Jack shook his head. “No, but I’ve seen it played.”
“Well, it’s the same idea. You swing your club back and you keep your eye right on the back of the ball—or just behind it—until you hit it; and then you keep on looking at it until you’ve finished your stroke; and then you keep on looking at it until it’s reached the ground somewhere. You’re thinking two things. First, you’re thinking that you’re going to bring the head of your club square against the ball, and you do it. Then you’re thinking that that ball is going to travel in a certain direction and land in a certain part of the course, and it does. That’s where mind gets in its work, Jack. But just try taking your eyes off that ball while you’re making the stroke. Result is you hit behind it, or you top it, or maybe you just plumb miss it altogether. Same way with throwing a baseball. Look where you want the ball to land and then put your mind on it. I’d make a peach of a pitcher if, every time I sent a ball away, I looked over my shoulder, eh?”
“I see what you mean, of course,” replied Jack as they entered the gymnasium. “I hadn’t just thought of that before, though. I’m much obliged.”
“That’s all right,” responded Sam as they ran down the stairs to the locker room. “You’ve got the making of a good player, I think, Jack, and I want to see you get a place on the team. You bat mighty well for a chap who hasn’t played much, and if you can do a little better at that and play a good, steady, reliable game in the outfield, why, I don’t see why Shay shouldn’t take you on. Anyhow, you can be pretty sure of a place on the second team, for you can bat all around Cook. Just you buckle down for the next two weeks and work hard, you wild Westerner, and you’ll make good. Here, you, Ted Warner, move along and make room for two gentlemen on that bench!”
“Hello, Sammy. How’s the Arm?” (Sam’s pitching arm was always referred to in a manner of the deepest respect and reverence, and its welfare was a matter of constant anxiety. The word Arm as Ted Warner pronounced it began with a capital A.)
“Fine and dandy,” replied Sam. “You know Mr. Borden, don’t you, Ted?” Ted shook hands with Jack.
“We’ve never been properly introduced yet,” he answered smilingly, “but we’ve passed the time on the field, I think. How are you getting on, Borden?”
“He’s doing finely,” replied Sam, saving Jack the trouble of answering. “We’re going to have him on the first in a week or so.”
“I hope so, I’m sure,” said Ted politely. “I say, Sammy, come over to the room tonight, will you? We want to fix up a batting-list for Saturday’s game with the Towners. Dolph told me to tell you. Bring Borden along if he cares to come.”
Ted slipped out of the last of his togs and, wrapping a bath towel about him, nodded, smiled and turned toward the showers.