CHAPTER XXVIITHE ITEM IN THE NEWS
The match did not progress favorably for Kingsbridge. For five innings, Skillings fought hard to hold his own, but the “Lakers,” as the Lakeport team was called, seemed to have his measure, and Hutchinson notified Stark to substitute Deever in the sixth, the score standing 7 to 5 in favor of the visitors when the change was made.
Deever took it up with reluctance, for his sore arm would not permit him to throw anything but a “lob ball.” That slow teaser, however, bothered the Lakers for a while; but in the eighth they began to time it right, and drove in three more tallies, which clinched the game. Cope heard a man near him complaining.
“Lefty could have saved it if Hutch had put him in,” declared the dissatisfied one. “He’s the only real pitcher we’ve got. Skillings belongs in the discards, and Deever hasn’t got anything left in his sleeve.”
“But we can’t pitch Lefty all the time,” returnedanother man. “We’d be fools to work him too much. We’re holding him back for the Bullies. He’s got that bunch measured, and they’re pie for him.”
When the game was over and the regretful crowd was passing slowly out through the gates, Cope sought Hutchinson.
“We’ve got to have another pitcher,” he said.
“Is that so?” said the manager. “I saw you talking with Lefty. Is he frightened out? Is he going to quit the league, or will he go to Bancroft?”
“He won’t do neither!” rasped Cope. “And he ain’t frightened. I say we’ve got to have another pitcher because it’s plain that Lefty’s the only real first-class twirler we own.”
“Skillings will be all right when he rounds into shape,” asserted Hutch. “I didn’t sign Deever.”
“Well, I did—and he’s as good as Skillings. Neither one of them ain’t got the goods. Do you know of any good pitcher we can get hold of in a hurry?”
“Such a man will be hard to find late in June.”
“But we’ve got to find him!” came grimly from Cope’s lips. “No matter what price we have to pay, we’ve got to have another top-notch slabman. If you can’t find him—”
“I presume,” cut in Hutchinson coldly, “that I can find him if he is to be found.”
“Then git busy. Make the wires hot! This town is out to win this year, if it goes bankrupt, and we ain’t goin’ to be held down by tricks, lack of pitchers, or anything else.”
“No doubt it will be wise to get a line on another man right away, as we’ll be in a hole if Bancroft can back up her claim to Lefty. How did he take it when you told him what was going on?”
“Never turned a hair. He ain’t worried.”
“Isn’t he? Well, I’d be if I were in his place—that is, if I wanted to pitch college baseball any more. This rumpus over him is bound to be his finish in that line. It isn’t my funeral, but I think he’s a fool not to hush it up if he can. It’s sure to get into the newspapers, and then the Princeton nine will bid good-by to Lefty Hazelton. They’ll have no more use for him.”
Shortly after breakfast, Saturday, Bob Hutchinson rapped on the door of Tom Locke’s room, and was invited to come in. He entered, bearing a newspaper in his hand, and found Locke writing at a small desk furnished by the hotel proprietor on particular request.
“Good morning,” said Tom, evincing a shadeof surprise at the call. “Have a chair.” He put aside the pen, and turned his own chair from the desk.
“This unfortunate contention over you,” Hutchinson said, “seems to be creating considerable disturbance. To say the least, it’s annoying.”
“I quite agree on that point,” nodded the pitcher, “and it is far more annoying to me than it can possibly be to any one else.”
“I should think it might be, although I wish to state that it has jarred me some. I’d like to know whether we have a good claim to you or not. Have you seen the BancroftNewsthis morning?”
“No.”
“Here it is. You’ll find something of interest concerning you here in the sporting department.”
He handed over the newspaper, indicating the article mentioned, and sat down. Not once did he take his cold eyes off Locke’s face as the latter read the piece pointed out.
