hey, stumpy.  stump addresses the sportswriters at the table as if they were a small audience in a lounge.
amidst this levity, gentlemen, i have some real concerns. mark my words, people will look back on this year and say that 1960 was the year that western civilization began its downward trajectory.
guys, guys, c'mon.  do you really think things are as good as they used to be? you think jack kennedy is qualified to be president?
i mean look at us -- we call ourselves writers but we just watch ballgames and get drunk a lot. you call that writing?
you guys are pathetic. ya write for one reason -- a paycheck.
the great american novel, i suppose?
you're a barbershop writer, al -- you write sugar-coated pieces for guys to skim when they're waiting for a haircut!
ty cobb? i thought he was dead?
they say cobb is crazy. the meanest sonofabitch who ever lived.
listen, al, be careful --
no, not that -- the story. this is like ivan the terrible inviting somebody into the czar's palace before he died.
don't let cobb bullshit you. this is your shot. this is all our shot. when does he want to see you?
stranger! another round on me! stump settles in at the table.
we read that cobb died.
so? what was he like?