It wasn't the speed of the men that accounted for the record. A sprinter may get into the Big League and never steal a base. But it was the McGraw system combined with their natural ability. "Get the start," reiterates McGraw. "Half of base stealing is leaving the bag at the right time. Know when you have a good lead and then never stop until you have hit the dirt." It is up to the pitcher as much as the catcher to stop base stealing, for once a club begins running wild on another, the bats might as well be packed up and the game conceded. Pitchers make a study of the individual runners and their styles of getting starts. In my mind, I know just how much of a lead every base runner in the National League can take on me with impunity. "Bob" Bescher of the Cincinnati club was the leading, bright, particular base-stealing star of the National League in the season of 1911, and the secret of his success was in his start. He tries to get as big a lead as possible with each pitch, and then, when he intends to leave, edges a couple of feet farther than usual, catching the pitcher unawares. With the two extra feet, Bescher is bound to get to second base at the same time as the ball, and no catcher in the world can stop him. Therefore, it is up to the pitcher to keep him from getting this start--the two more feet he seeks. I know that Bescher can take ten feet from the bag when I am pitching and get back safely. But, I am equally sure that, if he makes his lead twelve feet and I notice it, I can probably catch him. As a good ribbon salesman constantly has in his mind's eye the answer to the question, "How far is a yard?" so I know at a glance exactly how far Bescher can lead and get back safely, when he is on first base. If I glance over and see him twelve feet away from the bag and about to start, I turn and throw and catch him flat-footed. The crowd laughs at him and says: "Bescher asleep at the switch again!" The real truth is that Bescher was not asleep, but trying to get that old jump which would have meant the stolen base. Again, he takes the twelve feet, and I don't perceive it. He gets started with my arm and goes into the bag ahead of the ball. "Great base runner," comments the fickle crowd. Bescher has only accomplished what he was trying to do before, but he has gotten away with it this time. Being a great ball-player is the gentle art of getting away with it. Spectators often wonder why a pitcher wearies them with throwing over to the first base many times, when it is plain to see that he has no chance of catching his quarry. "Bill" Dahlen used to be one of the best men in the game for getting back in some way when on base, employing a straddle slide and just hooking the bag with his toe, leaving "a shoe-string to touch." The result was that he was always handing the pitcher the laugh as he brushed himself off, for none can say Dahlen was not an immaculate ball-player.