the Shortstop (1992) (20 page)

Chase
.
SS
Horn
.
C
.

Havil
.
LF
Wilson
.
3B
.

Benny
.
2B
Harvey
.
CF
.

Ford
.
1B
O'Rourke
.
RF
.

Speer
.
RF
Starke
.
2B
.

Hicks
.
C
Hains
.
1B
.

Castorious
.
P
Ward
.
P
.

Umpire, 'Connor.

Mac threw up his hands when he saw the name of the umpire. The truth o
f
the matter was that Mac was in a highly nervous state. Managing a ball-team was only one point less trying than governing an army in the field. The long campaign had worn Mac out. " Silk! " he exclaimed. " I wired the president to send any umpire but Silk. He's after us!"

Then Cas put on Algy's coat of white and blue and sent him out. Algy knew his business. As the gong called the Columbus players in from practice, Algy pranced round the diamond. When he reached the plate Cas, who had stepped from the bench, called sharply to him. Algy promptly stood up on his hind legs.

"That 's for Findlay ! " yelled Cas to the stands.

Then Algy made a ludicrous but valiant effort to stand on his head. " That 's for Columbus! " yelled Cas. The long laughing roar of the delighted crowd attested to the popular regard for the great pitcher and his dog.

"What'll we take, the field or bat?" asked Mac, beginning to fidget. " Hev you lost your nut? " inquired Enoch, softly. "Bat! the bat! Now, fellers, git in the game. We're all on edge. Ward has always been hard for us to beat, but if we can once git him started it's all off."

"Chase, come here," said Mac; then he whispered, " I can't keep it. Burke, the Detroit manager, is up in the stand. For Lord's sake, break loose today. Mannin' sez to me jest a minute ago thet if you git two hits in this game your average 'll go over 400. I oughtn't to tell you, but I can't help it."

"I'm glad you did," replied Chase, with his fingers clenching into his bat. "Ward's got steam today," growled Mittie-maru. "You guys want 'er perk up!

"Play ball !" called Silk. The crowd shouted one quick welcoming cry and then subsided into watchful waiting suspense.

Enoch hit a fly to Kelly, and Thatcher went out, Wilson to Hains. Chase sent a slow grounder towards short. Wilson fielded the ball as quickly as possible and made a good throw, but Chase, run!
n
ing like a deer, beat the ball to first. The eager crowd opened up. Havil, however, fell a victim to Ward's curves.

For Columbus Welch hit safely, Kelly sacrificed, sending the fleet left-fielder to second. On the next play he stole third and scored on Horn's long fly to Havil. Wilson fouled out. Findlay 0, Columbus 1.

Mac began to fidget worse than ever and greeted Cas with a long face. " Wot 's the matter with you? Ball doesn't seem to hev any speed." Cas deigned not to notice the little manager.

When Benny got a base on balls Mac nudged the player next to him and brightened up. "Bunt, Ford," he said, and when Ford laid down a neat sacrifice Mac nudged the player on the other side. " Thet 's good; thet 's good!" Speer hit safely, scoring Benny. Thereupon Mac jammed his elbow into Enoch's ribs and bubbled over.

"Makin' sausage agin? inquired the genial captain, with soft sarcasm. All the players had sore ribs from thes
e
jabs of Mac's elbows. He had the most singular way, when the team was winning, of slipping from one end of the bench to the other, jabbing his appreciation of good plays into the anatomy of his long-suffering team. Cas never sat on the bench and Enoch, always forgetful, usually came in for most of the jabs.

Hicks made a good bid for a hit, but, being slow, could not get to first ahead of the ball. Speer went to third. Cas got a double along the left foul line, Enoch walked on balls, and Thatcher's hit scored Cas. The Columbus second-baseman caught Enoch trying to get a lead off second. Findlay 3, Columbus 1.

All the while the crowd roared, and all the while Mac on the bench was going through his peculiar evolutions. "A bingo ! Good ! " - jab and jab - " Will you look at thet? "- jab and jab -" Keep after 'em" - jab and jab - "Oh! Oh! run, you Indian, run." -jab, jab, jab.

Neither team scored in the third; Findlay failed again in the fourth, but
Columbus tied the score. The game began to get warm.

With one man out Chase opened the fifth with a hard hit to right. He be!lieved he could stretch it into a double and strained every nerve. He saw the second-baseman brace himself, and without slackening his speed he leaped feet first into the air. He struck the ground and shot through the dust to the base. Just an instant after he felt the baseman tag him sharply with the ball. Lying there, Chase looked for the umpire. Silk came racing down, swept his right hand toward the side-lines and said
,
" You made a grand slide - but you 're out!"

It seemed then that Chase's every vein burst with the mad riot of hot blood. He sprang to his feet. " Out? Out? Why, he never touched me till after I hit the bag."

" Don't show off before Burke," called Silk. " You're out ! Perambulate ! " Chase stamped in his fury, but the mention of Burke cooled him. As he walked off the whole Findlay team, led by Mac, made for the umpire with angry eyes.

" Go back! Go back ! " yelled Silk. "To the bench! I'm running this game. To the bench or I'll flash my watch!"

The uproar in the stands and bleachers gave place to an uproar back of centre-field. A portion of fence suddenly crashed forward, and through the gap poured a black stream of yelling boys and men.

That one bad decision had served to upset Mac's equilibrium, and he was now raging. Enoch reasoned with him, Cas swore at him, some of the other players gave him sharp answers. Mac was plainly not himself. He showed it in that inning when he discarded the usual signs and told the team to go ahead on its own hook. Havil and Benny failed to get on base, and once more the Columbus team trotted in to bat.

