Phil's eyes widened just a trifle.

``The best thing for you to do,'' Eddie said, ``is go home. You don't belong in professional baseball.''

Phil had to clear his throat. ``Is this because of what happened out there?''

``No,'' Eddie said. ``But it does confirm what I've suspected all along.''

Phil stood up. ``Listen! This is the second time.''

``Sit down, sit down,'' Eddie said. ``I'm not saying you're yellow. I am saying you're not a professional ballplayer.''

Eddie Lee leaned forward over the desk. ``Now listen to me, Phil. I'm not steering you wrong. You haven't got the heart for baseball.''

Phil shook his head and Eddie frowned. Suddenly his voice grew hard. ``What the hell do you think baseball is? You're not in the big leagues, but if you cann't give and take down here what the hell do you think it'll be like up there?''

Phil started to say something but Eddie cut him short. ``Now don't tell me what a good ball player you are. I know you've got talent. But what you haven't got is the heart to back up that talent with. The heart, Phil. You just haven't got the heart for pro-ball, and that's it.''

Dazed, Phil said: ``I don't get it. My batting average & & &.''

Eddie stood up abruptly, then sat down just as abruptly. ``What difference does your batting average make? Or your fielding average. Or even the way you run bases. I tell you when it's necessary to hurt in order to win -- you wonn't do it. That's what I mean by no heart for the game. Baseball's no cinch. Deegan had no business ramming into that kid out there. He did it because he knows for each guy he puts out of commission that's one less who might take his job away later on. What the hell do you think baseball is? A sport? It's a way of life, goddamit! And you've got to be ready to cut to ribbons anybody who want to take your way of life away from you!''