CHAPTER XXITHIRD BASE THATCHER
The question of whether there was to be a game or not was long debated that morning by the Custer School authorities. The fire had created no end of excitement at the school and in the village. And when the news of the burning of the fine old school building got abroad by means of the newspaper telegraph system anxious parents from all corners of the country began to telephone and telegraph concerning the safety of their boys.
It was long after daylight before the firemen got control of the fire and finally put it out, and when the last of them had gone back to their stations the gaunt, smoking ruins of one wing of the building stood out against the green spring verdure of the campus, stark and grimly fire-blackened.
There was a tremendous feeling of unrest among the students, too, for all of them had been aroused from their beds at an early hour thatmorning and of course none of them had returned to catch up on their sleep. Under such conditions the school authorities were not certain whether to attempt to play the scheduled baseball game or not.
At eleven o’clock that morning a conference was called in the administration building by Headmaster Dr. Shwagert, of Custer School. Coach Rice and Mr. Clarkson, and the Pennington captain, Tad Sloan, were included, with the two coaches of the Custer School team, Roy Milliken, and several of the school department heads. And at this conference the advisability of playing the game was carefully talked over. The conclusion was, however, that the students needed something to take their minds off the catastrophe of the night and announcement was made that the game would go on.
The announcement was greeted with enthusiasm by the students and the players of both teams as well, for all of the boys were as eager for the contest as they had been before the fire. To be sure, most of the Pennington boys, including Jeff, had lost their baseball togs and some of their equipment in the flames, but an hour’s rummagingin the gymnasium of the Custer School brought to light enough available equipment and cast-off uniforms to fit out the players who had lost their things, and by noon time everything was ready for the contest.
The game was arranged for two-thirty, as it had been originally scheduled, and of course the entire student body of the East Hampton school turned out and lined the field. Even the mascot, Spike, was brought out from his resting place in the basement of the gym. and taken to the Custer School’s bench, where, swathed in bandages, he was propped up on several gay pillows requisitioned from some of the boys’ rooms, and despite his suffering he evidently enjoyed the attentions showed to him, because he made a valiant effort to wag his stump of a tail every time any of the boys approached him. And he seemed especially grateful to Jeff, for when the third baseman went over to give him an affectionate pat the dog licked his hand by way of thanking him for his rescue.
But as a contest the game was far from a success. Indeed it was a very poor exhibition of baseball on the part of both teams, for when theboys got out on the field they realized soon enough that the excitement, keyed-up nerves, and loss of sleep had left them in far from fit condition to do their best as athletes.
Coach Rice approached Jeff just before the game was called and taking him aside spoke to him in a very fatherly fashion.
“Look here, Thatcher, I planned to start you at third to-day, as I told you. But you had a rather trying experience last night which must have taken a hard toll of your physical resources. I am inclined to keep you on the bench to-day and let Gould play. You may need a rest more than you need the physical exertion of playing the game. How do you feel, boy?”
Jeff’s disappointment was evident instantly.
“Oh, look here, coach,” he said eagerly, “there’s nothing the matter with me at all. Really there isn’t. I feel as fit as a fiddle. That swim and rub down I had just about set me up. And I got a good nap over in the gym., too. I’m just crazy to play.”
The coach was silent for a moment while he studied the boy. Then he smiled and said:
“All right. I’ll let you go in. But promise mewhen you feel that the exertion is too much for you you will let me know. I don’t want to be responsible for having you break down when you get back to school and cause you to have a session in the infirmary, you know.”
“Oh, don’t fear, coach. I’m all right. Just let me go in.”
The coach gave Jeff his way, but the new third baseman soon realized that Mr. Rice knew a lot more about the physical capabilities of boys than he did. He was far from being at the top of his game and his playing was decidedly ragged. But at that he seemed to have himself better in hand than most of the other players, for they were all just as ragged as he was and some of them a great deal more so. About the only one who seemed to have his feet on the ground at all was sturdy little Tad Sloan, the catcher and captain. He played a good, heady baseball game, and he tried valiantly to instill his own confidence into the rest, but with little success.
The game opened up a veritable “swat fest,” to quote the baseball writers. The Custer School pitcher, Ray Strong, was in bad shape during the first three innings and the visitors found him forseveral bunches of clean hits ranging from sizzling singles, to a long three-base drive by Dutch Hecht that brought in two runs.
But big George Dixon seemed to be no better off than the Custer School man, for he was “as wild as a tom cat,” as Coach Rice expressed it. He passed the first and second man up and served a wide out to the next Custer batter, who promptly landed on it for a smash into right field that brought both runners home and put him in a position to score on the next hit, which was not long in coming. Indeed, the Custer School players buried Dixon under an avalanche of hits in the first and second innings and he finally appealed to Coach Rice to take him out until he could steady down. Honey Wiggins went in after that and seemed to be just the man to step into the breach, for he steadied down and actually struck out two of the opposing players for the first two strike outs of the game.
They took out Ray Long, too, in the third and put in a young husky with terrific speed and fine control, but very little versatility in pitching anything but straight balls. He was good, however, and he seemed to be working on something morethan pure nerve which had been Long’s case for the first three innings.
