There was a crowd in the stands for a change and the sun was hot.
The new Riverside pitcher turned out to have an overhand fast ball that took a hop.
For a few innings the Anniston team couldn't figure him out.
Then, in the fifth, Anniston's kid catcher caught onto a curve and smacked the ball into left center field.
Eddie Lee, Riverside's redheaded playing manager, ran after the ball but it rolled past him.
Phil Rossoff cut over to center from left field to get the relay.
Eddie caught up with the ball near the fence and threw it to Phil.
"Third!
Third base"!
Eddie shouted.
Phil spun around and made an accurate throw into Mike Deegan's hands on third base.
Mike caught the ball just as the catcher slid into the bag.
But the Anniston boy had begun his slide too late.
He came into the bag with his body and Mike Deegan brought the ball down full in his face.
"You bastard"!
The Anniston catcher screamed.
He jumped to his feet and started to throw punches.
Mike Deegan tossed his glove away and began to swing at the catcher.
This brought in everybody from both sides, while the spectators stood up and added to the uproar.
The fighters were separated in a few minutes.
The game was resumed.
But Mike Deegan was boiling mad now.
When the inning was over he cursed the Anniston catcher all the way into the dugout.
Phil Rossoff, coming in from left field, stopped at the water fountain for a drink.
Mike Deegan was standing beside it, facing the field.
He was eyeing the Anniston catcher warming up his pitcher before the inning began.
"Keep your eyes open, sonny"!
Mike yelled to the catcher.
"You're in for trouble".
The Anniston catcher did not reply with words.
He simply turned to Mike and smiled.
This so infuriated Deegan that he spun around and said: "I'll get that little bastard.
So help me God, I'll get him".

Phil Rossoff said: "Why don't you leave him alone"?

"Mind your own goddamn business", Mike Deegan said.

Phil shrugged.
He stepped into the dugout, wondering why Deegan was always looking for trouble.
Maybe the answer was in his eyes.
When Deegan smiled his eyes never fit in with his lips.

In the last of the sixth inning Mike Deegan got up to bat and hit a fast ball over the left fielder's head.
By the time the fielder got his hands on the ball Deegan was rounding third base and heading for home.
The left fielder threw and it was a good one.
But Mike had no chance of being tagged.
The Anniston catcher was straddling home plate.
All Deegan had to do was slide, fall away, but instead, he rammed into the catcher.

Both fell heavily to the ground.

Only Mike got to his feet.
He went back to touch home plate, turned and walked to the dugout without looking back.

The Anniston players and their manager ran out on the field.
They poured water over their catcher's face.
He did not move.
Then the manager called for a doctor.
The Riverside physician came down to look over the injured ballplayer.
Then, quickly, and a little nervously, the doctor ordered a couple of ballplayers to carry the catcher into the dressing room.

Mike Deegan was sitting on the bench, watching.
When the ballplayers started to carry the catcher off the field he said: "That ought to teach the sonofabitch".

Phil Rossoff, seated next to Deegan, got up and moved to the other end of the bench.

The Anniston manager was coming over to the Riverside dugout.
He was followed by four of his men.
It began to look as if something was going to happen.
Mike sat quietly watching the manager come nearer.
Eddie Lee moved over to Mike Deegan's side.
No one said a word.

The Anniston manager came right up to the dugout in front of Mike.
His face was flushed.

"Deegan", the manager said, his voice pitched low, quivering.
"That was a rotten thing to do".

"For God's sake", Mike said, waving the manager away.
"Stop it, will you?
Tell your guys not to block the plate".

"You didn't have to ram him".

"That's what you say".

The Anniston manager looked at Eddie Lee.
It was a cold and calculated look.
He turned and went back across the field to his dugout.
He called in the pitcher who had been pitching, and a big, heavy, powerfully built right hander moved out to the mound for Anniston.

The game started again and in the eighth inning Mike Deegan came up to bat.
Everyone in the ball park seemed to be standing and shouting.

The first ball the hefty pitcher threw came in for Mike's head.
Deegan fell into the dirt, the ball going over him.
He arose slowly and brushed himself off.
He got back into the batter's box and on the next pitch dropped into the dirt again.

"Hit the bum"!
Somebody yelled from the Anniston bench.

In the Riverside dugout Frankie Ricco, shortstop, whispered into Phil's ear: "There's gonna be a fight".

"Look at those bastards"!
Charlie Haydon, a pitcher, said.
"They're looking for trouble".

Mike was slow getting into the box this time.
When he finally did he had to duck his head quickly away as the pitch came in.

"Listen"!
He shouted to the pitcher.
"One more and I'm coming out there"!

"I'll be waiting"!
The pitcher yelled back.

Mike Deegan pounded the rubber plate with the end of his bat.
He stood flat-footed in the box, but not very close to the plate now.
The pitcher wound up and the ball came in straight for Mike's head.
Deegan dropped, got up, turned and, holding the bat with both hands up against his chest, began to walk slowly out to the mound.
The pitcher tossed his glove away and came towards Mike Deegan.
They were both walking towards each other, unhurried.

