Joe firmly believed that the work in the cage had done him a lot of good, even aside from the matter of physical conditioning. He had found that he could meet the ball in front of the batting net and roll it across the floor about as often as most of the fellows, and he was perhaps more impatient than any of them to get out on the turf and discover whether his hitting ability had really improved. Jack, himself a clever batter, predicted that Joe was destined to become one of the team’s best hitters that Spring.
“You’ve got it all over ‘Handsome Frank’ already,” Jack declared. “If you can cover the bag half as well as he can you’ll stand a James H. Dandy chance to cop that position, Joey.”
“Foley’s been doing fully as well as I have at the net,” responded Joe doubtfully. “I don’t believe I can beat him out, Jack. He looks like a pretty good player. He’s built for a first baseman, too, with his height and reach and—and everything.”
“Well, I don’t see that he’s got so terribly much on you in height, old man. And as for reach, why, even if your arms aren’t quite as long as his, you’re a lot spryer on your pins. You’ve got a mighty nice, easy way of pulling them in to you, Joey. I hope you make it, that’s all I hope.”
“So do I, but, as I say, Foley——”
“Oh, Foley’s no wonder, after all. That’s what you want to get into that solid ivory dome of yours. You’ve begun to think that you can’t beat him; that’s your trouble. What you want to do is to make up your mind that you’re better than he is and that he’s got to prove the contrary. That’s the way I beat out Joe Kenney, last year. Joe had been holding down the job for two years when I got it into my head that I’d like to play out there in the left garden. So I said to myself, said I: ‘Jack, you may not think it now, but you’re a perfectly marvellous left fielder, one of the best, regular first chop, whatever that is! Try and accustom yourself to the fact and hold your head up and stick your chest out. And if anyone asks you don’t hesitate to tell them.’ Well, sir, in a little while I had myself hypnotised into acting like a regular fielder! When I’d meet Kenney I’d look at him pityingly and say to myself, ‘You poor old has-been, you haven’t the ghost of a chance this spring. I’m sorry for you, but it’s my turn.’ I got to believing it, and so did Kenney! About the middle of the season Kenney was sitting on the bench and I was pulling ’em down out there. Of course, a slight ability to hit the ball now and then had something to do with it, but a lot of it was just conning myself into thinking I was the real goods. You try it, Joey. It’s a great little trick.”
“You’re a silly ape,” laughed Joe. “The reason you ousted the other chap was because you batted around three hundred and he didn’t. If I bat over two hundred I’ll be doing well.”
“Of course, you will! How many on the team last year hit for over that, do you suppose? I don’t believe there were four altogether. Two hundred, say you, slightingly! Two hundred’s good batting for chaps of our age, and don’t forget it. And my average last year wasn’t three hundred; it was two-ninety-three. I want credit for those seven points you stuck on!”
“Foley doesn’t like me,” observed Joe after a moment’s silence. “You can see that.”
“Why should he?” Jack demanded. “Don’t you suppose he knows that you’re after his place and that you stand a pretty good chance of getting it? What do you expect him to do? Hug you?”