Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
sidehimatthebattingcagewhileheinterviewed peoplelikeWillie MaysandStanMusial.
We got to sit in the dugouts (they always smelled of tobacco juice and urine; I don't know
what those guys got up to down there) and we got to go in the dressing rooms and watch
the players dress for the games. I've seen Ernie Banks naked. Not a lot of people can say
that, even in Chicago.
Thebestfeelingwastowalkaroundthefieldknowingthatkidsinthestandswerewatching
us enviously. Wearing my Little League baseball cap with its meticulously creased brim
andapairofverysharpplasticsunglasses,IthoughtIwasMr.Cool.AndIwas.Iremember
once at Comiskey Park in Chicago some kids calling to me from behind the first base
dugout, a few yards away. They were big-city kids. They looked like they came from the
DeadEndGang.Idon'tknowwheremybrotherwasthistrip,buthewasn'tthere.Thekids
said to me, “Hey, buddy, how come you get to be down there?” and “Hey, buddy, do me a
favor, get me Nellie Fox's autograph, will ya?” But I paid no attention to them because I
was … Too Cool.
So I was, as I say, desolate to discover that the Twins were a thousand miles away on the
East Coast and that I couldn't go to a game. My gaze drifted idly over the box scores from
the previous day's games and I realized with a kind of dull shock that I didn't recognize a
single name. It occurred to me that all these players had been in junior high school when
I left America. How could I go to a baseball game not knowing any of the players? The
essence of baseball is knowing what's going on, knowing who's likely to do what in any
given situation. Who did I think I was fooling? I was a foreigner now.
The waitress came over and put a paper mat and cutlery in front of me. “Hi!” she said in
a voice that was more shout than salutation. “And how are you doin' today?” She sounded
as if she really cared. I expect she did. Boy, are Midwestern people wonderful. She wore
butterfly glasses and had a beehive hairdo. “I'm very well, thank you,” I said. “How are
you?”
Thewaitressgavemeasidewayslookthatwassuspiciousandyetfriendly.“Say,youdon't
come from around here, do ya?” she said.
I didn't know how to answer that. “No, I'm afraid I don't,” I replied, just a trifle wistfully.
“But, you know, it's so nice I sometimes kind of wish I did.”
Well, that was my trip, more or less. I visited all but ten of the lower forty-eight states and
drove 13,978 miles. I saw pretty much everything I wanted to see and a good deal that
I didn't. I had much to be grateful for. I didn't get shot or mugged. The car didn't break
