You're on third and a guy lofts one back of first. The first baseman grabs it and falls. You light out for home and make the slide. You're 37 and the best they've got and it's a measly spring training game.
The pitch looks fat so you give it a wrenching ripple and you miss, twisting clear around on ailing legs that must support the team all season and the season hasn't even started yet.
You're going inside for the lead on the first turn when your horse lugs out, trips and you go down under hoofs. You're a top jock, riding a long shot in a highly unimportant race.
Why do you do it? Because it's your business. You're a professional.
Mickey Mantle, New York's switch-hitting young and fragile slugger, takes round-house, left-handed swipe. Mick hit the next pitch for a single, but the Red Sox won the game 8-5.
Stan Musial, St. Louis' grand old man, breaks into his famous grin as he slides home, beating the throw from Yankee First Baseman John Jaciuk. The Yanks lost this one, too, 6-0.
Willie Shoemaker lies crumpled in pain on Santa Anita track, after his mount, Naboo, stumbled and threw him. Willie, luckily, suffered nothing but sprained ligaments in his left leg.