the Shortstop (1992) (4 page)

Every small town in Ohio, as well as every large one, supported a baseball club, and Chase dragged himself and the hoodoo that haunted him from place to place.

The Niles team played him in right field one day, and, losing the game, promptly set him adrift. He got a chance on the Warren nine and here again his hoodoo worked. Lima had a weak aggregation, and readily gave him opportunity to make good. He was ner!
v
ous and overstrained, and made five errors, losing the game.

He drifted to Toledo, to Cleveland, thence back to Toledo and over into Michigan. It seemed that fortune favored him with opportunities that he could not grasp. Adrian, Jackson, Lansing, Owosso, Flint, -all the clubs that took him on for a game lost it, and further spread the fame of his hoodoo.

Chase's money had long since departed from him. His clothes became ragged and unclean. Small boys called him "Hobo," and indeed in all except heart he was that. For he rode on coal-trains and cattle-trains, and begged his few and scanty meals at the back doors of farm-houses.

In every town he came to he would search out the baseball grounds, waylay the manager or captain, say that he was a player and ask for a chance. Toward the end of this time of vicissitude no one had interest enough in him to admit him to the grounds.

Back he worked into Ohio, growing more weary, more down-hearted, till black despair fixed on his heart. One morning he awoke stiff and sore in a fence-corner outside of a town. He asked a woman who gave him bread to eat, what the name of the town was, and she said Findlay.

Chase thought bitterly of how useless it would be to approach the manager of that team, for Findlay was in the league, and moreover, had been for two years the crack team of Ohio. He did not even have any intention of trying. There was nothing left for him but to go back home and beg to be taken into the factory at his old job and poor wages. They did not seem so bad now, after all his experience. Alas for his dreams!

It occurred to him in wonder that he had persisted for a long time in the face of adverse circumstances. It was now June, though he did not know the date, and he had started out in May. Why had he kept on? For weeks he had not thought of his mother and brother, and now, quite suddenly, they both flashed into his mind. Then he knew why he had persisted, and h
e
knew more, - that he would never give up.

He saw her smile, and the warm light of faith in Will's eyes, and he heard his last words : " Hang on, Chase. Hang on!

Chapter
V.

THE CRACK TEAM OF OHIO
.

IN the afternoon of that day Chase was one of the forerunners of the crowd making towards the Findlay ballpark.

Most ball-parks were situated in the outskirts of towns; Findlay, however, being a red-hot baseball centre, had its grounds right in town on a prominent street. They were inclosed with a high board fence, above which the roof of a fine grandstand was to be seen. Before the gates the irrepressible small boy was much in evidenc
e
As Chase came up he saw a ball fly over the stand fall to the street and bound away, with the small boys in a wild scramble after it. To secure the ball meant admission to the grounds. Quick as a flash Chase saw his opportunity and dashed across the street. He got the ball, to the infinite disgust of the small boys. The gatekeeper took it and passed Chase in.

Players in gray uniforms marked " Kenton " were practising, some out in the field, others on the diamond. Chase had never seen such a smooth baseball ground. The diamond was bare; all the rest of the field was green, level sward, closely cropped. Chase thought a fellow who could not play well there was not worth much. As the noisy crowd poured in, filling the bleachers, and more slowly the grandstand, he thrilled to think what it would mean to him to play there.

Then when the thought came of what little chance he had, the old heartsickness weighed him down again. By and by he would ask to see the manager, but for the moment he wanted to put off the inevitable.

He stood in the aisle between the grandstand and bleachers, leaning over the fence to watch the players. A loud voice attracted him. He turned to see a very large, florid man, wearing a big diamond, addressing a small man whose suit of clothes was as loud as the other fellow's voice.

' "Hey, Mac, what's the matter with this bunch of dead ones you've got? Eleven straight games lost ! You're now in third place, and dropping fast, after starting out to set the pace. Findlay won't stand for it."

The little man bit savagely at the cigar, tilting it up in line with his stub nose; and the way he frowned lowered the brim of his hat. " Shure, it's a slump, Mr. Beekman," he said, in conciliating tones. "Now, you know the game; you're up; you're up on the fine points. You ain't like most of them wooden-headed directors. The boys ain't been hittin'. Castorious is my only pitcher whose arm ain't gone lame this cold spell. I've been weak at short-stop all this Spring. But we'll come round, now you just take that from me, Mr. Beekman."

The pompous director growled something and went on up to the grandstand steps. Then a very tall fellow with wide, sloping shoulders and red hair accosted the little man.

" Say Mac, what was he beefing about?

I heard him speak my name. Did he have his hammer out?"

" Hello, Cas. No, Beekman ain't knockin' you. He was knockin' me. Sor
e
on me, because we're losin'."

"If some of those stiffs would stay away from the grounds and stop tellin
g
us how to play the game we'd sooner break our bad streak. Are yo
u
going to work me today?"

" How's your arm? "

" Good. It's getting strong. What I need is work. When I get my speed I'l
l
make these puff-hitters lay down their bats."

With that Castorious swaggered into the dressing-room under th
e
grandstand, followed by the little manager. Chase left his post, went t
o
the door, hesitated when he saw the place full of ball players in th
e
various stages of dressing, and then entered and walked straight up t
o
the manager.

" I heard you say you needed a shortstop. Will you give me a chance?"

He spoke distinctly, so that every one in the room heard him. Th
e
manage
r
looked up to speak when Castorious bawled out:

" Fellows, herehe is ! He 's been camping on our trail. I said somebody had Jonahed us. It's the crooked-eyed hoodoo!"

