He could hit too. He ended the day's doubleheader with two doubles and a single, which wasn't bad. The Yankees won the first game 5-3, and only dropped the nightcap 2-1 as a result of a ninth-inning Boston homer. Even a centaur in the outfield couldn't protect against home runs.

The following week's games showed that his biggest strengths were in fielding and baserunning. Once he got the hang of it, Mark proved a whiz at stolen bases. The sight of him galloping into second at a full charge was enough to intimidate most any second baseman in the league. By the end of July, the Yankees had climbed into a tie with Boston for first place in the American League East.

That was when I was approached by Lippy Lewis.

Lippy was a gambler who specialized in sports betting of any kind. He'd bet big money on Boston as an early-season favorite to take both the pennant and the World Series, and he wasn't about to lose it. "Tell me something, Danny," he said one afternoon in August after the Yankees had extended a midseason winning streak to seven games. "Do you think that Eques guy could be bought off?"

"Lippy, you always did have a big mouth," I told him. "I guess that's how you got your name. Do you want me to run what you just said in tomorrow's edition? I could probably even get your picture in. What were you thinking of offering him-oats?"

Lippy shrugged. "Money. Women. He must have some weakness."

"Stay away from him, Lippy, or I will print that."

"Hell, you're a Boston guy! The Sox are your meal ticket too."

"Mark Eques is my meal ticket this year. He's the greatest thing that's happened to baseball in two decades. Stay away from him, Lippy, or you'll be in big trouble."