A STIFF SCHEDULE
That Saturday afternoon game was the first of a series of five inning
games between the Penningtons and the Penguins that extended over
a period of just one week; the first week preceding the opening of
the season for the Pennington team with the game with Erasmus Hall
which was dated for April 21st. And it was during these games that
the Penguin players, Jeff Thatcher included, hoped to make sufficient
impression on Coach Rice to be allowed to play at least a part of the
first game.
The result was a veritable whirlwind series in which the Penningtons
and the Penguins fought it out from the first ball pitched to the last
batter up. And to give the scrub team credit, it was composed of such
high caliber material that in the seven games played they won and tied
three games, only permitting the first team a clean cut victory in the
first game of the series and in the fourth; that played on Wednesday
afternoon when the first team closed the fifth inning with a rally
that all but completely rattled Cy Gordon, the youngest of the three
pitchers, and caused him to let them pile up four runs in the one
inning drubbing the scrubs to the tune of 6 to 1, which was the worst
beating that either of the teams had suffered.
The Pennington schedule was a stiff one; according to Coach Rice the
hardest they had had in years, for it provided for two games a week and
in some weeks three games were scheduled. It began with the Erasmus
Hall game, which was not a big game but usually an interesting one for
the school from Flatbush brought down to Montvale an aggregation of
scrappy ball players who fought for every run and every out, and it was
generally considered an excellent game on which to test the mettle of
the team from the bigger institution. Following the Erasmus game came a
number of games of more or less importance ranging from the East Winton
and New City Y. M. C. A. teams to the game with the Princeton Freshmen
which occurred about the middle of May. That was the first of the
really big games and from then on the Pennington team was supposed to
keep going in full stride through the rest of May and on to the middle
of June when the climax of the baseball year was reached in the game
with Lawrencetown, an institution of about the same scholastic standing
as Pennington and jealous of annexing the State Championship each year.
It was generally a fight between the schools for this championship and
the game was rated of such great importance that although the ’varsity
P was awarded for baseball to a player who had played in seven games of
the season one of the seven must needs be the Lawrencetown contest. So,
of course, the objective of all the members of the Pennington baseball
squad was to become of so much importance to the team that the coach
would feel it quite necessary to include them in the batting order of
the team when it faced Lawrencetown.
And Jeff Thatcher was not the only one who realized that it was never
too early to begin fighting for that objective and that is the reason
why he and several others of the scrub team put everything they had
into the first five games of the practice season. Indeed, he and Rabbit
Warren played such heady baseball and handled their bats so well that
in the last game of the series on Friday afternoon, they were both
shifted to the first team as a temporary expedient by Coach Rice,
just by way of determining whether the Penningtons could be made any
stronger with them in the batting order.
Friday’s game proved to be a terrific contest, and for four innings
it went on a scoreless tie with both teams fighting a terrific battle
for supremacy. In the first half of the fifth inning Al. Canner,
the Penguin catcher, laced out a three-bagger from one of Dixon’s
deliveries and Cas Gorham followed him immediately with a single that
drove home the first run of the game. It looked to Jeff then that his
old friends of the Penguins were set up to win another game, and win it
without his help. But Dixon tightened up and struck out the next two
men and caused Gould, who was playing in Jeff Thatcher’s place on the
scrub team, and accepting his reversal with very bad grace, to raise
a high fly into Rabbit Warren’s hands. That retired the side and the
Penningtons came to the bat full of fight but one run behind their
juniors.
Lafe Gammage was the first man up and Long Lafe poled out a single
first crack out of the box, finding one of Honey Wiggins’ air tight
curves to his liking. Mickey Daily followed him with a bunt which
rolled down the third base line and was retrieved by Gould only just in
time to throw him out at first. But Lafe arrived safely on second. Buck
Hart was up and Jeff Thatcher was on deck. It was up to either one of
them to bring in that single run and tie the score, if they could not
do more.
