Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 102, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 April 1911 — JINX ON THE JOB [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

JINX ON THE JOB

HARO LOCK TALCS TOLD BY TRUTHFUL BALL PLAYERS. COULDN’T PASS THE NINTH If Games Had Been Eight Innings " JCeuievllle-,Would Have Been Win- . ner—Veteran Scorer's Hard Luck Bet—Al Bridwell's Classic. By HUGH S. FULLERTON. Burke, the little Louisville infielder, Is about as quick with his wits as he Is With his hands and feet, as he proved one day last summer. He was playing,, third base and Dare Devil Dave Altizer, who just then was hitting like a fiend, was batting for Minneapolis and, as there was a runner on first base and no one out, Burke expected Altizer would dump a bunt toward third base, so he came creeping forward foot by foot, expecting to get the bunt and throw to second In time to force the runner there. He was about 35 feet from the plate when Altizer cut loose full force at a fast ball and hit it straight at Burke like a rifle shot. The third baseman saw it coming and dropped to the ground like a flash, the ball whizzed on over third base and down the line for a two-base hit, a . run scored and Louisville was behind. Up In the stand, near the front, a 1 wild-eyed fan stood and howled: “Oh, you shirker, you yellow quitter. What made you dodge?” “My boy,'’ called Burke in reply, “this is a game of skill, not courage.”

That Louisville club last season had about the queerest run of hard luck of any team in history. It was a pretty fair ball club, except that the infield was shot to pieces by drafting of the major leagues, and at times it played good ball. The great trouble was that it couldn’t get over the ninth Inning. During the season the team won one game in the ninth inning and lost 29 in the final round after they seemed to have the game cinched. If they had been playing eight-inning games all season they would have been close to the front instead of in tail-end position. It got so that when the ninth inning came every one on the team expected an explosion, and If it failed to come the crowd rather was disappointed. Finally one day when they were playing Indianapolis and the score was 2 to 0 in their favor with two out and no one on the bases and two strikes on the batter the umpire miscalled a stftke that ought to have ended the game. The batter promptly made a base hit, the next man hit for two bases, and with men on second and third the next batter rolled an easy bounder to the short stop, who scooped it cleanly with plenty of time to toss It to first and end the agony. Evidently the nervous fear of losing in the ninth again unsettled the short stop, for instead of lobbing the ball over he threw as hard as he could and threw wide and low six feet outside the base. Owner Grayson toppled over in a faint —thinking the thirtieth game had been thrown away in the ninth, but Myers dived out, extended at full length, stabbed at the ball’ with one hand, and by one of the most wonderful catches ever made clung to the ball and crawfished back to the base just in time

to retire the runner and save the day. Grayson came to as the crowd was departing and hurried sadly homeward, still thinking the game was lost and it was not until the next morning that he discovered that Myers had saved the team by his catch —and he refused to believe it until he read it in the papers.

John Greuber, the Pittsburg veteran, who kept the official score of Braddock’s defeat and has been the official scorer In Pittsburg ever since, lost the hardest luck bet last season that ever was recorded. John has one great joke. It has been a joke ever since George Gibson joined the Pirates. The joke consists of calling out loudly every time Gibson comes to bat: “Here’s where Gibby makes a home run.” He says that every time Gibby bats during the season. Now four years ago, over on the pld park In Allegheny (excuse us North side) George Moreland, the keeper of vital statistics in baseball, offered to bet Greuber one dollar to one cent that he could not call the turn on Gibby making a borne run and Greuber took the bet. On an average of four and a half times a game for over three years Greuber solemnly yelled:

Hhwhere Glbby makes a hmnm run” Anil after Glbby falls to make the home ran, he checks op his account with Moreland. ? One day last summer^—along In August/ Greuber. according to the vital statistics, owed Moreland $4.58. It happened that when Gibson came to bat in the seventh inning John was body or not paying close attention, and for the first time in four years he failed to yell: “Here’s where Glbby makes a home run.” Moreland called to him: “Are you on, John?” “Naw,” remarked Greuber. “Not this time. You see, I failed to call when he came to bat, and that’s a hunch he won’t hit that home run today.” And the first ball pitched Glbby hit into the left flfeld bleachers for a home run. Al BridweH, the popular little short stop of the New York Giants, lives down at Portsmouth on the Ohio river —and he has a story of a play which Is a classic. Every £ne knows the peculiarities of the t)hio river as regards floods and droughts. Well, this is a story of both. “When we were kids,” relates Brid* well, “we had a hard time finding level ball grounds, because there is hardly enough level ground around Portsmouth to make a two-base hit on. So we used tb wait for low water

and play ball in the river bed. One summer, just after I got off the Little Potatoes and was playing second base and pitching for the Stars we had a dry season. The water went lower and lower until, the crawfish began to, dig wells to get water, and we had to haul water five miles from some springs back in the hills for the ferry boats to run on. The river got dustier and dustier. We kids didn’t mind it, for every foot the river went down gave us a bigger ball ground. Well, we played ball in the river bed almost all summer and the Stars were winning the championship exoept - from the West Enders. We were after them, and finally along in September we got a match game with them for the champtynship of the town —excepting, of course, the First Team. We played in the river bed. It happened that we had laid out the diamond facihg up stream. If we had laid it out downstream we would have won that game, and the championship. ’ In the eighth inning the score was tied and we had a man on second base. I was at bat, and as I started to hit I heard a rushing sound, and looking up the' river I saw a wall ofi water coming down six feet high. There had been a cloud burst up the river and the flood was coming. I! took a strike and the runner stole third. All that was needed waß a fly to give us the lead and the game, I saw that the flood would stop play in about a minute, qo I whaled away at the next ball and hit a fly to the center fielder. The runnier held third and started home when the center fielder caught the ball. Just as he caught it the flood hit him and he started for the home plate a mile a minute. Thai runner was tearing for the plate trying to score and the rest of us were digging for high grounds. The water was too fast for our man. Ten feet before he reached the plate the flood swept that eenter fielder past and he tagged our man out, and they and the umpire swam ashore together and left the game a tie." The river went to 30 feet —so we couldn’t play off the tie, and the championship of Portamouth still is undecided.” (Copyright, 1911, by Joseph B. Bowles.) !

Refused to Believe It Until He Read It In the Papers.

They and the Umpire Swam to Shore.