“Perhaps you’re right, John,” assented Robbie. “We’ll have to coach Iredell, wise him up on the inside stuff, and see if he doesn’t do better.”
McRae shook his head.
“That won’t do the trick,” he replied. “A good captain is born, not made. He’s got to have the gray matter in his noddle to start with. If he hasn’t got it, all the coaching in the world won’t put it into him. It’s a matter of brains, first, last and all the time. I’ve come to the conclusion that Iredell hasn’t got them. He’s got a ball player’s brains. But he hasn’t got a captain’s brains, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Well, admitting that that’s so, we seem to be up against it,” mused Robbie, ruefully. “Who else on the team is any better in that respect? Run over the list. Mylert, Burkett, Barrett, Jackwell, Curry, Bowen, Wheeler. I don’t know that any one of them has anything on Iredell in the matter of sense and judgment.”
“Haven’t you overlooked some one?” asked McRae, significantly.
Robbie looked at him in wonderment.
“Nobody except the substitutes,” he said. “And of course they’re out of the question.”
“How about the box?” asked McRae.
“Oh, the pitchers!” returned Robbie. “I didn’t take them into consideration. But of course a pitcher can’t be captain. That goes without saying.”
“Not with me it doesn’t go without saying,” said McRae. “Why can’t a pitcher act as captain?”