Making the Nine

by Albertus T. Dudley

“I’m going to put up my best bluff, anyway,” answered Tommy. “If I fail, it won’t be because I don’t try.”

“Don’t let ’em rattle you,” urged Melvin.

“You needn’t worry about that,” put in Phil. “This pitcher doesn’t rattle.”

Just then the umpire called the game, and Melvin hurried back to his charge. Hillbury took the field. Millan, after leisurely rubbing the new ball in the grass beside the pitcher’s box, while his friends were roaring encouraging cheers, put in a hot one over the corner of the plate. “One strike!” The next was a ball; the third Vincent struck at and raised a high foul, gathered in by the first baseman. Robinson hit at the first ball pitched, and dropped an easy fly in the centre-fielder’s reach; Watson went out ignominiously on strikes; and the Hillbury team came trotting smilingly in, quite satisfied that they deserved the three long ringing Hillburys thrown at them by a grateful constituency.

The red letters scattered to their places. Stevens, who headed the Hillbury list, went to bat with an appearance of confidence and power. But his bold air belied his real feelings. Nervous and uncertain, he let the first ball pass and heard it called a strike, struck foolishly at the second, which was out of his reach, and then, after a ball had been called, hit a slow bounder to the pitcher. Hood, who followed, did not touch the ball, though he struck hard at it thrice; and Franklin dropped a weak fly into Robinson’s hands. Seaton came in for their second inning after a short five minutes in the field. “Poole up!” Phil picked out his favorite bat, fixed his feet firmly on the ground, and boldly facing the pitcher, tried to forget that this was the Hillbury game, and to see in the man before him, not the redoubtable Millan, but a practice pitcher whose balls were easy if closely watched. The first was wide, the second too low; the third he caught squarely and drove it over the uncovered second base into the out-field. It was the first hit of the game, and the Seatonians noised their joy abroad in a splendid “hullabaloo.”

And now, in addition to the senseless exhortations of the fielders: “Right at ’em now!” “Right in the middle of the big mitt!” “Put it over, old boy!” were heard the yells of the coacher, whose object usually seems to be to confuse the pitcher rather than to help the base-runner. Phil clung to first while Sudbury struck twice and then went out on a long fly, and Sands hit a pop foul that the third baseman easily caught. With two men out, Phil started on the first pitch to steal second. That he was successful was due as much to the catcher’s high throw as to his own speed, for the second baseman had to jump for the ball, and while he was in the air Phil slid safely in to the base. A good single now would bring in the run, and the Seatonians, with a silent eagerness that the cheer-leaders did not try to interrupt, waited to see if Waddington would meet their hopes. “One strike! One ball! Two balls! Two strikes!” and Waddington cracked out a pretty liner over third that brought Poole home and put the batsman on second. Hayes went out on a grounder to short-stop.

Hillbury came in determined to hit the ball. Ribot drove a hard bounder to third, where Watson trapped the ball on the ground and fielded cleanly to first. Kleindienst went out on strikes, and Haley, after three balls had been called, hit a long fly to left-field that looked to be a three-base hit. Phil was off with the hit, racing for the spot where the ball was to fall, and sure, after his first glance over his shoulder, that he would be able to reach it. But the crowd was not so sure, and when at the end of his run he suddenly turned and pulled the ball down, a howl of applause rose from the Seaton benches that for the moment made the cheer-leaders seem quite useless ornaments. As Dick stood waiting for this outburst to pass, he glanced curiously along the tiers of eager faces, and suddenly became conscious that one spectator seemed to have no share in the general delight. Untouched by the excitement raging about him, Bosworth sat darkly glowering out over the diamond, a melancholy island in a heaving sea of joy.

He suddenly turned and pulled the ball down.–Page 292.

The third inning passed without changing the score. In the fourth, Watson and Poole went out on in-field hits, and Sudbury was left at second when Sands struck out. Hillbury began well when Hood got his base on balls; if Franklin disappointed his friends by sending a fly to short-stop, Ribot made up for the failure by driving the second ball pitched in a straight line over the first baseman’s head. By the time Vincent got it back, Hood had crossed the plate, and Ribot stood, exulting, on third base.