12 Sports Aces, May 1943 — page 39: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

POP-OFF ROOKIE and he was doing all right, but he had mever made friends om any team he had played with. A burly cop had come in the alley. "You boys better cool off in night court,” he said. He jerked his head at Jig. “What's your name!” “Clayton,” Jig said. “And if you want the Bears to keep on winning you better let me out of here. I got some baseball to play tomorrow.” “Jig Clayton,” someone thought I recognized him.” Jig walked toward the entrance. The man he had exchanged punches with yelled after him, “Why, you punk! You’re jealous of the rook, of Eddie Duncan.” Jig looked back somberly. “Maybe I am, pal,” he said. He went outside and walked along the - gtreets. He had lost track of time, but he knew it was late when he got back to the hotel. He went in the lobby and Pete Bland was at the desk. He looked at his watch and then at Jig. His face flushed angrily. “The toughest series we've had all year and you pick this night to break training. One hun- dred bucks, Clayton.” Jig said, “Well, you can’t take it with you,” and headed for the elevators. ALKING out on the field the next day, Jig listened to the yells that greeted Eddie Duncan. He knew he couldn’t ever be like Duncan, some guys had color and some didn’t. But he thought that was one reason he’d never liked the rookie. He’d been fealous, a veteran jeal- ous of a busher. It didn’t make much sense. Jig went out to second base, holding his right hand so no one could get a good look at his taped thumb. It didn’t hurt now, but he wondered how it would feel to make a throw. He wasn’t long in finding out. The first batter, a southpaw, dragged a bunt past the mound. It was a little too hard and Jig was after it like a cat. He scooped it up in his bare hand, the thumb forgotten. And then as he started to throw, he winced and the ball went into said. “I the dirt. Slattery stopped it with his 37 Teneo reve Be D9 D0 O- Fev rs Dee 510 B+ BoD rr Ore Ger Goo Gor Gre Sor Ger GeoPorG eo Orr Gre Ge Pee OerGerBerD++ 0+ «= body, but the batter was on base and a few catcalls came from the stands. ~ Out at shortstop Eddie Duncan started to jabber. “Shut up and play ball,” Jig snapped. He walked in a little toward Roper on the mound. “It’s all right, Lefty,” he said, “we’ll get two for you.” The runner danced off first, a fast man, the runner who had spiked Eddie Duncan the day before. And this time the Eagles tried to bunt. It was a short one, out in front of the plate, and the catcher crashed out, picked it up and snapped a peg across the diamond on a line a foot above the ground. Jig was at second base to take it. The runner came in, wicked-looking spikes cutting at Jig. The veteran pulled an inch away from them and pinned the ball to the runner’s legs. Jig’s elbow fluttered a little and caught the runner on the side of the head. He landed like a ton of bricks and then got up fast. — Jig said, “You play rough, sonny, that’s what you get.” The runner turned to the umpire. “You see what he done?” “T saw,” the umpire said grimly, “And I also saw you spike Duncan yesterday. Now button your lip and go back to the bench, or get out of the game,” Eddie Duncan, at shortstop, stared hard at Jig Clayton. For once he didn’t seem to have anything to say. “Someday,” Jig drawled, “I'll show you how to make that pivot without get- ting spiked.” He went back to second base. The bat- ter hit one right at him. He flipped to Duncan and the shortstop fired to first to end the inning. They went in for their bats and Eddie Duncan limped a little. He drew a walk and Pete Bland called Sabo back to the dugout, ordered him to bunt. “Make it good, Mike,” Jig spoke up from the corner where he was sitting, “The kid’s got a bad ankle, He didn’t let you know about it because he knows we need him. But he won’t be able to run too fast.” Mike went up there. They knew he was going to bunt, but it didn’t do them any comichbook (E() =|