Two to nothing didn’t look very encouraging to Yardley, and her supporters began to demand a hit. Durfee was up and he tried desperately to oblige, but his efforts came to naught. “Strike! You’re out!” said the umpire. The right-fielder slammed his bat down angrily and went back to the bench.
“Look here,” said Alf to Durfee, as Condit stepped to the plate to try his luck, “can’t we get that chap going somehow? I never saw a pitcher yet that couldn’t be bothered somehow, Harry.” Durfee looked dubious. And the umpire announced two strikes on Smith.
“He’s about as worried as a wooden Indian,” replied Durfee. “Don’t look as though he had any nerves. Besides, I don’t want to set out deliberately to win a game by rattling the pitcher. It isn’t good ethics, Alf.”
“Ethics be blowed! Every team tries to rattle its opponent, and you know it well enough. What does coaching amount to, anyhow, but rattling the other fellow? When you have the bases full you’re not thinking half as much about the runners as you are about the pitcher.”
“Well, that’s customary,” replied Durfee. “I don’t intend to set out to be a reformer, Alf, but I don’t like the idea of just starting out to rattle the pitcher. Besides, after all, it doesn’t make much difference whether we win this or not. I guess that chap Holmes is giving us some pretty fine batting practice, and we need it, too. Smith’s out. You’re up, Alf. See what you can do, for the love of Mike!”
Alf faced the pitcher without much confidence of being able to do anything. With two out it wasn’t likely that any effort of his would bring in a run. He decided to take it easy and study Mr. Holmes. Perhaps he might discover a weakness that would help him the next time. The first ball sent in was a high one that might have been called ball or strike. The umpire, after a second of indecision, announced it a ball. Holmes tried the same thing again. Alf swung at it and missed it by inches. That puzzled him until it occurred to him that he had struck too soon, and that very possibly all his teammates had been doing the same thing. He watched the next delivery carefully, and didn’t make any effort to hit it. And he learned something, which was that the principal effectiveness of Holmes’s delivery lay in the fact that the ball possessed the rather unique faculty of slowing up some few feet in front of the plate. He determined to try his luck with the next good one and see what happened.
Holmes chose to waste two before he again offered the batsman anything good. But the good one, when it did come, was breast-high and just inside the outer corner of the plate. Alf resisted the impulse to slam at it, and waited deliberately for an instant before he struck. It seemed to him that he was swinging much too late, but bat and ball met with a cheerful crack, and Alf raced for first. He had, however, no hope of beating out the ball, for his hit had been little more than a tap, and the ball was a slow grounder that was easy fielding for shortstop. He was out at first by a wide margin, but, as the two teams changed places again, Alf consoled himself with the thought that he had probably learned the secret of Holmes’s delivery; and that if the others of the Blue team would profit by his knowledge there might be hope of proving the Porter twirler not invulnerable.
In that inning the visitors filled the bases by an unexpected batting rally, and things for awhile looked doleful for Yardley. But with one out and a man at each station, Reid settled down as he so often did and struck out the next two men without difficulty.
Alf took Durfee aside at the bench and confided his theory regarding Holmes’s pitching, and Durfee called to Dan, who had chosen his bat and was walking toward the plate.
“Hold on a minute, Dan. Alf says we’re all swinging too soon at Holmes. And I believe he’s right. Holmes has probably got a sort of ‘fade-away’ ball that we’re not on to. Hit slow and see what happens, will you?”