BOARDERS VS. TOWNERS
Hal Morris, as a pitcher, was not in the same class with Sam Phillips,
nor was he nearly so good as Mort Prince. He had speed and two or three
simple curve balls that weren’t very puzzling, especially as almost
every one of the Towners had stood up to him in front of the batting
net and were well used to his pitching. It was a foregone conclusion
that the Towners would hit Morris good and hard. If the Boarders
were to win the game it must be through tight fielding and an equal
dexterity with the bat. Dolph, pretty sore over the trick that had been
sprung on him, determined grimly that his team should win in spite of
the handicap. And for a time it really looked as though the Boarders
might come through victorious, for Morris, working finely with Dolph,
struck out Tyler Wicks, amidst the cheers and jeers of the Boarders;
disposed of Ducky Drake in the same manner, and threw Coolidge out at
first.
“That’s good work, Hal,” said Dolph as they retired to the bench. “Keep
that up and we’ll put it all over them.”
Truesdale worked Prince for a pass and got to second on Dolph’s neat
sacrifice hit to third. But Grady was an easy out, shortstop to first,
and Ted Warner popped an infield fly to second baseman. Again in the
second inning Morris held the enemy safely, and the opinion became
current that Morris was a better man on the mound than he had been
given credit for being, and that Shay was making a mistake in not using
him more. With one out and men on first and second, Morris himself
started the double play that retired the Towners.
But if Prince’s team was unable to score, so too was Dolph’s. Up to the
beginning of the fourth inning the only hit that had been made was of
a scratch variety by Smythe, and neither side had reached third base.
So far the spectators had remained in what, for a Towner-Boarder game,
was a very orderly condition. But when Gus Turnbull found Morris for
a two-bagger right at the start of the fourth the Towners’ enthusiasm
began to bubble. And it boiled over when Joe Williams followed with a
bunt that advanced Turnbull and left him safe on first. Morris began to
look worried and Dolph strove to steady him down. But Morris had never
faced real trouble before, and with the coachers trying their best to
rattle him and the Towners along the third base line ably seconding
their efforts, he began to lose control. He pitched four balls to
Peters and the bases were filled. Boarders and Towners shouted at the
tops of their lungs, the latter trying to get the rival nine “up in the
air” and the former doing their best to drown out their enemies. Milton
Wales was up and Dolph knew that Milton was a weak batter. He signaled
for a straight ball “in the groove,” but Morris pitched a wild one that
Dolph just barely stopped. At this sign of disintegration the Towners,
highly delighted, redoubled their clamor.
“He’s up in a balloon! He’s up in a balloon!” shouted the coachers.
“He can’t put ’em over, Milt. You’ll walk, you’ll walk!”
And walk he did, for Morris, after registering one strike and having
two balls against him, sent in a wild one that took Wales on the elbow,
giving him his base and forcing in the first run.
Towners cavorted and turned somersaults on the turf, yelled and hooted.
Dolph walked down and had a whispered talk with Morris, and that
delighted the enemy even more.
“Talk it over, Dolph!” “No secrets there!” “That’s right, old chap,
change your signals!”
Ducky Drake, the Towners’ catcher, who followed Wales, should have been
an easy out. And yet, in some mysterious manner, he managed to connect
with a straight ball and drop it over second baseman’s head, scoring
two more runs. Pandemonium broke loose then.
“Here’s where we win it!” was the cry. “Oh, you poor old Boarders!”
“They’re up in the air! They’re up in the air!” chanted the coachers,
leaping ecstatically about at first and third. “Hit it out, Cap! He’s
easy!”
And Prince, smarting perhaps over his first fiasco at the plate, lined
a swift one between shortstop and third, sending in two more tallies
and placing himself on second by a fraction of a foot.
“Five to nothing!” shouted the Towners joyfully. “It’s a cinch! It’s a
picnic! Here’s Richard the First! Oh, you Dicky! Make it a home-run,
old man! Slam it into the brook!”
But Dick Furst was too anxious, for he found the first ball offered and
popped a tiny foul to Dolph. The Boarders, delighted at having at last
something to celebrate, howled lustily and the “band” did its level
best――or worst! That encouragement appeared to have its effect on Hal
Morris, for he steadied down and struck out Tyler Wicks for the second
time! Wicks scowled at the umpire and slammed his bat down angrily. The
Boarders jeered loudly.
