the Shortstop (1992) (15 page)

The Kenton players ran in a body for the umpire. The grandstand raged; the bleachers rose as one man. " He 's safe ! He 's safe ! " " Robber! Robber ! " " Kill him! Kill him!

Silk ordered the players back to the bench. Cas struck out the next two batters, and elicited another storm from the bleachers. Some one threw a huge fire-cracker at Cas.

" Boom! " It exploded like a bursting cannon. Cas shook his fist at the bleachers, and that brought forth a rain of smaller fire-crackers.

Enoch went up and had a strike called on him. He looked at Silk and made
a
motion with his hand to indicate the ball had passed wide of the plate.

" Strike two ! " called Silk, imperturbably. Enoch glared at him.

" Strike three ! " called Silk, more imperturbably. " You're out!"

Enoch leaned gracefully on his bat, spat tobacco juice about six yards
,
and said in his soft voice:

"Do you know a ball when you see it?"

"That costs you five dollars," sang out Silk.

" Make it ten, you mullet! "

"Why, Enoch, how sweet you talk! Ten it is!"

"Make it fifteen, pin-head! "

" Dear me, the older you get the more you gab! Fifteen it is!"

"Make it twenty, you web-footed bat! '

" Twenty it is, and out of the game. The bench for yours !"

Enoch roared something in inarticulate rage.

"Get out of the grounds!" ordere
d
Silk. And he held his watch till Enoch shouldered his bat and left the field. Mac threw up his hands as if he knew the game was all over then.

But even without their captain and third-baseman, Findlay kept blanking Kenton. In the eighth Cas went to the bat. A silence ensued that seemed to presage some striking event. It came in the shape of a huge red fire-cracker, that tumbled over and over in the air, and dropping behind Cas, exploded with a terrific report, tearing the seat out of his trousers.

Cas jumped about eight feet, and then, transformed into a veritable demon, brandishing his bat and roaring like mad bull, he made for the bleachers.

If Mac and several policemen had not intercepted him, the scene might have passed from comedy to tragedy. As it was, all Cas could do was to wave his fist at the hooting bleachers and yell:

" I can lick the man who threw that !"

"Boo! Boo! Redhead! Redhead! "

" I can lick you all," bawled Cas. foaming at the mouth.

In the prevailing excitement the Findlay supporters naturally and foolishly poured out of the stands upon the field. Silk promptly called the game 9 to 0 in Kenton's favor. Then began one of those familiar scenes common to a baseball crowd on the glorious Fourth. Like water the Kenton spectators spilled themselves into the melee.

What with the angry altercations between partisans of the teams, and yells and horn blowing and shooting of the winners, and pushing, jostling, crowding of both sides, the affair bid well to degenerate into a real fight. But this did not happen. It almost never happens. Great rivalry, great provocation, never yet spoiled the fair spirit of the game.

But the Findlay players ran a not-soon-to-be-forgotten gantlet to the railroad station. Sore were they, particularly Cas, who was not able to sit down on the way home; and threatening were the supporters, but by the time the gong rang for the afternoon game in Findlay, resentment vanished in present enjoyment.

For the attendance was very large, the afternoon perfect, and the game a spirited and thrilling one. Only a single misplay marred the brilliant fielding.

Both pitchers kept the hitting down. The final score was 2 to 1 in Findlay's favor. Chase's star rose higher; and if there were any who did not admit his popularity before the game, there were none after. For at the right time, at the one great absorbing climax, at the moment when eyes flashed, hands clenched, and hearts almost stopped beating, he performed the unexpected feat, the one thing absolutely glorious to the hoping, despairing audience - drove the ball far over the fence.

That hit settled it. Never had there been one like it save Dan Brouthers' great and memorable drive of years gone by. Mac threw up his hands and stared in rapture at his star. The crowd carried Chase off the field.

When a player became the idol of the fans it meant something; but when a player made fans out of staid business men, and young society men, and girls i
n
school, and women prominent in town and church affairs, then it meant a great deal. It meant money in the box-office, support for the team, willing, eager, working baseball champions.

And such a wave carried the Findlay team to the top of popularity, with Chase on the very crest. He was the recipient of more presents in the way of suits, hats, shoes, canes, umbrellas, than he knew what to do with. He received a beautiful gold watch, with his monogram engraved on it. He was asked to luncheon with prominent businessmen; he was invited everywhere. And last, a photographer lured him into his den, there took his picture, and reproducing it on small buttons, sold them by the hundreds. Every youngster and almost every girl in town proudly wore Chase's picture. He was public property.

This latter fact became a source of pain to Chase. One day Mittie-Maru, having met Marjory by the river, had enlarged upon this matter of the picture buttons, with the result that he had interesting news for Chase.

" She wouldn't hev one! Wot do you think of thet? Said you were conceited to allow 'em sold. Somehow she blamed you fer it. An' when I asked her if 't wasn't nice to see all the girls a-wearin' 'em - wot you think she said? ` Sickenin', ' thet 's wot ,- ` sickenin' !' Now, I'm wise 'bout girls, an' I up an' tol' her she was a victim of the green-eyed monster. Then wot you think she said? `Mittie-Maru, you needn't speak to me ever any more.' Queered myself pluggin' yer game along, thet's wot I did."

Thereafter whenever Chase saw one of the buttons decorating the front of a school-girl's blouse, he had a moment of chagrin, and called himself names for ever going into that picture-gallery. And when he saw Marjory he learned what she thought of the selling of his pictures all over town for ten cents each.

" But, Marjory," said Chase, " even if they do sell so cheap it's good business. It advertises the team, and I get a percentage."

" Every girl in town can have your picture," replied Marjory, severely.

Evidently the possibilities of the case weighed more with Marjory tha
n
the notoriety.

