"Creighton, Kathleen - Eyewitness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Creighton Kathleen)

never catch anybody doin' that at Wrigley Anybody did that, he'd never
live it down: Daisy was an ex-bleacher bum from Chicago and didn't have
much respect for West Coast fans.

"Seven to six," groaned Preacher. "What kind of score is that? That's
not a baseball score, that's a football score."

"Well, the Dodgers got a good team," JoJo rumbled, lumbering along in
their wake. "Score lotta runs. Makes it exciting. I like that."

"Exciting? You call that game exciting? Children, you don't kno-o-ow
about exciting," Preacher intoned in the voice that had earned him his
nickname. "You call these prima donnas the Dodgers got now a good
team? The 1963 Dodgers-now there was a team. One-nothing, that's how
they won games in those days. Won the pennant, and took the series
from the Yankees in four straight, too, just like that. One-nothing.
Koufax or Drysdale on the mound, Wills leads off with a walk, steals
second, takes third on a sacrifice by Gilliam, comes home on along fly
ball off the bat of Frank Howard. Bingo-all she wrote. Give those
guys one run and it was all over. Ten, twelve strikeouts a game, easy.
Now, that was exciting."

"Sounds boring as a day in church to me," said Daisy. "Me, I like to
see some runs. Give me a day in Chicago with the wind blowin' out, and
I'll show you excitement. Balls flyin' outta there like they was made
of rubber. Kids used to chase 'em in the street. That's the way
baseball oughtta be. Fun."

Preacher snorted. "Sloppy. No finesse." "

" Sports snob ! "

It was an old debate and probably would have gone on a good bit longer,
exrept they'd reached the car by that time and there was something new
to argue about, like who got to sit up front this time. Mary left them
going at it while she got out her keys and unlocked the Bronco,
stepping over a pile of trash to do it.

"Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath. She got so tired of
litter. She gathered up a crumpled cigarette pack, a paper cup and
grease-stained bag from McDonald's, and a newspaper that was just
beginning to scatter in the late evening breeze. Out-of-towners, she
thought scornfully, when she saw that the paper was today's L. A.
Times.

"Hey," she said as she tossed the trash into the back of the Bronco, "
" any of you guys want this paper? "

"Mine," yelped Daisy, giving Preacher a smug look. She was probably
figuring it made up a little for the two bits she'd lost; newspaper was