Ted was unnerved. “You have his mark!” someone in the stands shouted.
“Hit it, hit it!” was the cry of someone else.
Ted spit on the ball. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the man on first draw away from the base. Like a flash he wheeled and threw the ball. The first baseman lunged wildly for the ball but he missed by at least a foot. Shouts, cheers, groans rolled through the stands. Jack, coaching, at first, danced wildly and screamed, “Run, run!” Each man advanced a base.
Ken was up. He felt that now was the time to even the score. He had to do something. With a man on second and third, no outs, now was their chance. But Ted rallied sufficiently to strike the batter out. Once more Ted became confident and self-assured. There was no danger, he thought; he will strike the next two men out and show his mettle. But his confidence deceived him. The batter picked the first ball and hit a long fly which was caught, but which helped the man on third to come home and the man on second to advance to third base. Ted was now sufficiently unnerved to realize it himself. He signalled to a player on the sidelines; he waited until the relief pitcher began to come across the field, then started to walk off himself.
“Yea!” shouted a spectator.
“Knock this guy out of the box, too,” another spectator screamed.
“Swell showman,” said Paul.
“You said it,” agreed Jack. “He knows when to quit and that’s to his credit.”
The relief pitcher warmed up with a couple of throws. Finally the umpire called, “Batter up!”
Nuthin’ touched the home plate with his bat, held up the stick vertically for a fraction of a second, as a signal to the man on base, and then waited for the pitcher. The man in the box was perfectly confident and took his time. It was a trick to vex the batter and force him to strike, but Nuthin’ was a patient fellow and he waited. The first ball came over, at least a foot outside the plate. “Ball one!” called the umpire. The catcher threw back the ball and Nuthin’ let fall the bat off his shoulder. The pitcher eyed the man on third base; then turned to the batter. Nuthin’ gripped the bat. Shifting his position slightly, he struck at the ball. It was a foul, a couple of yards off third base. “That’s the boy!” someone shouted.