In 1963 I hit .316 with 34 home runs and 97 RBIs while in constant pain. My average jumped to .321 late in the year. Suddenly I was fighting for a batting title along with Roberto Clemente, Dick Groat, and Tommy Davis. Alvin moved me up to the third slot, making it more difficult for me to gain ground. My usual slot in the order had been fourth or fifth.

I thought it strange that he did this only when I was contending for a batting championship. At .316 I finished the year behind Tommy Davis (.326), Roberto Clemente (.320), and Dick Groat and Hank Aaron (.319 each). But I had played hurt all season and would do so again in 1964. I damaged my knee badly in Puerto Rico in late 1962. I was working out when a weight fell on my knee. Because I knew that the team would give me flack, I didn't tell a soul other than my wife. I was determined not to let Dark get on my case any more than he already did.

Looking back, I know I should have said something. I was playing hurt and ultimately it cost me greatly. But day in and day out I struggled and played on in great pain. I managed to play 156 games in 1964. I missed the first three weeks in 1964 and still batted .304 with 31 home runs and 97 runs batted in. Yet Dark never really let up on me.

In 1962 we were playing a series in Milwaukee against the Braves. When I was nineteen years old and playing for the Minneapolis Millers, a woman named Juanita had taken care of me and treated me like a son. I was a long way from home and confused like any nineteen-year-old might be. I'd go to her house every day for lunch.

Since Milwaukee was within driving distance, she and her two daughters drove to see me in 1962. It was Sunday at eleven o'clock in the morning and we were on the bus waiting to go to the ballpark. Juanita and her daughters came by the bus to say good-bye to me. I left the bus to kiss and hug them. When Dark saw this, he got so mad he screamed, "Let's go!" at the bus driver. All three women were light-skinned Puerto Ricans. I don't think he could accept that.

The night before I'd had a hell of a game. I went 3 for 4 with two stolen bases and beat Warren Spahn with a home run. When we got to County Stadium that afternoon, I didn't see my name in the lineup. Dark was mad because he saw me with the three light-skinned women and was taking it out on me. I was angry, really angry. Hank Sauer had to calm me down.

In the 9th inning we were behind 9-1. There were two outs when he decided to use me as a pinch hitter. I didn't want to go to the plate, but Hank reminded me that I had to. I hit a ground ball to second base and was so fed up I just walked halfway to first. When I got back to the clubhouse, Dark told me I was fined for not running the ball out. I snapped. I was crying because I was so mad. I jumped up and ran after him. I had reached my limit. It had finally gotten so that there were days I didn't even want to go to the ballpark. He was breaking my spirit.

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