the Shortstop (1992) (17 page)

Chase gulped when he saw the eyes were unchanged, still warm and bright. "No? Oh, Marjory, it's not so bad as that?"

" Yes. But, Chase, you just give up the Sunday games, and then everything will be all right again."

" I can't do that."

"Why not? Let them play without "

"It's no use, Marjory. Either I play on Sundays or give up the game. An
d
it means a good deal to me. Does your mother say it's wrong?"

"She says it's awful. And Mr. Marsden held up his hand in holy horro
r
when he heard it. He's going to work against it - stop it."

" Do you think it's so terribly wrong?"

" Oh, Chase, for you to ask me that l. Don't you know it?"

" No, I don't," replied Chase, stubbornly.

" Then you won't give it up? "

" No."

" Not - not even to please me? "

" I would if I could -but I can't. Marjory, please -"

"Then - good-bye."

" Oh ! " cried Chase, sharply. He looked at her; the long lashe
s
were down. " You said that as if I were - Look here, Marjory Dean! I'
m
working for my mother. I've seen her faint when she came home a
t
night. I've seen he
r
hands bleed. If every day were Sunday and baseball bad - which it's not !I'd play. What do I care for Mr. Marsden? He's so dry he rattles like a beanstalk. I don't care what your mother thinks. She's -- I don't care -what -what you think, either. Good-bye! " He strode off the porch.

A low, tremulous " Chase!" did not halt him. He was bitterly hurt, angry, and sick. He went to his room, fought out his bad hour alone in the dark, and then came forth feeling himself older and resigned.

But he was more determined than ever to stand by the game. Sunday another great throng yelled itself hoarse at the grounds, and went home in shirt-sleeves, sweaty, tired, and happy.

Chase dressed, went to dinner, and then strolled round to the hotel. All the boys were there lounging in familiar groups. He thought they all seemed rather quiet and looked queerly at him. Before he could learn what was in the air a policeman whom he knew well stepped up reluctantly.

" Chase, I've got a warrant for you." The blood round Chase's hear
t
seemed to freeze. He stared, unable to speak. " My pardner has gone t
o
arrest Mac," continued the officer.

"Here's the warrant." The printed words blurred in Chase's sight, but hi
s
own name in writing, and the term "Sunday baseball," and the Rev. Mr.

Marsden's name told him the meaning of the arrest.

"I'm sorry, Chase. I hate to run you in. But I've my duty," said the officer
,
and whispered lower, "We'll try to get word to Mayor Duff, so you can ge
t
bail and not be locked up."

" Bail? Locked up?" echoed Chase, stupidly.

Mac appeared with another officer. The little manager was pale but com!posed. " Shure, we're pinched, Chase," he said and as the player
s
crowded round he continued : " Fade away now, or you'll put peopl
e
wise. Somebody hunt up King an' Beekman an' send them to th
e
station. Cas, you dig for Mayor Duff's house an' ask him to come to tak
e
bai
l
for us. Lord! I hope he 's home. If not, the law puts us in a cell to-night.

Shure somebody has done us dirt. Them warrants might have bee
n
made out for to-morrow."

" Mac, you an' Chase walk round to the station alone," said one of th
e
officers. "We'll go another way."

"Thanks, shure you're all right," replied Mac.

" Come on, Chase. Don't look so peaked."

" Isn't the whole team arrested?" queried Chase.

" Shure, an' the whole team 'll be on trial, but the warrants read fo
r
manager and, one player. It 'd been more regular to hev pinched Enoch
,
as he is captain. Don't know why they picked out you."

" Is playing on Sunday against the law? "

" Naw. Not any more 'n drivin' a team; but these moss-backed peopl
e
twist things an' call us `nuisances' an' `immoral' an' Lord knows what.

Here we are at the station. It 's pretty tough on you, kid, but don't quit.

This won't hurt you any."

The two officers met them, unlocked the station-house doors, and ushered them into the mayor's office. Presently Beekman strode in, big and important, and said it was not necessary to call in King, for he would go bail for both.

"If Duff's in town he'll come," continued Beekman. Presently the sounds of a fast trotting horse and flying wheels drew an officer to the window. "The mayor 's here," he said. Mac settled back with a deep breath. "Good!" he exclaimed.

A tall man with a gray beard came in hurriedly, followed by Castorious. He nodded to all, threw his gloves on the desk, and took the warrants held out to him. In a few moments he had made the necessary recording of the arrests and of accepted bail. Then he shook hands with Mac and Chase.

"Glad I happened to run across Castorious. Was driving out into the country. You'll get your hearing to-morrow morning, and if you wish I'll set the trial for Wednesday or Thursday morning."

"The sooner the better," replied Mac. Then the mayor bowed pleasantly and left. Chase followed the others out. He could scarcely realize that he had been arrested; and leaving his friends in earnest conversation, he went to his room and to bed. He did not have a very restful night.

The morning papers were full of the particulars of the arrest and the consideration of Sunday ball; and the subject was the absorbing topic of conversation everywhere. All the directors of the team were present at the hearing, and ;afterwards repaired to judge Meggs's office to discuss the matter of defence.

Meggs was a shrewd old lawyer, and incidentally an admirer of the game of baseball. While in office he had been known to adjourn court because he wanted to see Findlay " wollop " their rivals. Therefore it was felt that with the case in his hands the team would escape imprisonment and fine even if Sunday ball were discontinued.

Beekman and King had visited practically all the men of business in Findla
y
and stating their case, that the Sunday game was conducted in an orderly manner, that no drinks were sold at or near the grounds, that it was played at the earnest request of thousands of working men and boys, had gotten a long list of signatures to their petition favoring the game.

