CHAPTER XVANTHONY ON BASEBALL“Well,” commenced Anthony, in his even, deliberate drawl, “you had your chance to get out, and didn’t take it. I guess you’re in for it. I’ve been requested to speak to you about baseball. I told Captain Perkins that I didn’t know a baseball from a frozen turnip, but he said that made it all the better; that if I didn’t know what I was talking about you would realize that I was absolutely unprejudiced and my words would carry more weight. I said, ‘How are you going to get the fellows to listen to me?’ He said, ‘We’ll lock the doors.’ I guess they’re locked.”Half his audience turned to look, and the rest laughed.“Anyhow,” Anthony continued, “he kept his part of the agreement, and so I’ll have to keep mine. I’ve said frankly that I know nothing about baseball, and I hope that you will all pardon any mistakes I may make in discussing the subject. I never saw but onegame, and after it was over I knew less about it than I did before. A fellow I knew played—well, I don’t know just what he did play; most of the time he danced around a bag of salt or something that some one had left out on the grass. There were three of those bags, and his was the one on the southeast corner. When the game was over he asked me how I liked it. I said, ‘It looks to me like a good game for a lunatic asylum.’ He said I showed ignorance; that it was the best game in the world, and just full up and slopping over with science. I didn’t argue with him. But I’ve always thought that if I had to play baseball I’d choose to be the fellow that wears a black alpaca coat and does the talking. Seems to me he’s the only one that remains sane. I asked my friend if he was the keeper; he said no, he was the umpire.”By this time the laughter was almost continuous, but Anthony’s expression of calm gravity remained unbroken. At times he appeared surprised and disturbed by the bursts of laughter; and a small freshman in the front row toppled out of his seat and had to be thumped on the back. Even the dean was chuckling.“Well, science has always been a weak point with me, and I guess that’s why I’m not able to understand the science of hitting a ball with a wagon-spoke and running over salt-bags. But I’m not so narrow-mindedas to affirm that because I can’t see the science it isn’t there. You’ve all heard about Abraham Lincoln and the book-agent, I guess. The book-agent wanted him to write a testimonial for his book. Lincoln wrote it. It ran something like this: ‘Any person who likes this kind of a book will find this just the kind of a book he likes.’ Well, that’s about my idea of baseball; anybody who likes that kind of a game will find baseball just the kind of a game he likes.“Now, they tell me that down at Robinson they’ve found an old wagon-wheel, cut the fingers off a pair of kid gloves, bought a wire bird-cage, and started a baseball club. All right. Let ’em. There are other wheels and more gloves and another bird-cage, I guess. Captain Perkins says he has a club, too. I’ve never seen it, but I don’t doubt his word; any man with Titian hair tells the truth. He says he keeps it out at the field. From what I’ve seen of baseball clubs I think that’s a good, safe place. I hope, however, that he locks the gates when he leaves ’em. But Captain Perkins tells me that he has the finest kind of a baseball club that ever gibbered, and he offers to bet me a suspender buckle against a pants button that his club can knock the spots off of any other club, and especially the Robinson club. I’m not a betting man, and so I let him boast.“And after he’d boasted until he’d tired himself out he went on to say that baseball clubs were like any other aggregation of mortals; that they have to be clothed and fed, and, moreover, when they go away to mingle with other clubs they have to have their railway fare paid. Captain Perkins, as I’ve said once already, is a truthful man, and so I don’t see but that we’ve got to believe him. He says that his club hasn’t any money; that if it doesn’t get some money it will grow pale and thin and emaciated, and won’t be able to run around the salt-bags as violently as the Robinson club; in which case the keeper—I mean the umpire—will give the game to Robinson. Well, now, what’s to be done? Are we to stand idly by with our hands in our pockets and see Robinson walk off with a game that is really our property? Or are we to take our hands out of our pockets, with the fingers closed, and jingle some coins into the collection-box?“I’m not a baseball enthusiast, as I’ve acknowledged, but I am an Erskine enthusiast, fellows. Perkins says we ought to beat Robinson at baseball. I say let’s do it! I say let’s beat Robinson at everything. If anybody will start a parchesi club I’ll go along and stand by and yell while they down the Robinson parchesi club. That’s what Providence made Robinson for—to be beaten. Providence looked over the situationand said: ‘There’s Erskine, with nothing to beat.’ Then Providence made Robinson. And we started in and beat her. And we’ve been beating her ever since—when she hasn’t beaten us.“I’ve done a whole lot of talking here this evening, and I guess you’re all tired of it.” (There was loud and continued dissent at this point, interspersed with cries of “Good old Tidball!”) “But I promised to talk, and I like to give good measure. But the time for talking is about up. Mr. Hanson has something to say to you, and as he knows what he’s going to talk about, whereas I don’t know what I’m talking about, I guess I’d better stop and give him a show. But before I stop I want to point out a self-evident fact, fellows. You can’t win from Robinson without a baseball team, and you can’t have a baseball team unless you dig down in your pockets and pay up. Manager Patterson says the Baseball Association needs the sum of six hundred dollars. Well, let’s give it to ’em. Any fellow here to-night who thinks a victory over Robinson isn’t worth six hundred dollars is invited to stand up and walk out; we’ll unlock the door for him. Six hundred dollars means only about one dollar for each fellow. I am requested to state that after Mr. Hanson has spoken his piece a few of the best-looking men among us will pass through the audience with smallcards upon which every man is asked to write his name and the amount he is willing to contribute to secure a victory over Robinson that will make last year’s score look like an infinitesimal fraction. If some one will go through the motions, I’d like to propose three long Erskines, three times three and three long Erskines for the nine.”Anthony bowed and sat down. The senior class president sprang to his feet, and the next moment the hall was thunderous with the mighty cheers that followed his “One, two, three!” Then came calls of “Tidball! Tidball!” and again the slogan was taken up. It was fully five minutes ere the head coach arose. And when he in turn stood at the platform’s edge the cheers began once more, for enthusiasm reigned at last.Hanson realized that further speechmaking was idle and confined his remarks to an indorsement of what Anthony had said. The distribution of blank slips of paper had already begun and his audience paid but little attention to his words, although it applauded good-naturedly. When he had ended, promising on behalf of the team, and in return for the support of the college, the best efforts of players and coaches, confusion reigned supreme. Pencils and fountain pens were passed hither and thither, jokes were bandied,songs were sung, and the tumult increased with the pushing aside of chairs and the scraping of feet as the meeting began to break up. But, though some left as soon as they had filled out their pledges, the greater number flocked into noisy groups and awaited the announcement of the result.At length, Professor Nast accepted the slip of paper handed him by Patterson and advanced to the edge of the platform. There, he raised a hand for attention, and at the same time glanced at the figures. An expression of incredulity overspread his face, and he turned an inquiring look upon the manager. The latter smiled and nodded, as though to dispel the professor’s doubts. The hubbub died away, and the professor faced the meeting again.“I am asked,” he said, “to announce the result of the—ah—subscription. Where every one has responded so promptly and so heartily to the appeal in behalf of the association, it would be, perhaps, unfair to give the names of any who have been exceptionally generous. But without doing so it remains a pleasant—ah—privilege to state that among the subscriptions there is one of fifty dollars——”Loud applause greeted this announcement, and fellows of notoriously empty pocket-books were accused by their friends of being the unnamed benefactor, andinvariably acknowledged the impeachment with profuse expressions of modesty.“Three of twenty-five dollars,” continued the professor, “six of ten dollars, seventeen of five dollars, and many of two dollars and over. The total subscription, strange as it may seem, reaches the sum of five hundred and ninety-nine dollars, one dollar less than the amount asked for!”There was a moment of silent surprise. Then, from somewhere at the left of the room, a voice cried: “Here you are, then!” and something went spinning through the air. The head coach leaped forward, caught it deftly, and held it aloft. It was a shining silver dollar.“Thank you,” he said.The incident tickled the throng, and cheers and laughter struggled for supremacy. Jack pushed his way to the door, and remained there waiting for Anthony, one hand groping lonesomely in a trouser pocket where a minute or two before had snuggled his last coin.
