‘Julie, what is it?’ I couldn’t take it anymore. ‘Can we talk about something?” “Of course.’ I took hold of his arm, gesturing for us t... take a seat. “Look, I never said anything to you but…” He raised a brow. “But what?” “What you just did for me is the sweetest thing. But it makes me feel guilty.” He placed his hand on my arm. “Why feel guilty? I gave it freely.” I had to let it out. ‘April’s been bugging me about getting a car for over a year now. It just makes me feel guilty.” He didn’t. As it turned out, I couldn't get a flat .400 done, either. Still, the batting average was only an afterthought when we won the Division and sent the Yankees home for the year without giving them so much as a smell in the playoffs.Now, that was satisfying!My final regular season average for my rookie year was .394.I would be the American League batting champion. The nearest guy to me had hit .346. (I had to go and look at his whole line, of course. The bastard had hit 17 homers and knocked in. More

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