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Updated: May 14, 2025
Suddenly they seemed to have been let loose; they were like a band of Indians. Daddy saw everything. He did not miss seeing Umpire Gale take a ball from his pocket and toss it to Frank, and Daddy wondered if that was the ball which had been in the play. Straightway, however, he forgot that in the interest of the game. Bo Stranathan bawled: "Wull, Injuns, hyar's were we do 'em.
"Stranathan, up here on Madden's Hill we know how to treat visitors. We'll play with your ball.... Now keep your gang of rooters from crowdin' on the diamond." "Boss, it's your grounds. Fire 'em off if they don't suit you.... Come on, let's git in the game. Watcher want field er bat?" "Field," replied Daddy briefly. Billy Gale called "Play," and the game began with Slugger Blandy at bat.
Applause greeted Daddy's appearance and members of his team escorted him to the soap-box bench. Daddy cast a sharp eye over the Natchez players practicing on the field. Bo Stranathan had out his strongest team. They were not a prepossessing nine. They wore soiled uniforms that did not match in cut or color. But they pranced and swaggered and strutted! They were boastful and boisterous.
He gave himself up to revel. He sat motionless and silent; nevertheless his whole internal being was in the state of wild tumult. It was as if he was being rewarded in joy for all the misery he had suffered because he was a cripple. He could never play baseball, but he had baseball brains. He had been too wise for the tricky Stranathan.
Daddy fancied he detected a difference in the weight of the ball, but Bo took them back before Daddy could be sure of that point. "You don't have to fan about it. I know a ball when I see one," observed Daddy. "But we're on our own grounds an' we'll use our own ball. Thanks all the same to you, Stranathan." "Huh!
The crowd in the grand stand swayed to every pitched ball; the bleachers tossed like surf in a storm. To start the eighth, Stranathan of New York tripled along the left foul line. Thunder burst from the fans and rolled swellingly around the field. Before the hoarse yelling, the shrill hooting, the hollow stamping had ceased Stranathan made home on an infield hit. Then bedlam broke loose.
Tell him he can't break a pane of glass tell him he can't put one over the pan tell him it he does you'll slam it down in the sand bank. Bluff the whole team. Keep scrappy all the time. See! That's my game today. This Natchez bunch needs to be gone after. Holler at the umpire. Act like you want to fight." Then Daddy sent his men out for practice. "Boss, enny ground rules?" inquired Bo Stranathan.
Then Bo Stranathan batted a stinging ball through the infield, scoring Whisner. "Play the batter! Play the batter!" sharply called Daddy from the bench. Then Frank struck out Molloy and retired Dundon on an easy fly. "Fellers, git in the game now," ordered Daddy, as his players eagerly trotted in. "Say things to that Muckle Harris! We'll walk through this game like sand through a sieve."
Sam crossed the plate and then fell on the bench beside Daddy. "Say! that ball nearly knocked the bat out of my hands," panted Sam. "It made the bat spring!" "Fellers, don't wait," ordered Daddy. "Don't give the umpire a chanst to roast us now. Slam the first ball!" The aggressive captain lined the ball at Bo Stranathan.
It was comforting to think that if it came to a fight Sam and Lane could hold their own with Bo Stranathan and Slugger Blandy. In the managing of his players Daddy observed strict discipline. It was no unusual thing for him to fine them. On practice days and off the field they implicitly obeyed him. During actual play, however, they had evinced a tendency to jump over the traces.
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