“Oh, you wicked Wicks!” “Say, Wicks, your flame’s out!” “Why didn’t you
hit it, Tyler?”
With two out, Tom Coolidge stepped up looking desperately determined,
but Dolph knew Tom’s weakness for high balls and signaled Morris
accordingly. Coolidge was fooled once and then hit a long fly to
Truesdale in centre field and the first half of the fatal inning was
over.
Hal Morris looked pretty miserable as he went to the bench, but the
others cheered him up as best they could. “You’re doing all right, old
man,” said Ted consolingly. “You had a little bit of hard luck; that’s
all. You can hold them down the rest of the game.”
But Morris shook his head doubtfully.
“I don’t know, Ted. My arm’s getting pretty lame. I haven’t pitched
more than five innings for a long time, you see.”
“You’re up, Ted,” said Dolph. “Try a bunt if he gives you a chance, and
when you get to second run on anything. We’ve got to get those fellows
going. They’ll make all sorts of errors if we can only start them.”
Ted went to bat amidst the frenzied tooting of the cornet, the wild
beating of the drum and the mingled strains of rattles, harmonicas and
other instruments. This riot of sound was, of course, aimed at Mort
Prince in the hope that it would affect his pitching, but where there
is a deafening turmoil already a little sound more or less doesn’t make
much difference. Prince tried Ted with a low one that was palpably a
ball, offered him one above his shoulder, and then settled down to
strike him out. But Ted found what he wanted after a strike had been
called, connected with it lightly, loosening his grip on the bat at the
same moment, and streaked for first. It was a slow trickling bunt along
the third base line and both catcher and third baseman ran for it.
Catcher got to it first, scooped it up and threw to first, but Ted beat
out the ball by a narrow margin.
Cook was warned against hitting a long fly, and yet did that very
thing. As it happened, however, it was scored as a sacrifice, for Ted
made second after the catch by right fielder. With one out, Harry
Smythe was up. The shortstop was a good man on bases, but a poor
batsman, and with a hit necessary to score a tally Dolph wished that
some one else was at bat. But Smythe surprised Dolph and himself too,
I fancy, by finding the second ball pitched and placing it between
first baseman and the bag. Ted already had the signal and was streaking
for third before the crack of the bat reached his ears. Dolph, coaching
at third, looked, took a chance and waved him home. Right fielder had
been a little slow in backing-up, but now the ball was hurtling to
the plate. Ted, seeing that his only chance of scoring lay in getting
around the catcher, launched himself toward the back of the bag just
as the ball thumped into the catcher’s mitt. There was a cloud of dust
and catcher and runner were for a moment inextricably mixed up at the
plate. Then Mr. Shay said “Safe!” The Towners howled protests and the
Boarders shrieked their delight. And meanwhile Harry Smythe had reached
third and was all for stealing home in the confusion. But Dolph held
him by main force.
“Stay where you are, Harry. Play it safe. There’s only one out. Run up
the line and rattle Prince all you can, but don’t get caught.”
Mr. Shay refused to reverse his decision at the plate and the game
went on. Joe Cassart tapped his bat on the ground and faced Prince.
The latter was still peevish over the umpire’s decision, and before
he knew it had sent in two balls. He steadied down then and worked a
strike. But the next attempt was also a ball, and unholy glee seized
the Boarders. _Toot-toot_ went the cornet; _thumpity-thump_ went the
drum! Every one realized that here was a psychological moment; that if
the Towners could be rattled for five minutes the score would wear a
totally different aspect. So all voices along the first base line were
raised at Prince.
“Careful now, Mort, careful!” “That’s it, swing your arms up!” “Look
out for your foot! Don’t let it slip!” “A-a-ah! Right over the plate!”
“Wow! What a roast!” “Strike nothing! It was way up!” “Now, then, Mort!
Once more! Heave――――!”
“Four balls,” said Mr. Shay, and Joe trotted to first. Watkins took his
place. Dolph raised his voice above the turmoil.
“On your toes, on your toes! Take a lead!”
Watkins threw a swift glance at him and gripped his bat. The signal
for a double steal on the first ball thrown had been given. At first
Cassart danced a good twelve feet from base. At third Smythe ran up the
base line, shouting and waving his arms. Prince scorned them both and
pitched. It was a wide ball and Watkins swung at it.
