Chapter XXI: “three-Base Benson”

It was on the Wednesday following Jerry’s party to Tom and Joe and Wayne at The Cabin that he became a full-fledged member of the school nine. The ceremony was as simple as it was unexpected. Practice had begun, as usual, with work at the batting net, and Coach Keegan had paused and looked on for a longer period than usual. Five minutes after he had gone back to the plate the batting squad was dismissed and Jerry had sought the bench with other members of the scrub team to await orders. Mr. Keegan, observing Partridge and Leroy batting fungoes, called him as he passed.

“O Benson! Just a minute!”

Jerry had stepped aside from the squad and joined the coach.

“Benson, you go out there in center field and catch some flies. Show me what you can do. I’ll be watching you. And let me see how you throw in. Try one to the plate now and then.”

“Yes, sir.” Jerry unhitched a fielder’s glove from his belt and trotted out to where Ted Beech held forth. Beech viewed Jerry’s advent dubiously, for he was none too certain of his position. But he managed a grin and moved across the field to share the territory. For ten minutes Jerry alternated with Beech in catching. He had learned by now to judge flies pretty accurately, and to-day, with not a breath of wind to deflect the ball, he had no difficulties. Throwing all the way to the plate, however, was another matter. He could get the distance, but when it came to putting the ball to the right of the catcher and so that it reached the latter at the first long bound Jerry experienced trouble. Yet he did rather well a couple of times, and perhaps he would have done better yet had he not felt that Coach Keegan was watching him every instant. It is probable that the coach wasn’t doing any such thing, but Jerry thought that he was, and thinking so made him self-conscious.

When the fielders were called in the coach met Jerry, and there was approval in his countenance. “Good work, Benson,” he said heartily. “Better have your arm rubbed well after practice. Look here, when you plug ’em at the plate, boy, start ’em off higher. Don’t try to get too much speed in them until you’ve been at it a while. It’s better to have the ball come in the right place, where the catcher can get it without moving far from base, even if it takes an instant longer, than to have it come wild. A slow ball well placed is better than a fast one that takes the catcher out of position. All right. Oh, by the way, Benson, you’re on the first team after this.”

Coach Keegan nodded, and Jerry, not finding anything to say, nodded, too, and went over to the bench and sat down between Royce and Train and wondered if he understood Mr. Keegan correctly. Evidently, though, he had, for a minute later Birkenside, his red-covered memorandum book in hand, paused in front of him.

“Say, Benson, what are you playing?” he asked.

“I been fielding,” answered Jerry. “Most anywhere.”

“Well, thunderation, you must have a position! Coach says you’re taken to the first, but he didn’t say where you were to play.”

“Go and ask him, then,” advised Bud Train, between whom and the manager there was always friction. “Why trouble Benson? Don’t be so blamed important.”

Birkenside frowned and shrugged. “All right, I’ll put you down as a fielder, Benson. You’d better find out, though, where you’re playing.”

“That guy’s too blamed full of himself,” growled Train, looking after the manager. “Weren’t you in center field awhile ago, Jerry?”

“Yes, he sent me out there.”

“Well, that’s where you’ll play, I reckon. Ted’s been hitting pretty punk this spring. Reckon, though, Coach’ll use the two of you. It’s your batting that’ll get you in, Jerry. You sure can hit ’em, boy!”

That Jerry could hit them was proved again that afternoon, for when the two nines took their places for the five-inning practice game Jerry was in center in place of Ted Beech. However, as Grinnel opposed the scrubs to-day there weren’t many chances for him. One long fly that he caught almost without taking a step and a long roller constituted his work. But when the second inning came around he managed to make himself very useful. Mr. Keegan had changed the batting order and Jerry found himself sandwiched in between McGee and Tom Hartley, fifth man on the list. The first had failed to score in the first inning, Jackson, Lord and Conway going out in order, and in the second McGee, first up, hit safely for a base. Sears, the scrub pitcher, apparently wanted to pass Jerry, but his catcher decided to give him a chance to fly out, and so Sears, following signals, offered two low ones that looked very doubtful to the batter but were called balls by Manager Birkenside, officiating behind the mound. After that Sears wasted two and then tried to sneak one over. The offering was a bit lower than Jerry approved of, but it was certain to be a strike and so he let go at it and got it very nicely. Instead of proving a high fly, though, it just skimmed the second baseman’s head and went well into deep center and landed in a perfectly safe place, so that McGee scored unhurriedly and Jerry legged it around to third.

