"Norman Spinrad - Triceratops" - читать интересную книгу автора (Spinrad Norman)

We got out of the jumper and tramped around through the tangled vegetation while scruffy
pigeons wheeled overhead and the immensity of the empty stadium gave the place an illusion of
mystical significance, as if it were some Greek ruin or Stonehenge, instead of just a ruined old
baseball park. The grandstands seemed choked with ghosts; the echoes of great events that never
were, filled the deeply shadowed cavernous spaces.
Mr. Ito,' it turned out, knew more about Yankee Stadium than I did, or ever wanted to. He
led me around at a measured, reverent pace, boring my ass off with a kind of historical grand
tour.
"Here Al Gionfriddo made his famous World Series catch of a potential home run by the
great DiMaggio," he said, as we reached the high, crumbling black wall that ran around the
bleachers. Faded numerals said "405." We followed this curving, overgrown wall around to the 467
sign in left center field. Here there were three stone markers jutting up out of the old playing
field like so many tombstones, and five copper plaques on the wall behind them, so green with


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decay as to be illegible. They really must've taken this stuff seriously in the old days, as
seriously as the Japanese take it now.
"Memorials to the great heroes of the New York Yankees," Ito said. "The legendary Ruth,
Gehrig, DiMaggio, Mantle . . . Over this very spot, Mickey Mantle drove a ball into the bleachers,
a feat which had been regarded as impossible for nearly half a century. Ali. . ."
And so on. Ito tramped all through the underbrush of the playing field and seemed to have
a piece of trivia of vast historical significance to himself for almost every square foot of
Yankee Stadium. At this spot, Babe Ruth had achieved his sixtieth home run; here Roger Marls had
finally surpassed that feat, over there Mantle had almost driven a ball over the high roof of the
venerable stadium. It was staggering how much of this trivia he knew, and how much importance it
all had in his eyes. The tour seemed to go on forever. I would've gone crazy with boredom if it
wasn't so wonderfully obvious how thoroughly sold he was on the place. While Ito conducted his
love affair with Yankee Stadium, I passed the time by counting yen in my head. I figured I could
probably get ten million out of him, which meant that my commission would be a cool million.
Thinking about that much money about to drop into my hands was enough to keep me smiling for the
two hours that Ito babbled on about home runs, no-hitters, and tripleplays.
It was late afternoon by the time he had finally saturated himself and allowed me to lead
him back to the jumper. I felt it was time to talk business, while he was still under the spell of
the stadium, and his resistance was at low ebb.
"It pleasures me greatly to observe the depths of your feeling for this beautiful and
venerable stadium, Mr. Ito," I said. "I stand ready to facilitate the speedy transfer of title at
your convenience."
Ito started as if suddenly roused from some pleasant dream. He cast his eyes downward, and
bowed almost imperceptibly.

"Alas," he said sadly, "while it would pleasure me beyond all reason to enshrine the -
noble Yankee Stadium upon my grounds, such a self-indulgence would only exacerbate my domestic
difficulties. The parents of my wife ignorantly consider the noble sport of baseball an imported
American barbarity. My wife unfortunately shares in this opinion and frequently berates me for my
enthusiasm for the game. Should I purchase the Yankee Stadium, I would become a laughing stock in
my own household, and my life would become quite unbearable."
Can you beat that? The arrogant little son of a bitch wasted two hours of my time dragging