BUNCHED HITS
“First man, Tom!”
Sam Craig pulled his mask down, looked over the field and then knelt
behind the plate. Tom, his arms at his sides, watched, nodded, himself
turned and viewed the fielders, and pulled his cap down a bit further
over his eyes.
“Come on, Tom! Let’s have him!” called Gordon Smith.
“Here we go!” cried Hale.
Tom’s hands came up to his chest, his foot went forward, cunning
fingers wrapped themselves around the clean, new ball. At the plate
Wiley, third baseman, squared himself and tentatively swung his bat.
Behind him Captain Craig placed his feet apart and with slightly bent
knees and out-thrust hands waited. Behind the third base line the
visitors were still cheering and two noisy youths were encouraging the
batsman from the coachers’ boxes. Tom’s arms went back above his head,
his body lurched forward, his right hand shot out and a white streak
sped away for the plate. A yellowish flash as the bat swept the air,
the thud of ball against leather mitt, and the stentorian voice of the
umpire:
“Shtrike!”
Amesville cheered, while a chorus of approval arose from the fielders,
and Sam, thumping the ball into the deep hollow of his big mitten,
cried to Tom: “That’s the stuff, Tom! Keep after him!”
On first, or, to be exact, well off of first and behind the base-path,
Joe added his encouragement to the rest and, a bit nervously, perhaps,
hitched at his trousers, which didn’t need a particle of attention.
Again the wind-up, leisurely and carefully made, and again the sphere
flew toward the plate. It was a ball this time, and the batsman judged
it correctly and let it severely alone. The cheers from the stands had
died away now. A few latecomers were searching for points of vantage
well back of the foul lines. The hot June sunlight fell radiantly on
the backs of spectators and straw hats had already begun to wave in
front of flushed faces. A second ball followed and then a drop that
fooled the Petersburg third baseman brought the second strike.
“Two and two!” called Sam cheerfully. “Let’s have him, Tom!”
Joe, on his toes, waited. The ball shot forward again, the bat met
it, Joe leaped to the base as Hale, coming in on the run, scooped up
the trickling sphere and jerked it across the diamond. Squarely into
Joe’s glove it thumped, his left foot touched the bag, and the runner,
puffing hard, swerved aside.
“One gone!” called Joe. “Let’s have the next one, Tom!”
“One!” echoed Sam, pointing a dramatic fore-finger aloft.
The next batsman, however, was not to be disposed of in any such
manner. He picked out Tom’s second offering and sent it speeding
between Smith and Peddie and raced across the first bag without
challenge. The coachers redoubled their vocal energy. Twice Tom threw
to Joe and twice the runner threw himself back to safety. Then Tom
gave his attention to the Petersburg shortstop. With a strike and two
balls on that youth, Tom tried to sneak one across in the groove. The
shortstop was ready for it and the ball went screeching into right
field. Cummings came in hard and got it on the bound, throwing to
second. The first runner was on third by that time and Petersburg was
yelling madly on stands and bench and coaching lines.
The runner on first stole on the first ball, and Sam, faking a throw
to second, slammed the ball to Tom. But the man on third held his
place. With only one gone there was no use taking any chances. The
Petersburg left fielder got himself into a hole at once, swinging twice
at deceptive offerings. Then Tom wasted a couple and, finally, cut the
outer corner of the plate and the batsman withdrew with trailing bat.
But the trouble was not over yet, for the next man, the Petersburg left
fielder, was more canny. He disdained the first two deliveries and the
umpire called them both balls. Tom tried to fool him on an inshoot and
again missed it. With three balls against him, Tom decided to pass the
batsman and so threw wide and the bases were filled. A hit meant two
runs, and the hit was forthcoming a moment later when the Petersburg
captain, Lyman, picked out something to his liking and raised it far
and high into centre field. Morris and Cummings both went after it,
but it was Sid’s ball and Sid should have had it. But when it dropped
it failed to find its way into his hands, and amidst consternation and
gloom in the Amesville ranks, two tallies crossed the platter!
There was a pathetic hunch to Sid’s shoulders as he turned and went
back to his position. Then Smith’s cheerful “Never mind that, Sid!
Here’s another!” went back to him and he waved a hand answeringly. They
were certainly finding Tom Pollock, Joe reflected ruefully, and glanced
toward the bench to see if Toby was pulling off his coat. But there was
no sign of anxiety there. After all, Joe added consolingly, it was only
the first inning. Then he stopped thinking about it and sprinted across
the line to pull down a high foul and make the second out. Then came
the Petersburg catcher, a sturdy chap with a knowing manner. But Tom
was taking no chances and presently Beale walked to first, filling the
bases for the second time, while Petersburg hissed.
“What’s wrong with Pollock?” asked Beale as he put a foot beside Joe’s
on the bag.
“He’ll settle down in a minute,” answered Joe. “You chaps want to make
the most of this inning.”
“That’s what we’re doing,” replied Beale with a laugh.
