Look at Jack Andrews! Bill Garwood, that batted right ahead of him, told me onct that the calves of his legs was all spike wounds, where Jack had slid into him from behind. It got so finally that every time Bill was on second and Jack on first Bill’d steal third to keep from bein’ cut down. And Bill’d try to stretch every hit he made into a double so’s to be two bases ahead o’ Jack. And now Jack’s runnin’ a halfway house outside o’ Chicago and it’s a dull night when he don’t take in a hundred bucks!
Then look at Red Burns!
Red never knowed how the game come out till he seen the paper next mornin’, and they had to page him when it was his turn to hit. And now he’s in the contractin’ business in Cleveland and the hardest work he does is addin’ up the month’s profits.
And then look at me! S’posed to be one o’ these here brainy ball players that never pulls a bone. Playin’ my seventh year in fast company. Only gettin’ forty-five hundred right now, because I never jumped a contract or spiked an umpire. And when they’re through with me I can starve to death or pick up some nice, soft snap in a foundry.
I read the other day where some doctor says everybody should ought to have their appendixes and their tonsils and their adenoids cut out when they’re still a baby yet. Well, them things didn’t never give me no trouble. But I wisht I’d of had my brains removed before I ever learned to use ’em. They’re the worst handicap a man can have in this business.
The less a guy knows, so much the sooner he can retire and live on his income.
You think I’m just talkin’ against time? No, sir; you’re listenin’ to the truth now. And if you don’t believe me ask Carey. Ask him to tell you about Skull Scoville. Or if you ain’t too sleepy I’ll tell you about him myself.
II
It takes Carey to spot these boobs, and Carey wasn’t with us on the spring trip last year. If you’ll remember he was coachin’ a college team down in Ohio and got permission to report late. Skull was with us all the wile, but I was too busy gettin’ myself in shape to pay much attention to the new ones. All as I noticed about him was that he done a lot of struttin’ and acted like he was more anxious to look pretty than to make good.
But Carey hadn’t been round more’n a day when he braced me about Skull.
“When did we sign Francis X. Bushman?” he says.
“That’s Scoville,” I told him. “Skull Scoville.”
“Some jealous cat must of gave him that nickname,” says Carey.
“It’s what they called him last year in the Carolina League,” I says.
“Is he goin’ back there?” ast Carey.
“I haven’t been watchin’ him much,” I says.
“I hope he sticks,” says Carey. “All our club needs is looks.”
“You don’t care nothin’ about his looks,” I says. “You’re scoutin’ for somebody to pick on.”
“Maybe you’re right,” says Carey. “I wisht I could stay with them college boys all year. A couple o’ them fell for all the old junk I could remember. I run out o’ stale stuff finally and was goin’ to write to you.”
“Thanks,” I says.
“But this here Skull does look promisin’,” says Carey, “and I guess we’ll have to try him out.”
So Carey went over to where the kid was warmin’ up and started in on him. After a wile he come back.
“I guess I can’t pick ’em,” he says. “When they get waivers on me I’m goin’ scoutin’—not for no ball club, but for some circus that’s shy o’ clowns.”
“What did you pull on him?” I ast.
“Just a couple o’ feelers,” says Carey. “I ast him what league he come from and he says the Carolina League. I says: ‘Oh, yes. Milwaukee won the pennant, didn’t they?’ ‘No,’ he says; ‘Columbia.’ ‘Oh, yes,’ I says. ‘I got it mixed up with the Utah League, where the women manages the teams.’ ‘Where’s that league at?’ he says. ‘The Utah League?’ I says. ‘You take a westbound Hodiamont car in St. Louis and transfer twict, and then walk a block down to the wharf and get on the steamer goin’ to Michigan City, only you get off when they come to Shreveport, and you can see it from there.’ ”
“You’re goin’ to have a good season,” I says.
“No, it can’t last,” says Carey. “Some day Cap’ll stick him in there and then it’ll be back to the Carolina you love.”
But Carey had it doped wrong. Cap give Skull a chance the second serious with the Cardinals, up home, and he got by nice. He was a little wild, but it helped him, because his fast one was fast enough to have ’em scared. They was swingin’ with one foot in the bucket. Bill handled him good and Cap was tickled to death with his showin’.
“What do you think of him?” Cap ast Carey.
“Best young pitcher I’ve looked at in a long wile,” says Carey. “You’ll make a big mistake if you leave him go.”
“I ain’t goin’ to leave him go,” says Cap.
“You’d be a sucker if you did,” says Carey. “But if I was you I wouldn’t work him too of’en for a wile. He’s nothin’ but a kid and you ought to give him time to get his bearin’s.”
You see Carey was afraid that Skull wouldn’t look as good the next time out, and he was crazy to have him stick on the club so’s we could enjoy him. They wasn’t no need of him bein’ afraid, though, because Skull kept right on mowin’ ’em down. He had everything but a noodle, and a man don’t need to know nothin’ about pitchin’ with Bill
