Las Vegas Gold by Jim Newell Page B

in Double A ball as a starter because he had a 100 mile an hour fast ball he didn’t hesitate to throw wherever the catcher called for it, along with an 85 mph curve. Willie Fontana had taught him how to throw a slurve, a combination curve and slider, and Driscoll had caught on quickly. In three weeks, he was comfortable with it. His supreme self-confidence without being cocky gave him the right temperament to be a closer. Two veteran pitchers rounded out the list: Jimmy Brandon and Freddy Greeley, each playing with their sixth or seventh teams.
    Molly called a team meeting on the day before the team broke camp to head north to Seattle to open the season with a three-game series against the Mariners. “Hey guys,” she began, “I hope this is the first and last team meeting until we win the League Championship.” The players broke into smiles and applause. “I don’t expect I’m going to be doing a lot of work this summer. I believe, after what I have seen during the last month, this team is not going to take a lot of managing. That’s fine by me.
    â€œBut,” she paused, “I won’t hesitate to speak up when I think it’s necessary, and when I have something to say, you’d better listen. I want you all to know you are good enough to win this league, hands down, UNLESS,” she paused again and looked around, “unless you get too cocky or over-confident, and throw your chances away. And I’m not going to let that happen if I can help it. We have a six-month long season about to start. Everyone is going to get playing time; some of you won’t get as much as you may want, but I’ll do the best I can.
    â€œOne more thing.” Molly looked around again and waited until she had everyone’s attention. “Watch what you say to the media. They’re going to be curious about me as a woman managing a Major League Baseball team, and I don’t want to read or hear any negative comments—even if you didn’t make them, but said something that could be twisted. Leave me out of your interviews.” She paused again. “I know I’m a curiosity, but I’ll take care of the matter, and any controversies that arise.
    â€œOh yeah. This is important. No bench clearing brawls. I mean that. I’ll say it again: no, and I mean absolutely none, NO bench clearing. Anyone who leaves the bench to take part in a fight will not only be fined, but also benched. I’m very serious. If one of you pitchers accidentally hits a batter and he charges the mound, you are to turn your back and walk away toward second base. It takes a brave man to do that, but that’s exactly what you are to do. No exceptions! I’m the one who will look after it. I don’t expect to get into a fight,” she stopped as laughter broke out, “but I’ll look after any such situation. Also, if one of you gets hit, same thing. No fights. You get up and take your base if you can. If you can’t, signal the bench and we’ll take it from there.”
    â€œWhy, Molly? Why this ‘no fight rule’?” That came from Bobby Joe Comingo. “Just askin’, not arguing.”
    â€œBecause this is a baseball team, and maybe we’ll teach the league a thing or two about team discipline. I don’t want any retaliation pitches, either. Don’t be afraid to pitch inside, and I will back you up if you accidentally hit somebody. I expect there are other ways to take care of a pitcher who throws at one of you. I intend to win the American League Championship and get into the World Series, and with the quality players standing in front of me, your ability and your team self-discipline is more than good enough to do it.” She stopped and looked around at the assembled group of athletes.
    â€œDid you know Jackie Robinson had a section in his contract not to complain if people spat on him? Whining and complaining and fighting get you