American Pastoral by Philip Roth

Author:Philip Roth
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Classics, Contemporary, Pulitzer
ISBN: 9780375701429
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 1997-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

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and weighed a hundred and forty-five pounds to fight somebody a hundred and

sixty pounds who he could be sure would beat the shit out of him. “Always pick a

redhead, Ee-oh,” Manny said, “he’ll give you the best fight in the world.

Redhead’ll never quit.” Manny the scientist. Manny going up to Norfolk to fight

a sailor, a middleweight contender before the war, and whipping him. Exercising

the battalion before breakfast. Marching the recruits down to the pool every

night to teach them to swim. We practically threw them in—the old-fashioned way

of teaching swimming, but you had to swim to be a marine. Always had to be ready

to do ten more push-ups than any of the recruits. They’d challenge me, but I was

in shape. Getting on the bus going to play ball. The long distances we flew. Bob

Collins on the team, the big St. John’s guy. My teammate. Terrific athlete.

Boozer. With Bob C. got drunk for the first time in my life, talked for two

hours nonstop about playing ball for Weequahic and then threw up all over the

deck. Irish guys, Italian guys, Slovaks, Poles, tough little bastards from

Pennsylvania, kids who’d run away from fathers who worked in the mines and beat

them with belt buckles and with their fists—these were the guys I lived with and

ate with and slept alongside. Even an Indian guy, a Cherokee, a third baseman.

Called him Piss Cutter, the same as the name for our caps. Don’t ask me why. Not

all of them decent people but on the whole all right. Good guys. Lots of

organized grabass. Played against Fort Benning. Cherry Point, North Carolina,

the marine air base. Beat them. Beat Charleston Navy Yard. We had a couple of

boys who could throw that ball. One pitcher went on to the Tigers. Went down to

Rome, Georgia, to play ball, over to Waycross, Georgia, to an army base. Called

the army guys doggies. Beat them. Beat everybody. Saw the South. Saw things I

never saw. Saw the life the Negroes live. Met every kind of Gentile you can

think of. Met beautiful southern girls. Met common whores. Used a condom.

Skinned ‘er back and squeezed ‘er down. Saw Savannah. Saw New Orleans. Sat in a

rundown slopchute in Mobile, Alabama, where I was damn glad the shore patrol was

just outside the door. Playing basketball and baseball with the Twenty-second

Regiment.

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