As soon as my name is announced to pitch the Cleveland Club is licked or any other club when I am right and they don’t kick the game away behind me.

Gleason told me on the train last night that I was going to pitch here today but I bet by this time he has got orders from Callahan to let me rest and to not give me no more work because suppose even if I did not start the game tomorrow I probily will have to finish it.

Gleason has been sticking round me like as if I had a million bucks or something. I can’t even sit down and smoke a cigar but what he is there to knock the ashes off of it. He is OK and good-hearted if he is a little rough and keeps hitting me in the stumach but I wish he would leave me alone sometimes espesially at meals. He was in to breakfast with me this a.m. and after I got threw I snuck off down the street and got something to eat. That is not right because it costs me money when I have to go away from the hotel and eat and what right has he got to try and help me order my meals? Because he don’t know what I want and what my stumach wants.