“Right you are,” said Leddy. “I know the feeling, Baker. It’s the deuce!”
“It sure is,” agreed Ben. “But what I’m trying to say is that a chap has got to get good and scared and get over it before he’s worth a hang in the box. You had your scare in the Lawrence game, Dud. I could see just how you felt. But they had to pull you out to save the game. You had another one yesterday and they didn’t have to pull you out and you found it was up to you to crawl out of the hole all by yourself, and you buckled down and did it. You didn’t know it, but if we’d been trimmed thirty to nothing yesterday you’d still been in there pitching ’em over when the game ended! That was Pete’s plan from the first. ‘If Baker’s in shape,’ he said to me, ‘I’ll put him in and let him pitch the whole game.’”
“I’m glad I didn’t know it,” laughed Dud. “I’d have been frightened stiff if I had!”
“Wouldn’t have blamed you a mite,” said Nate. “To tell the truth, Baker, when Pete told me on the bench there yesterday that he was going to put you in for the limit I thought he was crazy. I didn’t expect you to last more than four innings. I don’t mind telling you now, because it turned out all right and you fooled me beautifully. I apologize. You pitched as nice a game for a rookie as I ever saw in my life, old man, and that’s a fact!”
“I wish I could have seen it,” said Ben. “Fact is, Dud, I sort of look on you as a pupil, although I never really taught you a thing except a little common sense. You had everything you’ve got now when I got after you that day in the cage, but——”
“You taught me how to use what I did have,” said Dud stoutly. “If it hadn’t been for you I’d never have made good a little bit.”
“Well, all right. Thanks for the testimonial. What I wanted to see you about today was this. Nate and I talked it over and we decided to put you wise to what’s up. Pete probably thinks it’s better to keep quiet about it. Anyway, it wouldn’t help any to let it get over to Mount Morris. So you keep it to yourself. I’m dished for the rest of the year, Baker. When I was a kid I had a sunstroke. A lot of us were on the beach one beast of a hot day and we were doing stunts and racing and going on the way kids will, you know. Well, I keeled over and was sick for two or three days; had rather a narrow squeak of it, I believe. I’ve never had any trouble since, though, until Saturday. It was beastly hot that day, and I guess I was feeling sort of punk, anyway. Well, the result was that I had to give up, and after I got to the Field House I was as sick as a dog and felt like the dickens. Now the Doc says I’ve got to keep out of the sun all summer. Oh, he says there’s no harm in going around if it’s just ordinarily warm, but I’m supposed to wear some sort of a ventilated hat or stick a newspaper in it or something. If the day’s all right I’ll have a try at twirling Saturday, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be good for only four or five innings. That means that Nate here will have to finish out. Or Nate may start and I’ll go in if it’s necessary. Anyhow, there’s the second Mount Morris game the next Friday, and, in case they get one away from us, we’ll have to play them again the next afternoon. See what I’m getting at, Dud? You’ve got to take your turn in one of those games, old man. You can’t figure it any other way. Gus may get a whack, of course, and if Gus happened to have a good day it would help the situation a lot. For my part, I don’t believe we can count on finishing the series this year in two games. Mount Morris is good and she’s got a pitching staff that’s every bit up to ours. So there it is. Nate will have to pitch part of the Friday game, at least, and if he does he won’t be up to twirling again the next day. We want to win the series, naturally, and we’ve been talking it over. And we decided that it would be the best thing to put you next to what was up and let you get accustomed to the idea. I don’t know how you are that way, Dud, but I know that a good many fellows if they were suddenly called on to go in and pitch in a deciding game with the rival team would have nerves so badly they wouldn’t know a drop from a jump.”
Dud took a long breath. “Gee!” he said. “Can I do it?”
“Yes, I’m sure you can—after yesterday. Yesterday’s experience was just the sort of medicine you needed. Don’t you think so yourself?”
“Yes, I do. At least, I don’t think I’d ever go to pieces quite so badly again, Ben. But—but pitching against Mount Morris——”