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.
But the pitchers found out that they could tire Dahlen out by repeatedly
throwing over to the bag, and that, after five throws, which required
five dashes and slides back to the base, he was all in and could not steal
because he didn't have the physical strength left. Thus, as soon as Dahlen
got on, a pitcher began throwing over until he had him tired out, and then
he pitched to the batter. So "Bill" crossed them by living on the bag
until he thought he saw his opportunity to get the jump, and then he would
try to steal.
Few good base runners watch the ball after they have once left the bag.
They look at the baseman to see how he is playing and make the slide
accordingly. If Devore sees Huggins of St. Louis behind the base, he
slides in front and pulls his body away from the bag, so that he leaves
the smallest possible area to touch. If he observes the baseman cutting
inside to block him off, he goes behind and hooks it with just one toe,
again
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