Benton's Venture

by Ralph Henry Barbour

And he didn’t. What was meant for a strike slanted erratically past Billy’s chin and Billy trotted to first, and the bases were full!

“Oh, for a home run!” sighed Tom, squirming excitedly about on the hot seat. “Who’s up, Will?”

“Lyman,” replied Spider promptly. “He didn’t do a thing last time.”

“Gives him a better show now,” said Teddy hopefully. “Even a little old hit would bring in two runs.”

Lyman was cautious. The pitcher, who had seemingly recovered from his momentary unsteadiness, worked a slow drop and scored a strike. He followed that with a fast high ball that Lyman refused, and Mr. Chase confirmed his decision. Another delivery went as a ball by a narrow margin. Then one shot by right in the groove and although Lyman swung desperately he missed it. The next one went hurtling off with a loud crack, but proved to be a foul outside of third base line. But the following delivery found Lyman ready, and Lyman’s bat, too, and away screeched the ball between second and third and Lyman sped for the base. The Providence shortstop made a frenzied leap into the air and possibly just touched the ball with his finger tips. But it was not for him. Center and leftfielder ran in for it, and centerfielder got it on a lucky bound. By that time Berger had scored, Connors was rounding third, Billy was half-way between that bag and second, and Lyman was still on the go. One fatal moment of indecision on the part of centerfielder worked for high school. Seeing that he could not stop Connors, the fielder sped the ball to second to get Lyman. At third Chester Madden was on the coacher’s line. Just as the ball reached second baseman, too late to put out Lyman, Billy Younger raced to third. Chester, studying the situation rapidly, took a desperate chance and waved Billy on toward the plate! There were two out, anyway, and it was a time for risking something!

Billy was fleet of foot and he had hardly broken his stride at the third corner, and now he was putting out for the plate for all he was worth, while the Providence catcher, astride the rubber, shouted imploringly for the ball. Across the diamond the second baseman, recovering after an unsuccessful sweep at Lyman, who had slid safely to the bag, saw what was happening and, in a panic, heaved the ball home. It was a hurried throw and it came in far to the right of the plate, striking the dust ten feet away and bounding into the catcher’s hands by the merest good luck instead of going on to the backstop. But the good luck wasn’t good enough, for, although the catcher threw himself heroically toward the plate, Billy was there before him by a hair’s breadth, and as the two rolled over together in the dust the umpire spread his hands wide, palms downward. When the catcher had struggled to his feet again, Lyman was seated on third base, panting but content, and the score stood five to seven.

Lyman deserved a run for his trouble, but he didn’t score it, for Ness was out, shortstop to first baseman, and the eighth inning had passed into history. The stands settled themselves again after several minutes of wild excitement and the teams changed places. It was getting toward five o’clock and the air was cooling perceptibly. Billy Younger went back to the mound, but his wild streak around the bases had told on him and he was decidedly wobbly. He passed the first batsman, struck out the second and allowed the third a clean base hit. Then the fourth man popped a foul to first baseman and Billy settled down. A scratch hit past second left men on first, second and third bases, and for a moment it looked as if the visitors might add to their score. But the best the next purple-stockinged youth could do was to smash a ball straight at Captain Madden, who didn’t have to move an inch to get it, and the side was out.

It was high school’s last chance now and the bleachers arose as one man and implored victory. Cook was the first man up. Cook swung his bat grimly as he faced the enemy and then proceeded to raise and lower the hopes of his team-mates and friends by knocking fouls all over the place, going after everything that was offered him. In the end he struck out ingloriously, and Chester Madden took his place.

Chester looked grimly determined as he hitched his belt, rubbed one hand in the dust and settled into position. But the very first ball pitched proved his undoing, for, although it came straight along the groove, it was a fast one and Chester swung a fraction too low. Up went the ball, poised an instant against the blue of the afternoon sky and then started to earth directly over the pitcher’s box. Pitcher, catcher and first baseman all went for it and all claimed it, but the captain called for the catcher to take it, and when it came down with a final rush it settled into that player’s big mitt. That thud of leather against leather sounded tragic indeed to the home team and its supporters. In the grand stand the seats began to empty, although many lingered along the edge of the field to see the final put-out.

This doubtful honor fell, apparently, to Jordan, who, although he had played a rattling game at second, had not greatly distinguished himself at the bat. When all is said and done, the one thing that makes baseball the interesting game it is, is its quality of unexpectedness. Here was the game all over but the shouting, the score 7 to 5 in Providence Prep’s favor, and two men out in the last inning. They were sliding the bats into the canvas bag in front of the visitors’ bench. The occupants of the bleachers were donning their jackets and swarming out on to the turf. And then, suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, came a sharp crack of the bat and Jordan was racing to first! And the dirty, white sphere was a gray streak against the green turf, the second baseman was rolling over and over after an unsuccessful attempt to stop the ball, and the rightfielder was scurrying in for it! And Jordan was rounding first now and flying like a rabbit for second! Fielder got the ball and threw, but the throw was hurried and shortstop had to step a couple of paces off base to catch it, and before he could tag the runner the latter was safe. How Audelsville shouted and howled! How Chester Madden and the rest of the team danced about! Chester sped Jones to the plate, but the Providence pitcher refused to be hurried. He took plenty of time to let his team-mates settle down again, and then he faced the batsman. Now Jones, like Jordan, had failed to produce hits so far, and the wise ones criticized Chester for not putting in a pinch hitter. But Chester was banking on Fortune just then, and Fortune didn’t fail him. Jones never had a chance to try at the ball. The Providence pitcher was as wild as a hawk. The first two deliveries went past Jones’ nose, the third bit the dust in front of the plate and narrowly escaped being a passed ball, and the fourth went wide of the plate. And Jones trotted to first, and the uproar, which had continued unceasingly since Jordan’s hit, took on new volume.