"Say," said Clarke to Brennan, "I know a pickpocket who looks honest compared to you, and I'd rather trust my watch to a second-story worker." Brennan was dusting off the plate and paid no attention to him. But Clarke continued to snap and bark at the umpire as he brushed himself off, referring with feeling to Mr. Brennan's immediate family, and weaving into his talk a sketch of the umpire's ancestors, for Clarke is a great master of the English language as fed to umpires. "Mr. Clarke," said Brennan, turning at last, "you were out. Now beat it to the bench before you beat it to the clubhouse." Clarke went grumbling and all the afternoon was after Brennan for the decision, his wrath increasing because the Pirates lost the game finally, although they would not have won it had they been given that decision. And the crowd was roaring at Brennan, too, throughout the remainder of the contest, asking him pointed questions about his habits and what his regular business was. It takes a man with nerve to make a decision like that--one that could be called either way because it was so close--and to make it as he sees it, which happened in this particular case to be against the home team. Many times have I, in the excitement of the moment, protested against the decision of an umpire, but fundamentally I know that the umpires are honest and are doing their best, as all ball-players are. The umpires make mistakes and the players make errors. Many arbiters have told me that when they are working they seldom know what inning it is or how many are out, and sometimes, in their efforts to concentrate their minds on their decisions, they say they even forget what clubs are playing and which is the home team. The future of the game depends on the umpire, for his honesty must not be questioned. If there is a breath of suspicion against a man, he is immediately let go, because constant repetition of such a charge would result in baseball going the way of horse racing and some other sports. No scandal can creep in where the umpire is concerned, for the very popularity of baseball depends on its honesty. "The only good umpire is a dead umpire," McGraw has declared many times when he has been disgruntled over some decision. "I think they're all dead ones in this League," replied Devore one day, "considering the decisions that they are handing me down there at second base. Why, I had that bag by three feet and he called me out." Many baseball fans look upon an umpire as a sort of necessary evil to the luxury of baseball, like the odor that follows an automobile. "Kill him! He hasn't got any friends!" is an expression shouted from the stands time and again during a game.