the Shortstop (1992) (14 page)

"Rube, you're on."

" Git in the game, now, you long, lanky, scared-lookin' beanpole ! "

On the way out, Chase, dazed at himself, not understanding why he ha
d
joined in the unanimous attack on Poke, slipped up to him an
d
whispered, " Don't mind it. We mean well. Keep your nerve and pitc
h
hard."

The bleachers showed a disposition to resent Mac's choice in such a
n
important game, and were not slow in voicing their feelings. " Mac
,
where did you get it? "

" Lock the gate! Lock the gate! " "Get some straw for the calves of its legs!

"

" Help! Help! Help! Help!"

" Well ! Well ! Well ! "

Poke undoubtedly showed nervousness when he faced the first Toled
o
batter, and he was wild. He drove the batter back from the plate, an
d
then gave him his base on balls. The bleachers broke out in a roar. Bu
t
the Findlay players then showed one of the beautiful features o
f
baseball, a thing that makes the game what it is.

Hicks walked toward the pitcher, and handing him the ball said: " Eas
e
up! Ease up! Pitch fer my mitt! Take more time ! " Then from all th
e
players came soft, aggressive encouragement.

"Make 'em hit, sonny," said Enoch, " Remember there's seven men bac
k
here playin' with you,"

" Don't let any more walk, old man,'' said Ford.

"There's a stone wall behind you, Pokie, so put 'em over," said Benny.

"Let them hit to me," said Chase. From the out-field came low calls of similar import.

Poke's heart swelled in his throat, as could be seen by the way he swallowed. He was white and dripping with sweat. His perturbation was so manifest that the Toledo players jeered at him. His situation then was the most important and painful stage in the evolution of a pitcher. Much depended on how he would meet it. He threw the ball toward the next batter, who hit it back at him. Poke made a good stop of the ball, dropped it, recovered it, and then stood helpless. Both runners were safe. The Toledo players yelled; the bleachers roared; Poke's chance shone a little dimmer.

Again the Findlay players voiced their characteristic inspiriting calls.

Poke threw off his cap and again faced a batter.

"Stay with 'em till your hair blows out!" called Enoch.

The batter hit the next ball sharply to Chase. He was on it with a leap, picked it up cleanly, touched second-base on the run, and whipped it to first
,
making a double play. The runner on second had of course reached third.

"Two down, old man!" "Play the hitter!" "Make him hit!"

Toledo's man drove up a long fly in Thatcher's direction. As he ran to get under it, the bleachers yelled: " In the well! In the well! " Past experience had taught them what fate to expect of a fly-ball hit to the Dude.

For Findlay, Enoch went out on a foul to the catcher; Thatcher had two strikes called, missed the next, and retired in disgust. Chase, now batting third, worked a base on balls. A passed ball sent him to second. Then Havil hit sharply through short field.

Chase started for third with all his speed. The play was for him to score. When he reached third he was going like the wind. As he circled round the base, Budd, the Toledo third-baseman, stuck out his hip. Chase collided with it, went hurtling through the air, and rolled over and over. He felt a severe pain, and the field whirled round. H
e
could not make a move before Budd got the ball and touched him out.

Mac and Enoch came running, and the former spoke some hot words t
o
Budd.

" Wot you givin' us?" said that individual.

"Didn't he run agin me? Go soak your head!"

Enoch was bending over Chase. Mittie ran out with a cup of water, an
d
other players surrounded them. " I'm not hurt much, I guess," sai
d
Chase. " I'm only dizzy. Wait a minute. What did he do to me?"

"Call time," yelled Mac to the umpire. "Chase, I told you to look out fo
r
Budd. Thet's his old trick. He gave you the hip. Stuck out his hip an'
s
pilled you all over the field. It's a dirty trick, an' a bad thing for a fas
t
man to run agin. I hope you ain't hurt. Shure, you did tumble,-won'
t
forgit thet in a hurry."

"Say, Budd, why don't you ever try that on me?" demanded Cas.

"Bah!" replied Budd, and walked toward the bench.

Chase was considerably shaken up and bruised, but able to go on wit
h
the game.

He did not say another word about it, only he made a mental reservation that he would surprise Mr. Budd the next time he rounded third base.

Some snappy fielding saved Poke again in the second inning, and in the third Toledo made a run on a base on balls, a hit and a fly to the out-field. Then the long pitcher seemed to settle down and lose his nervousness. Thereafter he mowed the Toledo batters down as if they had been cornstalks on his farm. The harder he worked, the swifter he threw, the steadier he became. He was ungainly, he did not know how to pitch, but what speed he had! The fickle bleachers atoned for their derision, the grandstands showed their delight; and the Findlay players, one and all, kept talking to him, lauding him to the skies, and belittling the hitters who faced him.

" Oh ! I don't know! Pretty poor, I guess not! "

" Poke 'em over, Poke! "

"Speed! Oh, no ! You can't see 'em !" "Grand, Rube, grand!"

In the eighth inning, when Findlay came in for their bat. Chase ran into the dressing-room and searched for a horseshoe nail that he remembered seeing. He put it in his pocket. There was one man out when he came to the bat, and he determined to get his base. As luck would have it he placed a hot single in right field. As soon as he reached first and stopped he took the horseshoe nail out of his pocket and held it firmly in his left hand, point exposed.

One glance toward the bench gave him the sign. Mac's score card was in sight, which meant to run on the first ball pitched. Chase watched the Toledo pitcher with hawk-like eyes. He got up on his toes and as the pitcher started to swing, Chase started for second base. He heard the crack of a ball as Havil hit it, and he saw it shoot out over short to bound between the running fielders.