Again in the last of the fifth, by which time the first had the game on ice, with the score 7 to 2, Jerry found a second opportunity to distinguish himself with his bat. There was one down then and Conway and Lord were on first and second. This time both pitcher and catcher were agreed on the advisability of walking Mr. Benson, and Sears began to shoot them wide of the plate, while the first team laughed. But while the opposing battery were in agreement on the plan, Jerry wasn’t. Jerry had a queer notion that to be presented with a base smacked of ignominy, and when two balls had sped past him, wide of the plate, a hurt expression came into his countenance. He watched the third hopefully, though, thinking that perhaps Sears hadn’t intended to do him the injustice indicated. But the third ball, too, went wide, and Jerry, shifting unhappily on his wide-spread feet, looked reproachfully down the path. Sears was trying to humiliate him, thought Jerry, trying to give him something he hadn’t earned! Well, he’d show him, by golly! And show him he did! Somehow, without stepping from the box, Jerry reached out for that fourth ball and got it. Perhaps Sears, being certain that the batsman had accepted the inevitable, was a trifle careless and put the fourth offering a bit nearer the edge of the plate. In any case, he lived to regret it, for Jerry found the ball near the end of his long bat and off it sped!

There were whoops of sheer delirious delight from the bench as the ball traveled into right field and Pop Lord and Dud Conway footed it for home. Right fielder never had a chance to make the catch, for the hit was hard, fast and low and only a few feet inside the white line, and sprint as he might, and did, the ball came to earth well away from him and then went bounding and rolling back. And while he gave chase Lord and Conway tallied and Jerry’s legs twinkled past second and on to third. It was a clean three-bagger that might, had the circumstances warranted it, been stretched into a home run, for the ball didn’t get to the plate until Jerry had spent a long moment on third. But, with only one man gone, the coacher held him there, and presently he trotted on to the plate when Tom smashed a single past his nose.

I think it was that afternoon that the title of Three-Base Benson, which had originated with Joe Kirkham, attached itself firmly to Jerry. At any rate, a day later it was in common use throughout the school, and Thursday’s practice was more largely attended than usual, the students having developed a desire to see the tow-headed North Carolinian perform. They were doomed to disappointment, though, for Jerry discovered that day that being a member of the first didn’t necessarily imply that he was to take part in the game. Beech played center field and Jerry adorned the bench all through the five innings. But Friday told a different tale and those who watched the contest saw Jerry bat true to form when, after striking out in the first inning, he came to bat in the fourth and arched a long fly into deep left. This time the scrubs’ outfielders were prepared, however, and the left fielder spoiled a nice hit by a running catch. Still, Jerry’s effort brought in two runs and went to his credit as a sacrifice, and every one agreed that had the fielder failed to get it it would have landed Jerry just about on third!

It became a firm belief amongst his team mates that he could only hit three-baggers. Just now and then during the balance of the season Jerry lined out a single or a double, and such performances were held as the exceptions proving the rule. And, of course, there were a good many occasions when his appearance at the plate netted nothing, occasions when he either failed to connect with the ball at all or when some hard-hearted fielder spoiled his effort. But on the whole by the end of that merry month of May Jerry had proved himself a very dependable hitter, and, although he played in center less frequently than did Ted Beech, few contests with outside teams took place in which he was not introduced at some time in the rôle of pinch hitter. Coach Keegan’s specialty appeared to be sending Jerry in to bat when there were men on bases with one gone and runs sadly needed. On such occasions Jerry seldom failed to deliver a fly, either safe or sacrifice, long enough to bring in the tallies. What he seemed incapable of doing consistently was hitting liners. Jerry’s efforts were, nine times in ten, long, arching flies to the outfield that, caught or not caught, were the admiration of his mates and the talk of the school. And his fame as a “slugger” spread beyond North Bank, so that opposing teams played a deeper outfield when he came to the plate and opposing batteries showed a disposition to issue passes to him.

