"Destroyer 078 - Blue Smoke and Mirrors.pdb" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Remo)

Remo sighed again. "Look, just give me the benefit of the doubt on terminology. Otherwise we will be here until the year 2000."
"We will save the elaborate details until I have mastered the fundamentals," Chiun said firmly.
"Good. Now the pitcher tries to strike out the batter."
Chiun watched as the pitcher threw a fastball. The batter cracked it out to left field. Infielders scrambled for it. The batter ran to first.
"I think I understand," Chiun said levelly. "The pitcher is attempting to brain the batter. But the stalwart batter uses his club to fend off the villain's cowardly attacks. Because he was successful, he is allowed to escape with his life."
"No, he's not trying to hit the batter. He just wants to get the ball past him. If he does it three times, it's called an out and they retire the batter."
Chiun's facial hair trembled. "So young?"
"Not permanently. They just switch batters."
"Most peculiar. Why is this new person taking up a club?"
"The first batter has earned the right to go to first base. That's the white pad he's standing on there. Now the second batter is going to do the same thing. If he hits the ball correctly, he gets to go to first and the second guy will go to second base, or maybe third if the first one hits the ball far enough."
The batter swung and missed. Then he popped a r ball into center field. Two Yankees collided in an attempt to catch it. The ball slipped between their meshed gloves.
"See!" Remo shouted excitedly. "He's going for second. He's at third! Now he's going home!"
The first batter slid to home base in an eruption of dust. The second was tagged running for third base.
The Master of Sinanju absorbed all this in passive
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silence. Then he nodded. "He is going home now," he said, "his work done."
"No. He's gone to the dugout. He's already been home."
"He has not!" Chiun flared. "I was watching him every minute. He ran from third base to fourth base, and now he is walking away, dirty but unbowed."
"That's not fourth base. That's home."
"He lives there? The poor wretch."
"No," Remo said patiently. "Home plate is the object of this game. You hit the ball so you can run the bases and reach home."
"But that man started off on the home plate. Why did he not remain there, if he coveted it so?"
"Because you don't win unless you run the bases first," Remo said in an exasperated voice.
"I see. And what does he win?"
"He doesn't win. The entire team wins. They win points, which are known as runs."
"Ah, diamonds. I have heard of the famous baseball diamond. It must be exceedingly precious."
"Not diamond points. Points. You know, numbers."
"Money?"
"No," Remo said patiently. "Numbers. See the score at the bottom of the screen? The Red Sox just went from four to five. The score is now twenty to five."
"Numbers? Not gold? Not jewels? Not riches?"
"Actually, these guys make a fair piece of change. I think that batter pulls down almost two million a year."
"Points?"
"No, dollars."
"American dollars!" Chiun cried, leaping to his feet. "They pay him millions of American dollars to run around in circles like that!"
"It's not the circles, it's the points. It's the achievement."
"What do these men make, what do they build,
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what do they create that they are worth such money?" Chiun screeched.
"Baseball is a skill," Remo insisted.
"Running in circles is not a skill. Beheaded roosters do it even after they are dead."
"Will you please calm down? Wait until I finish explaining the game before you get upset."
Chiun settled back onto the floor.
"Very well," he fumed. "I am very interested in learning more about these inscrutable white customs of yours."
"Now, see this batter? While you were jumping up and down he swung twice and missed. Each miss is called a strike."
"I see. If he fails to defend his home from the aggressor, his fellow warriors punish him with their clubs."
"No, a strike means a ... There! See? He just struck out."
"And look!" Chiun proclaimed. "The opposing forces are rushing to attack him. I see now. They are going to pummel him into submission, thereby conquering his territory."
"No, that's not it. Will you let me tell it, please? They're changing sides. Now it's the Red Sox's turn to pitch and the Yankees' at bat."
Chiun's parchment face wrinkled up. "They are surrendering their opportunity to make points?"
"Yep."