The Petersburg pitcher started toward the plate, but was called back,
and a tall youth took his place. He was Middleton, a substitute
fielder, Beale explained as he danced away to a lead. But for once a
pinch-hitter remained true to precedent. Tom tried him on a low ball,
put a wide one across and then offered one of his famous “knuckle
balls.” That did the business effectively, for Middleton struck at it
and Sam pulled it down three feet behind the plate. Amesville cheered
encouragingly as their team flocked to the bench, and cheered again
when Gordon Smith stepped to the plate. Gordon studied two deliveries
from Calvert and heard one called a ball and the other a strike. Then
he fouled off two, and, with the score two and one, landed against the
next offering. But it went straight to shortstop and Gordon was an easy
out. Sid Morris had no better luck, for his attempt at a hit was pulled
down by centre fielder. Jack hit safely to left. Hale tried hard to get
one out of the diamond, but failed, and Jack made the third out, short
to second baseman.
Tom found himself in the second inning and only four batsmen faced
him, the third man up getting to first on a weak hit to Hale that
jumped so erratically that it couldn’t be handled in time. Returning
the compliment, Calvert also disposed of the enemy in three chapters,
George Peddie striking out, Joe getting his base on balls, and Cummings
and Craig fanning.
In the next inning Petersburg got a runner to third, but had to leave
him there when, with two down, Cummings gathered in an easy fly that
just escaped going foul. Tom Pollock opened things up in Amesville’s
half with a smashing drive into deep right that proved good for two
bases and Amesville waved her banners and shouted wildly in acclaim.
For awhile, however, it seemed that Tom would get no further, for
Smith’s best was a fly to second baseman and Sidney Morris, after
fouling off a half-dozen, struck out. It was Jack who was destined to
bring in the first tally. With two strikes against him he slammed a
sizzling hit down the first base line, scoring Tom and taking second
himself. That unsettled Calvert for the moment and Hale bunted toward
third and barely beat out the throw. By this time Amesville clamoured
triumphantly and Sam, at first, and Smith, behind third, added strident
voices to the bedlam. With Jack on third, Hale’s steal of second went
unchallenged, Peddie swinging harmlessly. Calvert followed that strike
with two bad ones, one of which nearly got past the catcher, and then
made the mistake of offering a fast out-shoot. Peddie was fond of those
and he liked the present one especially and sent it arching into short
right field. The fielder scuttled in for it and Captain Lyman, at first
base, ran back. But the ball fell harmlessly to earth between them, by
which time Jack had scored, Peddie was on first, and Hale was sprinting
for the plate. Unfortunately, Hale had pulled up momentarily at third,
in spite of Gordon Smith’s urging, and Captain Lyman’s quick, straight
throw to the catcher killed him off at the rubber.
But the score was 2 to 2, and Amesville settled back with sighs of
satisfaction. Five hits for a total of seven bases was not bad in
three innings, they argued, and a continuation of such work should win
without trouble. But a continuation proved more than the Brown-and-Blue
was capable of. Petersburg went down one, two, three in the fourth
inning, but so did Amesville, and in the fifth and sixth she did little
better so far as results were concerned. Calvert, after that first
wobble, settled down to a fine, steady pace. In the fifth Sid Morris
got to first on a pass and in the next inning Joe made his first hit
of the game when two were down. But, although Cummings was passed, Sam
Craig struck out.
In the meanwhile Petersburg made the most in the fifth inning of a
pass, a hit, and an error. Tom presented the first batsman with his
base, thereby paving the way for trouble. The left fielder, who had
already tasted blood in the third, got a safe hit past Smith and first
and second bases were occupied with no one out. Captain Lyman’s drive
got away from Tom Pollock’s glove and when he had recovered it the
bags were all filled. The next man proved an easy out, retiring after
four pitched balls, but Catcher Beale came through with a two-bagger
to right that brought two more tallies across. Tom struck out the next
pair.
With the score 4 to 2, Amesville, as has been said, failed to help
herself to anything in that inning or the sixth. Calvert was pitching
his best, and Calvert at his best was a hard nut to crack. Petersburg
retired in order in the sixth and seventh, Tom adding two more
strike-outs to his growing list.
When Tom Pollock went to the bat in the last of the seventh Amesville
arose and demanded runs. “Here we go! It’s the lucky seventh! All up,
High School! Here’s where we tie them!”
The cheer leaders waved their megaphones and brought forth lusty
encouragement, while Petersburg, fewer in numbers, but possessed of
willing lungs, hurled back defiance from across the sunlit field. Joe,
squeezed in between Jack and Steve Hale on the home bench, listened
silently to the discussion. Coach Talbot was talking to Gordon Smith,
next up, but the others were having it back and forth. Manager
Mifflin, his black-covered score-book across his knees, was biting the
end of his pencil nervously.
“Someone’s got to start something this inning,” Sid Morris was saying.
“He’s going to crack again before this game’s over, you mark my words.
And when he does we want to be right there, fellows.”
“Calvert’s gone twelve innings,” said Speyer, “without shedding a
feather, and it looks to me as if he could do it today.”
“He’s shed a few feathers already,” replied Jack. “We had him going
nicely in the third, and if things had worked right we might have been
running yet. What happened at third, Walt?”
“My fault, I guess,” answered Hale. “I thought that hit was shorter.
Still, I ought to have kept on when Gordon was telling me to. I suppose
I got rattled.”
“I’ll take it on first,” said Captain Craig. “Toby, take third, will
you? Play this safe till they’re two out and then pull ’em along any
old way!” He walked apart with Gordon Smith and then hurried down to
the coacher’s place at first, shouting encouragement to Tom as he went.