North Bank had a twenty-one game schedule that spring and by the last week in May was playing a very good article of ball. Until then she had lost and won about evenly; five victories, six defeats and two ties was the record. But on the Saturday that she met St. John’s in Annapolis for a return contest she had hit her stride and the Cadets, still playing the sort of baseball that left her close to the top of the list that spring, went down in defeat, the score being 11 to 8, with North Bank on the long end of it. As in the first game between the two teams, Fortune’s favors were not scattered impartially. Perhaps they never are in a baseball game. To-day, certainly, North Bank got what breaks there were. There was a corking sixth inning when, with the score tied at four each, Pop Lord led with a two-bagger and Conway followed with another and McGee sacrificed him to third. Tom Hartley brought in the second run with a hit over third base and Wayne Sortwell waited for his base and got it. Beech dumped a pretty bunt in front of the plate and filled the bases. Tub’s best effort was a liner straight into first baseman’s hands. Then Thacher, who had pitched a fine game so far, was motioned aside by Mr. Keegan and a loose-jointed, tow-haired youth picked out the longest bat in the bunch and ambled to the rubber. But St. John’s had heard of Three-Base Benson and her outfielders spread and retreated.

There was no chance now for a sacrifice, and Jerry knew it. It had to be a real hit to do any good, and he wanted mightily to deliver it, for he realized that in replacing Thacher with him Coach Keegan had taken a good deal of a chance. Grinnel was not available to-day and it might prove that Bud Train, already warming up back of the crowd, would not prove good enough. So Jerry wanted that hit and wanted it badly, and prayed fervently that the St. John’s twirler wouldn’t throw out and pass him. If he did, though, he would force in one run, and even that would be better than a strike-out for the visitors. But Jerry fixed his eyes on the opposing pitcher and mentally begged him to send them within reach. Perhaps the St. John’s twirler thought he could master the batter, or perhaps he hated to force another run across and preferred to take his chance. In any case he went to work very carefully, very skillfully, mingling low ones with high ones, close ones with wide hooks and changing his pace often.

Jerry let two go past and the umpire called the second against him. A third was too low. The fourth Jerry struck at and missed badly. It was two-and-two then. The next offer broke badly for the pitcher and made the third ball. Then, in a hole, the latter tried to outwit Jerry with speed. Jerry struck and the ball went foul into the crowd back of third base. Another ball followed it to the same place. Another tipped off his bat and banged against the backstop. The following delivery was palpably a ball had Jerry let it pass, but he didn’t. He took it well above his shoulders and drove it straight into left center and the bases emptied as though by magic and Jerry raced like a tow-headed streak to third and plumped himself down on the bag without a questioning look at the coacher there. And St. John’s, missing the unconscious humor of it, wondered why North Bank howled with laughter!

Jerry died on third when Jackson was an easy out at first. In the eighth inning North Bank put two more runs over. In the ninth St. John’s, seven runs behind, started a rally that looked dangerous. Train, who had so far got by without punishment, began to slip and the tallies began to trickle across the plate. Jerry, in center field in place of Beech, had one chance to lose the game when, with four runs across two men out and the bases full, the St. John’s shortstop whanged out a fly that looked as if it never meant to land. Jerry had to go back for it, go back far and hard, and twice on the way he was forced to alter his direction since the ball for some unknown reason took new slants as its momentum lessened. But in the end he got it fairly in both hands and held it tightly, and, for fear that the umpire might construe a throw into a fumble, still held it when he reached the bench.

However, it was not St. John’s that North Bank was chiefly interested in, and the decisive victory over the collegians, welcome as it was, was prized principally because of the promise it held forth of success in the Cumbridge Hall series. For Cumbridge was and always had been the Light Blue’s dearest and deadliest foe, and, no matter how many early defeats fell to North Bank’s share, a final triumph over the Dark Blue crowned the season with success. This year the first contest was to be played at Holly, the little town twelve miles south, the second Saturday in June, and the next contest was to be held at North Bank on the second Wednesday thereafter, the day before Class Day. Should a third game be necessary to establish supremacy it would be played the day following Class Day, in Annapolis. But this year North Bank firmly believed that no third contest would be required, for she had firm faith in her nine and a great thirst for vengeance over the enemy that, last year, had nosed her way to victory in the deciding game. And so, the second St. John’s game out of the way, North Bank set her gaze on the following Saturday.