Double Play: A Story of School and Baseball

by Ralph Henry Barbour

In the first week of June the Class Championship was decided. There were three consecutive afternoons when Yardley flamed forth in Class colors and baseball was the sole subject of conversation. On the first day the Fourth and Third Classes clashed on the Varsity diamond and the respective colors, brown and green, waved wildly. The whole school turned out to watch and cheer, the First Class fellows joining forces with the Third, and the Second with the Fourth. Even the Faculty attended, their coats decorated with ribbons of brown and green and blue and red to prove that they were incapable of favoritism.

I think that perhaps the scorers worked harder that day than any of the players, for it was a game of runs and errors, and it lasted until the umpire, Captain Millener of the Varsity, was forced to call it at the end of the eighth inning. Gerald played shortstop and did well. To be sure he made two errors, but then almost every other player made as many or more. And there weren’t many who did as well at the bat as he did. He got three hits, one a two-bagger, and scored two of the twelve runs which won the day for his side. Yes, Gerald did bravely, and Dan and Alf and Tom were proud of him, and told him so, and Gerald’s head swam with pride and delight. The final score was 12 to 9, and the Fourth Class marched off the field bearing their warriors on high and chanting pæans of victory.

The next day the Second Class Nine did what was expected of it and drubbed the First heartily. That contest didn’t occasion as much enthusiasm as the preceding one or the one which followed. The third day’s game was almost certain to go to the Second Class, but the Fourth Classmen refused to concede it and kept their enthusiasm on tap every instant. Nor, as it turned out, was the Fourth so greatly mistaken in their estimate of their team’s chances. For although the Second finally won by a safe margin, there were moments when a victory for the wearers of the brown ribbons and the wavers of the brown flags seemed not unlikely. Gerald again covered himself with glory, taking part in a double play that retired the opposing side just when it seemed about to run away with the game. And again he batted well, and if he didn’t score any runs himself he helped two others to do so. And although vanquished at last, 10 to 6, the Fourth Class went off the field cheering and quite well pleased with itself.

One morning a day or two after the final Class game Gerald met Payson, the coach, on the steps of the gymnasium. Payson nodded, as he always did when he met one of the fellows, whether he knew him personally or not, passed, and then turned back.

“Aren’t you Pennimore?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” answered Gerald.

“You played shortstop for Fourth Class, eh? Well, you’ll make a pretty fair player if you keep on, Pennimore. Next Spring you come and see me and perhaps we’ll find room for you somewhere on the squad. How old are you now?”

“Fourteen, sir.”

“Hm; well, get some more flesh and muscle, my boy, and you’ll do. By the way, I see that your father has been pretty busy.”

“Sir?”