He placed one player to pitch to the hitters, another to catch, and as soon as the hitters had their turn they took to fielding. Two turns for each at bat left the coach more than dissatisfied.
“You're all afraid of the ball,” he yelled. “This ain't no dodgin' game. Duck your nut if the ball's goin' to hit you, but stop lookin' for it. Forget it. Another turn now. I'm goin' to umpire. Let's see if you know the difference between a ball and a strike.”
He changed the catcher and, ordering Ken to the pitcher's box, he stepped over behind him. “Peg,” he said, speaking low, “you're not tryin' for pitcher, I know, but you've got speed and control and I want you to peg 'em a few. Mind now, easy with your arm. By that I mean hold in, don't whip it. And you peg 'em as near where I say as you can; see?”
As the players, one after another, faced the box, the coach kept saying to Ken: “Drive that fellow away from the plate... give this one a low ball... now straight over the pan. Say, Peg, you've got a nice ball there... put a fast one under this fellow's chin.”
“Another turn, now, boys!” he yelled. “I tell you—stand up to the plate!” Then he whispered to Ken. “Hit every one of 'em! Peg 'em now, any place.”
“Hit them?” asked Ken, amazed.
“That's what I said.”
“But—Mr. Arthurs—”
“See here, Peg. Don't talk back to me. Do as I say. We'll peg a little nerve into this bunch. Now I'll go back of the plate and make a bluff.”
Arthurs went near to the catcher's position. Then he said: “Now, fellows, Ward's pretty wild and I've told him to speed up a few. Stand right up and step into 'em.”