PITCHER POLLOCK
It _was_ hot! Tom’s head felt as though it was being slowly baked in
spite of his cap as, getting the signal from Sam, he swung his arms
up and sped a fast ball across in the groove. Behind him the cheerful
voices of his team-mates made a spattering chorus.
“Here we go Tom! You’ve got his number, old man!”
“No one walks, Tom!”
“That’s pitching ’em, Tom, old boy! That’s pitching ’em!”
“No one sees first this inning, fellows! On your toes now!”
The head of the Petersburg batting-list retired to the bench, flicking
his bat disgustedly toward the pile. Just four balls had settled him.
The next youth up was a clever bunter and the infield shortened a
little. Tom sped them in low; one strike; one ball; two strikes; two
balls----
Then the batsman was streaking for first and Bert Meyers, coming on
the dead run, was scooping up the trickling ball. A quick underhand
throw, a stab into the air of Buster’s “meat hand,” and two men were
out. Petersburg put the next batsman on first, but went into the field
a minute or two later when Tom made his second strike-out. Amesville
cheered then and kept on cheering until Buster had tapped the plate
with his bat and stood awaiting his fate. But neither Buster nor Bert
Meyers, who followed, was able to solve the opposing pitcher. Frank
Warner reached his base on a scratch hit that was too hard for second
baseman to handle, but was out a minute later on an attempted steal.
Again Amesville took the field and again Tom, working with machine-like
precision, mowed the enemy down in one, two, three order. For
Amesville, Tommy Hughes struck out, Sidney reached first on a wild
throw by second baseman, Smithie fanned, and Kenny went out to centre
fielder. Calvert, the Petersburg slab artist, was in fine form to-day.
When all is said, there’s nothing like a roasting hot day to show a
pitcher at his best, and it was very evident that the redoubtable
Calvert, a small, wiry youth with a shock of hair the colour of
butcher’s paper, liked the conditions. In spite of the fact that up
to the end of the third inning no one got beyond first base, the
contest proved breathlessly exciting to both the supporters of the home
team and to the good-sized contingent that had travelled over from
the neighbouring town. It was a pitchers’ battle, with the honours
about even, but one never knows in baseball when a break will come.
A lucky hit, an error at a critical moment, a close decision by an
umpire--any of these things are often sufficient to start a rally and,
in a few short minutes, change the entire complexion of the game. When
Petersburg came to bat in the first of the fourth there was tension
evidenced amongst players and spectators both. Petersburg had three of
her best batters coming up.
If Tom felt the tension he didn’t show it. Mr. George, seated on the
bench beside Coach Talbot, voiced admiration in low tones. “I never saw
a youngster who had the form that kid’s got,” he said to the coach as
Tom, settling his visor over his eyes, leaned forward to get the signal
from the catcher. “He’s a born pitcher, Bat; you can’t get around it!”
“Yes,” Mr. Talbot nodded. “In about three years from now he will be a
wonder. Ever hear him say whether he was going to college?”
“I’ve heard him say he wanted to,” replied the detective, “but he
doesn’t think he will be able to. There isn’t much money, I guess.”
“He’s got to go, Ben. I’m going to talk to him about it. I’d like to
steer him to my college, if I could.”
“He could play professional ball in two or three years if he wanted
to,” mused Mr. George. “I could get him a try-out any day, and it
wouldn’t be long before he’d be grabbed up by one of the Big League
teams.”
“Time enough for that when he’s been through college, Ben. Besides,
and meaning no offence, the boy’s too smart to waste himself playing
baseball for a living.”
“I don’t know, Bat. Baseball isn’t what it used to be, and ball players
aren’t like what they were once. Not that I’m knocking the old-timers,
either. I come pretty near being one myself. But there’s a pretty fine,
self-respecting lot of men playing professional ball these days. Why,
say, it’s just as respectable a profession as--as medicine or law,
isn’t it?”
“Maybe. I didn’t mean that. The trouble is a ball player uses up the
best years of his life getting nowhere, Ben.”
“I don’t know about that, either. As I said before, it isn’t like it
used to be. Ball players are pretty smart nowadays, and by the time
they’re getting by they’ve worked up a nice little business on the side
or saved up a tidy bunch of money.”
“If they’re the saving kind,” answered the coach with a smile. “You
know yourself, Ben, you wouldn’t deliberately advise Pollock to become
a professional ball player. Now would you?”
“N-no, I guess I wouldn’t. Still, if there wasn’t anything better----”
“There is, though, for that chap. I don’t know what it is, but he’s got
a good head on his shoulders and he’s naturally smart and not afraid of
work. If he was my boy, I’d put him into college, give him a couple of
years to look around and decide on a profession or an occupation, and
then see that he buckled down and worked hard. What’s his father like?”
“Dead. He lives with an uncle out at Derry. The uncle’s a farmer and a
bit tight-fisted, they tell me. Maybe Tom will get the property when
the old man dies. I don’t know.”
“Well, he’s got two more years at high school. By that time--I’ll have
a talk with him some day. I haven’t much money myself, Ben, but I’d
scrimp a bit to see a kid like that make good and not go to waste.”
“Why, say; so’d I, Bat. I’m fond of that boy, too. You’ve no idea how
plucky he is. Why, when I ran across him at the boarding-house, Bat,
he’d been teaching himself to pitch with one of these ten-cent books!
And he was doing it, too! Look here, let’s you and me sort of keep an
eye on him, Bat. I haven’t a pile of money, either, but I’d spend a
little to help Tom through college, if that was what you were thinking
of.”
