THE TRIP TO JEFFERSON
During the second week in June, the week of final preparation for
the trip to Jefferson and the first of the three championship games
with Jefferson, final examinations interfered to some extent with
the baseball practice, but by getting out on the field very early in
the morning and late in the afternoon, with here and there a special
shifting of the examination hour, for this or that member of the team,
the nine put in a pretty busy week.
Coach Young had returned from Jefferson with a complete confirmation of
the early reports about the nine that Captain Church had developed in
the western college, and letters kept coming in daily from alumni in
the west, sounding the warning that Hughie and his boys must “prepare
for the battle of their lives,” as Church had built up a wonderful
baseball machine--one that it would be the greatest task to beat.
This talk had its effect on the Lowell boys, and Hughie and Captain
Larke were a good deal worried. After a consultation they decided to
telegraph to Johnny McGrew, Conny McGil and Pop Anderson to come on to
act as assistant coaches and help put on the finishing touches. Most of
the time was put in signal and batting practice, as all other games
were out of the way. The coaches figured that with equal ability in the
pitching department the batting would win the games, if backed up by
perfect team work, which only a thorough understanding of the signals
could make possible.
Finally the great day came for the trip to the western college. A
special train of twelve cars was provided and with the cheers of all of
the students that couldn’t go along, professors and the townspeople,
ringing in their ears, they started.
The team occupied a special coach in the rear of the train, and no
one not a member of the Varsity was allowed in the car, excepting of
course, special coaches, Young, McGrew, McGil and Pop Anderson. With
these surrounding them in the car, Hughie, Captain and Johnny laid out
the plan of the coming battle.
They had their own private chef aboard, the same who prepared the meals
at the training table, so that with the exception of riding across the
country at the rate of sixty miles per hour, they were as comfortable
and fully as much under training orders as at home. The other cars on
the train were occupied by the great body of students who made the
journey with the team to attend the game, three coaches being filled
with the Lowell Organized Noise Club. All along the route, whenever the
train stopped, and they made stops all along the line to take on Lowell
Alumni--there were crowds of Lowell graduates at the station to cheer
and wish them Godspeed.
We will turn our attention, however, to the special car at the end of
the train with the nine.
There is nothing like a long railroad journey to get you acquainted
with people and to give you a chance to note the peculiarities of the
others in the car and this would be especially true in the car referred
to where everyone was interested in one thing. Every man on the train
felt that the result might depend upon him. The good batters would
wonder if their favorite sticks were aboard.
Ty Robb, quiet and nattily dressed, high strung, nervous, built like a
greyhound, with slight waist and magnificently formed shoulders, small
ankles and wrists and a poise to his head like the ideal Grecian youth,
came as near being a perfect built athlete as any one on the train; but
even this well-balanced youth was not above being superstitious, for he
got a little bit nervous along about bedtime, and finally hunted up his
little old black bat out of the bunch and took it to bed with him.
Hans, directly opposite in temperament, ponderous in his movements,
anything but nervous, but equally superstitious, saw Ty coming down the
aisle with his bat and went him one better, for in addition to getting
his favorite bat, he dug out his old glove--the one with the hole in
the middle--and slept that night with it under his pillow.
Captain Larke had no superstitions to bother him, nor was he nervous.
His responsibilities as captain of the team never in any way interfered
with his playing. His movements were always graceful and he had an
eye that was particularly clear when it came to judging the speed of
baseballs knocked out to left field. One habit, however, of college boy
life, the captain never would acquire. He was born in Kansas and ever
since he could remember he had owned a big cowboy hat and the college
boy’s cap was so insignificant by comparison that he never would wear
one of them. Larke’s hat was a kind of mascot with him, no doubt, for
he always kept it on such trips as this where he could keep his eye on
it when not on his head.
Johnny Everson, small in physique, but large in brains, self-possessed
and confident at all times, had made one of his nice little speeches
to the boys at dinner, and when he went to bed he wasn’t thinking
about bats, balls or gloves or worrying about the part he might have
to play on the morrow. He lay awake in his berth a long time, however,
rehearsing the impromptu speech he intended to make at the dinner which
he knew the Jefferson boys would give the team whether the game was won
or lost.
Hughie had a good many things to think about so he didn’t get much
time to let superstition work. He was busy with his batting order and
signals for the coming game, but just before going to sleep he did
wonder if the grass at Jefferson was longer and thicker at third base
or at first.
