the Shortstop (1992) (6 page)

Chase went to his room and to bed. Sleep did not soon come. His mind was too full; too much had happened; th
e
bed was too soft. He dozed off, to start suddenly up with the bump of a freight train in his ears. But when he did get to sleep it was in a deep, dreamless slumber that lasted until ten o'clock the next morning. After breakfast, which Mrs. Obenwasser had kept waiting for him, he walked out to the ball-grounds to find the gates locked. So with morning practice out of the question he returned to Main Street and walked toward the hotel.

He saw Castorious sitting in the lobby. "Hello, Chase, now wouldn't this jar you?" he said, in friendly tones, offering a copy of the Findla
y
Chronicle.

Could this be the stalking monster that had roared at him yesterday, and scared about the last bit of courage out of him? Cas laid a big freckled hand on the newspaper and pointed out a column.

BASEBALL NOTES

" Mac gave Morris his walking-papers yesterday and Stanhope his notice. This is a good move, as these players caused dissension in the club. Now we can look for the brace. Findlay has been layin
g
down lately. Castorious's work yesterday is an example. We would advise him not to play that dodge any more. "The new short-stop, Chaseaway, put the boots on everything that came his way, but for all that we like his style. He is fast as lightning and has a grand whip. He stands up like Brouthers, and if we're any judge of ball players - here we want to say we've always called the turn-this new youngster will put the kibosh on a few and `chase' the Dude for batting honors"

Chase read it over twice and it brought the hot blood to his face. After that miserable showing of his in the game -how kind of the reporter to speak well of him! Chase's heart swelled. He had been wrong -there were lots of good fellows in the world.

"Make a fellow sick, wouldn't it?" said Cas, in disgust. "Accused me of laying down! Say, come and walk over to the hotel where the Kenton fellows are staying."

Chase felt very proud to be seen with the great pitcher, for whom all passersby had a nod or a word. They stoppe
d
at another hotel, in the lobby of which lounged a dozen broad-shouldered, red-faced young men.

" Say," said Cas, with a swing of his head, " I just dropped in to tell you guys that I'm going to pitch today, and I'm going to let you down with two hits. See! " A variety of answers were flung at him, but he made no reply and walked out. All the way up the street Chase heard him growling to himself.

The afternoon could not come soon enough for Chase. He went out to the grounds in high spirits. When he entered the dressing-room he encountered the same derisive clamor that had characterized the players' manner toward him the day before. And it stunned him. He looked at them aghast. Every one of them, except Cas, had a scowl and hard word for him. Benny, not quite sober yet, was brutal, and Meade made himself particularly offensive. Even Winters, who had been so friendly the night before, now said he would put out Chase's other lamp if he played poorly today. They were totally different fro
m
what they had been off the field. A frenzy of some kind possessed them. Roars of laughter following attacks on him, and for that matter on each other, detracted little, in Chase's mind, from the impression of unnatural sarcasm.

He hurriedly put on his uniform and got out of the room. He did not want to lose his nerve again. Cas sat on the end of the bleachers, pounding the boards with his bat.

"Say, I was waiting for you," he said in a whisper to Chase. "I'm going to put you wise when I get a chance to talk. All I want to say now is, I 'll show up this Kenton outfit today. They can't hit my speed, and they always hit my slow ball to left-field, through short.

Now you lay for them. Play deep and get the ball away quick. You've got the arm for it."

This was Cas's way of showing his friendship, and it surprised Chase as much as it pleased him. Mac came along then, and at once sai
d
" Howdy, boys. Cas, what are you dressed for?"

" I want to work today. "

" You do? What for? "

"Well, I'm sore about yesterday, and I'm sore on - Kenton, and if you'l
l
work me today I'll shut them out."

" You 're on, Cas, you're on," said Mac, rubbing his hands in delight. "

Thet 's the way I want to hear you talk. We 'll break our losin' streak to!day.

Then Mac pulled Chase aside, out of earshot of the players pouring fro
m
the dressing-room, and said, " Lad, are you goin' to take coachin' ? "

" I 'll try to do everything you tell me, " replied Chase.

" Shure, thet's good. Listen. I'm goin' to teach you the game. Don't eve
r
lose your nerve again. Got thet ? "

" Yes."

" When you're in the field with a runner on any base make up you
r
mind before the ball's hit what to do with it if it should happen to com
e
to you. Got thet ? "

" Yes."

" Play a deep short unless you'r
e
called in. Come in fast on slow hit balls; use a underhand snap throw to second or first base when you haven't lots of time
. G
ot thet?"

" Yes."

When the ball is hit or thrown to any base-man, run with it to back u
p
the player. Got thet ? "

" Yes. "

All right. So far so good. Now as to hittin'. I like the way you stand up. You 're a natural-born hitter, so stand your own way. Don't budge an inch for the speediest pitcher as ever threw a ball. Learn to dodge wild pitches. Wait, watch the ball. Let him pitch. Don't be anxious. Always take a strike if you're first up. Try to draw a base on balls. If there's runners on the bases look for a sign from me on the bench. If you see my score-card stickin' anywhere in sight, hit the first ball pitched. If you don't see it - wait. Turn round, easy like, you know, an' take a glance my way after every pitched ball, an' when you get the sign - hit. We play the hit-an'-run game. If you're on firs
t
or any base, look for the same sign from me. Then you'll know what th
e
batter is up to an' you'll be ready. Hit an' run. Got thet ? "

"Yes, I think so."

'Well, don't get rattled even if you do make a mistake, an' never, neve
r
mind errors. Go after everythin' an' dig it out of the dust if you can, bu
t
never mind errors ! "

"An' Chase, wait," called Mac, as the eager youngster made for the field.

