Argosy, Vol. 119, No. 2 — page 82: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Te ee Oe Le at Oe re ee Oe et rete ee ee Ee ye z ; ) | fi d : h T’S a sure-enough fact. We won it—the Big Series—and now. they’re all calling me names like the “ Miracle Man,” and ~ the “ Napoleon of Baseball,” and the like. And I guess if I didn’t have a pretty level ‘head, in a way, and if it wasn’t for “ Spike” McGinnis, I’d_ begin to think I was somebody. As it is—you know there’s - a saying that no man is a hero to his valet. Well, I don’t know about that. I never had one. But I’ll say this: I’ve got Spike McGinnis, and no doubt in this instance it amounts to about the same thing. I mean that if I’m a hero you’ve surely got to show Spike. 7 _ As for me, of course I’m not going round ‘doing a lot of ballyhooing for myself; but just the same, when forced to it, I’m will- ing to admit that when a fellow cops the ‘championship of everywhere, his first sea- son as a big-league manager, it’s quite a * little stunt—it’s stepping some. And so no doubt it’s a good thing for me that I’ve got Spike McGinnis handy instead of one of these valet things, because otherwise I ‘might start swelling up and there’s no tell- Ing where it would end. You understand, a valet would probably keep his opinions to himself, if he valued his job; but Spike doesn’t make any bones about telling me right to my face what he thinks of me. : And then, too, that ain’t the worst of it: if I didn’t handle him with gloves he’d tell the world. And if Spike McGinnis ever starts in advertising what he knows— Ss laugh!”’ says Spike. esitate osse MY Samuel C-Camy to say the least, I’ll have to do a lot of ex- plaining. _ Anyway, according to Spike McGinnis, if I’m the Napoleon of baseball—oh, boy! —he can sing better than Caruso, trim Hoppe at billiards, and show this chap Rickenbacker how to fly. And as for the Miracle Man stuff— “A healthy looking Miracle Man you are! stop there; he doesn’t ring off when he gets ‘through telling me what I’m not. Oh, no! He goes right ahead and audibly tells me what I am: “You!” says he. “A lucky stiff, that’s what you are! A lucky stiff—and that’s all!” 7 So that’s the way it is. The papers are all calling me a Miracle Man, and so forth; and Spike McGinnis says—but you know what Spike says; and Ina—the wife, you know—Ina admits that I’ve certainly gone and done something—and takes most of the credit to herself; and as for me—well, of course it wouldn’t look right for a fellow - in my position to do a whole lot of talking, and so I guess you'll have to write your own ticket. Now, as a matter of fact, this is not the story of how I—we—won the World’s Championship. I—we—won it, and the facts speak for themselves. It’s the story of how I got my start as a big-league man- ager. The whole thing hinges on that— how I got my start. And the things that led up to it go back to some little time ago. (232 | = Don’t make me But Spike doesn’t * com Ebooks. co