"George Alec Effinger - Naked to the Invisible Eye" - читать интересную книгу автора (Effinger George Alec)

spot in the lineup."
The shortstop walked to the on-deck circle, wiped his bat again with the pine-tar. His head was filled
with anger and frustration. Back in the batter's box he stared toward the pitcher in desperation.
On the rubber Ramirez worked out of a full wind-up with the bases empty. His high kick hid his
delivery until the last moment. The ball floated toward the plate, a fat balloon belt-high, a curve that didn't
break ...
The hitter's mind was like a desert, his mind was like an empty glass, a blank sheet of paper, his mind
was totally at rest ...
The ball nicked the outside corner for a called strike two. The Ti-ger catcher chuckled. "Them
people in the seats have to pay to get in," he said. "They're doin' more'n you!"
"Shut up." The Bear shortstop choked up another couple of inches on the handle. He'll feed me
an-other curve, and then the fast ball . . .
Ramirez took the sign and went into his motion.
Lousy kid I'm gonna rap it one down his lousy throat ...
The wrist flicked, the ball spun, broke ...
The shortstop watched, unawed, very still, like a hollow thing, as the curve broke sharply, down the
heart of the plate, strike three, side retired.

The Tigers managed to score an insurance run in the top half of the ninth, and Rudy Ramirez went
back to the mound with a five-to--three lead to protect. The first bat-ter that he was scheduled to face
was the Bear pitcher, who was re-placed in the order by pinch-hitter Frank Asterino.
A sense of determination, con-fidence made Asterino's mind orderly. It was a brightly-lit mind, with
none of the shifting doubts of the other. Rudy felt the will, he weighed the desire, he discovered the man's
dedication and respected it. He stood off the rubber, rubbing the shine from the new ball. He reached for
the rosin bag, then dropped it. He peered in at John-ston, his catcher. The sign: the fast ball.
Asterino guarded the plate closely. Johnston's mitt was tar-geted on the inside—start off with the high
hard one, loosen the bat-ter up. Rudy rocked back, kicked that leg high, and threw. The ball did not go
for the catcher's mark, sailing out just a little. A not-over-powering pitch right down the pipe—a true
gopher ball.
Rudy thought as the ball left his hand. He found that will of Asterino's, and he held it gently back. Be
still. Do not move; yes, be still. And Asterino watched the strike in-tently as it passed.
Asterino watched two more, both curves that hung tantalizing but un-touched. Ramirez grasped the
bat-ter's desire with his own, and blotted up all the fierce resolution there was in him. Asterino returned
to the bench amid the boos of the fans, disappointed but unbe-wildered. He had struck out but, after all,
that was not so unusual.
The top of the batting order was up, and Rudy touched their disparate minds. He hid their judg-ment
behind the glare of his own will, and they struck out; the first batter needed five pitches and the second
four. They observed balls with as much passive interest as strikes, and their bats never left their
shoulders. No runs, no hits, no errors, nothing across for the Bears in the ninth. The ball game was over;
Rudy earned a save for striking out the four batters he faced in his first pro assignment.
Afterward, local reporters were met by the angry manager of the Bears. When asked for his
impres-sion of the young Tiger pitcher he said, "I didn't think he looked that sharp. How you supposed to
win managing a damn bunch of zom-bies?" In the visitors' clubhouse Tiger manager Fred Marenholtz was
in a more expansive mood.
"Where did Ramirez come from?" asked one reporter.
"I don't really know," he said. "Charlie Cardona checks out Detroit's prospects down there. All I
know is the telegram said that he was signed, and then here he is. Charlie's dug up some good kids for
us."
"Did he impress you tonight?"
Marenholtz settled his wire-rim glasses on his long nose and nod-ded. "He looked real cool for his