Each side had scored heavily in the opening innings, with the advantage going to the Custer School team. The tally stood 8 to 6 at the beginning of the fourth inning. But both teams showed signs of steadying down, however, and with the advent of new pitchers the hitting suddenly let down. Indeed, Honey Wiggins held the Custer team to two hits in the succeeding three innings and neither of them amounted to more than getting a man on base.
The new Custer pitcher also kept the hits scattered until the beginning of the seventh, when big Lafe Gammage, the second man up, slammed a likely bingle between short and third, and Mickey Daily beat out a pretty bunt and advanced Lafe to second. There were two on and one out. Buck Hart was up next and Buck was due for a hit.
The speed artist on the Custer mound looked the situation over carefully and realized that he was in a hole. He tried to coax Buck to swing at an offering a trifle wide that zipped over with the speed of a cannon ball, but Buck refused. Hetried another one a little low and Buck only smiled. There were two balls on him and no strikes.
The Custer pitcher calculated that it was time now to put over a strike, figuring that Buck would pass it just on a chance that it might be called a ball, so he whipped over one that fairly sizzled as it cut the inside corner of the plate. Buck saw it was a likely ball, and he made a vicious stab at it and connected. It went crashing toward the first baseman, who was playing close to his bag, and it looked for a moment as if Buck had batted into a double play.
It was a terrifically hot ball that the first baseman tried to field, but he fumbled it, the sphere shooting at a tangent toward second base. Wildly he scrambled for it, while the pitcher raced to cover first. Meanwhile, Lafe had gone down to third and Mickey Daily was racing to second. The chances for a double play had gone glimmering with that error and it was evident that it was going to be a hard job to even catch Buck at first. Lafe overran third, and watching the scrambling first baseman started for home, Gleason, on the coaching line, gave him the signal and he sprinted for the plate.
By that time the first baseman had fielded the ball, and seeing a runner streaking for the plate he whipped the horsehide down to the catcher. But the throw was low, and as the catcher tried to dig the sphere out of the dust Lafe slid over with long arms and legs flying, and the umpire called him safe.
That left Daily on second and Buck Hart on first and Jeff Thatcher was the next man up.
Jeff had one hit to his credit so far. He decided that he wanted another to bring Daily in and tie the score. And he got it.He leaned on the very first ball pitchedand smashed it over the second baseman’s head for a fine clean single, and meanwhile Daily, who was working on a long lead off the base, scored standing up, while Buck Hart went to third. The score was evened up, with a man on first and a man on third and only one out. It looked as if Pennington could sew up the game right there,—it looked that way but it did not work out that way. Instead, Dave Gleason, the next man up, batted into a double play. Jeff was caught at second by a snappy play by the Custer short stop, and Dave Gleason was thrown out witha yard or two to spare at first and the side was retired.
With the score tied the Custer team came up to the bat for the last half of the seventh full of determination. And they started to make good with the first player, who found Honey Wiggins for a hit just out of reach of the shortstop.
The next player up was one of the best batters on the Custer team and Jeff had been watching him the entire game. As he picked up his stick, Jeff noticed that the Custer coach passed him a signal. He could not interpret it but he made a wild guess at it. The man at the bat was a slugger. A wise coach, under the present circumstances, with all of the players looking for a slashing hit, would doubtless signal the batter to bunt and try and beat it out while the man on first went down to second. Jeff realized that there were a dozen chances to one that he had guessed wrong; but playing for a lucky break, and instead of backing out when the slugger came to bat, he set himself for a sprint in toward the plate.
He started a moment after the ball left Honey Wiggins’ hand, and sprinted toward the batter. And he had guessed right. The Custer sluggershorted his bat and bunted a soft rolling bunt that bounded directly toward the oncoming Jeff. On the run Jeff scooped it up, snapped it down to first, and Lafe Gammage, on his toes, relayed it to second for a double play. The Pennington crowd went wild, and there were cheers for Jeff even from the Custer School contingent, for he had displayed a brand of snappy baseball in a game that had been as ragged as could be, which, perhaps, was one reason why his play stood out so conspicuously. But regardless of that fact the cheers sounded good to him, and especially good came the shout from right field, where Wade Grenville yelled:
“That’s baseball, old Frog.”
With two out it looked as if the inning would be closed with the next man up, and Honey Wiggins pitched to him, determined to make him fan. But Honey did not know how really dangerous this batter was or he would have been more discreet. The third ball that was served to him evidently looked to be just what he wanted, for he swung with all his might. A startling crash resulted, and the horsehide went soaring up and up and out, far over Jeff Thatcher’s head and on intoleft field. Dutch Hecht was running back as fast as his short legs could carry him, which was mighty fast at times. But in this instance Dutch and his legs were not equal to the occasion, for when the ball hit the ground Dutch was still running toward the spot it dropped, and when he finally recovered it and threw it back to Jeff, a wild shout went up from the stands, for the runner had crossed the plate for a home run, and, as it proved, the winning run of the game, for in the remaining two innings neither Custer nor Pennington were able to score again, and the final tally was 9 to 8 in favor of the home team.
But despite the loss of the game Jeff did not feel as despondent as might have been the case, for on their way back to the Custer gymnasium, Coach Rice came over to his side and walked with him a little way.
“That was heady baseball you played in the seventh inning. I like to see a man use his head that way. Of course you got a lucky break, too, but I like to see a man on his toes and ready to take advantage of lucky breaks just as you did. I guess we’ll have to give you the regular job at third base, Thatcher.”