“And most of the men have secured positions on minor leagues.”
“I’m not talking about forming a league—this year. I’m talking about getting together one team, made up of outcasts, that can trim anything playing baseball.”
“Can it be done?”
“Sure.”
“You’ll have to show me.”
“Wait till Hurley comes,” nodded McGann, looking at his watch. “He should be here now. He’ll tell you what men he can get hold of.”
“He’s a sorehead.”
“Yes, he’s sore, and you can’t blame him. He had every reason to suppose he’d make the Cleveland team. He’s one of the greatest stickers in the country. Not even Lajoie can swat the ball harder or oftener. And he’s a great first baseman. As an organizer and captain he ranks with Collins.”
“Then why didn’t he get there?”
“Jealousy—that’s what he says.”