Đang chuẩn bị nút TẢI XUỐNG, xin hãy chờ
Tải xuống
A confession: for almost two decades I hated baseball (well, not exactly hated, more like couldn’t care less). The game—in the Bigs, at least—was virtually unrecognizable to me, what with the “errors” that are astronomical salaries, cookie-cutter stadiums, and free agency. Take, for example, the designated hitter rule: it is, frankly, a sin, venial at a minimum. If you’re a ballplayer, friends, then pick up the lumber and go to work with the rest of the fellows in sanitaries. And while you’re at it, take George Steinbrenner, the Daddy Warbucks of the sport. How the devil are my Cleveland Indians going to compete against a swashbuckler who’s got. | Scoring from Second Writers on Baseball Edited and with an introduction by Philip F. Deaver Foreword by Lee K. .