Riverside and Anniston players rushed out on the field.
In the next moment, it seemed, the infield was crowded with spectators, ballplayers, cops, kids and a dog.
There was much shouting and screaming.
Fights sprang up and were quickly squelched.
Mike and the Anniston pitcher were pulled away before they even came together.

Phil Rossoff and two other Riverside players did not go out on the field when the fighting started.

After the game, Phil was taking off his sweatshirt in the dressing room when Mike Deegan came in.

"It's a helluva thing", Mike said, looking at Phil, "when a guy's own team-mate won't come out and help him in a fight".

Phil sighed and pulled the wet sweatshirt over his head.
Frankie Ricco sat down on the bench near Phil.
The other players were undressing quietly.
Eddie Lee had not come in yet.

Mike went over to Phil and stood over him.
"Why the hell didn't you come out when you saw them gang up on me"?

"I didn't think it was necessary".

"Well!
Now that's just fine!
You didn't think it was necessary".
Mike placed both his hands on his hips.
He pushed his jaw forward.
"Listen, wise guy, if you think I'm gonna do all the fighting for this ball club you're crazy".

Mike had a good two inches over Phil and Phil had to look up into Mike's face.

"I didn't ask you to fight for the ball club", Phil said slowly.
"Nobody else did, either".

"You trying to say I started the fight"?

"I'm not trying to say anything".

Phil turned away and opened his locker, and then he heard Mike Deegan say: "You're yellow, Rossoff"!
And Phil banged his locker door shut and spun around.
But before anything could happen Frankie Ricco was between them and Eddie Lee had come into the dressing room.

"Phil, come into my office", Eddie said.

Phil followed Eddie into the office and shut the door.
He sat down before Eddie's desk.

"I'm doing you a favor", Eddie said quickly.
"You get your unconditional release as of today".

Phil's eyes widened just a trifle.

"The best thing for you to do", Eddie said, "is go home.
You don't belong in professional baseball".

Phil had to clear his throat.
"Is this because of what happened out there"?

"No", Eddie said.
"But it does confirm what I've suspected all along".

Phil stood up.
"Listen!
This is the second time."

"Sit down, sit down", Eddie said.
"I'm not saying you're yellow.
I am saying you're not a professional ballplayer".

Eddie Lee leaned forward over the desk.
"Now listen to me, Phil.
I'm not steering you wrong.
You haven't got the heart for baseball".

Phil shook his head and Eddie frowned.
Suddenly his voice grew hard.
"What the hell do you think baseball is?
You're not in the big leagues, but if you can't give and take down here what the hell do you think it'll be like up there"?

Phil started to say something but Eddie cut him short.
"Now don't tell me what a good ball player you are.
I know you've got talent.
But what you haven't got is the heart to back up that talent with.
The heart, Phil.
You just haven't got the heart for pro-ball, and that's it".

Dazed, Phil said: "I don't get it.
My batting average"

Eddie stood up abruptly, then sat down just as abruptly.
"What difference does your batting average make?
Or your fielding average.
Or even the way you run bases.
I tell you when it's necessary to hurt in order to win -- you won't do it.
That's what I mean by no heart for the game.
Baseball's no cinch.
Deegan had no business ramming into that kid out there.
He did it because he knows for each guy he puts out of commission that's one less who might take his job away later on.
What the hell do you think baseball is?
A sport?
It's a way of life, goddamit!
And you've got to be ready to cut to ribbons anybody who wants to take your way of life away from you"!

He's wrong!
Phil thought.
It's only his opinion.
There were other clubs in this league.
He stood up slowly.
He was a little pale and shaky.
His lips felt glued together.

"I think you're wrong, Eddie", he said finally.

Eddie nodded.
"Okay.
You'll get your pay in the morning".

Phil turned and left the room, hearing Eddie say: "Someday you'll see I was right".

Phil shut the door behind him.
Outside in the dressing room, Frankie Ricco sat on the bench dressed in his street clothes.

"What happened"?
Frankie asked.

Phil said: "I got my release".

"You crazy"?

Phil shrugged.

"What for"?

Phil sighed.

Frankie shook his head.
"I don't get it".

"I don't know", Phil said.

They were silent for a few moments.
Then Frankie said: "What are you gonna do"?

Phil started to take his clothes off and Frankie sat down on the bench again.
Phil took off one shoe and stared at it.

"Don't take it like this", Frankie said.
"Hell, plenty of guys get let out and come back later.
The leagues are full of guys like that".

Phil was very quiet.

"What are you gonna do, Phil"?

Phil did not answer.

"Why not try another club"?

Phil looked up.
What the hell right did Eddie have saying a thing like that?

"Springfield's in tomorrow", Frankie said.
"Talk to Whitey Jackson".

He just didn't know what he was talking about, saying a thing like that.

"Will you do it, Phil"?

"Do what"?

"Ask Whitey for a job".

Phil nodded.
"Sure", he said.
"Springfield come in tomorrow"?

Frankie nodded.

"I'll speak to Whitey".

"Atta boy".

"I'll talk to him, all right".

"Don't worry", Frankie said.
"You'll get a job there.
He needs outfielders bad".

"I'm not worried about it", Phil said.

"That's the way to talk.
What else did Eddie have to say"?

"Nothing", Phil said.