CHAPTER VI IN TRAINING
It had been a great winter for the lads of Truesdell. Although the bigblizzard put an end to ice-boating, it provided instead snow-shoeing,ski-running, and many other delightful winter sports. Plenty of hardstudy interspersed with recreation made the winter months pass rapidly,and when the last shrunken snow-drift had sunk to a muddy grave and thebalmy south winds were drying soggy fields and muddy lanes as if bymagic, the boys turned from winter sports to the enthusiasticconsideration of baseball possibilities.
“We’ve got a swell chance to cop the championship pennant in the LakeShore League,” declared Charlie Rogers to a group which had gathered ina sunny nook behind the school building. “Believe me! We’ll wipe theearth with Bedford this year!”
“Where do you get that stuff, Red?” demanded Abner Jones, a sallow youthwhose prominent knee and elbow joints had won for him the nickname“Bony.” “I hear Slugger Slade is going to play third for Bedford. He’san old-timer and knows every trick in the bag; and can he hit? Oh, boy!”
“Slade is tricky all right,” agreed Rogers. “He’s tricky and dirty, too,if he gets a chance, but when it comes to hitting, why we’ve got acouple of pitchers who may fool him.”
“Forget it!” scoffed Jones. “Slade will make a monkey of any pitcherwe’ve got—even Ned Blake.”
“Here comes Ned right now,” interposed Wat Sanford. “Let’s hear what hehas to say about it.”
“What’s all the row?” asked Ned, as he came down the steps swinging astrapful of books.
“Bony, the crape-hanger, says we can’t beat Bedford with Slade playingfor ’em, and I say we’ll wipe ’em off’n the map,” explained Rogers. “Howabout it, Ned?”
“Both wrong—as usual,” laughed Ned, clapping a strong hand on thedisputants and pushing his broad shoulders between them. “Now here’s howI see it,” he continued. “Slade is a wicked hitter and a tough man inthe field. He’ll be a big help to Bedford, but he can’t play the wholegame. Keep that in mind, Bony. On the other hand, Red, remember thatplenty of teams are world-beaters before the season starts. We’ve gotsome good material, but it will take a lot of hard work to make awinning nine out of it. That’s what it’s up to us to do. I’ve justposted a notice for the squad to show up for practice this afternoon.The field is drying fast and I want every man on the job.”
“All except the pitchers, I suppose,” yawned Dave Wilbur. “I’ll bearound the first of next week and work on the batting practice.”
“You’ll be right on the job at two p.m. this afternoon, Dave,” repliedNed, firmly. “I’m depending on you to set a good example to the newmen.”
“Do you hear that, Weary?” gibed Tommy Beals. “You’re expected to setthe old alarm for one forty-five p.m. and be made an example of.”
“That’s the idea, Fatty,” laughed Ned. “Anybody going my way?”
“I am, if you don’t walk too darned fast,” replied Beals.
Dick Somers also rose to his feet and joined the two as they shoulderedtheir way out of the group and strode down the street.
“Bony Jones is an awful knocker,” remarked Tommy, when they were out ofhearing.
“He’s that all right,” agreed Ned, “and yet for the good of the teamright now, I’d rather they’d hear Bony’s knocking than Red’s boasting.Over-confidence at the start of the season is a mighty bad thing, and ascaptain of the team, it’s up to me to kill it if I can.”
“What’s the real dope on this fellow Slade?” asked Dick. “I don’t haveany very pleasant recollections of him myself, but how about hisplaying?”
“I’ve seen him in a couple of games,” replied Ned. “He’s a good thirdbaseman and a small edition of Babe Ruth when it comes to hitting.”
“How about these stories of his spiking men on bases and other dirtywork?” persisted Dick.
“I don’t know,” answered Ned with a shrug of his shoulders. “I won’tcondemn a man till I actually see him do something of the kind myself.I’m more worried right now about how good our fellows are going to bethan how bad somebody else is. By the way, Dick,” he continued, “howmuch ball have you played?”
“Oh, not a whole lot,” answered Dick, modestly. “We had a pretty fairteam where I used to live. They let me chase around out in right field.”
“Well, I want you and Fatty to be on hand this afternoon,” declared Ned.“We’re going to need every man who shows any class.”
Promptly at two o’clock the Truesdell squad assembled on the muddy fieldand began the season with an easy workout. Dick Somers quicklydemonstrated a remarkable throwing arm, both for distance and accuracy,while his quickness of foot promised to make him a valuable fielder andbase-runner. The development of hitting ability was Captain Blake’s mostdifficult problem, and upon this first day and for many days thereafterhe kept the weak hitters swinging at pitched balls till their shouldersached.
“D’j’ever hear about ‘the straw that broke the camel’s back’?” grumbledDave Wilbur as he left the pitcher’s box after a particularly longsession of batting practice. “Ned’s an awful glutton for work. He’smaking me wear out my wing throwing balls past these dubs, who couldn’thit a balloon with a bass viol!”
“Don’t kid yourself, Weary,” gibed Rogers. “Ned is figuring on givingyou some much-needed practice in hurling. We’re just standing up thereso’s you can learn to locate the plate.”
“Aw say, use your bean,” grinned Dave. “I can put ’em over the old panwith my eyes shut!”
The first regular game of the schedule was won by Truesdell but thevictory proved costly. Charlie Rogers, sliding home with the winningrun, sprained his ankle and was pronounced out of the game for the restof the season.
“There goes the best fielder in the Lake Shore League,” wailed TommyBeals, as he watched Rogers hobble from the field. “A few more unluckybreaks like that will make hard going for us!”
This pessimism seemed well founded, for a few days afterward, Ned Blakedropped into Somers’ home with another gloomy bit of news. “Tinker Owenflunked math. yesterday,” he announced, shortly. “That wipes him out ofthe picture, unless old Simmons will relent—and you know how much chancethere is of that.”
“Not a look-in,” agreed Dick, picking up his banjo from the couch andplunking a few chords in a doleful minor key.
“It leaves us only nine real players anyhow you figure it,” continuedNed, who was checking off the names from a slip of paper. “You’ll haveto play center field in Red’s place, Dick, and we’ll try out Fatty Bealsin Tinker’s position behind the bat. Dave and I will have to alternatepitch and right field.”
“It’s pretty tough on Weary Wilbur, making him pitch every other gameand play right field between times,” grinned Dick. “He’ll crab plentywhen he hears the news!”
“I’m not worrying about Dave,” was Ned’s reply. “Of course he’ll crab abit and probably he’ll spring one of his everlasting proverbs on us, buthe’ll come through in his own lazy fashion. It’s a shame we haven’t gota few more good subs, but we’ll manage somehow.”
Truesdell High struggled through the next three games with its changedline-up, winning each by a narrow margin but improving steadily in thematter of speed and smoothness. Bedford Academy, although heavily scoredagainst, likewise kept a clean slate showing six victories. It wasfreely predicted by the followers of baseball that this year’s annualgame between the two great rivals would be “for blood.”
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