THE STEAM OF THE BATSMAN
All of Dick & Co. had made the High School nine, though not all
as star players in their positions.
Holmes had won out for left field, and Hazelton for shortstop.
As far as the early outdoor practice showed, the latter was going
to be the strongest man of the school in that important position.
Dalzell and Reade became first and second basemen.
During the rest of March practice proceeded briskly. Six days
in every week the youngsters worked hard at the field in the afternoons.
When it rained they put in their time at the gym.
On the second of April Coach Luce called a meeting of the baseball
squad at the gym.
"We're a week, now, from our first game, gentlemen," announced
the coach. "I want you all to be in flawless condition from now
on. I will put a question to you, now, on your honor. Has any
man broken training table?"
No one spoke or stirred. Ripley, who had gotten over the worst
of his sulks, was present, but he did not admit any of his many
breaches of the training table diet that he was pledged to follow
at home.
"Has any man used tobacco since training began?" continued the
coach.
Again there was silence.
"I am gratified to note that I can't get a response to either
question," smiled Mr. Luce. "This assures me that every one of
you has kept in the strictest training. It will show as soon
as you begin to meet Gridley's opponents in the field.
"Faithful observance of all training rules bespeaks a good state
of discipline. In all sports, and in team sports especially,
discipline is our very foundation stone. Every man must sacrifice
himself and his feelings for the good of the team. Each one of
you must forget, in all baseball matters, that he is an individual.
He must think of himself only as a spoke in the wheel.
"During the baseball season I want every man of you in bed by
nine-thirty. On the night before a game turn in at eight-thirty.
Make up your minds that there shall be no variation from this.
In the mornings I want every man, when it isn't raining, to go
out and jog along the road, in running shoes and sweaters, for
twenty minutes without a break; for thirty minutes, instead, on
any morning when you can spare the time.
"Whenever you can do so, practice swift, short sprints. Many
a nine, full of otherwise good men, loses a game or a season's
record just because this important matter of speedy base running
has been neglected.
"Not only this, but I want every one of you to be careful about
the method of sprinting. The man who runs flat-footedly is using
up steam and endurance. Run balanced well forward on the balls
of your feet. Throw your heels up; travel as though you were
trying to kick the backs of your thighs. Breathe through the
nose, always, in running, and master to the highest degree the
trick of making a great air reservoir of your lungs. We have
had considerable practice, both in jogging and in sprinting, but
this afternoon I am going to sprint each man in turn, and I'm
going to pick all his flaws of style or speed to small pieces.
We will now adjourn to the field for that purpose. Remember,
that a batsman has two very valuable assets---his hitting judgment
and his running steam. Wagons are waiting outside, and we'll
now make quick time to the field."
Arriving there, Coach Luce led them at once to the dressing rooms.
"Now, then, we want quick work!" he called after the sweaters
and ball shoes had been hurriedly donned.
"Now let us go over to the diamond; go to the home plate as I
call the names. Darrin Ripley-Prescott-Reade-Purcell-----"
And so on. The young men named made quick time to the plate.
"You're up, Darrin. Run! Two bases only. Halt at second! Ripley,
run! Reade, run! Not on your flat feet, Ripley. Up on your
toes, man! Reade, more steam!"
Then others were given the starting word. Coach did not run more
men at a time than he could readily watch.
"Prescott, throw your feet up behind better. You've been jogging,
but that isn't the gait. Holmes, straighten back more---don't
cramp your chest!"
So the criticisms rang out. Luce was an authority on short sprinting.
He had made good in that line in his own college days.
"Jennison, you're not running with your arms! Forget 'em!"
Jennison promptly let his arms hang motionless at his sides.
"Come in, Jennison!" called coach.
Jennison came in.
"You mustn't work your arms like fly-wheels, nor like piston rods,
either," explained Mr. Luce. "Keep your elbows in fairly close
to your sides; fists loosely closed and forward, a little higher
than your elbows. Now, all runners come in."
Gathering the squad about him, and demanding close attention,
Mr. Luce showed the pose of the body at the instant of starting.
"Now, I'm going to run to first and second," continued the coach.
"I want every man of you to watch closely and catch the idea.
