Ginger never gave up the fight, though, and any one but the good-natured Babe would have wearied of the importunities and become violent. Ginger even besought the aid of Gus Cousins, but the coach only sighed and shrugged.
“I know, kid. I’ve begged him to try something different fifty times, but he’s so confounded stubborn you might just as well talk to that water bucket. He’s too good a catcher to be a good batter, anyway. I guess even if he swung a lighter bat he’d still miss most of ’em.”
The week before the first game of the series with Munson, Holman’s had a slump and lost two contests running. The infield, which had played clean, snappy ball all spring, went bad and booted half its chances. Medfield walked off with Saturday’s game, 14 to 2, without making a hit that wasn’t clearly scratch. Errors did the rest, errors and a finally disgruntled pitcher. Monday and Tuesday witnessed hard and unremitting practice, and on Wednesday Holman’s journeyed down state to Munson and crossed bats with the Blue-and-Gold before a maniacal assemblage of students and alumni, to say nothing of a brass band, and lost deservedly. Bellows was knocked from the box in the second inning, by which time Munson had accumulated four runs, and Lou Jones took his place. Lou wavered along to the sixth and then began to issue passes. When he had handed out his fourth in that inning, and Munson’s score was 5 runs, Dave Cochran replaced him. Dave held the enemy safe for the rest of the way, but the damage was already done. Holman’s had made a lone tally in the fourth, and in the first of the ninth she started a rally when, with one out, Tom Wentworth hit safely for two bases. Joe Kenton laid down a bunt and was safe on a close decision. Torrey hit to shortstop and was safe on a fielder’s choice, Tom going out at third. Bud Thomas hit an easy fly to left that was misjudged and muffed, and, with bases full, a hit good for two tallies and a home-run tying the score, Babe advanced determinedly, swinging his big black-handled club.
Ginger looked on strainedly, and I think he uttered a little earnest prayer for Babe. But why prolong the suspense? It was over after five pitched balls. Babe watched one strike go past him and swung at two more. You could hear his “Ugh!” on the Holman’s bench as the force of his swing carried him half around, but you couldn’t hear any soul-stirring crash of bat against ball. Ginger groaned and pulled his cap far over his eyes. Gus Cousins shrugged. The Munson band blared and the Class Day crowd took possession of the field.
Holman’s trailed back to Baldwin, a rather silent crowd. Babe stared at his hands most of the way, unseeing of the sorrowing yet sympathetic and forgiving regard of Ginger.
The next morning there was an hour’s batting practice and a long fielding work-out, and at two o’clock the rivals faced each other again. To-day was Holman’s Class Day and her day for sound and fury, but Holman’s had fewer rooters than the larger school and could produce no band. To-day Holman’s, cheered by her cohorts and on her own field, got away to a good start. In the second inning Ted Purves hit safely, stole second and reached third on Tom Wentworth’s out. Joe Kenton was passed. Mac Torrey drove a hot liner to second, second baseman booted it and Ted scored. Bud Thomas bunted toward the pitcher’s box and Cross, Munson’s ace, after holding the runners, threw the ball two yards wide of first. When the dust had settled two more runs had crossed. Babe fouled out to third baseman. Bellows drew a pass. Hal Norwin, head of the list, tried two bunts and failed and then hit the ball over third. Mac and Bud romped home. Prince was thrown out at first and Ted Purves fouled out to catcher. Five tallies graced the score board.
Those five would have been sufficient, for George Bellows held Munson scoreless to the fifth, when two hits and a sacrifice fly netted one run, and afterwards to the end, but in the seventh Holman’s added two more tallies for good measure when, with Torrey on second and two down, Babe made the old bat speak at last. Cross had given way to Boyd, and Boyd perhaps forgot Babe’s predilection for high ones. That as may have been, Babe connected with a shoulder-high delivery just over the edge of the plate and sent it screaming to the very edge of Conyer’s Creek, and romped around the bases unchallenged. When he turned, grinning, toward the bench, there was the dignified Ginger standing on his head, his brilliant locks mingling with the dust of the trampled field.
Later, said Babe: “Well, how about the old cudgel now, son?”
Ginger shook his head and spoke sadly. “Babe, that guy didn’t ought to have pitched you a high one. That was a James H. Dandy of a hit, all right, all right, but it don’t prove nothing, Babe, nothing at all.”
Babe laughed and rumpled Ginger’s dusty hair. “Son,” he said, “you’re just plain stubborn!”