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CHAPTER XXIV MAKING READY

发布时间:2020-05-14 作者: 奈特英语

In the next Wednesday's game, O'Connell and Borland composed the school battery, and on the following Saturday, Patterson and Owen. O'Connell won his game; Patterson lost his. And none the less, after the second game, Poole let it be definitely known that Patterson and Owen were now considered the regular battery. This decision was not based on the scores.

O'Connell won his game because he played against an inferior team, whose pitcher the Seaton men could hit. Patterson lost an uphill game against a clever pitcher whom his men could do little with, while the Seaton players behind him failed to support him at critical moments. O'Connell's friends maintained that the results of the two games showed the comparative merits of the pitchers. Lyford and Poole took the opposite[Pg 269] view. Patterson at two several points had saved his game when there were men on third and second with but one out. It was lost in the seventh, after a two-base hit and an error had put men on first and third, and another error permitted one of them to reach the home plate; but the very play through which the game was lost enhanced Owen's reputation. It happened thus:—

With members of the visiting team on first and third, and one man out, Rob, who had analyzed a similar situation more than once before, made up his mind that the man on first base would try to steal at the earliest opportunity; first, because against a school team like Seaton there was more than an even chance that a double steal would rattle the catcher and bring in a run; secondly, because a single with men on second and third would yield two runs, while if the man remained at first it would score but one. So Rob signalled to his infield, and called on Patterson for a wide, unreachable out. The ball came true, while the runner on first started hard down, and Rob snapped in a straight line for second, which Hayes ran to cover; but McPherson, who had his eye[Pg 270] on the runner at third, seeing him start for home, ran in behind Patterson, cut off Owen's throw to second, and shot the ball back home. So far the play had been perfectly carried out.

Unhappily, however, its very perfection interfered with its success. Rob and McPherson had done their work so rapidly that the base-runner was only about halfway between third and home when Rob received the ball at the plate. The runner stopped and turned back. Rob ran down toward him and threw to Durand. The man doubled again, and Durand—trusty, capable, but over-eager Durand—returned the ball about a foot above Owen's reach, while Patterson, who should have been backing up the catcher in the line behind, stood halfway over from his box gazing fascinated at the play.

So at the same time the game was lost and the catcher glorified—at least in the eyes of those who knew what it meant to have a man behind the bat who could keep the game in hand, recognize opportunities when they came, and perform his part in the plays. Poole and Lyford belonged to this number, and most of the members of the nine.[Pg 271] Poole was inclined to be obstinate, and he disliked to be proved wrong; but when once satisfied that he was wrong, he turned promptly and finally about. From this time forth there was no more uncertainty about the catcher in Poole's mind. He was for Owen through and through, without wavering or question. Borland must give way to a better man.

But there were many who could not follow the captain in his change of view; who, in fact, could see no sufficient reason why the old catcher who had proved himself competent should be laid aside for a new man. The "inside work" of a catcher is not apparent to the occupants of the bleachers; they cannot measure accurately the comparative merits of two men playing in different games; they do not count assists. When Borland made his three-base hit in a game in which his battery played, his friends made sarcastic comment: "That's the man who couldn't hit well enough for the First!" When in the next game Patterson pitched an in instead of the out that was called for, and Owen, after losing time in getting the ball still tried to catch the runner at second, and sent[Pg 272] a short bound at McPherson's toes, the same critics added: "—and that's the star thrower who put poor Jack out of play. The old man could do better than that with his eyes shut!" These, let it be understood, were Borland's friends. Borland himself never said a word.

The Hillbury game drew on apace, and the nine settled to its work. The play was improving; the infield was coming, quick and true, the men trusting each other and working well together under the catcher's direction. Patterson had learned to value himself aright. Throughout the school the doubters had grown fewer as the days went by. Poole paid no attention at all to them, but Rob knew of their existence and understood full well how their number would be suddenly multiplied by ten if he should disappoint the hopes of the school in the great game. To lose a Hillbury game is a calamity; the single man who loses it by a single error is unforgivable.

And yet to win under the circumstances seemed more than the school had a right to expect. There had never been a poor nine in Hillbury since school nines began to be. This year the blue team was[Pg 273] largely veteran, with the identical pitcher who had last year mown down the Seaton hitters as a well-aimed bowling ball clears away the pins from their triangle. The scores of the nines which had played with the two school teams compared unfavorably for Poole's team. Patterson, a mere green apprentice, was a wholly uncertain quantity. Such considerations fairly weighed gave little promise to the Seatonians; but in the Seaton breast hope springs eternal, and a game may always be won until it is actually lost.

A week before the game, the whole school journeyed to Hillbury for the track meet. Before the contests both sides had counted probabilities. According to Seaton reckoning, if Rohrer beat Royce in the high hurdles, and Benton won the half mile, and Laughlin and Lindsay took seven out of eight points in the shot-put, Seaton would have twelve points to spare. By Hillbury count, only accidents could keep the blue from beating the red by at least twenty. Each side regarded the results as ominous for the more important contest of the following Saturday.

And that was why Seaton took the defeat so[Pg 274] to heart. Rohrer did beat Royce in the hurdles, and Laughlin and Lindsay won their seven points; but there were unexpected offsets, and Benton did not even get a place in the half-mile. Six points is not a bad defeat, but any defeat is bad when you expect victory. If omens counted, the ball game was as good as lost.

But Owen's hopes never wavered. He had seen hard games before, games which he had won and games which he had lost; and never had he felt such a spirit of keenness and unity as animated this raw Seaton nine. If Hillbury beat them, Hillbury must play good ball, far better ball than any team which had come that season to Seaton. If only Patterson kept up!

On the Friday before the great day, as the decorations were blossoming out on the houses, and in recitations the game was crowding the lesson matter hard for possession of the minds of the pupils, Poole and Owen were hailed from across the street by Wally.

"Hello, Wally," called Poole, "come over here!"

The boy hastened across.

[Pg 275]

"Could you get us the seats?" asked Wally.

"Only two," said Poole, "and you'll have to let your father and sister have those."

Wally's countenance fell.

"But as you helped me out of a scrape once, I'm going to pay you back. I'm going to let you have a seat on the players' bench."

"On the players' bench!" cried the delighted lad. "Great Scott! do you mean it?"

Poole laughed and nodded.

"You've got to bring us luck," said Owen.

"Oh, I will," returned the boy, "but you don't need it. You're going to win anyway. I've got my red fire all ready."

"I wish I felt as he does," said Poole, as the boy scampered across the street to inform his friends of his good fortune.

"I do," replied Owen, promptly.

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