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223 12 Center Stage in the White Arena July 5, 1948, became one of the happiest days in Satchel Paige’s life, for this was the day, late in the afternoon, that he received a letter from Abe Saperstein asking him, How soon can you be in Cleveland for a tryout with the Indians? Paige and Lahoma danced all over the house and into the night, doing the jitterbug and hully gully; laughing, joking, her repeatedly congratulating him; him toasting with his favorite bourbon while she did hers with some apple cider. They talked about what was happening, the opportunity finally being afforded him, and what it all meant. They were as proud as two human beings could be. Satchel Paige felt complete euphoria. When that feeling subsided, what crept into his mind were the lost years and that he was going to have to go up there and audition at age forty-two. But he quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. He was a positive thinker and believed absolutely that he was still one of the best pitchers ever and would go to Cleveland and show them. Those who knew him best outside the immediate family, and with whom he shared the news, recalled how Paige was able to maintain a sense of “lowkey excitement” to them. “I got the call” was how he put it. Family, friends, and countless baseball fans were excited for him and did not hold back. In so many cases, that euphoria quickly settled into a kind of consensus of “it’s about time.”1 Paige, traveling with Abe Saperstein, arrived in Cleveland on Wednesday, July 7, 1948, and went straight to the ballpark for his debut tryout. When 224 “If You Were Only White” Paige arrived at the facility, Cleveland owner Bill Veeck was there along with manager Lou Boudreau and the rest of the Cleveland team. Paige and Veeck chatted for a while, and then one of the trainers showed him to the locker room and gave him a Cleveland uniform to change into. Paige was feeling pretty good, having donned a uniform of a Major League Baseball team for the first time. He brought his own glove and shoes. The trainer had both at the ready, but Paige, like any seasoned veteran, went with his own. There would always be time later to break in a new pair of shoes once he had made the team and even a new glove, although he did not have that in mind at all. He was dressed and ready and strolled leisurely onto the field and reported to the team owner. Standing there side by side, Veeck told him to show the folks what he could do and then went on with a quick pep talk to which Paige could see that the owner was nervous for him. Paige told him, “Don’t worry, Mr. Bill—as he looked out at the pitcher’s mound—I’ve been there before.” Veeck then called over Boudreau and stepped aside.2 Boudreau invited Paige to do some laps to get warmed up. Paige ran about fifty yards at a moderate speed once or twice and then came back over to Boudreau to let them know that he felt that he had done enough running. In Paige’s mind a lot of exercise was a waste of time and would have done nothing but take strength away from his legs. He was never one in those later years for doing wind sprints and unnecessary training. To put it mildly, he contended that he kept his legs in good-enough shape through dancing and actually playing baseball games at such a clip and elongated schedule that more exercise was not necessary. No doubt Paige would have run additional sprints if it had been required of him, but Boudreau had mercy and could see that he was a seasoned veteran and was likely the best judge of what warmed him up. Accepting Paige’s pronouncement that he was ready, Boudreau himself donned the catcher’s mitt, chest protector, and face mask to catch Paige. The master hurler started out easy, making sure to absolutely get the arm warmed up properly. As Paige liked to say, he needed to get “those juices flowing.” After about fifteen minutes of light to moderate tosses, he was ready. Page threw ten or twelve pitches; all of them would have been good for strikes. For a more realistic test, Boudreau...

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