Buck tried very hard indeed, but the best that he could do was send a
sizzling liner at Brownie Davis who almost succeeded in making a double
play of it, whipping the ball down to Dick Runyon so fast that Dick
had plenty of time to snap it back to Cas Gorham who narrowly missed
touching Lafe Gammage out as he slid back to second.
It was up to Jeff then. There were two out and a man on second and one
run needed to tie the score. Jeff weighed two bats methodically as he
walked to the plate. Outwardly he appeared very calm, but inwardly he
was as nervous as a cat. Could he do it? he kept asking himself as he
stepped up to the rubber. But the moment he squared away to face Honey
Wiggins the nervousness left him and he felt as calm and collected as
if he were about to recite a lesson in the class room.
“Get this baby, now,” he heard a mean voice coach from third base and
he turned his head to see Gould glowering at him. Jeff smiled then and
down in his heart he resolved to make good.
He watched Honey Wiggins as he squared away in the pitcher’s box and
took the signals from Al. Canner.
“Come on, Honey,” coached Canner. “This is the only one you have to put
away and the game is ours. Easy meat.”
Honey wound up. Jeff gripped the bat and moved his body slightly
forward. The ball came whistling toward him. It was a wide breaking
out curve and Jeff knew that it would shoot over the rubber for a
strike. He was not easily fooled with a wide out and he measured with
calculating eye and struck.
It was a beautiful line drive straight at Gould, and it had all the
force behind it that Jeff’s powerful arms and shoulders could muster.
Gould lunged for the ball. It hit his glove, bounced high and went on
into the outfield for a single. Big Lafe was making his long legs go
like a windmill as he raced down the third base line for home. He made
it standing up and Jeff was safely on second before Fat Daws could
throw in to Brownie Davis. The score was tied. Jeff had accomplished
his purpose.
It was well that he had, too, for Wade Grenville, who followed him
in the batting order got Honey Wiggins in a three and two hole and
then for some unaccountable reason reached for a wide one and sent a
grounder down first base line for the third and last out of the game.
“That was a bone head play of mine,” said Wade when both he and Jeff
reached their rooms.
“I can’t see why you reached for it,” confessed Jeff. “If you had
passed it up you would have walked.”
“I know it, Jeff, but somehow I thought I could pole out a safe single
over Dick Runyon’s head and perhaps get you home on it.”
“A laudable ambition, Old Scout, but I wish you’d played safe. Now if I
had pulled that, why――”
“Aw, cut it, Jeff. Quit kidding. Say, that was some smash that you shot
down to Gould. He handled it as if it was a hot potato and it looked
as if it might have been real hot at that.”
“I guess it was, Wade. I was afraid I was a goner at first. It headed
right for his mitt. I didn’t realize it had so much steam on it until I
saw it bounce off his glove. Jiminy, I’ll bet he’s so mad he could eat
nails and not notice it.”
“It’s great work, Jeff, old fellow. I’m mighty glad to see you get a
chance at the job. I think Coach Rice has got his eye on you for it at
that.”
“But Gould is pretty good,” confessed Jeff.
“Yes, he is. But I think you are just a shade better. And goodness
knows your disposition is――”
“Yes, but disposition don’t count so much in baseball,” said Jeff.
“Oh, don’t you fool yourself, Jeff. It counts a heap. I’ll bet a
doughnut hole that Gould can go up in the air and get mad quicker
than any man on the team when he’s losing. And when a man blows like
that, why he isn’t much good to the team until he gets his feet on the
ground. Now is he?”
“Well, perhaps you’re right, Wade.”
“Perhaps? I know I am, Jeff. Keep up the good work. I hope Mr. Rice
gives you a chance in the Erasmus Hall game to-morrow. Perhaps he
will. Hope he starts the game with you. Can’t tell. He might. My, but
wouldn’t Gould be peeved if he did? Anyhow, I’ll say you are a likely
substitute.”