Writing you from my suite at the Leland Hotel tonight. I’ve had a fun, blistering week with the bat and we’ve been beating up on the White Sox and Browns. I haven’t told anyone but Harry about your recent troubles over there, but I’ve sensed a better reaction from the Detroit crowds lately. Maybe my home run chase has something to do with it (knocked out my 45th and 46th the other day!), but I also think they’re aware of my letter-writing with you and have been shouting a lot less insults.
Playing for our new manager Del Baker sure helps. He is so much more relaxed than Cochrane was, and the club is responding, especially Rudy York. My slugging partner is only batting in the .270s but has 26 homers and 73 RBIs. It has become harder for teams to walk me and pitch to him. Hopefully we’ll be back over .500 soon, or at least back in front of the Senators.
Today was a doozy of a game with Chicago. Tommy Bridges took a 3-0 lead into the 9th when Gee Walker, a popular outfielder in these parts who we traded to the White Sox in last winter, bashed a three-run homer to tie it up! There was no quit in us, though. In the bottom of the 9th Cullenbine walked, Fox doubled, and Dixie Walker walked with one out. I got in the box against tough southpaw Thornton Lee and rammed a single into left for the winner! With all of my power displays this year I haven’t really won us too many games like that, and it sure felt great.
Of course, it’s been almost impossible to not think about you between at bats, or when standing out at first base, or especially at night after games. If I knew someone in Washington was working to help your situation it would be a lot better, but I know that’s just a dead-end dream. Meanwhile, Rolf’s unused ocean liner ticket to Europe is still propped up on top of my bureau. It’s almost become like a paper lighthouse, watching out for you and me.
No letter from you came through our clubhouse man today, but I know there will be another one soon…