Benton's Venture

by Ralph Henry Barbour

Billy was a rather stocky boy of sixteen, with a cheerful countenance and a pair of steady gray eyes. He was a junior in high school and had played on the team for two years. Enthusiastic admirers of Billy declared that he had “everything there was,” meaning by that that he was master of all the deliveries known to the science of pitching. This was more enthusiastic than truthful, but still it was a fact that Billy was a good deal of a pitcher for a boy of his age, and could cause the ball to “break” in a number of puzzling ways. First of all, though, it was Billy’s craft and coolness that made him great. Billy studied the batsman and seemed to divine his thoughts. And after that he set himself craftily to circumventing him. Billy’s delivery was slow, but his curves broke well, and it was a recognized fact among his admirers that the more deliberate Billy became the more likely he was to add further strike-outs to his credit.

Billy was extremely deliberate now. He viewed the batsman as though that youth’s features were strangely familiar to him and he was wondering whether they had ever met and whether it would not be well for him to walk up and shake hands. The batsman pawed the earth and waved his bat impatiently. The Providence coachers jeered and the bleacherites laughed appreciatively. Then, apparently deciding that he did not know the batsman after all, Billy Younger lifted his arms languidly above his head, spun half around and sent the ball slowly and exactly over the center of the plate. The batsman watched it go by and then turned inquiringly to the umpire.

“Strike!” said Mr. Chase.

The batsman tapped the plate and smiled contemptuously. Billy wound up again, stepped easily forward and sped the ball. It looked good until it was almost within reach of the impatient bat. Then it drifted lazily out of the straight and narrow path and the bat swung harmlessly over it. And George Connors, dropping to one knee, picked the ball almost out of the dirt! After that Billy wasted two, a high one outside and a low one that nicked the corner of the plate. By that time the coachers and the players on the visitors’ bench were howling encouragement to the batter and aspersions on the pitcher’s offerings.

“He hasn’t got a thing, Gus! Pick out a good one! Make him pitch to you! He’s dead easy, Gus, old boy! This is the one!”

It was. It was a nice slow drop that never pretended at any moment during its flight to be anything but a drop. And the batsman knew it was a drop and was ready for it. And after he had swung he took two full steps in the direction of first base before it dawned on him that there are drops and drops, and that that particular drop had held a drop too much! He retired to the bench scowling while Audelsville in the grand stand clapped with well-behaved enthusiasm, and Audelsville on the bleachers stamped and howled in abandoned glee.

“One down!” bawled the coachers to the runners.

“One gone!” called Madden from third.

The next batsman managed to connect with Billy’s second offering and popped a high fly to leftfielder, going out without advancing the runners. The Providence captain was the next victim to Billy’s slants and turned away in disgust after watching just four deliveries float by him. Audelsville heaved a vast sigh of relief and applauded as Billy Younger trotted back to the bench.