hands were naturally slippery, and
several times he had complained that he could not dry them in the dirt,
especially in Pittsburg soil.

As Raymond worked in the game in question, he was noticed, particularly by
the Pittsburg batters and spectators, to get better as he went along.
Frequently, his hand slipped into his back pocket, and then his control
was wonderful. Sometimes, he would reach down and apparently pick up a
handful of earth, but it did no damage. After the game, he walked over to
Fred Clarke, and reached into his back pocket. His face broke into a grin.

"Ever see any of that stuff, Fred?" he asked innocently, showing the
Pittsburg manager a handful of a dark brown substance. "That's rosin. It's
great--lots better than soaped ground. Wish you'd keep a supply out there
in the box for me when I'm going to work instead of that slippery stuff
you've got out there now. Will you, as a favor to me?"

Thereafter, all the pitchers got to carrying rosin or pumice stone in
their pockets, for the story quickly went round the circuit, and it is
useless to soap the soil in the box any more. There are many tricks by
which the grounds or ball are "fixed," but for nearly all an antidote has
been discovered, and these questionable forms of the "inside" game have
failed so often that they have largely been abandoned.

One Big League manager used always to give his men licorice or some other
dark and adhesive and juicy substance to chew on a dingy day. The purpose
was to dirty the ball so that it was harder for the batters to see when
the pitcher used his fast one. As soon as a new ball was thrown into the
game, it was quickly passed around among the fielders, and instead of
being the lily-white thing that left the umpire's hands, when it finally
got to the pitcher's box it was a very pronounced brunette. But some
eagle-eyed arbiter detected this, and kept pouring new balls into the game
when the non-licorice chewers were at the bat, while he saved the
discolored ones for the consumption of the masticators. It was another
trick that failed.

Frequently, backgrounds are tampered with if the home club is notably weak
at the bat. The best background for a batter is a dull, solid green. Many
clubs have painted backgrounds in several contrasting, broken colors so
that the sunlight, shining on them, blinds the batter. The Chicago White
Sox are said to have done this, and for many years the figures showed that
the batting of bo