needed to know he had spent the night in a hotel room with the blonde he had been gambling with the night before. Neither would he have discovered she was not blonde all the way downâbut thatâs another matter. The meeting was to take place in a nearby hotel to consider the DEA and IRA joint investigation of Achille Ricci. Ricci would certainly like to have had that information. Agostini might also have seen a message referring to a forthcoming raid on the offices of Harrison, Bronson and Currie in time to warn Emilio Graffitano not to travel to LA to pick up a shipment of Columbia crack cocaine that was due.
Of such small mistakes is history, great and small, composed.
* * *
The high-flying Gold rolled into New York. Tabby was slated to be the starter in the first game, and more than 60,000 Yankees fans made their way to Yankee Stadium in the Bronx to watch the man few had seen pitch before perform against the perennial favorites to win it all each year. Tabby had had no more phone calls from Trenowski, which had puzzled both him and Jeff Turnbull, who was traveling with the team, still posing as a reporter. But Tabbyâs pitching had not suffered any, and he was not unduly alarmed by the cessation of harassment.
Tabby struck out two of the three Yankees batters in the first inning, and continued pitching well into the seventh. As he came off the mound after that inning, he went to the dressing room to relieve his bladder. During the Las Vegas at bats, Tubby Littleton hit a two-run double which brought considerable noise from the crowd, and nobody heard the quiet noise in the Gold dressing room. When the inning ended, Tabby didnât come up from the dressing room to take the mound. After a couple of minutes, Willie Fontana went down the tunnel to check. What he found almost caused him to throw up.
The pitching coach ran up the steps and yelled at Molly and Kenny to come quick. He also motioned to the police guard standing in front of the bench as usual at every game. What they found was Tabby, shot through the head, and the clubhouse man, shot in the chest but still alive. The cop took charge, using his cell phone to call for help. Molly sent Kenny to fetch Jeff Turnbull. She went to the field to the plate umpire.
âWhatâre you protesting this time? Get your pitcher out here and letâs get on with the game,â the umpire grumped. When Molly, nearly in tears, told him what had happened, the shocked man called the crew chief and other umpires to gather in front of the plate. The crew chief summoned the Yankees manager to the conference. None of them had ever thought of a situation like the murder of a player during a game. For certain, the game would have to be suspended; whether it would be called was something they couldnât decide.
The crew chief asked the Yankees manager to give the crowd some kind of explanation and get them out of the stadium. The chief went to a phone and placed a call to the office of the Commissioner. Naturally, it was closed. Next, he tried the office of the President of the American League. Same result. He would have to wait until the next day, which left the question, would there be a game the next day? That would have to be up to a higher authority than he could decide.
Molly sent an usher into the stands to find Larry Henderson and ask him to come to the dugout. Then she called all her players to the dugout and told them briefly what had happened, and that the dressing room would be closed to them for an unknown time. She left them excitedly talking among themselves and disappeared down the steps to the dressing room where there was controlled chaos. Jeff Turnbull had pulled rank when a senior local policeman arrived, expecting to take charge. Jeff explained his reasons and asked for the help of the local police, which finally, after some argument and a couple of phone calls, was granted. The New York detectives and scene of crime men agreed to full
Of such small mistakes is history, great and small, composed.
* * *
The high-flying Gold rolled into New York. Tabby was slated to be the starter in the first game, and more than 60,000 Yankees fans made their way to Yankee Stadium in the Bronx to watch the man few had seen pitch before perform against the perennial favorites to win it all each year. Tabby had had no more phone calls from Trenowski, which had puzzled both him and Jeff Turnbull, who was traveling with the team, still posing as a reporter. But Tabbyâs pitching had not suffered any, and he was not unduly alarmed by the cessation of harassment.
Tabby struck out two of the three Yankees batters in the first inning, and continued pitching well into the seventh. As he came off the mound after that inning, he went to the dressing room to relieve his bladder. During the Las Vegas at bats, Tubby Littleton hit a two-run double which brought considerable noise from the crowd, and nobody heard the quiet noise in the Gold dressing room. When the inning ended, Tabby didnât come up from the dressing room to take the mound. After a couple of minutes, Willie Fontana went down the tunnel to check. What he found almost caused him to throw up.
The pitching coach ran up the steps and yelled at Molly and Kenny to come quick. He also motioned to the police guard standing in front of the bench as usual at every game. What they found was Tabby, shot through the head, and the clubhouse man, shot in the chest but still alive. The cop took charge, using his cell phone to call for help. Molly sent Kenny to fetch Jeff Turnbull. She went to the field to the plate umpire.
âWhatâre you protesting this time? Get your pitcher out here and letâs get on with the game,â the umpire grumped. When Molly, nearly in tears, told him what had happened, the shocked man called the crew chief and other umpires to gather in front of the plate. The crew chief summoned the Yankees manager to the conference. None of them had ever thought of a situation like the murder of a player during a game. For certain, the game would have to be suspended; whether it would be called was something they couldnât decide.
The crew chief asked the Yankees manager to give the crowd some kind of explanation and get them out of the stadium. The chief went to a phone and placed a call to the office of the Commissioner. Naturally, it was closed. Next, he tried the office of the President of the American League. Same result. He would have to wait until the next day, which left the question, would there be a game the next day? That would have to be up to a higher authority than he could decide.
Molly sent an usher into the stands to find Larry Henderson and ask him to come to the dugout. Then she called all her players to the dugout and told them briefly what had happened, and that the dressing room would be closed to them for an unknown time. She left them excitedly talking among themselves and disappeared down the steps to the dressing room where there was controlled chaos. Jeff Turnbull had pulled rank when a senior local policeman arrived, expecting to take charge. Jeff explained his reasons and asked for the help of the local police, which finally, after some argument and a couple of phone calls, was granted. The New York detectives and scene of crime men agreed to full
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