“There he goes!” yelled Grady, coaching at first.
But the catcher knew better than to throw to second with a man twenty
feet from third. Instead he recovered quickly and hurled the ball to
the baseman in an endeavor to catch Smythe. As the ball left his hand
Smythe streaked for the plate. Third baseman caught it at arm’s length
and sped it back to the catcher. But Smythe’s lead had been a good one
and he threw himself between the catcher’s legs and reached home in
safety. Meanwhile Joe Cassart was almost at third. Back went the ball
there at a wild throw. Third baseman leaped into the air in a heroic
attempt to get it, but it passed a foot above his hands and Cassart
rounded the base and tallied the third run.
There was still but one man out, and Watkins, profiting by the general
stage-fright, hit an easy one to shortstop, who got it, dropped it,
found it again and then threw wide of first. Watkins went on to second.
A base hit would score him, but Morris was not equal to the emergency
and plumped a short fly into the second baseman’s mitt. The Towners
began to recover their equilibrium then, and, with two strikes and
only one ball, scored against him, Truesdale looked like an easy out.
But Prince, possibly with a desire to end the wretched inning, put one
across “in the groove” and Truesdale met it fairly. It went to right
field, and, although right fielder tried his best to reach it, it fell
to earth, a clean base-hit. Watkins scored easily. Dolph went to bat
next and his supporters howled joyfully, for Dolph was a good man with
the stick. A hot grounder between shortstop and second put Truesdale on
second and Dolph on first. Grady laid one down in front of the plate
and the catcher hurled it to third in an attempt to cut off Truesdale.
But third baseman dropped it and the runner was safe and the bases
filled again.
Ted was up for the second time in the inning. With three on bases it
was necessary to hit the ball outside the infield. That, however,
wasn’t so easy, for Mort Prince had steadied down and was once more
pitching good ball. “Strike!” said Mr. Shay.... “Ball!... Foul! Strike
two!... Ball! Two and two!... Ball three!”
Ted gripped his bat. This one would have to be a good one. And it was,
and ball and bat met. The result was a Texas Leaguer behind first.
Truesdale raced home, tallying the fifth run and tying the score, Dolph
made it 6 to 5. Grady took third on the throw-in and Ted was safe on
second. Time was called while Mr. Shay ordered the spectators back from
the base-lines. Cook went to bat looking like one determined to do or
die. But, when a clean hit would have scored Ted, the best he could do
was to hit a liner to third baseman, who was playing well in. Third
shot the ball to second, putting out Ted and ending the slaughter.
But 6 to 5 looked pretty good to the Boarders and they made the fact
known unmistakably. Dolph patted Morris on the back as that youth
walked to the pitcher’s box and picked up the ball. His arm may have
been tired and lame; undoubtedly it was; but you wouldn’t have guessed
it during the fifth and sixth innings, for only two Towners hit safely
and only once did a man reach second. In the same innings the Boarders
fared no better, for Prince struck out four of the eight men who faced
him.
In the seventh, the lucky seventh, as the Towners hopefully proclaimed
it, Morris began to weaken. Two one-baggers started the trouble, and a
base on balls, with one out, made the situation look rather desperate.
A double-play, however, neatly executed by Smythe, Dolph and Ted caught
a runner at the plate and nipped the batsman at first, awakening loud
jubilation amongst the Boarders.
In the last of the seventh Jack, who had taken Cook’s place at the
beginning of the fifth, had his first try at the bat, being the first
man up for the Boarders. He didn’t feel very hopeful as he faced
Prince, and Prince, recognizing a substitute, put the first two
deliveries over at different heights and scored two strikes. Then came
a ball. Then what looked to Jack like a straight one swerved wide of
the plate, fooling him and causing him to hit at it wildly. He was
prepared to walk back to the bench when shrieks of “Run, you chump!”
sent him speeding for first. Catcher had let the third strike go by,
and to do that today was fatal, for the ball once lost in the crowd
was extremely difficult to locate, it being kicked here and there by
the spectators. Urged on by the coachers, Jack went on to second and
finally to third and would have raced home amidst the urgent appeals of
the Boarders had not Mr. Shay waved him back to first. Dolph objected
to the ruling, but the umpire was firm. Smythe fouled out to third
baseman. Cassart struck out and Jack got his orders to steal. He shot
away for second on the first ball thrown and would have been out had
shortstop, who received the throw-down, held the ball. But he and Jack
collided and the ball trickled away in the dust. But Jack got no
further, for Watkins was an easy third out, pitcher to first.
