United States or Uzbekistan ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


He staggered through the fifth inning without being scored on, but it was ticklish work. Little Falls hit him hard. With the bases full and two out, Marty Smith sprang sideways, made a blind stab, scooped the ball and touched the bag for the third out. Cries of chagrin came from the Little Falls bench. "Oh, you lucky dubs," called one of the coachers. "That was horseshoes."

At first the hit had looked like a two-bagger, but there seemed to be a chance of making three out of it as Frank reached second, and the coachers sent him along. He reached third ahead of the ball, and then the Yale crowd on the bleachers did their duty. "How do you Harvard chaps like Merriwell's style?" yelled a Yale enthusiast as the cheering subsided.

Eddie Holt, Bert Wheeler, Arthur Poe, Doc Hillebrand, Bummie Booth and I were in the front ranks of the class of 1900, stationed back of Witherspoon Hall ready to make the rush upon the sophomores, who were huddled together guarding the cannon. Cochran and his coterie of coachers ran out as we were approaching the cannon and forced us out of the contest.

Coachers and all were gone together, and the dispirited hunters gathered at the edge of the scrub and looked at each other. "Well, Mister, you couldn't stop him," said the old man. "I'm afraid I made rather a mess of things, don't you know," said the Englishman. "I thought I hit him the second time, too. Seemed to be straight at him." "I think you done very well to miss us!

I want men to deal with who are honest, hard-working athletes, and honest, hard-working students. My own experience and that of other coachers with whom I have talked, proves that the brilliant football player or crew man who sacrifices class standing for his athletic work may do for a while, but in the end is a losing investment."

The batter hit it to the left of the pitcher, and Springer, shooting out his gloved hand, simply deflected the ball enough to prevent Nelson, who was almost directly in line, from getting it. The Wyndham crowd yelled madly as another runner scored and the hitter reached first safely. "This pitcher's the easiest one yet!" shrieked one of the coachers. "Nail the game right here, fellows.

Eliot smiled on him encouragingly as he adjusted the cage and stepped back into position, crouching to give a signal. The Wyndham coachers began chattering, and the local crowd "rooted" hard. Surely it was a moment to test the nerve of any young pitcher. Phil caught Roger's signal, nodded, and bent the first ball over.

"That was pretty pure, eh, Mister?" roared Considine to Carew. "Ain't it a caution the way the coachers race with 'em? That old bald-face coacher is worth two men and a boy in a dash like this." Suddenly an old bull, the patriarch of the wild herd, made towards one of the gins, whose shrill yells and whip-cracking failed to turn him.

The way we get wild cattle here-abouts is to take out a mob of quiet cattle, what we call coachers, and let 'em feed in the moonlight alongside the scrub, while we wait back out o' the road and watch 'em. When the wild cattle come out, they run over to see the coachers, and we dash up and cut 'em off from the scrub, and hustle 'em together into the open. It's good sport, Mister.

The shouts of the coachers, urging Pratt to "take a walk" and asserting that it was "a dead sure thing," added in the completion of Phil's undoing; for, even though he did his best to put a straight one over, the ball was outside, and Pratt capered exultantly to first, while Roberts, grinning all over one side of his face, jogged home. "Take him out!"