Delvin, like a number of the older fellows on the team, had made the
trip before and was not unfamiliar with sleeping cars. Delvin was a
grand fellow almost all the time, quiet, and a great reader and he
rarely ever kicked about anything. But put him on board a sleeper and
along about bedtime you could always hear him grumble, and no wonder,
for there never was a berth made long enough to accommodate all of
his length, and so he had to curl up when he slept on a train and
during the night Arthur woke up the whole bunch several times with his
grumbling.
Gibbs, big, strong, and brainy as lots of these boys are who came from
Canada, was pretty tired from the long ride with no activity, and at
bedtime went to bed and to sleep with no apparent thought of the hard
work before him the next day. But during the night he must have dreamed
about a ball game, for suddenly the whole car was aroused by the noise
of breaking glass and some one was shouting, “You will try to steal on
me will you?” and when the boys stuck their heads out from between the
curtains they saw Gibbie in one end of the car in pajamas over which he
had put on his shin guards, pad, mask, and glove and at the other end
of the car could be seen a badly shattered mirror through which Gibbie
had just a moment before thrown something. He had been walking in his
sleep, and putting on all of his catching outfit had for five minutes
been making signals at himself in the glass at the other end of the
car. Thinking he saw a base runner, he picked up what he thought was a
ball (it was in reality one of Hans’ big shoes), and snapped it at his
own image in the mirror beyond. He missed the porter, who happened to
be coming down the aisle just then, but made a perfect throw and the
shoe went sailing into the mirror. They finally managed to wake him
up, but had a hard time doing it, for Gibbie kept saying, “Don’t put
me out of the game. I want to catch every game on the schedule this
season.”
[Illustration: “You will try to steal on me?”]
For Hal the trip was a great novelty. He and the other freshmen had
never taken a railroad ride in a private car, and it was a great
novelty for them. The ovations the boys received at the different
stations were particularly interesting and at most every station the
Alumni and friends of Lowell, after shaking hands with the old boys
on the team and wishing them good luck, would always ask, “Where’s
Case? We want to see Hal and Hans, also Robb and Talkington.”
Between stations he read a few short stories for boys as he was
always interested in them. Hal was not known to be superstitious and
did nothing on going to bed that would show that he was, so it is
impossible to write down anything about him here along this line.
Hal, however, did wear his cap on the train and just before he went
to bed he took a wad of chewing gum out of his mouth and stuck it on
the button on the top of his cap. There may have been no superstition
connected with that, however. He probably only wanted to put it where
he could find it.
Huyler, the utility and pinch hitter, got a new nickname on that ride.
They called him the “Candy Kid.” No one knows who started it, but the
idea may have been suggested by the numerous confectioners’ signs which
dotted the landscape all along the route, and particularly those of one
manufacturer whose goods were continually offered by the newsboys on
the train.
Black, whose youth was spent in the coal districts of Illinois, was
happy because he was on his way to his own state, and whenever they
passed a trainload of coal on the way, he would tell the boys what
a great business coal mining was. You would not think he would have
much love for coal or the mines either, for as a boy he had lost two
of the fingers of his right hand by getting his hand caught in some
machinery at one of the mines near his home while playing around it.
But Miner always said that if he had more than three fingers left on
his pitching hand he probably could not throw the kind of curves which
he did, but would have to pitch the same as others, and he probably
wouldn’t amount to much as a pitcher if he did.
For Babe Radams the ride was one of doubt. He wanted to get into the
game the next day but only an accident to Miner would give him a
chance, and he thought very likely that he would have to sit on the
bench. He wouldn’t think of hoping that Miner would have to be taken
out of the box, but he felt confident that he could take care of the
job if he got a real chance, and perhaps they would let him pitch the
second game, if Lowell won the first. Babe’s thoughts were, however,
all for the glory of Lowell and so he really wished that it wouldn’t
be necessary to call on him during the first contest. He had acquired
a good deal of glory as second pitcher on the team and felt sure that
next year he would be the first pitcher for the team, since Miner would
be out of school.
Before one o’clock, however, all the excitement had settled down in the
car and everybody was asleep. Gibbie had forgotten his troubles and
Delvin had quit grumbling, and the rest of the boys were glad, so they
slept on undisturbed until the porter awoke them about seven in the
morning and told them they had arrived.