“It was good; no doubt about that, Craig. Theoretically, John York was the best catcher Warner ever had. Actually, he was the most uncertain. You see, he was full of theories. He doped everything out ahead and when things didn’t go the way he’d arranged them there’d be trouble. He’d study a new batter when he came up and decide that the man would hit a high ball over the outside corner into left field. Then he’d signal for a low one and the batter would crack it into the middle of next week, and John would be so surprised and grieved about it! After the inning he’d sit on the bench and prove conclusively to you that the man had no business hitting a low one, that he was built for high ones! The trouble with John was that he wouldn’t practise what he preached. He knew how a thing ought to be played, but he had a hunch that he’d get better results if he played it differently. I used to tell him he thought too much with his head. But in spite of all that we loved him. He was one of the most popular fellows in college. And you’re not to think that he always went wrong with his game, for he didn’t. Lots of times his theories worked out like miracles.”
“I remember”—Mr. Hall picked up a paper-knife and, leaning back in his swivel chair, played with it and smiled reminiscently—“I remember a game we played with Michigan. John was captain that year. (We made him captain because he’d have been it anyway and we thought there’d be no use having two.) We were two runs behind Michigan in the seventh and hadn’t got a run across for three or four innings. Michigan’s pitcher had us eating out of his hand, and if anyone did start a rally their infield cut it off. So, in the seventh John said, ‘Look here, fellows, we’re playing too close to the ground. What we’ve got to do is cut loose and run wild for a couple of innings. Now I want every one of you to hit at anything you see, as long as you don’t have to walk out of the box for it, and when you get on first I want you to go down to second on the first ball. And when you get to second, try for third. Those chaps aren’t used to fireworks. Let’s show them some.’
“Well, we wanted that game; we were always crazy to beat Michigan; and it didn’t look as if we were going to get it. Michigan was playing one of those scientific games—every man fielding perfectly; pitcher and catcher working together like two cog-wheels; everything figured according to the laws and commandments of baseball. There didn’t seem to be anything to lose by following John’s scheme and so we tried it. The first batter up for our side acted as if he’d never heard of waiting. He whaled away at everything in sight and got a scratch hit somehow and went to first. And then he started down the path on the first delivery. He was thrown out, though. But you could see that Michigan was beginning to wonder. Our next man slammed around and knocked fouls and finally got a clean hit, the first for half an hour. He followed instructions and stole second easily, in spite of a pitch-out, catcher throwing low to the base. Then we had them going. The next man drew his base and the man on second lighted out for third. He ought never to have got it, but he did. Someone fumbled. After that we ran wild on the bases. Even with two out we didn’t show any sort of baseball sense. We did everything we shouldn’t have done, and Michigan found herself as far up in the air as a balloon. We got five runs across in that inning on two hits and a pass!”
“And won the game?” asked Sam.
“N-no, we didn’t, as a matter of fact. We ought to have, but those chaps got to me in the ninth and knocked me out of the box. I suppose romping around the bases and sliding on my ear sort of tuckered me. Anyway, they hammered me to the bench and then got two hits off Whipple and scored enough to win. Still, as John showed us, we ought to have won!”
“I’d like to have seen it,” said Sam.
“It was some game,” assented the other. “I guess I’ll have to go out to-morrow and see you fellows play. I will if you’ll let me sit on the bench and mix in.”
“I wish you would,” said Sam. “I dare say you could tell us some things that might help, Mr. Hall.”
“Oh, I’m no John York!” laughed the lawyer. “I haven’t many theories, Craig. I’ve always played the game by rule of thumb, so to say. This close-harmony, inside stuff has always been a bit beyond me.”