where did you ever
play?'
"'In Cleveland, around the sandlots,' I told them proudly. 'And in
Waterloo, Iowa, too! I beat the Keokuk team six to one!'
"'Yeah?' said one of the firemen. 'And last week I had dinner with Santa
Claus and the Pope. So I suppose you're going to tell me that you are
close buddies with Three-Fingered Brown, Chance, Tinker and Evans--I
mean, Evers--and all of those fellows?'
"'No,' I said.
Pages:
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146