You note how I hold my body---sloping slightly forward, yet with
every effort to avoid cramping the chest. Observe how I run on
the forward part of the ball of the foot---not exactly on the
toes, but close to it. See just how it is that I throw my feet
up behind me. And be very particular to note that I keep my hands
and arms in just this position all the way. Now, then, when
you strike at a ball, and expect to hit it, have your lungs inflated
ready for the first bound of the spurt. Now---watching, all of
you?"
After an instant Mr. Luce shouted, "Strike!" and was off like
a flash. Many of the boys present had never seen coach really
sprint before. As they watched during the amazingly few seconds
a yell of delight went up from them. This was sprinting!
"Did you all find time to observe?" smiled coach, as he came loping
in from second base.
"We all watched you," laughed Dick. "But the time was short."
"You see the true principle of the sprint?"
"Yes; but it would take any of us years to get the sprint down
that fine," protested Darrin.
"Don't be too sure of that," retorted coach. "Some of you will
have doubled the style and steam of your sprint by the time you're
running in the first game. Now, don't forget a word of what I've
said about the importance of true sprinting. I've seen many a
nine whose members had a fine battery, and all the fielders good
men; yet, when they went to the bat and hit the leather, their
sprinting was so poor that they lost game after game. From now
on, the sprint's the thing! Yet don't overdo it by doing it all
the time. Take plenty of rest and deep breathing between sprints.
Usually, a two-bag sprint is all you need. Now, some more of
you get out and try it."
Rapidly coach called off the names of those he wanted to try out.
Some of these young men did better than the starters, for they
had learned from the criticisms, and from the showing of Luce's
standard form.
Presently the young men were standing about in various parts of
the field, for none came in until called.
"Ripley," said Mr. Luce, turning to that young man, "you have
the build and the lines of a good sprinter."
"Thank you, sir," nodded Fred.
"And yet your performance falls off. Your lung capacity ought
to be all right from your appearance. What is the trouble? Honestly,
have you been smoking any cigarettes?"
"Not one," Fred declared promptly.
Mr. Luce lifted the boy's right hand, scanning it.
"If I were going to make such a denial," remarked coach coolly,
"I'd be sure to have a piece of pumice stone, and I'd use it often
to take away those yellowish stains."
The light-brownish stains were faint on Fred's first and second
fingers. Yet, under careful scrutiny, they could be made out.
Ripley colored uncomfortably, jerking his hand away.
"Better cut out the paper pests," advised coach quietly.
"Only one, once in a while," murmured the boy. "I won't have
even that many after this."
"I should hope not," replied Mr. Luce. "You're under training
pledge, you know."
All Fred meant by his promise was that he would use pumice stone
painstakingly on his finger tips hereafter.
Within the next few days, Dick and Darrin made about the best
showing as to sprinting form, though many of the others did remarkably
well.
"Ripley isn't cutting out the cigarettes," decided Mr. Luce, watching
the running of the lawyer's son. "He proves it by his lack of
improvement. His respiration is all to the bad."
Mr. Luce was shrewd enough to know that, in Fred Ripley, he had
a liar to deal with, and that neither repeated warnings nor renewed
promises were worth much. So he held his peace.
In a few days more, all the members of the Athletics Committee
who could attend went to the field. A practice match between
the first and second teams had been ordered. Ripley consented
to pitch for second, while Dick pitched for the school nine.
The latter nine won by a score of eleven to two, but that had
been expected. It was for another purpose that the members of
the Athletics Committee were present.
After the game, there was a brief conference between coach and
the committee members.
"It is time, now, to announce the appointment of captain," called
coach, when he had again gathered the squad. "Purcell, of the
junior class, will be captain of the nine. Prescott, of the sophomore
class, will be second, or relief captain."
Then the announcements were made for the second nine.
And now the first game was close at hand. The opponent was to
be Gardiner City High School. Gardiner possessed one of the strongest
school nines in the state. Coach Luce would have preferred an
easier opponent for the first regular game, but had to take the
only match that he could get.
"However, young gentlemen," he announced to the squad on the field,
"the Gridley idea is that all opponents look alike to us. Your
city and your school will demand that you win---not merely that
you try to win!"
"We'll win---no other way to do!" came the hearty promise.