"Well," said the shadow, "not too bad. See, I traded myself. I didn't
seem to be able to get going in 1915 after I pitched that no-hitter
early in April, and late in the season McGraw started riding me. That
was a very bad year for the Giants, you know. We were favored to win the
pennant, and instead we wound up last. So McGraw wasn't very happy.
After I had taken about as much riding as I could stand, I asked him to
trade me if he thought I was so bad.
"'Who would take you?' he said to me.
"'What do you mean?' I asked. 'I can still lick any club in the league.'
And I could, too! Heck, I wasn't even twenty-six years old then.
"'Lick any club in the league?' scoffed McGraw. 'You couldn't lick a
postage stamp!'
"'Give me a chance to trade myself, then,' I suggested. 'What would you
sell me for?'
"'Seven thousand five hundred bills,' he answered.
"'Okay,' I said. 'Can I use your phone?'
"'Sure,' he said.
"We were both pretty mad at that point, so I got 'hold of the operator
and asked her to get me Wilbert Robinson, manager of the Brooklyn club.
You see, Robbie--that's what we called him--had been a coach with us for
years before he became the Dodger manager in 1914.
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