As there was still a half-hour before dinner, Dud turned his steps toward Lothrop and climbed the flight of slate steps that led to the second corridor. Ben Myatt roomed with Nate Leddy in Number 8, and both occupants of the two-room suite were in when Dud entered. He hadn’t seen Myatt for several days and he was surprised to find him stretched out on the couch looking rather pale and fagged.
“Hello, Dud,” he said. “Mind if I don’t get up? I’m feeling a bit rocky today. Pull up a chair.” Dud replied to Leddy’s greeting and found a seat. Leddy went on sorting some books at his desk. “Nate,” continued Myatt, “has been telling me about your good work yesterday, Dud. I was awfully glad to hear it, son. How’s the arm today?”
“Quite all right, thanks. Oh, it’s a little stiff, but I guess it will limber up this afternoon.”
“Better go easy with it. Nine innings is quite a stretch the first time. You’ve never gone the full limit before, eh?”
“No, and I thought for a while yesterday that I wasn’t going to be able to. I guess Leddy told you what a mess I made of that fifth inning.”
Ben nodded. “I wonder,” he ruminated, “how many of us have had an upset in that ‘fatal fifth.’ It seems that the fifth is crucial. Anyway, I’ve always had a sort of superstition about it. If I can last out the fifth I can go the limit, but almost every game I pitch something happens in that inning. Sometimes it’s only a stumble and sometimes it’s a regular fall-down. I dare say you thought it funny Pete didn’t pull you out yesterday when you went bad, eh?”
Dud nodded his head. “Yes, I expected him to, and when he didn’t I—well, I sort of thought he was keeping me in to—to discipline me. I suppose he was.”
“Not exactly. We were talking you over the other evening; I guess it was the night after the Lawrence game; and Pete said he guessed you wouldn’t stand a full game this year but that you might next. I told him you could stand it any time if he’d let you do it. ‘You put Baker in a game that’s on ice,’ I said, ‘or a game you don’t particularly care about winning and let him see himself through. Every pitcher has got to get into trouble once and dig out again before he finds himself. After he has done it once he knows that he can do it and after that he does it.’ Pete thought I might be right and Guy said he was certain of it. Great Scott, don’t I know? Haven’t I been through it? I’ve stood up there with the crowd yelping and been so scared I couldn’t half see the plate! Just had to trust to luck when I let ’em go that they wouldn’t fly over the backstop! Don’t you feel, now that you’ve stood the gaff, that you could start out this afternoon and pitch nine innings without getting wobbly?”
“Yes, I think I could,” responded Dud cautiously. “But I mightn’t. When a fellow’s stuff stops breaking right for him and a play goes wrong in the infield and there are a couple on the bases——”