CHAPTER XV
HIS FIRST CHANCE
Joe Matson's hope of a quick recognition from the man he had helped thatday, and who had turned out to be Yale's head coach, was doomed todisappointment, for Mr. Hasbrook--or, to give him the title lovinglybestowed on him by the players, "Horsehide"--had something else to dojust then besides recognizing casual acquaintances. He wanted to watchthe playing.
After a brief conference between himself and the other two coaches, inwhich the 'varsity captain had a part, Horsehide motioned for theplaying to be resumed. He said little at first, and then when Weston,who was pitching, made a partial motion to throw the ball to first base,to catch a man there, but did not complete his evident intention, Mr.Hasbrook called out:
"Hold on there! Wait a minute, Weston. That was as near a balk as I'veever seen, and if this was a professional game you might lose it for us,just as one of the world series was, by a pitcher who did the samething."
"What do you mean?" asked Weston, slightly surprised.
"I mean that pretending to throw a ball to first, and not completing theaction, is a balk, and your opponents could claim it if they had beensharp enough. Where were your eyes?" he asked, of the scrub captain.
"I--er--I didn't think----"
"That's what your brains are for," snapped the head coach. "You can'tplay ball without brains, any more than you can without bases or a bat.Watch every move. It's the best general who wins battles--baseball orwar. Now go on, and don't do that again, Weston, and, if he does, youcall a balk on him and advance each man a base," ordered Horsehide.
The 'varsity pitcher and the scrub captain looked crestfallen, but itwas a lesson they needed to learn.
"He's sharp, isn't he?" said Joe.
"That's what makes him the coach he is," spoke Spike. "What's the use ofsoft-soap? That never made a ball nine."
"No, I suppose not." Joe was wondering whether he ought to mention tohis chum the chance meeting with Mr. Hasbrook, but he concluded that awrong impression might get out and so he kept quiet, as he had done inthe matter of the red paint on the porch. Nothing more had been heardabout that act of vandalism, though the professor who had fallen andspoiled the valuable manuscripts was reported to be doing some quietinvestigating.
"I believe Weston had a hand in it," thought Joe, "but I'm not going tosay anything. He had red paint on him, anyhow. I wonder what he hasagainst me, and if he can do anything to keep me from getting a chance?If I thought so I'd--no, I can't do anything. I've just got to take itas it comes. If I do get a chance, though, I think I can make good."
The practice game went on, developing weak spots in both nines, andseveral shifts were made. But the 'varsity pitcher remained the same,and Joe watched Weston narrowly, trying to find out his good points.
For Weston had them. He was not a brilliant twirler, but he was a steadyone, in the main, and he had considerable speed, but not much of acurve. Still he did manage to strike out a number of his opponents.
The game was almost over, and the 'varsity had it safely in hand. Theyhad not obtained it without hard work, however, and they had made manyglaring errors, but in this they were not alone.
"Though, for that matter," declared Joe, "I think the scrub pitcher didbetter, and had better support, than the 'varsity. I don't see why thescrubs didn't win."
"It's just because they know they're playing against the 'varsity,"declared Spike. "There's a sort of nervousness that makes 'em forget todo the things they could do if it was some other nine. Sort of over-awedI guess."
"Maybe," assented Joe. "Well, here's the end," and the game came to aclose.
"Now for the post-mortem," remarked his room-mate. "The coaches andcaptain will get together and talk it over."
"Then we might as well vamoose," said Joe. "They won't need us."
"I guess not. Come on."
The boys strolled from the diamond. As they passed a group of the'varsity players surrounding the coaches, Joe saw Mr. Hasbrook stepforward. He had a bat and seemed to be illustrating some of the weakpoints of the plays just made, or to be about to demonstrate howproperly to swing at a ball. As Joe came opposite him the head coachstepped out a little and saw our hero.
For a moment he stared unrecognizingly at him, and then a smile cameover his rugged face. His eyes lighted up, and, stepping forward, heheld out his hand.
"Why, how do you do!" he exclaimed. "I know you--I'm sure I've seen yousomewhere before, and under queer circumstances, too, but I can't justrecall--hold on, wait a moment!" he exclaimed, as he saw Joe about tospeak. "I like to make my brain work.
"Ah! I have it! You're the young fellow who drove me to the station, intime to catch the New York train, the day my carriage wheel broke. Well,but I'm glad to see you again! That was a great service you did me, andI haven't forgotten it. Are you attending here?"
"Yes," said Joe, glad that he had not been forgotten.
"Good! Are you playing ball?"
