TWO WEEKS TO GO AND LEFTY-AND THE .45S-WONDER ABOUT 1963

Houston, Tex
Sept.16, 1962

Dear Alice,
     The last time I wrote you we were in Cincinnati and we played the
longest doubleheader in history, nearly 10 hours, and lost both games. 
I've been afraid to write you ever since. 
     Well, the Colt .45s are nearing the end of our first season and my
heart is heavy.  The club is in Milwaukee and I didn't make the trip,
since they intend to look at some of the young sprouts up from the farms. 
That doesn't bother me, though, because I have a feeling I won't be around
next year.
     Don Mc Mahon told me the other day that he heard I was going to be
traded to the Mets, a fate slightly worse than death.  "Who are they
getting for me?" I asked.
     "Nobody," said Mac.  "It's an even trade that will help both teams." 
Ho, ho, ho.
     You know me, Alice.  Roll with the punches, I always say.  It even
looks as though the Angels are gonna trade Bo Belinsky, who is to us
lefthanders what Fearless Fosdick is to Li'l Abner.  I'd sure hate to
leave Houston, but I suppose the club will have quite a turnover, as they
say in the pie shops.
     Actually, we haven't had such a bad year considering that we came
into the league as innocent as a newborn babe, if not more so.  We were
supposed to finish so deep in the cellar that we could look for slanted
oil wells.  But here we are, in eighth place.
     A lot has happened since I wrote you last, Alice.  Remember all the
trouble Al Spangler was having with his eyes, and how he was dropping a
lot of fly balls?  Well, Al can see now.  He has made some great catches
and they're letting the fans sit in the left field bleachers again.
     Norm Larker, our stalwart first baseman, hurt his leg the other day
and missed a few games.  He's back in the lineup now and he would have
been there sooner, except he wouldn't let the doctors treat him.  Jim
Ewell, our trainer, pleaded with him: "Give the docs a chance, Norm. 
They're human."  But Larker said that didn't reassure him very much.
     Don't know how the game's been reaching you over the Beautiful Colt
.45s network, Alice, but the other night was Radio Appreciation Night. 
They had over 28,000 fans at Beautiful Colt Stadium, and it was quite a
tribute to Gene Elston, Al Helfer, and Loel Passe.  Some of the fans also
stayed to see the Dodgers.
     You hear a lot of arguments about which is more important, radio or
newspapers, but shucks, that's easy.  You can't wrap fish in a radio.
     Our writers are almost as flakey as the players.  On the last home
stand one of them forgot to get the names of the umpires and he needed
them for the box score.  So he just made up four names: Jack Daniels, Jim
Beam, Tom Collins, and Dino Martini.  He says there is always at least one
Italian in the bunch.  He enjoyed it so much that he says he is going to
do it again, so he can work in Morgan David.  
     One writer asked Dick Farrell his denominational preference, and
Farrell told him: "I like to be called Turk."  Farrell says he has a
speech already prepared if he wins the most valuable player award on the
Colt .45s: "I want to thank the writers and the fans and my teammates,
without whose help I could not have such a fine record."  His record is 9-and-19.
     You know, Alice, ball players have been known to use coarse language
at times, and a lot of folks have asked me what effect it has on the boys
having a minister on the club, which is Russ Kemmerer.
     Well, at first we voted not to take him along on our road trips but
Harry Craft, our manager, wouldn't stand for that.  As it turned out I'm
glad, because Russ is good company.
     Speaking of Craft, I certainly admire his patience.  He hardly ever
shows any emotion, except sometimes when we're on a bus leaving the ball
park.  Like when we were pulling away from Connie Mack Stadium in
Philadelphia.  He just quietly banged his head against the window, and if
you listened close you could hear him mumble, "If I make it through this
year I'll..."
     Incidentally, I haven't pitched in relief in nearly two months, and
Harry says that from now on I won't be starting, either.  This way I'll
get to miss a regular turn every four days.
     Well, I'll be home soon.  I'd appreciate it if you'd ask your uncle
if that job is still open in his drygoods store.

                                               You Know Me, Alice.
                                               Lefty.