The High School Pitcher; or, Dick & Co. on the Gridley DiamondHancock, H. Irving (Harrie Irving)
General
The High School Pitcher; or, Dick & Co. on the Gridley Diamond
Hancock, H. Irving (Harrie Irving)
Baseball -- Juvenile fiction; School sports -- Juvenile fiction; Teenage boys -- Juvenile fiction
"Why, as far as that goes," replied Lawyer Ripley, "I believe
that about all the benefits of school athletics can be gained
by one who isn't necessarily right at the top of the crowd."
"But not to go to the top of the crowd, and not to try too, Dad,
is contrary to the spirit of athletics," argued Fred, rather cleverly.
"Besides, one of the best things about athletics, I think, is
the spirit to fight for leadership. That's a useful
lesson---leadership---to carry out into life, isn't it, sir?"
"Yes, it is; you're right about that, son," nodded the lawyer.
"Well, sir, Everett, one of the crack pitchers of national fame,
is over in Duxbridge for the winter. He doesn't go south with
his team for practice until the middle or latter part of February.
Duxbridge is only twelve miles from here. He could come over
here, or you could let your man take me over to Duxbridge in your
auto. Dad, I want to be the pitcher of the crack battery in the
school nine. Will you engage Everett, or let me hire him, to
train me right from the start in all the best styles of pitching?"
"How much would it cost?" asked the lawyer, cautiously.
"I don't know exactly, sir. A few hundred dollars, probably."
Fred's face was glowing with eagerness. His mother, who was standing
just behind him, nodded encouragingly at her husband.
"Well, yes, Fred, if you're sure you can make yourself the star
pitcher of the school nine, I will."
"When may I go to see Everett, sir?" asked Fred, making no effort
to conceal the great joy this promise had given him.
"Since you're to be engaged for this afternoon, Fred, we'll make
it to-morrow. I'll order out the car and go over to Duxbridge
with you.".
It was in the happiest possible frame of mind, for him, that Fred
Ripley went back to the High School that afternoon. He didn't
arrive until five minutes before the hour for calling the meeting;
he didn't care to be of the common crowd that would be on hand
at or soon after two-thirty.
When he entered, he found a goodly and noisy crowd of some eighty
High School boys of the three upper classes present. Ripley nodded
to a few with whom he was on the best terms.
Settees had been placed at one end of the gym. There was an aisle
between two groups of these seats.
"Gentlemen, you'll please come to order, now," called out Coach
Luce, mounting to a small platform before the seats.
It took a couple of minutes to get the eager, half-turbulent throng
seated in order. Then the coach rapped sharply, and instantly
all was silence, save for the voice of the speaker.
"Gentlemen," announced Mr. Luce, "it is the plan to make the next
season the banner one in baseball in all our school's history.
This will call for some real work, for constantly sustained effort.
Every man who goes into the baseball training squad will be expected
to do his full share of general gymnastic work here, and to improve
every favorable chance for such cross-country running and other
outdoor sports as may be ordered.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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