"Well--er--I--that is I haven't----"
"Oh, I see. You're trying for your team. Good! I'm glad to hear it. It'sa great game--the greatest there is. And so you are at Yale--Matson--yousee I haven't forgotten your name. I never expected to meet you here. Doyou know the other coaches?"
"I've met them," murmured Joe, and he half smiled in a grim fashion, forthat was about as far as his acquaintanceship had progressed. He had metthem but they did not know him apart from many others.
"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Hasbrook. "Well, I'll see you again. And so you'reat Yale? Look me up when you get time," and he turned back to hisinstruction, murmuring to the other coaches: "He did me quite a servicesome time ago. I'm glad to see him again. Seems like a nice lad."
The others murmured an assent, and then gave their whole attention tothe man who had, more than anyone else, perhaps, mastered the science ofbaseball as it ought to be played.
"Well, say, you've got a friend at court all right!" exclaimed Spike, ashe and Joe strolled along. "If I had your chance I'd----"
"Chance!" exclaimed Joe. "What better chance have I than I had before?"
"Why, you know Horsehide! Why didn't you say so?"
"I didn't know I did until a little while ago. I had no idea that theman I picked up and took to the station would turn out to be the Yalecoach. But if you think he's going to put me in ahead of the others juston that account you're mistaken."
"Oh, I don't say that."
"It wouldn't be square," went on Joe.
"Of course not. But as long as he does know you he might at leastprevail on the other coaches to give you a better chance than you've hadso far."
"Well, maybe," laughed Joe. "But I'm not expecting anything like that."
"Well, just remember me when your chance does come," begged Spike. "Andremember that I told you."
"I will," declared Joe, with a laugh, and then he added more earnestly:"If ever I do get on the mound, Spike, I'll try to have you catch forme."
"I wish you would!"
As they went off the field they saw the knot of players still gatheredabout the head, and other coaches, receiving instructions, and how JoeMatson wished he was there none but himself knew.
In their rooms that afternoon and evening the ball players talked oflittle save the result of the first real clash between 'varsity andscrub, and the effect of the return of the head coach. It was agreedthat the 'varsity, after all, had made a very creditable showing, whilethe upholders of the class team players gave them much praise.
"But things will begin to hum now!" exclaimed Jimmie Lee, as he sat inJoe's room, while the beds, sofa and table, to say nothing of the floor,were encumbered with many lads of the Red Shack, and some visitors fromother places. "Yes, sir! Horsehide won't stand for any nonsense. They'llall have to toe the line now."
"Jove, weren't the other coaches stiff enough?" asked Clerkinwell DeVere, who aspired to right field. "They certainly laced into me forfurther orders when I muffed a ball."
"And so they should," declared Spike. "That's what
they're for."
"Oh, but wait until you do that when Horsehide sees you," went onJimmie. "That won't be a marker, will it, Shorty?"
"I should say not. He'll make your hair curl all right. He's a terror."
"Friend of Joe's here," put in Spike.
"No! is he?" demanded Ricky Hanover, who had drifted in. "How's that?"
"Oh, I just met him by accident," declared our hero. "It isn't worthmentioning." He told the incident after some urging.
"I wish I stood in your shoes," said De Vere. "I'd be sure of my placethen."
"Nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Jimmie Lee. "If Horsehide playedfavorites that way, he wouldn't be the coach he is. That's one thingabout him--he makes his friends work harder than anyone else. I know hedid it other seasons--everyone says so."
"Oh, he's square," chimed in another. "There's not a better coachliving, and none you can depend on more. All he wants is to see good,clean playing, and Yale to win."
Joe could not help thinking of the coincidence of meeting the head coachbut, though he did have slight hopes that it might lead to something, heresolutely put them out of his mind.
"I don't want to get on even the 'varsity that way!" he said to himselfthat night, when the visitors were gone, and he and Spike had turnedin. "I want to win my way."
Nevertheless, he could not help a feeling of slight nervousness the nextday, when he reported for practice.
"Well, same old gag over again I suppose," remarked Spike, as they wentout to toss and catch.
"I suppose so," agreed Joe.
He passed Mr. Hasbrook, who was giving some instructions to the fieldersjust before the 'varsity-class game, but the head coach did not evennotice Joe.
After some batting and catching, and some warming-up work on the part ofthe pitchers, Mr. Benson called for a cessation of practice.
"Here is the batting order and positions of the nines for to-day," heannounced, producing a paper. He began to read off the names. For the'varsity they were the same as the day before. Joe, who had permittedhimself a faint hope, felt his heart sinking.
"For the opposition, or scrub," announced the assistant coach, and heran down the line, until there was but one place unfilled--that ofpitcher.
"Joe Matson!" he called, sharply.