Then in a whisper, as if he were half afraid some of the other player
s
would hear, he went on: "Don't sass the umpire. Don't ever speak to n
o
umpire. If you get a rotten deal on strikes, slam your bat down, puff up
,
look mad, do anythin' to make a bluff, but don't sass the umpire. See!"

" I never will," declared Chase.

The Findlay team came on the grounds showing the effects of th
e
shake-up. They were an aggressive, stormy aggregation. Epithets th
e
farthest remove from complimentary flew thick and fast as the passin
g
balls. A spirit of rivalr
y
pervaded every action. In batting practice he who failed to send out a clean hard hit received a volley of abuse. In fielding practice he who fumbled a ball or threw too high or too low was scornfully told to go out on the lots and play with the kids. It was a merciless warfare, every player for himself, no quarter asked or given!

Chase fielded everything that came his way and threw perfectly to the bases, but even so, the players, especially Meade, vented their peculiar spleen on him as well as on others who made misplays. All of which did not affect Chase in the least. He was on his mettle; his blood was up.

The faith Mac had shown in him should be justified, that he vowed with all the intensity of feeling of which he was capable. The gong sounded for the game to start, and Castorious held forth in this wis
e
" Fellows, I've got everything today. Speed - well say! it's come back. And my floater -why, you can count the stitches! You stiffs get in the game.

If you're not a lot of cigar-signs there won't be anything to it."

Big and awkward as Cas was in citizen dress, in baseball harness he made an admirable figure. The crowds in the stands had heard of his threat to the Kentons --- for of all gossip that in baseball circles flies the swiftest - and were out in force and loud in enthusiasm. The bleachers idolized him.

As the players went for their positions Cas whispered a parting word to Chase: " When you see my floater go up get on your toes!"

The umpire called play, threw out a white ball, and stood in expectant posture.

As Cas faced the first Kenton player he said in low voice: "Look out for your coco ! " Then he doubled up like a contortionist and undoubled to finish his motion with an easy, graceful swing. With wonderful swiftness the white ball travelled straight for the batter's head. Down he fell flat, jumped up with red face and yelled at Cas. The big pitcher smiled derisively, received the ball fro
m
the catcher, and with the same violent effort delivered another ball, but with not half the speed of the first. The batter had instinctively stepped back. The umpire called the ball a strike.

" 'Fraid to stand up, hey?" inquired Cas, in the same low, tantalizing voice. When he got the ball again he faced the batter, slowly lifted his long left leg, and seemed to turn with a prodigious step toward third base, at the same instant delivering the ball to the plate. The ball evidently wanted to do anything but reach its destination. Slowly it sailed, soared, floated, for it was one of Cas's floaters.

The batter half swung his bat, pulled it back, then poked at the ball helplessly. The result was an easy grounder to Chase, who threw the runner out.

It was soon manifest to Chase that Cas worked differently from any pitcher he had ever seen. Instead of trying to strike out any batters, Cas made them hit the ball. He never threw the same kind of a ball twice. He seemed to have a hundred different ways for the ball t
o
Go. But always he vented his scorn on his opponents in the low sarcasm which may have been heard by the umpire, but was inaudible to the audience.

At the commencement of the third inning neither side had yet scored. It was Chase's first time up, and as he bent over the bats trying to pick out a suitable one, Cas said to him:

"Say, Kid, this guy 'll be easy for you. Wait him out now. Let his curve ball go.

Chase felt perfectly cool when he went up. The crowd gave him a great hand, which surprised but did not disconcert him. He stood square up to the plate, his left foot a little in advance. He watched the Kenton pitcher with keen eyes; he watched the motion, and he watched the ball as it sped towards him rather high and close to his face. He watched another, a wide curve, go by. The next was a strike, the next a ball, and then following, another strike. Chase had not moved a muscle.

The bleachers yelled: " Good eye, old man! hit her out now!"

With three and two Chase lay back and hit the next one squarely. It rang off the bat, a beautiful liner that struck the right-field fence a few feet from the top. Chase reached third base, overran it, to be flung back by Cas.

The crowd roared. Winters, the captain, came running out and sent Cas to the bench. Then he began to coach.

" Look out, Chase! Hold your base on an infield hit! Play it safe! Play it safe ! Here's where we make a run, here's where we make a run! Here's where we make a run! Hey, there, pitcher, you're up in the air already! Oh! What we won't do to you! Steady, Chase, now you're off. Hit it out, old man! That's the eye ! Make it good! Mugg's Landing! Irish stew! Lace curtains! Ras-pa-tas ! Oh my - " Bawling at the top of his voice, spitting tobacco juice everywhere, with wild eyes and sweaty face, Winters hopped up and down the coaching line. When Benny put up a little fly back of second Winters started Chase for the plate an
d
ran with him. The ball dropped safe and the run scored easily.

When Chase went panting to the bench Mac screwed up his stubby cigar and gazed at his new find with enraptured eyes. " I guess maybe thet hit didn't bust our losin' streak! "

Whatever Chase's triple had to do with it, the fact was that the Findlay players suddenly recovered their batting form. For two weeks they had been hitting atrociously, as Mac said, and now every player seemed to find hits in his bat. Thatcher tore off three singles; Cas got two and a double; and the others hit in proportion.

Chase rapped another against the rightfield fence, hitting a painted advertisement that gave a pair of shoes to every player performing the feat; and to the delirious joy of the bleachers and stands, at his last time up, he put the ball over the fence for a home run.

It was a happy custom of the oil-men of Findlay, who devoted themselves to the game, to throw silver dollars out of the stand at the player making a hom
e
run. A bright shower of this kind completely bewildered Chase. He picked up ten, and Cas handed him seven more that had rolled in the dust.