Ball players are superstitious, and are like sheep, inasmuch that they follow one another. The uproar that succeeded upon Castorious's discovery showed two characteristic traits - the unfailing propensity of the players to make game of any one, and the real anxiety with which they regarded any of the signs or omens traditionally disastrous. How well they recognized Chase showed the manner in which they followed anything written about baseball.

"Hello, there, Chaseaway ! " "Where's your pants?"

" Hoodoo ! " "Jonah!" "Don't look at me with that eye." "To the woods for yours!"

Chase stood there bravely, with the red mantling his face, waiting for the manager to speak. Once or twice Ma
c
attempted to make himself heard, and failing, turned on his gibin
g
players and ordered them to shut up. Then he said:

" Are you really the fellow they're guyin' ? "

" Yes."

" But he was a pitcher. You said you could play short."

" I can play anywhere."

" Let me see your mitts; stick out your hands."

Chase's hands were broad, heavy, with long, powerful fingers.

" You're pretty young, ain't you? Where have you played?"

Chase told his age and briefly outlined his late experience.

" Name aeHoodoo' followed you, eh? Been up against it hard?"

" Yes."

Mac laughed and said he knew how that was, then thoughtfully pulle
d
on his cigar. Now it chanced that he was not only an astute manager
,
but a born trainer of ball players as well. He never overlooked a
n
opportunity. H
e
had seen seedier-looking fellows than Chase develop into stars that set the baseball world afire. Nevertheless, having played the game himself, he was not exempt from its little peculiarities and superstitions. If his team had been winning he certainly would have thrown any slant-eyed applicant out of the grounds.

His small, shrewd eyes studied Chase intently.

" I 'll play you at short today. Barnes, get this fellow a suit."

Barnes, the ground keeper, opened a locker and threw a uniform on the floor at Chase's feet. His surly action was significant of how thoroughly he had assimilated his baseball education. But he did not say anything nor did the players, for at that moment there was a stern decision about the little manager which brooked no interference.

Ordinarily Mac was the easiest-going fellow in the world, overrun and ruled by his players; sometimes, however, he showed an iron hand. But when he had left the dressing-room a storm burst over poor Chase's head.

"You blank-eyed idiot! What do you want to queer the team for? " "This is a championship club, sonny." "Don't look at me with your bum lamp!

" I want my notice. I'm through with Findlay."

"Now for the toboggan! Last place for ours ! "

Used as Chase had become to the manner of badinage directed at him, he had never encountered it like this. The players spoke good-naturedly, and a laugh followed each particular sally; nevertheless they were in deadly earnest, and seemed to consider his advent a calamity which he could have spared them. He dressed in silence, and avoided looking at them, as if indeed their conviction was becoming truth to him, and went out on the grounds.

He got through the few moments of practice creditably, but when the gong rang calling the players in for the game to begin, a sudden nervousness and nausea made him weak, blind, trembling. The crowded grandstand blurred indis!
t
inctly in his sight. The players moved in a sort of haze, and what he heard sounded far off.

Chase started into that game with a nightmare. When at the bat he scarcely saw the ball, and was utterly at the mercy of the Kenton pitcher. In the field he wobbled when the ball came toward him; it bounded at him like a rabbit; it was illusive and teasing, and seemed to lure him to where it was not; it popped out of his hands, and slipped like oil between his legs; it had a fiendish propensity for his shins, and though it struck sharply seemed to leave no pain.

On the solitary occasion when he did get his hands squarely on the ball he threw it far over the first-baseman's head, far over the right-field bleachers.

He was dimly conscious that the game was a rout; that the Findlay players, rattled by his presence, sore at his misplays, went to pieces and let Kenton make a farce out of it. He heard the growls of disapproval from the grandstand, the roar from the bleachers - th
e
hooting and tin-canning from the small boys.

And when the game ended he sneaked off the field, glad it was all over, and entered the dressing-room in a sick and settled hopelessness.

Roar on roar greeted him. He fell on a bench and bowed his head in his hands. The scorn, invective, anger, and caustic wit broke about his deadened ears.

Presently Castorious stalked into the room, followed by Mac and several directors of the club. Cas was frothing at the mouth; big brown freckles shone through his pale skin; his jaw set like a bulldog's. With the demeanor of a haughty chieftain approaching a captive bound to the stake, he went up to Chase and tapped him on the shoulder.

" Say ! did anybody, did anybody, did anybody ever tell you you could play ball? "

Chase lifted his face from his hands and looked at Cas. " Yes," he said, with a wan smile, " but I guess they were mistaken.

Cas opened his lips to say something further, but the words never came. He took a long look at Chase, then went to his locker, sat down, and with serious, thoughtful brow began changing his clothes.

Mac's sharp voice suddenly stilled the babel in the room. " Gentlemen, either I run this team my own way, or not at all. That's it. I'm ready to resign now."

"Here, here, Mac, cool down!" said one. "We're perfectly satisfied with you. We know we couldn't fill your place. Beekman was a little hasty. He's a hard loser, you know. So never mind what's been said. Pull the team out of this rut, that's all we want. We've got confidence in you, and whatever you say goes. If you want money to get a new player or two to strengthen up, why speak out. Findlay must be in front."

" Gentlemen, I don't need any money. I 'm carryin' sixteen players now, an' I've got the best team in this league. All I want is a little luck."

"Well, here's hoping you get it." Th
e
directors shook hands with Mac and filed out of the dressing-room.

When they were out of hearing the little manager turned to his players.