Follow the Ball

by Ralph Henry Barbour

To pass him, mused Babe, would force in a run and still leave but one out. On the other hand, if he hit safely two tallies would come across; maybe more. He must, therefore, be induced to knock out a fly, even if it was a long one. In response to Babe’s signals Dave kept them low. The first offering was a strike. The next two were balls. The fourth delivery was fouled into the first base stand. The next was a hair-breadth too low and made the tally 2 and 3. Dave had to pitch it over now, but with luck he could still work the batsman for an out. And he did, for the long fly arched down into Purves’ waiting hands. The man on third raced home after the catch and beat the ball to the plate by yards. But there were two gone now and Holman’s breathed easier. To the next man Dave issued the first pass and again the bases were filled. But that ended the drama, for the Munson second baseman went out, Norwin to Wentworth.

Holman’s went after that one run lead in her half of the fourth and evened the score. Ted Purves flied out to center, Wentworth reached first on shortstop’s error, Joe Kenton sacrificed with a slow bunt along first base line and, with Tom on second, Mac slammed out a two-bagger into center. But that one tally was all that could be had, for Bud Thomas’ liner went smack into shortstop’s glove.

Dave got through the fifth without much trouble, only four men facing him. Nelson wobbled a bit more, but also escaped injury, Babe fanning for the second time, Dave flying out to first and Hal Norwin knocking a weak grounder to Nelson. In the sixth inning both pitchers became unsteady and only sharp fielding saved them. In the seventh Dave steadied down and fanned the first two aspirants. Then came a double over second base and the Munson supporters yelled hopefully. But the next man perished on a foul to Babe. The last half of the seventh witnessed the retirement of Nelson, warmly applauded by both sides, after he had been hit for a double and had passed two men. Cross, with but one down, made Dave send up a pop fly to second baseman and then crawled out of a tight hole when Captain Norwin’s grounder was handled perfectly by third baseman and Mac was nailed at the plate.

Dave was threatened with disaster in the first of the eighth when, having hit the first of the enemy and sent him, nursing his elbow, to first, he passed the next opponent. A clever bunt filled the bags and things looked black for the Light Green. The succeeding play, however, resulted in an out at the plate, and then a speedy double, Norwin to Kenton to Wentworth, pulled the fat out of the fire. In the last of that inning Captain Hal, Ted Purves and Tom Wentworth went out in order, Hal third baseman to first, and the others on strikes. And, still 1 to 1, the deciding game went into the final inning.

Dave pitched real ball in that inning. Munson tried all she knew how to break through. With one down, a victim to Dave’s puzzling delivery, the Munson third baseman succeeded in dropping a Texas Leaguer behind Tom Wentworth. A minute later Babe’s hurried peg to second went just too wide to nip a steal. A pinch hitter took a hand then for the Blue-and-Gold, swung at a deceptive drop, knocked a foul back of third, slanted two more into the stand, let two balls pass him and at last hit safely to short left. Then, with two on, Fortune favored the Light Green. The Munson catcher landed against Dave’s first delivery—he had tried to sneak over a straight, fast one—and sent it smashing across the infield, rising as it went. The runners dashed away. Joe Kenton hurled himself high into the air and to the right, shot up a hand and speared the ball. Only the fact that when he came down he landed, or so it appeared, directly on the back of his neck, deprived him of a double play. By the time he had recovered himself and shot the ball to third base the runner there was safe. But there were two gone, now, and Holman’s set herself desperately to ward off defeat. The runner on third, instigated by a coach with a voice like a load of furniture falling downstairs, cut wierd didoes on the base path, kicking up the dust, starting at top speed for the plate only to twirl and scuttle back to the bag, dancing and gyrating. None of these antics appeared to affect Dave, however. He observed the dervish-like enemy tolerantly and calmly and pitched to the batter, working slowly and carefully, digesting Babe’s signals for a long moment before each wind-up. He tried a slow one that settled slowly toward the dust as it crossed the plate and was adjudged a ball. He shot a high one across the outer corner and netted a strike. He followed with a curve, waist-high, and heard it called a ball. Babe rewarded the umpire with a look of amazed pity.

“It looked good,” he confided to Dave cheeringly. “Let’s have it again. Come on, Dave!” But Babe’s words were belied by the signal hidden under the big mitten, and what followed was so palpably a straight ball in the groove that the batter swung smartly—and missed badly.

“Two and two!” proclaimed the official.

“Nice work, Dave!” shouted Babe. “That’s pitching, boy! One more now!”

Babe’s voice was almost drowned by the strident cries of the coachers. Even the Munson bench was howling advice and encouragement. The runner on third was for an instant still, under the conditions a suspicious circumstance and suggesting a dash for the plate on the next pitch. Dave glanced unconcernedly toward the last station, studied Babe’s signal, hesitated, shook his head. Babe signaled anew. Dave nodded. All this was merely to give the batsman something to think about besides his job of hitting the ball on the nose, for Dave seldom refused Babe’s signals, and when he did he didn’t shake his head at them but walked toward the plate and held a whispered conference with the catcher. The incident worried the coach a mite, too, and he had half a mind to cancel his signal for an attempted steal from third. But he didn’t, and as Dave’s hand holding the ball went back the runner shot for the plate.

Dave didn’t hurry his delivery, although the form of the scuttling runner was plain to his sight as his arm shot forward. The ball went true to its goal, the batter started to swing and changed his mind, the ball thudded into Babe’s mitten and the umpire swung an arm outward and backward.