“Well,” commenced Anthony, in his even, deliberate drawl, “you had your chance to get out, and didn’t take it. I guess you’re in for it. I’ve been requested to speak to you about baseball. I told Captain Perkins that I didn’t know a baseball from a frozen turnip, but he said that made it all the better; that if I didn’t know what I was talking about you would realize that I was absolutely unprejudiced and my words would carry more weight. I said, ‘How are you going to get the fellows to listen to me?’ He said, ‘We’ll lock the doors.’ I guess they’re locked.”
Half his audience turned to look, and the rest laughed.
“Anyhow,” Anthony continued, “he kept his part of the agreement, and so I’ll have to keep mine. I’ve said frankly that I know nothing about baseball, and I hope that you will all pardon any mistakes I may make in discussing the subject. I never saw but onegame, and after it was over I knew less about it than I did before. A fellow I knew played—well, I don’t know just what he did play; most of the time he danced around a bag of salt or something that some one had left out on the grass. There were three of those bags, and his was the one on the southeast corner. When the game was over he asked me how I liked it. I said, ‘It looks to me like a good game for a lunatic asylum.’ He said I showed ignorance; that it was the best game in the world, and just full up and slopping over with science. I didn’t argue with him. But I’ve always thought that if I had to play baseball I’d choose to be the fellow that wears a black alpaca coat and does the talking. Seems to me he’s the only one that remains sane. I asked my friend if he was the keeper; he said no, he was the umpire.”
By this time the laughter was almost continuous, but Anthony’s expression of calm gravity remained unbroken. At times he appeared surprised and disturbed by the bursts of laughter; and a small freshman in the front row toppled out of his seat and had to be thumped on the back. Even the dean was chuckling.
“Well, science has always been a weak point with me, and I guess that’s why I’m not able to understand the science of hitting a ball with a wagon-spoke and running over salt-bags. But I’m not so narrow-mindedas to affirm that because I can’t see the science it isn’t there. You’ve all heard about Abraham Lincoln and the book-agent, I guess. The book-agent wanted him to write a testimonial for his book. Lincoln wrote it. It ran something like this: ‘Any person who likes this kind of a book will find this just the kind of a book he likes.’ Well, that’s about my idea of baseball; anybody who likes that kind of a game will find baseball just the kind of a game he likes.
“Now, they tell me that down at Robinson they’ve found an old wagon-wheel, cut the fingers off a pair of kid gloves, bought a wire bird-cage, and started a baseball club. All right. Let ’em. There are other wheels and more gloves and another bird-cage, I guess. Captain Perkins says he has a club, too. I’ve never seen it, but I don’t doubt his word; any man with Titian hair tells the truth. He says he keeps it out at the field. From what I’ve seen of baseball clubs I think that’s a good, safe place. I hope, however, that he locks the gates when he leaves ’em. But Captain Perkins tells me that he has the finest kind of a baseball club that ever gibbered, and he offers to bet me a suspender buckle against a pants button that his club can knock the spots off of any other club, and especially the Robinson club. I’m not a betting man, and so I let him boast.
“And after he’d boasted until he’d tired himself out he went on to say that baseball clubs were like any other aggregation of mortals; that they have to be clothed and fed, and, moreover, when they go away to mingle with other clubs they have to have their railway fare paid. Captain Perkins, as I’ve said once already, is a truthful man, and so I don’t see but that we’ve got to believe him. He says that his club hasn’t any money; that if it doesn’t get some money it will grow pale and thin and emaciated, and won’t be able to run around the salt-bags as violently as the Robinson club; in which case the keeper—I mean the umpire—will give the game to Robinson. Well, now, what’s to be done? Are we to stand idly by with our hands in our pockets and see Robinson walk off with a game that is really our property? Or are we to take our hands out of our pockets, with the fingers closed, and jingle some coins into the collection-box?