Coach Talbot nodded. “Something of the sort. Of course, if he showed up
strong in a couple of years, he could get into a college and not have
to pay anything. Take my own college, for instance. There’s a lot of
old grads who are always on the lookout for promising athletes. Any
fellow who looks real good to them can get through four years without
its costing him a cent. It’s done right along. But, somehow, I don’t
like it. It may do for some fellows, Bat, but it’s--it’s----”
“I wouldn’t let a boy of mine do it--if I had one,” declared Mr.
George with emphasis. “Maybe in a couple of years, Bat, you and I will
be flusher. Then Tom’s got a pretty good position with Cummings and
Wright. Cummings is real fond of him; you can see that. In two years he
might be able to save quite a little himself. Then, maybe, you and I,
we could----”
Mr. Talbot nodded again. Then he laughed softly. “We’re a funny pair to
be adopting a boy, Ben!”
“I wasn’t meaning to exactly adopt him----”
“I understand. We’ll think it over. Anyhow, at least we can keep an eye
on the chap and see that he doesn’t---- Hello! here’s trouble!”
Tom had fanned the first batsman, but the second, after waiting
craftily, had drawn a pass. The Petersburg coachers shouted joyfully:
“Here’s where we break it up, fellows! Here we go! Make it be good,
Gus, make it be good!”
But Tom steadied down again and the best the next batter could do was
to hit to shortstop and the first runner was out at second, the double
failing by a scant foot. The next man up caught an out-shoot on the
end of his bat and whaled it into deep centre, placing the runner on
third and wisely staying at first himself. By this time the Petersburg
supporters were rooting lustily and the coachers were shouting their
lungs out at first and third. The latter realised that if they could
unsteady the rival pitcher for a moment now they could leap into the
lead. The man on first stole on the first ball, a pitchout, and Sam
Craig slammed the ball back to Tom. The runner on third, however, was
too canny to try for the plate, although he had taken a good lead.
With one ball to his credit, for the batsman had wisely refrained from
hitting at the pitchout, knowing that Sam Craig would not be likely to
throw down to second with a man on third, he allowed a strike to go by,
an in-shoot that broke beautifully and slipped over the inside of the
plate. Then came another ball, a drop. And then, while Tom was poised
on one foot, his hands overhead, two things happened simultaneously.
Mr. Talbot leaped from the bench with an involuntary exclamation of
warning and the runner on third, who had been taking a good twelve-foot
lead, dashed for the plate!
Sam’s shout was not necessary, nor the cries of the fielders, for Tom
had already seen what was up. Hurriedly he stepped forward and sped
the ball to the catcher, the batsman struck at it and missed, and the
runner slid feet forward for the plate. Down swept Sam’s arm, but the
runner was safe, one foot hooked into the plate and his body well out
of reach. And on third the man from second danced and shouted in a
cloud of dust!
Petersburg yelled and hooted. Tom, who had followed the delivery to the
plate on the run, looked ruefully at Sam. Sam, frowning, walked across
and placed the ball in his hand.
“Watch out for that, Tom,” he whispered. “They’ll try it again if they
need a run badly. All right, let’s get this one.”
And Tom got him, sending two slow balls across shoulder-high, at each
of which the batsman struck and each of which he missed.
“Now then, fellows, let’s get after them!” called Frank Warner as
Amesville went to bat. But Calvert still was master, and, although
Meyers hit safely and was advanced to second by the captain’s neat
sacrifice bunt, Tommy Hughes and Sidney were easy outs, the former
hitting straight into third baseman’s glove and the latter retiring on
strikes.
Tom went through the fifth without misadventure, disposing of the
Petersburg tail-enders easily. But after Amesville had been to bat
again the score still stood 1 to 0 in Petersburg’s favour. Calvert had
no strike-outs that inning, but he made two assists, knocking down two
liners and fielding them to first in time to put out Smith and Kenny.
Sam Craig brought the Amesville rooters to their feet when he smashed
the ball far into left field for what might easily have been good for
two bases, but which resulted only in a put-out for the fielder who,
after a pretty sprint, made a brilliant one-hand catch of the long fly.
“All up for the lucky seventh!” was the slogan of the Petersburg
supporters as the teams changed places. And a “lucky seventh” it proved
to be, but not for Petersburg. Tom added two strike-outs to his credit
and, although the opposing catcher got a two-bagger off him, the side
went out without a run.
In the last half Amesville found her chance. Calvert let down for an
instant, passed Kenny, and then made the mistake of giving Sam Craig a
low ball outside. Sam, who swung a long bat and loved low ones, lighted
on it for two bases and sent Joe Kenny to third. Then the Petersburg
pitcher recovered, and Tom went out on strikes. Buster hit a slow one
to shortstop, who, after making certain that the runner on third was
not trying to score, threw hurriedly to first. The ball struck in front
of the baseman and bounded away from him, and amidst wild acclaim
Amesville scored her first run. Meyers went out, third to first, but
Frank Warner again proved his dependability as a batsman by lining out
a red-hot one straight through the pitcher’s box, bringing in Sam Craig
and Buster. Such shouting as followed then! Mr. Cummings climbed up on
the bench and waved his palm-leaf fan in one hand and his straw hat in
the other and shouted himself purple in the face, while Mr. Talbot and
Mr. George, their faces wreathed in smiles, gravely shook hands! The
pandemonium kept up for minute after minute, while Captain Warner,
dancing around on first, begged Tommy Hughes to “smash it, Tommy, smash
it!” But Calvert, a little pale and serious, showed his grit then by
settling down and disposing of Tommy with just four pitched balls!
But with a lead of two runs Amesville’s chances seemed dazzlingly
bright, and so they remained all through the eighth, in which inning,
if the Brown-and-Blue could not add to her score, neither could the
visitors. And so the ninth inning began with the figures 3 to 1 and
everything pointing to a victory for Amesville.