presenting the minimum touching surface. If the ball is hit while
the runner is en route, he takes one quick glance at the coacher on the
third base line and can tell by his motions whether to turn back or to
continue.

McGraw devotes half his time and energy in the spring to teaching his men
base running and the art of sliding, which, when highly cultivated, means
being there with one toe and somewhere else with the rest of the body. But
most of all he impresses on the athletes the necessity of getting the
start before making the attempt to steal. As long as I live I shall
believe that if Snodgrass had known he had the jump in the third game of
the world's series in 1911, when he really had it, and if he had taken
advantage of it, we would have won the game and possibly the championship.
It was in the contest that Baker balanced by banging the home run into the
right field bleachers in the ninth inning, when I was pitching. That tied
the score, 1 to 1.

For nine innings I had been pitching myself out, putting everything that I
had on every ball, because the team gave me no lead to rest on. When Baker
pushed that ball into the bleachers with only two more men to get out to
win the game, I was all in. But I managed to live through the tenth with
very little on the ball, and we came to the bat. Snodgrass got a base on
balls and journeyed to second on a sacrifice. He was taking a big lead off
the middle base with the pitcher's motion, and running back before the
catcher got the ball, because a quick throw would have caught him. It was
bad baseball, but he was nervous with the intense strain and over-eager to
score.

Then came the time when he took a longer lead than any other, and Lapp,
the Athletics' catcher, seeing him, was sure he was going to steal, and in
his hurry to get the ball away and save the game, let it past him.
Snodgrass had the jump, and probably would have made the base had he kept
on going, but he had no orders to steal and had turned and taken a step or
two back toward second when he saw Lapp lose the ball. Again he turned and
retraced his steps, and I never saw a man turn so slowly, simply because I
realized how important a turn that was going to be. Next I looked at Lapp
and saw him picking up the ball, which had rolled only about three feet
behind him. He snapped it to third and had Snodgrass by several feet.
Snodgrass realized this as he plunged down the base line, but he could not
stop and permit