Читать книгу Summer of Shadows - Jonathan Knight - Страница 9

Game 1

THE BLACK LOCOMOTIVE SLOWLY CURLED into Grand Central Station like a snake returning to its nest. It left the dawn outside and was absorbed by the smoky darkness of the tunnels running beneath New York City. Still, the coolness of the fall morning sifted through the walls, and as the passengers stepped off the train, the atmosphere of autumn in the city gently kneaded its way through their senses.

It was, for these men de-boarding the special eight-car overnight train that had scurried through the dark Pennsylvania farmland and then the growing burgs on the outskirts of New York, a World Series atmosphere—fitting, given that they soon would play the first game of baseball’s Fall Classic. The mood on the ride was much different from the other trips this group had made over the course of the past six months of 1954. With many of the passengers accompanied by their wives—a special privilege awarded for this trip—much of the usual chicanery of card games and off-color jokes was suspended. Similarly, beer and cocktails were replaced by the warm aroma of coffee and cake, partially because of the presence of the women, but also because of the magnitude of this trip.