Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Do you believe in the musk-rat?" "I do. Is he in the trap?" "He was not in the trap this morning." "May be there now." "Yes, dear, he may be." "And then again he mayn't," said Charley. "If I were in the Baby Pitcher's place I would give up looking for that animal. Her poor little black eyes will be all faded out." "Won't either, Charley Waters. I am going home." "Say good by, dear."
In baseball the pitcher's ball must reach the batter before it touches the ground; in cricket, if the ball did not touch the ground first and reach the batsman on the bound, no one would ever be out at all, for the other ball, the full-pitch as we call it, is, with a flat bat, too easy to hit, for our bowlers swerve very rarely: it is the contact with the ground which enables them to give the ball its extra spin or break.
But, Peg, you'll also be usin' your head, and when you see one of 'em players pull away on a curve, or hit weak on a drop, or miss a high fast one, or slug a low ball, you will jot it down on your card. You'll watch Place's hard hitters with hawk eyes, my boy, and a pitcher's memory. And when they come along to Grant Field you'll have 'em pretty well sized up."
"Now, play ball," he called. "Do it in a hurry," supplemented Tom Reade. "Speed is all right," Dick retorted. "But we want to play with care, even more than with speed. The scrub nine will go to bat." Dick himself ran quickly out to the pitcher's box, twirling his ball impatiently. A High School boy had been secured for umpire, and all was in readiness.
"What did you say your name was?" asked the Pitcher. He was in a long room lined with lockers. He recognized several players lounging there. A big man with a hard face, half in a uniform, was singing, "Though Silver Threads Are 'Mong the Gold, I Love You Just the Same." These men were requested to shake hands with the Pitcher's friend, Mr. Bean.
Though not sure, Dave had expected this, and did not try keenly for Dick's first delivery, which, as he knew of old, was seldom of this pitcher's best. Then came what looked like a high ball. Of old, this had been the poorest sort for Darrin to bit, and Dick seemed to remember it. But Darrin had changed with the years, and he felt a swift little jolt of amusement as he swung for that high one.
It was his belief that batting won games. "Bunt one and hit one!" he yelled to the batters. From the pitcher's box a lanky individual was trying to locate the plate. Ken did not need a second glance to see that this fellow was no pitcher. "Stop posin', and pitch!" yelled Arthurs. One by one the batters faced the plate, swung valiantly or wildly at balls and essayed bunts.
"Hold 'em down, Navy -hold 'em down!" rang the appeal from Navy seats when the Army went to bat in the eighth. Dick was first at bat now, with Greg on deck. As Prescott swung the willow and eyed Darrin, there was "blood" in the Army pitcher's eyes. Then Darrin gave a sudden gasp, for, at his first delivery, Dick sized up the ball, located it, and punched it.
In imagination he moved with a gay, eager crowd through the gateway leading into the great city ball ground. He could hear the game called; watch the first swirl of the ball as it curved from the pitcher's hand; catch the sharp click of the bat against it; and join in the roar of applause as the swift-footed runner sped to second base. Everybody would be at that opening game!
Spurling climbed out over the front of the stand. "I'll try to hold you for a little while," he volunteered. Soon he was smoothly receiving the pitcher's curves and lobbing them back. The combination went like clockwork. In the mean time the rest of the Camden team had taken the field and were warming up. The missing members had not yet appeared. "That'll do for a while," said the pitcher.
Word Of The Day