TheNewshas learned that a warm controversy is in progress over a certain remarkable young left-handed pitcher who has created a decided sensation by his phenomenal slabwork for one of Bancroft’s strong rivals in the Northern League. The man in question is said to be a college pitcher who is playing under an assumed name, this discovery being made by our astute manager, Mr. Riley, who is certainly on the job every minute. To put one over on Michael Riley it is necessaryto catch him napping, and the sleepless-eyed sleuth of yellow fiction is a Rip Van Winkle compared with Mike.In ferreting out the identity of this young southpaw wizard, our manager found that the dangerous twirler who has twice humbled the hard-hitting “Bans”—we prefer this abbreviated familiar name for the team, although it is commonly known by another—is a prominent college star with whom Riley was negotiating as long ago as last December, and, as there is a league rule forbidding any team in the organization to dicker with a player who has made overtures to, or entered into correspondence with, another team, Mike lost no time in asserting his claim to this man. The team that has the coveted man, however, is naturally quite reluctant to give him up, and it seems now that the case must be settled by a meeting of the league directors, which will probably be called some time next week.Doubtless the publicity which this contention must produce will be very annoying to the young pitcher, and it may have a disastrous effect upon his standing as a college athlete; for the college man who is known to compete for money in baseball or any other sport becomes rated as a professional and is barred from college games. Nevertheless, more sympathy would be felt for the man had he not played the management of one Northern League team against another to his own advantage in the matter of salary. Should exposure and disbarment from amateur sports follow, there are some who must feel that he has only himself to blame.
TheNewshas learned that a warm controversy is in progress over a certain remarkable young left-handed pitcher who has created a decided sensation by his phenomenal slabwork for one of Bancroft’s strong rivals in the Northern League. The man in question is said to be a college pitcher who is playing under an assumed name, this discovery being made by our astute manager, Mr. Riley, who is certainly on the job every minute. To put one over on Michael Riley it is necessaryto catch him napping, and the sleepless-eyed sleuth of yellow fiction is a Rip Van Winkle compared with Mike.
In ferreting out the identity of this young southpaw wizard, our manager found that the dangerous twirler who has twice humbled the hard-hitting “Bans”—we prefer this abbreviated familiar name for the team, although it is commonly known by another—is a prominent college star with whom Riley was negotiating as long ago as last December, and, as there is a league rule forbidding any team in the organization to dicker with a player who has made overtures to, or entered into correspondence with, another team, Mike lost no time in asserting his claim to this man. The team that has the coveted man, however, is naturally quite reluctant to give him up, and it seems now that the case must be settled by a meeting of the league directors, which will probably be called some time next week.
Doubtless the publicity which this contention must produce will be very annoying to the young pitcher, and it may have a disastrous effect upon his standing as a college athlete; for the college man who is known to compete for money in baseball or any other sport becomes rated as a professional and is barred from college games. Nevertheless, more sympathy would be felt for the man had he not played the management of one Northern League team against another to his own advantage in the matter of salary. Should exposure and disbarment from amateur sports follow, there are some who must feel that he has only himself to blame.
Locke made no effort to hide his annoyance. “I doubted if Riley would carry it this far,” he said warmly.
“Why not?” questioned Hutchinson unemotionally. “You couldn’t expect him to hold back on account of what might happen to you at college. Any bush-league manager will give a collegeplayer every protection possible under ordinary circumstances, but there is nothing ordinary about this case, and you’ve certainly put yourself in bad by the course you have pursued. If I had a claim on a coveted player, similar to that which Riley professes to hold on you, I’d surely push it to the limit.”
“I don’t know whether or not I have made the statement to you personally,” said Lefty grimly, “but I will tell you now that Mike Riley has no claim whatever upon me.”
“How about the letter he says you wrote him last December, in response to his offer?”
“If such a letter was written him, it was a declination of the offer, and therefore put an end to negotiations. A man can’t be bound to a manager by any rule simply because he writes refusing the offer.”
“Not unless that refusal is, on its face, a suggestion or a proposition that a higher offer might be considered. In the latter case, negotiations would still be pending. Do you assert that your letter to Riley gave him to understand distinctly that you would not take any offer from him into consideration, Hazelton?”
“I have not said that I ever wrote Riley a letter, or ever received one from him; and while I amin Kingsbridge I prefer to be called Locke, not Hazelton.”
“Oh,” said Hutchinson, “of course we’ll humor you in that whim, although you must know that your real identity cannot be kept secret after this. I don’t suppose you’ll deny that Hazelton is your proper name?”
“I have said that I prefer to be called Locke.”