looked like it would go out o’ the park. I don’t remember runnin’ or nothin’ about it till I run into the concrete wall head first. They told me afterward and all the papers said that it was the greatest catch ever seen. And I never knowed I’d caught the ball!
Some o’ the managers have said my head was pretty hard, but it wasn’t as hard as that concrete. I was pretty near out, but they tell me I walked to the bench like I wasn’t hurt at all. They also tell me that the crowd was a bunch o’ ravin’ maniacs and was throwin’ money at me. I guess the ground-keeper’ll get it.
The boys on the bench was all talkin’ at once and slappin’ me on the back, but I didn’t know what it was about. Somebody told me pretty soon that it was my turn to hit and I picked up the first bat I come to and starts for the plate. McInnes come runnin’ after me and ast me whether I didn’t want my own bat. I cussed him and told him to mind his own business.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I found out afterward that they was two out. The bases was empty. I’ll tell you just what I had in my mind: I wasn’t thinkin’ about the ball game; I was determined that I was goin’ to get to third base and give that guy my spikes. If I didn’t hit one worth three bases, or if I didn’t hit one at all, I was goin’ to run till I got round to where Speed was, and then slide into him and cut him to pieces!
Right now I can’t tell you whether I hit a fast ball, or a slow ball, or a hook, or a fader—but I hit somethin’. It went over Bescher’s head like a shot and then took a crazy bound. It must of struck a rock or a pop bottle, because it hopped clear over the fence and landed in the bleachers.
Mind you, I learned this afterward. At the time I just knowed I’d hit one somewheres and I starts round the bases. I speeded up when I got near third and took a runnin’ jump at a guy I thought was Parker. I missed him and sprawled all over the bag. Then, all of a sudden, I come to my senses. All the Ath-a-letics was out there to run home with me and it was one o’ them I’d tried to cut. Speed had left the field. The boys picked me up and seen to it that I went on and touched the plate. Then I was carried into the clubhouse by the crazy bugs.
Well, they had a celebration in there and it was a long time before I got a chance to change my clothes. The boys made a big fuss over me. They told me they’d intended to give me five hundred bucks for my divvy, but now I was goin’ to get a full share.
“Parker ain’t the only lucky guy!” says one of ’em. “But even if that ball hadn’t of took that crazy hop you’d of had a triple.”
A triple! That’s just what I’d wanted; and he called me lucky for not gettin’ it!
The Giants was dressin’ in the other part o’ the clubhouse; and when I finally come out there was Speed, standin’ waitin’ for some o’ the others. He seen me comin’ and he smiled. “Hello, Horseshoes!” he says.
He won’t smile no more for a while—it’ll hurt too much. And if any girl wants him when she sees him now—with his nose over shakin’ hands with his ear, and his jaw a couple o’ feet foul—she’s welcome to him. They won’t be no contest!
Grimes leaned over to ring for the waiter.
“Well,” he said, “what about it?”
“You won’t have to pay my fare,” I told him.
“I’ll buy a drink anyway,” said he. “You’ve been a good listener—and I had to get it off my chest.”
“Maybe they’ll have to postpone the wedding,” I said.
“No,” said Grimes. “The weddin’ will take place the day after tomorrow—and I’ll bat for Mr. Parker. Did you think I was goin’ to let him get away with it?”
“What about next year?” I asked.
“I’m goin’ back to the Ath-a-letics,” he said. “And I’m goin’ to hire somebody to call me ‘Horseshoes!’ before every game—because I can sure play that old baseball when I’m mad.”
Back to Baltimore
Well, boys, I’m goin’ right through to Pittsburgh with you if you don’t mind, and I ain’t been traded to your bunch nor the Pirates neither. It’ll be in all the papers tonight or tomorrow mornin’, so they ain’t no use o’ me keepin’ it a secret. I’ve jumped to the Baltimore Feds, and whether Knabe is figurin’ on usin’ me regular or settin’ me on the bench or givin’ me a job washin’ undershirts, I don’t know or I don’t givadam. I couldn’t be no worse off than I was up there.
Managin’ a club may be all OK if the directors is all bachelors and has all o’ them tooken a oath not to never get married. But when a man’s got a wife, they ain’t no tellin’ when he’s goin’ to die, and when he dies and she gets a hold o’ the ball club, good night. If they ever is a skirt elected President o’ the United States, I’ll move to Paris or Europe or somewheres, if I have to walk.
As for this here Mrs. Hayes, the dope about her lettin’ the directors run the club was all bunk. She’s been the boss ever since the old bird croaked, or else I’d of stuck there and finished higher with that gang than they finished since Frank Selee had ’em.
Well, sir, I’m canned out of a managin’ job, and I’m through with the big league, I guess, and I’m goin’ back where I started in at—Baltimore. But