Then the unexpected, the terrible, happened. By sharp hitting Columbus scored five runs. Cas labored in the box, but he could not stem the torrent of base hits. A fast double play by Chase an
d
Benny and a good catch by Havil retired the side. Findlay 3, Columbu
s
8.

A profound gloom settled over the field. The bleachers groaned and a murmur ran through the grandstand. Cas walked up to the bench and confronted Mac.

"I'm done," said the great pitcher, simply. " My speed's gone. I strained my arm the last game. You'd better put Poke in. He's left-handed, and his speed will likely fool Columbus after my floaters. But say, I won't go out till I get a chance to get after Silk. He needs a little jacking up. He wouldn't give me the corners. I'll make him sick. And, fellows, don't quit."

"Oh! we're licked! We're licked!" cried Mac. Any one to have seen his face would have known how hard he had worked and what the pennant meant to him. But his players evidently were not of the same mind. They were mostly silent with knitted brows and compressed lips. Mittie-Maru never wavered in his crisp, curt encouragement.

"` Wot t' 'I llAE Wot do we care fer five runs? A couple of bingoes an' Ward'
s
in the air. We kin win with two out in the ninth, an' here we got enoug
h
time left to win two games. Stick at 'em! Don't quit! Keep the yello
w
down! We'll put this game on ice, all right, all right ! "

Cas slowly walked up to the plate. The great crowd had not hope enoug
h
to cheer. When the umpire called the first ball, which was pretty well u
p
to Cas's chin, a strike, the crowd yelled. Cas turned square rouind an
d
glared long at Silk. That worthy called another strike while CasAEs bac
k
was turned to the pitcher. He did right, of course, but the crowd did no
t
know it or think so. And they yelled louder. Cas made no effort t
o
hit at the next ball, which also was a strike.

"Out ! " called Silk, adjusting his indicator.

Cas turned upon the umpire. No tragedian ever put forth a greater effec
t
of outraged scorn and injustice.

" Wha-at?" he roared in a voice tha
t
penetrated to the remotest corners of the field. "Three strikes and out!"
r
epeated Silk.

" It was wide," yelled Cas, grandly.

"Batter up," called Silk.

"Say, haven't I a right to speak a word? " demanded Cas. He deliberatel
y
walked up to Silk. It was Cas's ruse, a trick as old as baseball, to make
a
fierce stand in order to influence the umpire on future close decisions.

Poor umpires theirs was the thankless task, the difficult task, and the
y
were only human.

" You're way off today, Silk," went on Cas. "You're rotten. You wouldn'
t
give me the corners, but you give them 'to Ward."

" Back to the bench," ordered Silk.

" Can't I say a word? "

"Not to me."

" You 're rotten ! "

"Costs you twenty-five l"

" Ha ! Now you 're going some! Queered my pitching, struck me out, an
d
now you fine me. We've got a grand show with you calling the plays.

Make it fifty, you robber!"

"Fifty it is!" replied Silk.

"Put me out of the game! You're from Columbus ! Go ahead ! put me ou
t
of the game!"

"Out you go!" shouted Silk.

The crowd heard and rose with a roar of rage. Cas was their idol, an
d
they were with him to a man. They stamped, yelled, and hissed thei
r
disapproval. It began to be a tight place for Silk, and he knew it. Righ
t
was on his side but under trying circumstances such as these, right di
d
not always triumph.

" Put me off the grounds ! " bawled Cas.

"Off you go !" yelled Silk, white in the face.

Then Cas showed his understanding of the crowd and the serious natur
e
of the situation. He had turned his trick; now to avert real disaster. I
t
would not have been wise for an umpire to call the game in the face o
f
that angry grandstand and crazy bleachers. Not one umpire in
a
hundred would have had the nerve. But it was evident that Cas though
t
Silk might, for he was not afraid of anything. So Cas waved his lon
g
arms to the crowds, motioning for them to sit down.

"All right, Silk, out for mine." Cas ran for the bench and grabbed his sweater. He shook his big fist in Poke's face. "Now, Rube, at 'em! Fast and
. O
ver the pan! Mittie, you roast this bunch of deaders back to life."

Mac was sitting with his head bowed in his hands. At Cas's last words he raised a heartbroken face, and began to rail at the umpire, at Cas for having a glass arm, and at all his players. When Enoch got hit by a pitched ball and thereby sent to his base, with Thatcher up, Mac senselessly yelled to him and tried to start the hit-and-run game, which he had a few moments before discarded.

Enoch and Thatcher got confused, and finally when Thatcher hit into second both were easy outs in a double play. Then the players, sore and disgusted, told Mac a few things. The little manager looked sick.

"I'm runnin' this team," he howled. Chase suddenly confronted him with blazing eyes.

"No, you're not running the team. You're queering our chances. You've lost your head. Go soak it ! Climb under the bench! Crawl through the fence ! Anything - only get out!"

Mac fell back a beaten man. His eyes bulged, his lips moved, but no sound came forth. It was plain that he could not believe what he had heard. Chase, his find, his idol, his star, had risen against him.

"We'll win this game yet. Go hide somewhere, so we can't see your face. Mittie will run the team."

" Mittie?" echoed Mac. Then a spark of Chase's inspiration touched his smouldering baseball sense. Managers and players often do strange things; they follow blind leads and believe in queer omens. They are as superstitious as Indians. Without a word Mac yielded to his impulse and left the bench.

Mittie-Maru jumped up into the vacated seat. A glow lighted his pale face; his beautiful eyes had a piercing, steely flash. "Rube," he said to Poke. "cut th
e
inside corner. Keep 'em high an' speed em up!