And Bert was not far wrong. The Maroons landed on Winters “like a ton of brick,” as Tom afterward said, and proceeded to wipe up the field with him. The game became a massacre, and when the home team was finally retired the score stood six to one in their favor.
When Winters came in from the field he was white and shaking, and Reddy felt sorry for him. “Just the same,” he reflected, “this will teach him a lesson, maybe, and it may lead to his sticking more closely to regulations and the training table. Midnight booze-fighting and good ball playing don’t mix very well.” Reddy might have gone further, and said that “booze fighting” did not mix very well with anything worth while, and not have been far wrong.
Actuated by these reflections, the trainer resolved to make Winters pitch out the rest of the game, as it was hopelessly lost anyway, in the hope of making him reform.
The Blues were thoroughly demoralized by this time, and their half-hearted attempts to score met with little success. Hinsdale, after both the batsmen preceding him had been struck out, landed on the ball for a long high fly into center, and got to second on it. He went no further, however, as Tom lifted a high foul to the opposing catcher. Of course this ended the game, as it would have been useless to finish the ninth inning.
The Maroon rooters rose in a body and rent the air with their songs and college yells. The loyal Blues present did their best, but could not make themselves heard amidst the general uproar.
“The Blues haven’t got a chance for the pennant now,” exulted one rooter to his friend. “They’re on the downward road now, and will stay there till the end of the season. You watch and see if they don’t.”
But there was a Freshman pitcher on the bench that knew better.