“I’m not a baseball enthusiast, as I’ve acknowledged, but I am an Erskine enthusiast, fellows. Perkins says we ought to beat Robinson at baseball. I say let’s do it! I say let’s beat Robinson at everything. If anybody will start a parchesi club I’ll go along and stand by and yell while they down the Robinson parchesi club. That’s what Providence made Robinson for—to be beaten. Providence looked over the situationand said: ‘There’s Erskine, with nothing to beat.’ Then Providence made Robinson. And we started in and beat her. And we’ve been beating her ever since—when she hasn’t beaten us.
“I’ve done a whole lot of talking here this evening, and I guess you’re all tired of it.” (There was loud and continued dissent at this point, interspersed with cries of “Good old Tidball!”) “But I promised to talk, and I like to give good measure. But the time for talking is about up. Mr. Hanson has something to say to you, and as he knows what he’s going to talk about, whereas I don’t know what I’m talking about, I guess I’d better stop and give him a show. But before I stop I want to point out a self-evident fact, fellows. You can’t win from Robinson without a baseball team, and you can’t have a baseball team unless you dig down in your pockets and pay up. Manager Patterson says the Baseball Association needs the sum of six hundred dollars. Well, let’s give it to ’em. Any fellow here to-night who thinks a victory over Robinson isn’t worth six hundred dollars is invited to stand up and walk out; we’ll unlock the door for him. Six hundred dollars means only about one dollar for each fellow. I am requested to state that after Mr. Hanson has spoken his piece a few of the best-looking men among us will pass through the audience with smallcards upon which every man is asked to write his name and the amount he is willing to contribute to secure a victory over Robinson that will make last year’s score look like an infinitesimal fraction. If some one will go through the motions, I’d like to propose three long Erskines, three times three and three long Erskines for the nine.”
Anthony bowed and sat down. The senior class president sprang to his feet, and the next moment the hall was thunderous with the mighty cheers that followed his “One, two, three!” Then came calls of “Tidball! Tidball!” and again the slogan was taken up. It was fully five minutes ere the head coach arose. And when he in turn stood at the platform’s edge the cheers began once more, for enthusiasm reigned at last.
Hanson realized that further speechmaking was idle and confined his remarks to an indorsement of what Anthony had said. The distribution of blank slips of paper had already begun and his audience paid but little attention to his words, although it applauded good-naturedly. When he had ended, promising on behalf of the team, and in return for the support of the college, the best efforts of players and coaches, confusion reigned supreme. Pencils and fountain pens were passed hither and thither, jokes were bandied,songs were sung, and the tumult increased with the pushing aside of chairs and the scraping of feet as the meeting began to break up. But, though some left as soon as they had filled out their pledges, the greater number flocked into noisy groups and awaited the announcement of the result.
At length, Professor Nast accepted the slip of paper handed him by Patterson and advanced to the edge of the platform. There, he raised a hand for attention, and at the same time glanced at the figures. An expression of incredulity overspread his face, and he turned an inquiring look upon the manager. The latter smiled and nodded, as though to dispel the professor’s doubts. The hubbub died away, and the professor faced the meeting again.
“I am asked,” he said, “to announce the result of the—ah—subscription. Where every one has responded so promptly and so heartily to the appeal in behalf of the association, it would be, perhaps, unfair to give the names of any who have been exceptionally generous. But without doing so it remains a pleasant—ah—privilege to state that among the subscriptions there is one of fifty dollars——”
Loud applause greeted this announcement, and fellows of notoriously empty pocket-books were accused by their friends of being the unnamed benefactor, andinvariably acknowledged the impeachment with profuse expressions of modesty.
“Three of twenty-five dollars,” continued the professor, “six of ten dollars, seventeen of five dollars, and many of two dollars and over. The total subscription, strange as it may seem, reaches the sum of five hundred and ninety-nine dollars, one dollar less than the amount asked for!”
There was a moment of silent surprise. Then, from somewhere at the left of the room, a voice cried: “Here you are, then!” and something went spinning through the air. The head coach leaped forward, caught it deftly, and held it aloft. It was a shining silver dollar.
“Thank you,” he said.
The incident tickled the throng, and cheers and laughter struggled for supremacy. Jack pushed his way to the door, and remained there waiting for Anthony, one hand groping lonesomely in a trouser pocket where a minute or two before had snuggled his last coin.