The Towners started a rally in the eighth that looked very promising.
Morris showed his weariness plainly now, and the balls he pitched
wouldn’t have fooled any intelligent batsman. That he received no worse
punishment than he did only proved the inability of the opponents to
take advantage of the situation. The first man up hit safely for one
base and then was caught off. The next man lined a three-bagger over
center fielder’s head and might have stretched it into a home run had
he used more speed and better judgment. Then came a base on balls,
followed by an easy steal to second. The fourth man hit what looked
like a safe one into left field, but Jack made a fine run and pulled
it down, following that up with a throw to the plate that caught the
runner from third a foot short of base and retired the side.
“What do you think about it?” asked Ted wearily as he sank to the bench
beside Dolph. Dolph wiped his face on his sleeve and shook his head
doubtfully.
“If there was only some one we could put in for Hal,” he said, “we
might hold them. But Hal’s just about all in, and if the game goes to
extra innings he will be plugged all over the lot and they will do
what they like to us. Say, Joe Cassart, you used to pitch, didn’t you?
Couldn’t you hold those chaps down for a couple of innings?”
“Pitch? I never could do anything,” answered Joe. “I used to try it,
but I was no earthly good. I’d do it in a minute, Dolph, if I thought I
could help. But you’d be worse off than you are now, old man.”
“Well, we’ll just have to work hard and shut them out,” said Dolph
resignedly. “If Sam Phillips ever shows up again I’ll have something to
say to him for being such an easy mark!”
In the Boarders’ half of the eighth Morris struck out miserably,
Truesdale sent up a fly to second baseman, and Dolph’s desperate
attempt to beat out a bunt resulted unsuccessfully.
“We must keep them from scoring,” said Dolph to Morris as they went
out again for the first of the ninth. “How’s the arm?”
“Well, I can just about lift it,” answered Morris grimly. “I’ll do the
best I can, Dolph, but I’m afraid they’ll paste me hard this time. Give
me all the high balls you can; they’re easier to pitch. Who’s up!”
“Wicks. Let him hit it out, Hal. We’ll help all we can.”
Morris nodded silently and walked to the box.
“Batter up!” called Mr. Shay.
Wicks let the first delivery go by and scowled indignantly when the
umpire called it a strike. Then Morris sent one across waist-high and
Wicks found it easily. It proved to be a long, arching fly to centre
field, and Truesdale should have got under it without difficulty, but
in some manner that youth got his feet twisted and measured his length
on the turf at the very moment he should have put his hands up. Wicks
went to second. Dolph turned away with a groan, but down at first Ted
clapped his hands and shouted encouragement.
“Never mind that, fellows. Play for the double!”
Coolidge swung at an easy one, popped up three fouls in succession back
of the plate――none of which Dolph could get because of the interference
of the crowd――and then, with two strikes against him, calmly and
deliberately waited and drew a pass! Morris looked dejected as Gus
Turnbull faced him. Coolidge was taking a big lead at first and Dolph
signaled Morris to catch him. Morris swung around quickly and heaved
the ball. But his arm was no longer dependable and the throw went wild,
and before Ted could get it both runners had moved up.
Dolph waved the infield players in. “Play for the plate now, fellows,”
he called.
Turnbull hit a slow grounder toward shortstop and Smythe, smothering it
dexterously, held Wicks at third for a moment and then threw to first.
He had waited an instant too long, however, and Mr. Shay rendered a
close decision in favor of Turnbull. The bases were full and no one
out.
“_Home run! Home run! Home run!_” chanted the Towners in a wild chorus
as Joe Williams walked to the plate. The Boarders, defeat staring them
in the face, were a silent lot.
Morris’s delivery was getting weaker and more uncertain every minute.
One ball.... Two balls.... Foul strike.... Three balls.... Morris
looked wearily to Dolph for the signal, but that youth had turned
his back to the plate. There was a stir in the crowd and then Dolph,
snatching off his mask, stepped in front of the batsman and called to
Mr. Shay:
“I want time, Mr. Umpire.”
“What for?” asked Mr. Shay impatiently.
“To change pitchers, sir!”