Mac, too, showed concern because of the popularity of his short-stop.

More than once he hinted to Chase the necessity of a ball-player's dut
y
not to be carried away by praise and entertainment. There would come
a
time, Mac averred, when he would strike a spell of bad form, when th
e
tide of popular favor would ebb, and then he would wish he had not le
t
himself be made so much of.

And one day towards the close of July Mac sought Chase out in th
e
evening. He seemed eager and excited, yet anxious. He chewed on hi
s
cigar stub and talked and held to Chase. " Got a date again to-night? "
h
e asked for the twentieth time.

" Yes," said Chase.

" I'll let you go in a minute. There's somethin' I want to say. Chase, ar
e
you shure you won't go up in the air, if I tell you? It's great."

" What do you mean?"

" Why, I've been a little scairt of al
l
this hobnobbin' an' fussin' of yours. You're only a kid, Chase. An' mebbe only another puff or so 'll blow you out of sight."

" Haven't I listened to you always and kept both feet on the ground?" " Shure, Chase, shure you have. I never trained a lad who took to things as you."

"You needn't worry about me, Mac. I'm having a great time here, there's no doubt about it. I like everybody. I'm not missing anything. But what they say or think about my playing hasn't anything to do with it, one way or another. On the surface it all looks easy, like real play. But you know how I've worked and am working to learn the game. I've got to succeed."

" Good ! Thet's the spirit. Now listen. Ranney, the manager of Cincinnati, wrote me about you, an' today Burke, manager of Detroit, was here, in the grandstand watchin' your work. None of us knew it till after the game. He sneaked in foxy-like. It's jest as well, because mebbe you 'd been nerv!
o
us. As it was, you put up your usual hard, fast game. He sez to me jest now - I walked to the station with him - he sez, `Thet's a fast lad; can he hit?' An' I sez, `Can he? Well, he's been rippin' the boards off the fence all season.' Then he sez, `Send me his battin' average, an' give me first say on him when the season's over.' "

Mac spit out his cigar, moistened his lips, and producing papers from his pocket went on:

" I asked Mannin' of the Chronicle to make out the averages. Here they are. You're hittin' 398, an' leadin' the Dude by a mile. It's hard to believe, Chase, but there's the figgers. You keep puttin' the wood on 'em, an' besides you work a good many bases on balls. Thet tells. Now get this an' keep it under your hat. If you can hang on with thet kind of stick work I 'll sell you for big money when the season's over. An' if you make it an even 400 I 'll give you one-third of the purchase price. Got thet ! "

"Do I ? Mac, I'll tear the legs off all the third-basemen in the league from now on," replied Chase, with fire in his eye. He saw the tired face of his mother and her toil-worn hands, and he saw the pale, thoughtful features of his brother. That afternoon he got two triples and a home-run out of five times at bat.

" Shure nothin' can stop him now!" choked Mac, from the bench.

And what spoke well for Chase and his future was his popularity with the team. The " course of sprouts " had long since been gone through. Poke and Ford were now the butts of the players. Cas adored him, Enoch called him "Sonny," now with fatherly friendliness, the Dude and Havil sought his society, and Benny hung to him like a leech.

"Cut out the drinking and come with me," Chase had said one evening. And he had taken Benny from among the hangers-on round the hotel, the young, sports who liked to buy drinks, the rich oil-men who had nothing but money.' Benny was ashamed and backward, but he enjoyed the evening. And Chase took him again and came to like him.

"How much do you draw, Benny, if you don't mind telling?" aske
d
Chase.

" One-fifty."

" What do you do with it all?"

" Blow it in."

" Don't you save any? "

" How can a man save an' skate with thet fly crowd? What doesn't go fo
r
booze goes for poker. Sometimes I manage to send a ten-spot home."

" I send money home every month."

" I ought to," Benny bowed his head.

" Folks need it? "

" Lord! They 're poor, sometimes awful poor when the governor is laid u
p
with rheumatiz. There's mother. she's well an' strong, but my sister'
s
most always ailin'. I never let myself think of them when I'm sober, an'
c
an't when I'm drunk."

"Benny, you'd be the best second-baseman in this league if you didn'
t
drink. Think how much you could help your folks, even now, let alon
e
what you might do if you worked up to a bigger job."

" I don't care so much for the booze.
t
here's always somebody jollyin' me," said Benny.

It happened that Chase knew a Molly McCoy, a saucy, sparkling-eyed girl, who admired Benny and wanted to meet him. So Chase, when he had worn off Benny's rough edges and made him manifest some interest in his appearance, took him to see Molly. The little lady fell in with Chase's deep-laid plot, perhaps more from the eternal feminine than from any other reason, and she made her sparkling eyes complete Chase's good beginning. She attached Benny to herself. And he, unable to comprehend, quite overcome, stuttered to Chase about it, and said most foolish and irrelevant things.

Wise Chase! He pretended there was nothing remarkable about the matter. To be sure, Molly was simply delightful. Of course she had wonderfully lovely eyes. He took care to hint to Benny that there were any number of young men in town who thought so and tried to tell Molly so. And vastly Chase said, as if it were a thing Benny did not need to be told, as if it were a simple conclusion: "It wouldn't do to drink if any fellow wanted to go with Molly."

Benny bought gorgeous neckties regularly after that, looked mysterious when his player friends chaffed him, and wore cool towards his former boon companions. The hotel bar-rooms seldom saw him, and it was noticeable that the heated flush faded out of his face. And when some misguided ball player hit a ball anywhere in the vicinity of second-base the bleachers sang: " Benny 's barred the door!"

During the latter half of July, Findlay kept the lead over Columbus by a small margin. And when that team presented itself for a series of three games the excitement waxed keen.