_A Game and an Ally Won_
On the evening before the game with St. Mary’s, the first of the “big”
games of the college year, the baseball squad of Cascade College,
numbering nineteen men, with Manager Clark presiding, met to discuss
plans for the battle.
The preliminary games had been played, and the Cascade team was playing
more steadily and brilliantly than ever before. Captain Kirkland had
shifted the lineup several times, in order to try out the men and there
was much discussion among the students as to how the team would line up
for the initial struggle of the year against an important club. The
meeting had proceeded quietly for some time when Clark called upon
Captain Kirkland to outline the battle plans.
“Fellows,” said Larry, “I have thought this out the best I can and I
hope that no one will take it to heart if not selected for this game. I
think it best that Arksall start the game for us, with Katsura ready to
relieve him if he needs it. That will give us more hitting strength. I
have placed Wares at short, and myself at third”—He paused and a murmur
arose from the place where several of the veterans of the team were
sitting.
“The rest will play in their regular positions excepting Jacobs”——
The murmur from the veterans arose to exclamations of surprise. Harry
Baldwin and Jacobs were off the team.
“I knew we wouldn’t get a fair deal,” said Baldwin, so that every one in
the room could hear. Larry quickly accepted the challenge.
“I left Baldwin and Jacobs off the team,” he said slowly, “because, for
the last week, they have been breaking training rules and have not shown
the proper spirit either on or off the field. Besides, I believe the men
chosen for their places are better ball players than they are. I am
willing to leave it to a vote of the club and abide by their decision if
any one is dissatisfied.”
Larry flung the challenge at the little group of malcontents.
“Don’t do it,” urged Clark hotly. “You’re the judge.”
“I’d rather have the club vote,” persisted Larry, “if I am wrong, the
sooner we find it out the less harm there is done.”
There were murmurs of protest, muttered consultations and the vote was
taken. Clark opened the slips of paper and read them off. The result of
the vote stood 16 to 4 in favor of Kirkland’s decision.
“The majority seems to think I’m right,” said Larry. “Anyhow, we’ll try
it this time.”
“You can’t take a C man off the team that way,” protested Jacobs. “I
earned my place and if I don’t play to-morrow I won’t play at all.”
“Very well,” said Larry firmly. “We cannot compel you to play—but I
imagine the opinion of the students will be against you if you quit that
way.”
The meeting ended quietly, but the open dissension in the ranks had its
effect. After the meeting, the players broke up into small groups and
scattered, discussing the situation. The news of the trouble in the club
spread like wildfire over the campus and interest in the game was
redoubled. Lattiser, who, while holding aloof, always was ambling into
the scene when trouble threatened, was among the first to rally to the
support of Kirkland’s methods. During the morning he strolled over the
campus, rallying the Seniors, and half an hour before the game started
he led a marching force of Seniors, in cap and gowns, to the park and,
before they took their seats, he signaled, and the Seniors, standing,
gave vent to three long cheers for Kirkland.
The moral support of the Seniors overawed the malcontents. Harry Baldwin
and Jacobs, who had been loitering around as if undecided as to what
they were going to do, suddenly changed front, donned their uniforms and
took their places in the preliminary practice.
The game started as if to be a walkover for St. Mary’s. The big batters
of the academy fell upon Arksall’s fast curve and fast ball in the first
inning and drove out two hits before he had settled to his task.
“Slow up, slow up,” urged Larry feverishly. “Lob the ball to them.”
But Arksall was too “rattled” by the unexpected onslaught to heed the
advice and, pitching blindly, he hurled the ball high over Winans’ head
and let the runners advance to second and third bases. An instant later
Hoskins, the big St. Mary’s first baseman, drove a line single to right
center. Trumbull fielded the ball perfectly, and threw fast toward the
plate. The throw was vain, as both runners would score on the hit, but
Kirkland, cutting in, caught the ball in the middle of the diamond,
snapped it to McAtee, and Hoskins was caught going to second.
“That clears the bags,” yelled Larry. “Steady now, fellows—stop ’em.”
The play restored Arksall’s nerves to some extent, and he pitched more
carefully, and, although St. Mary’s made two more hits in the inning
they failed to score again.
“Only two runs on four solid hits, boys,” yelled Larry. “Now get at them
and get those runs back.”
Meisler, of St. Mary’s, a speedy left-handed pitcher, however, refused
to permit them to hit, and the game rushed along, with the score 2 to 0,
through the fourth. Arksall had steadied and was pitching well, while
the team behind him was playing brilliantly. Twice little McAtee had
proved the wisdom of Larry’s choice of second basemen by brilliant stops
that shut off runs.
“We’ve got to get started, fellows,” said Larry as he came to the bench
at the end of St. Mary’s fifth inning. “I’m first up. I’m going to try
bunting. Then, Torney, you hit the first ball and, McAtee, you wait and
make him pitch. Wares, if you get up, hit the first ball. We’ll try to
get him guessing as to what we are going to do.”
Larry faced Meisler and swung viciously at the first ball pitched,
missing it purposely, and the crowd, especially the St. Mary’s
adherents, roared with laughter.
Meisler grinned and pitched a fast ball, and Larry bunting perfectly
toward third base, raced across first before the surprised pitcher or
third baseman could move toward the ball. The plan was beginning to
work. Torney, who was a clever actor, shortened his grip on the bat,
crouched and pretended he intended to bunt, but hit the first ball
pitched hard, and drove it so fast past McNamara’s head that the St.
Mary’s third baseman could only dodge, and Larry reached third and
Torney second, and the Cascade adherents went wild. Wares, obeying
orders, strove for a base on balls, but flied out and Larry scored after
the catch. McAtee bunted safely and a fly ball sent Torney across the
plate with the tying run.
The sixth found the teams battling on even terms, but in the first half
of the seventh an error, quickly followed by a hit and two long flies,
gave St. Mary’s two more runs and seemed to decide the game.
The last of the eighth found Cascade still struggling in the rut.
“We upset them last time by bunting,” said Larry. “Arksall, you’re
leading off, try it. They’ll not expect it from you.”
The big pitcher, awkward and notoriously a poor hitter and a slow
runner, had struck out twice, and among the critics of the game in the
stands there was a murmur when he was permitted to bat again, a murmur
of disapproval that changed to one of laughing applause when he bunted
toward third and went lumbering across first ahead of the ball.
“You run for him, Katsura,” ordered Larry. “I’m going to hit the second
ball he pitches toward right field, if possible. I’ll pretend to bunt
the first.”
His plan worked perfectly. Maloney, drawn out of position to field the
bunt, saw the ball bound past him and before it could be recovered,
Katsura was on third and Larry on first. Torney was too anxious, and his
high fly seemed to end the rally.
Larry turned quickly to Trumbull, who was coaching.
“Send Jacobs up to hit for McAtee,” he ordered. “We’ve got to win it
here.”
Jacobs, who had been fretting on the bench, sprang to the bats and
rushed to the plate. The first ball that Meisler pitched was a foot
above his head, but he hit it with terrific force, and sent it rolling
to the cinder path far beyond the outfielders. Before it could be
retrieved, all three runners had crossed the plate and Cascade led 5 to
4.
There Katsura held them, and Cascade rejoiced in victory dragged from
defeat.
In the club house, as the excited victors dressed and discussed the
events of the afternoon, Jacobs approached Larry Kirkland:
“Thank you,” he said simply. “I was wrong. My dad came over to see the
game—and it would have hurt him if I had not played.”
Larry grasped the extended hand heartily. One, at least, of the
opposition was converted.