He ran as he had never run before, turned second, raced for third, and gripped his horseshoe nail. Budd was leisurely backing into third base trickily, to get there just at the right instant. Chase sped onward, with his eye on tha
t
muscular hip. He saw it suddenly, like a gray flash, protrude in his path, and using all his force he swung upward with the horseshoe nail.

Budd sprang spasmodically into the air.' " Aa-gh ! " A hoarse yell escaped him. The crowd in the stands and bleachers did not know what Chase had done, but as he easily scored, while Budd walked Spanish, they divined the triumph of retaliation, and howled with all the might of fair-minded lovers of sport.

But the Findlay players and the Toledo players knew how the little youngster Chase had "got back" at the veteran Budd. It was a play such as every ball player revelled in. It embodied the great spirit of the game. And to a man they broke out and pranced over the field in unbridled joy. For a time the game was interrupted.

And the best part of the incident was when, after Findlay had won 7 to 3, Budd went into the Findlay dressing-room and said to Chase:

" Kid, shake hands. I 've been lookin' fer thet fer years."

Chapter
XII.

POPULARITY
.

SMALL boys ushered in the Fourth of July with a bang. The noise began at daybreak, and at nine o'clock when the ball team left for Kenton, it was in full blast. A train-load of happy enthusiasts accompanied the team. Small boys without tickets hid under the seats, with determination in their hearts and hearts in their throats. And the conductor, being a boy himself that morning, with a wager on Findlay, saw nothing.

" Five hundred strong we're goin' Over," said Mac, rubbing his hands. " Shure we'll draw down a big slice of gate-money today."

" Rotten arrangement, this mornin' game at Kenton," growled his players. " Kenton is bad enough on any day. But the Fourth ! Oh, Lord! What they'll do to us ! "

"We can't win," continued Cas, pessi!
m
istically. "We'll be dodgin' giant firecrackers, mark what I say!"

When they bowled into the Kenton grounds and poured out of the bus
,
an enormous shirt-sleeved crowd roared a welcome that was defiance.

Then waiting showers of red fire-crackers began to fly, and the scen
e
became a smoke clouded battlefield. Small guns popped incessantly an
d
artillery worked strenuously. When this explosion subsided and th
e
smoke rolled away, the Findlay team stood covered with little red an
d
yellow pieces of paper and sniffing the brimstone in the air.

" Git in an' scrap today, boys," cried Enoch, and for once his voice wa
s
not soft.

"There's nothing to it," said Cas, forgetting his prophecy.

"A short, hard practice now," added Mac. "Start the dust! Dig 'em up an'
p
eg 'em! Keep lively an' noisy ! "

Kenton was very different from Wheeling, being one of those basebal
l
towns where the patrons of the game could not see a point, or appreciat
e
a play, o
r
applaud a game unless it was won by their own team. This operated to the poor showing of their team, because when opposing teams visited Kenton they were driven to desperation by the criticism and taunts and atmosphere of an unsportsman-like crowd, and they fought the games to the last ditch.

Mac particularly warned his players not to question a single decision of the umpire. That official, "Silk" O'Connor, base-ballically reported to be as smooth as silk, was to be in the points that day. Silk was the best umpire in the league. But he was not especially beloved in Kenton. He had officiated in too many games lost by one run. And Silk had an irritating habit of adding a caustic comment to some of his rulings, a kind of wit that did not inspire the players to silence. Further, which seemed unreasonable, he never allowed a player to talk back to him.

"Lookout for Silk today, boys," concluded Mac. " He's up agin it here, same as we are. Don't expect no close decisions. Don't even look at him.

Jest drive these Kenton pitchers to the woods. Make the game one-sided."

" Play ball!" called Silk.

Enoch had scarcely reached the batter's box when the Kenton pitcher delivered the ball. "Strike!" called Silk, then in low voice, " Foggy eye." Another ball came speeding up. "Strike two!-up late last night?" Enoch's round face grew red, and the lump in his cheek swelled out. He slammed at the next ball and sent it safely past the third-baseman. Thatcher hurried up and took his position on the left side of the plate.

" Strike ! " called Silk. " Hair brushed fine, Dude! "

Thatcher bunted the next ball and dashed for first. The pitcher fielded the ball and overthrew, letting Enoch go to third and Thatcher to second.

" Don't wait!" Whispered Mac to Chase. " Bing the first good one!" Chase did bing one, and that with a vengeance. He had the ability to line the ball. This particular hit seemed t
o
be going straight into the hands of the centre-fielder, but just before reaching him it sailed up and shot over his head.

" Oh - h ! " yelled Cas, on the coaching line. " Take your time, Enoch. Slow down, Dude, it's easy. Oh, my! I guess it wasn't a beaut. Come on! Come on! Come on! Slide, Chase, slide. That 's the way to hit the ground.

Havil batted up a high fly to an outfielder. Chase leaned forward and watched the ball till it landed in the fielder's hands, then he darted for the plate. The fielder threw quickly, making a fine race between ball and runner. But Chase had never yet been thrown out on such a play. He slid over the plate just as the ball sped into the catcher's hands.

The game progressed. Kenton came in for their inning and failed to score. Castorious was in rare form; on a hot day his arm was like India rubber. Findlay added one run in the second and again blanked their opponents. In the third Chase got his second hit, and thre
e
hits following his, coupled with a base on balls and two errors, netted three more runs. Again Cas foiled the Kenton batters, and the impatient crowd stamped. In the fifth, two Kenton players hit safely with one out.

The crowd began to howl. Hicks snapped the ball to Benny, who tagged the runner trying to get back to second. " Out ! " called Silk.