During the discussion as to the defence one of the directors had mentioned the fact that certain members of the laboring class were better off in summer for the playing of the game.

" Can we prove that?" asked judge Meggs. "I know it's true," spoke up Chase. " How do you know? " returned the lawyer.

Somewhat incoherently, but with the eager earnestness of conviction, Chase told what he knew. Then the judge questioned him in regard to his motive, drew him out to tell what baseball meant to him and to others like him, with the result that he presently said to the directors:

" Gentlemen, we have our defence and you may take my word for it, we shall win." He asked Chase to call at his office an hour before the time fixed upon for the trial next day.

Findlay lost the ball game that afternoon. They played listlessly, and plainly showed the effects of the cloud hanging over them. On Wednesday Chase went to judge Meggs's office at the appointed time.

" Now, Chase, if you are a star of the diamond you ought to shine just as brightly in the court-room. This morning when I call on you I want you to get up and tell the court what you told me about yourself and baseball. Be simple, earnest, and straightforward. You have here the opportunity to vindicate yourself and your fellow-players, so make the best of it."

Chase went to the court-room with the judge. It was crowded with peo!ple. The Findlay team and the team visiting town at that time occupied front seats. All the directors and many business men were present. There wa
s
a plentiful sprinkling of ladies in the background. Mayor Duff opened proceedings as soon as the judge arrived with Chase. The prosecuting minister did not appear. His representative, a young lawyer, rose and expatiated on the evils of the Findlay team in general and of Sunday ball in particular.

These young men set bad examples, engendered idleness and love of play, they were opposed to work, they enticed boys from school to see a useless and sometimes dangerous sport, they fostered the spirit of rivalry, of gambling.

Baseball on Sunday was an abomination, it was a desecration of the Sabbath, it added to the undermining of the church, it opposed the teachings of the Bible, it kept the boys and girls from Sunday school. Sunday was a day of rest, of prayer, of quiet communion, not a day for playing, howling, yelling, mobbing, carousing. The permitting of the game was a disgrace to the decent name of Findlay, a shame to her respectable citizens, and a sin to her churches.

The prosecution examined witnesses, who swore to endless streams of passing men on the streets; of yelling that made the afternoon a hideous nightmare; of brawls on corners and mob violence in the ball-grounds; of hoodlums accosting women. And there the prosecution rested.

Judge Meggs read the petition and names, of the men who had signed it; and he said there could be little doubt of the great benefit Findlay had derived in a business way from the advertising given to it by the baseball team.

"Your Honor," he concluded, impressively, " I will now have one of the defendants tell his experience of baseball."

At a word from judge Meggs, Chase stepped forward. His face was white, his eyes dark from excitement, but he appeared entirely self-possessed.

" Your Honor, I am eighteen years old, and have played baseball as long as I can remember. I learned in the streets and on the lots of Akron. When twelve years old I left school to work to support my mother and a crippled brother.

I sold papers, did odd jobs, anything that offered. I had a crooked eye then, and it was hard for me to get a place. People didn't like my looks. At fourteen I went to work in the moulding department of a factory. I studied at night to try to get some education. When I had been there a year I earned five dollars a week. After four years I was earning six dollars. I did not advance fast.

"Last Summer I played ball on the factory team. This Spring I decided to be a ball player. My mother opposed me, but I persuaded her. I started out to find a place on a team. My crooked eye was against chances of success. I became a tramp, and beat my way from town to town. I starve
d
-but I hung on.

" One morning I awoke in a fence corner. A woman I spoke to said the town near by was Findlay. I hunted up the ball-grounds and the manager. He didn't see my ragged clothes or my crooked eye. He gave me a chance. I played a wretched game. I expected to be thrown from the grounds. He gave m
e
money, said he would keep me, would teach me the game. I tried hard and I made good.

" I have been very happy here in Findlay. I never knew what friends meant. Everybody has been kind to me. I have dreamed of one day being a business man here. But best for me was what I could do for my mother and brother. She does not take in washing any more or sew herself blind late into the nights. My brother has had treatment for his hip; he has the books he needed, and he will get the education he longs for.

" When I learned we were to play Sunday ball I was stunned. I never thought of that. My mother gave me Christian teaching, and I kept the Sabbath day. I was sick with doubt. I felt that I was going to do wrong. I concluded that it would be wrong, but I had no mind to sacrifice my place on the team. That had been too dearly bought. It meant too much to me.

" My mother had to be told, and there lay the reason of my seeking for some excuse. It came to me in the first Sun!
d
ay game. There were five hundred men and boys who had never attended one of our games. No one ever saw a wilder crowd. It was as if they had been let out of an asylum. They were crazy, but it was with happiness. They screamed like Indians, but it was for freedom. I saw men smash their hats, boys throw their coats; and both yell with tears in their eyes. Why?

" Your Honor, I will tell you why. I know what it means to work from day!light to night, year in, year out, with no chance, no hope for the natural play every man and especially every boy loves. It is very easy for ministers and teachers to tell us working-men how to spend the one free day, and no doubt they mean well, but they miss the point. On Sunday those shrieking, boisterous diggers, cappers, puddlers, refiners, had gone back to their boyhood. They played the game for us with their hearts, their throats, their tears.

" The night after that game I had a change of feeling. I began to think perhaps after all it was not so bad for me t
o
Play ball on Sunday. I began to " see things I had never seen before. If I could satisfy myself that the hundreds of men and boys were better off at a Sunday game than elsewhere, then I was justified in playing for their amusement.