I believe Callopy
waited on that curve, decided to hit it, changed
his mind and waited some more, and finally the
ball maddened him and he had to poke at it, the
result being a weak grounder.
Then the graceful, powerful Lane, champion
batter, champion base runner, stepped to the
plate. How a baseball crowd, any crowd, anywhere,
loves the champion batter! The ovation
Lane received made me wonder, with this impressive
reception in a hostile camp, what could be
the manner of it on his home field? Any boy ball-
player from the lots seeing Lane knock the dirt
out of his spikes and step into position would have
known he was a 400 hitter.
I was curious to see what the Rube would pitch
Lane. It must have been a new and significant
moment for Hurtle. Some pitchers actually wilt
when facing a hitter of Lane's reputation. But
he, on his baseball side, was peculiarly unemotional.
Undoubtedly he could get furious, but that
only increased his effectiveness. To my amazement
the Rube pitched Lane a little easy ball, not
in any sense like his floater or stitch-ball, but just
a little toss that any youngster might have tossed.
Of all possible balls, Lane was not expecting such
as that, and he let it go. If the nerve of it amazed
me, what did it not do to Lane? I saw his face
go fiery red. The grand stand murmured; let out
one short yelp of pleasure; the Quaker players
chaffed Lane.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133