The crowd around them yelled. Hal knew it was almost as hard to describe the squeeze play as to justify it, but he did his best and Parker said finally he understood it all right, but it is doubtful if he really did.
The game had developed into a really exciting one for an inning or two. For the first few innings the pitchers had held the batters safe and there were few hits made. In fact, up to the beginning of the seventh inning Lowell had secured but three hits and Chadwick three. Lowell had one run, worked out by a two bagger by Robb, a clean steal of third and he had been brought home by Tris on the squeeze play already mentioned. In the first half of the seventh, Chadwick knocked out three runs on a couple of hits mixed with a bunch of errors on the part of Lowell.
In the meantime by repeated explanation of the different plays, Parker had begun to understand some of the first principles of the game. He had already gotten to the point where he didn’t ask as many questions. He was watching the game. Six short innings of baseball had planted the seed out of which would some day grow a “full fledged fan.” He didn’t understand much of it, of course, but he had begun to feel the alternate strain and relaxation which everyone feels when watching a game. It has been the same for years with all of us.
When “our” side is at bat you are always hoping the batter will hit it safe. You watch the pitcher wind up. Your muscles are tense. You see the ball leave his hands. You see the batter prepare to strike at it. He strikes and misses. The umpire calls “one strike.” You relax. Again the pitcher delivers the ball. Again the muscles become tense. The umpire says “one ball” and again you sink back in your seat in perfect repose. By this time the pitcher is again ready. The third time the ball is sent toward the batter like a white streak. Somehow you feel he is going to hit it this time. As before, your muscles become tense. You hear a crack of wood against leather. You raise yourself up in your seat. It’s a foul fly back of the plate. You see the catcher throw off his mask and run up for the ball. You are absolutely rigid. You see the set and determined face of the catcher as he comes running toward you, his mind on nothing but the catch he hopes to make, he sees nothing but the ball. You, yourself, are thinking of nothing else. You hope he misses it. Now it’s coming down close to the stand. He’s almost under it. He’s going to get it. Just then he stubs his toe on a pebble and he muffs it. You are glad. You relax. You cheer him for missing it. You look round you. There are ten, twenty, forty thousand people, a moment ago just as tense and rigid as you, thinking of nothing else but that catch, who are now settling back in their seats, happy and content, everyone of them, excepting of course the few “rooters” for the other side.
The next ball pitched is a good one, fast and straight over the plate. The batter sets himself to meet it fair and square. You do likewise, as if you would help him. Now he pulls back his bat, he swings, he meets it fair, you can tell by the sound it makes that it’s a long hit. You see the center fielder, look once to get the direction, then turn his back to the ball and run just as hard as he knows how. You stand up, everybody stands up, not a word is spoken. It seems as though minutes are passing until the play is decided. Soon you see the fielder turn half way round to look and then he goes on running. He is still too far away. You see him getting near the ball, but not near enough to catch it. By this time the ball is going over his head. He has lost it. No, he makes one try at the right moment. He takes a mighty leap into the air, up goes one hand, the ball hits his glove and sticks, [he comes down to earth], he rolls over half a dozen times on the grass, but he comes up finally with the ball in his hand and you begin to relax. Then you start to jump up and down, you wave your hat, you throw it up in the air, and wave your arms and you try to yell louder than your neighbors. If you look around, you will see forty thousand people doing the same. Yelling and cheering and waving arms, hats or anything that comes within reach. You are cheering the other side, but you don’t mind. It was a wonderful catch.
And so it goes, through nine whole awfully short innings always. Time flies so quickly at a ball game. It’s over before you want it to be. Our side wins! You go home happy. Our boys lose? Well, better luck to-morrow.
In the second half of the seventh inning of the game with Chadwick, this Lowell team just had to get at least three runs, so Hughie told the boys and he would be obliged if they would get a half dozen. Everson was the first man up and he got an infield hit to short which he beat by inches. Then the Lowell boys on the bench commenced to get busy, for they had sensed the “break.” There comes a time in almost every game of ball, which has become known as the “break,” when the game can be won for one team or the other. There is no definite period of the game when this occurs, but the players seem to sense it. Let a batter get to first and if you see the players on the bench commence to reach for their bats, swing them a few times, laugh, get excited and dance up and down like boys with a new toy, you will know that the “break” has come then, and that the game will be won or lost right there. So it was at this point in the game with Chadwick.
Delvin was the next man up. He got a single to right field. Next came Hans. He hit a grounder over second base which couldn’t be stopped and the bases were full. Ty came up with his little black bat and hit the ball over third base for a two bagger and Everson and Delvin raced home for runs. Hans got to third and Ty reached second. Tris knocked the ball to shortstop, who was nervous by this time and made an error. Hans got home and Robb reached third while Tris was on first. One more run. The Larke hurried to the plate and after fouling off a couple, hit one fair and square and the ball made a high flight straight for the left field fence, and went over. A home run, and Robb and Tris scored ahead of him. The “break” was over, the opposing players settled down. The pitcher steadied himself, recovered his nerves, and the next three men went out in order. The rest of the game went along without any further excitement. The “break” in the seventh inning was the meat of the whole game.