“YOU, TOO, THATCHER”
First call for baseball material at Pennington Institute brought out a
strange and interesting group of boys all eager to make the team. They
ranged all the way from sub-freshmen and members of the junior high
school to seniors and members of last year’s squad. They presented a
weird sight too, for the call had emphasized the fact that there were
no uniforms available that early in the season and that each candidate
would be expected to furnish his own clothes.
The result was a motley array of baseball clothing, some of it strange
enough to make a seasoned player split his sides with laughter. Some of
the sub-freshmen and junior school candidates appeared with trousers
that were miles too large and shirts that had to be rolled to elbow
length in order to give their hands the necessary freedom. They wore
caps of various periods of baseball history, and one chap appeared in
football pants and jersey as a fitting substitute for a real uniform.
There were many among the group, however, who wore the regulation
uniform of the school, buff trousers and shirt with blue under jerseys
and buff and blue striped stockings. They were the members of last
year’s squad of regulars and substitutes who had not been graduated.
Among the latter was Gould. He wore the uniform of the junior team of
the year before on which he had played third base, and he assumed an
attitude of strutting importance as he elbowed his way through the
crowd of students onto the gym. floor. It was very evident that he felt
himself very much a part of the little group of last year’s veterans
who would compose the foundation and main support upon which Coach Rice
hoped to build a winning team this year.
Jeff Thatcher appeared with the first call for candidates and he wore
a snappy gray and blue uniform of the New City Y. M. C. A. team, the
state championship “Y” team of the year before. His appearance in this
outfit made a distinct impression among the younger candidates on the
floor. It made an impression on Gould, too, who for a moment, upon
seeing him, appeared surprised. But he passed this off with a remark to
one of the older players, which Jeff could not help but hear, to the
effect that:
“Our young million dollar bond hero is all dressed up with no place to
go.”
But it happened that Buck Hart was within hearing distance and he
turned on Gould with a sharp retort:
“Don’t you worry about his not having any place to go. He’s going after
the job of third base and believe me, there’s one fresh young Soph who
will know all about how fast he’s going.”
And Gould, not having courage enough to talk back to Hart, who was one
of the best athletes in the school, discreetly turned his back and
sauntered over to inspect the batter’s cage.
Coach Rice called the fellows to order and lined them up the long way
of the gym. floor.
“My, what a whale of a lot of candidates,” he exclaimed as he counted
them and looked them over. “Too big a crowd for me to handle in here.
Guess some of you fellows will have to wait until I call for outdoor
practice. For the present I am going to take all of your names. Then
I’m going to ask only the old fellows and a few of the others to report
in the gym. The rest of you will have to wait until outdoor practice
begins.”
A wave of disappointed groans went up and down the line and Mr. Rice
smiled.
“Sorry. Wish I could push the four walls of the gym. out far enough to
accommodate all of you. Then we’d all be happy. Mr. Clarkson, will you
take their names?”
Mr. Clarkson was the assistant coach in charge of the scrub team and as
he went down the line taking the name of each boy he questioned them as
to their previous playing experience.
When he came to Jeff he looked at the New City Y. M. C. A. insignia on
his shirt and asked:
“Did you play with the New City ‘Y’ team last year?”
“Yes, sir. Third base,” said Jeff.
“Good,” he exclaimed. “We’ll need a third baseman this year. But you’ll
have to work hard for the job. Wish you luck.”
“Thank you,” said Jeff cheerfully.
Finished with the list, he and Mr. Rice went into conference over it
for a few minutes, then the head coach, the list in his hand, walked
to the floor and announced:
“I want only the following boys to report here every afternoon for
indoor practice. The rest of you, I am sorry to say, will have to wait
until the outdoor practice begins, which I hope will be about the
tenth of April. But cheer up, fellows, that’s only a little more than
three weeks away. These fellows remain――the rest are dismissed for the
time being――Blackwell, Stone, Daily, Wiggins, Hart, Gordon, Simmons,
Gammage, Sloan, Hecht, Stafford, Runyon, Daws, Gleason, Dixon and
Gould. That’s all――er――no――you, too, Thatcher, you stay, please. That’s
all.”
Coach Rice paused so perceptibly after Gould’s name that Jeff Thatcher’s
heart sank. For a moment he felt that he was going to be denied the
privilege of getting the indoor training with the candidates, which he
knew was of the utmost importance to men who would have to fight for
positions on the team.
Coach Rice had read off the names of all of the older men on the
squad,――the men who had been out for the team the year before, and
had not intended to add any more new material to the indoor squad.
Thatcher was evidently an after thought and Jeff realized that his
“Y” uniform and the record his team had made the summer before were
entirely responsible for the addition of his name to the list.
Evidently Coach Rice expected something of him or he would not have
been willing to make him a member of his already large group of indoor
candidates.
And as Jeff walked over to join the squad of former players who
gathered at one end of the gym. while the rest of the boys disconsolately
filed out-of-doors or climbed into the running track balcony to watch
the start of indoor training, he wondered vaguely whether he was going
to be able to justify the confidence that his uniform had inspired in
the veteran coach of the Pennington squad.
Mentally he resolved to do his utmost to make the team, and as he
made the resolution he could not help but glance toward Gould, whom
he detected looking at him with an unpleasant expression on his dark
countenance.