Pulp Fiction, 1943 · page 77 of 100
12 Sports Aces, May 1943 — page 77: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This is story prose from a pulp fiction magazine, specifically a hardboiled crime or sports-themed narrative titled "Meet Me Under the Grandstand" (page 75). The passage depicts a tense confrontation between Jeff, apparently a baseball player, and two men who suspect him of wrongdoing. First, a man named Nolan attempts to blackmail Jeff over some unspecified transgression. Later, Jeff's teammate Graham confronts him suspiciously about a phone call and his odd behavior during a game, hinting at knowledge of Jeff's involvement in something that could jeopardize the team's pennant chances. Jeff attempts to deflect both situations while internally anxious about exposure.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
MEET ME UNDER THE GRANDSTAND | S 10 Ora 0 221 Oe Hear Or Orr Barber Oe Or Ore Ber Genre +Sreh ro Ger Boe Or Bor Ber Gos reo Orr Bee Bee Beni rr Orr Boe er Ore GH Oss Dor Orr Oe oo Por Oer Fr7 Ooo Dor Ere Pee Ger PoP Bor Oe Pane Bee GooGes © Jeff saw the ultimatum. A bit of respect- able blackmail was indicated. Buy my wares in return for my silence, Nolan’s bright black eyes suggested. Jeff hesitated. It was a ticklish prob- lem, a tough decision. If he failed to make good for the elub, they could prosecute and send him to jail. He’d known he was doing wrong; but he’d never carried the thought through quite that far. The big question was, would Nolan really keep quiet if Jeff took the hint and bought a policy from him? No, he decided he couldn’t trust Nolan. The man was a phony, else why would he be spending a perfectly good working day out at the ball game? Jeff tried to make it appear that he hadn’t understood Nolan’s meaning. “I’m all booked up,” he said. “Got more right now than I can handle.” : Which was entirely false, but might fit, with some squeezing, into a white lie elas- sification. “I’m glad to have seen you again, Mr. Nolan.” He turned away and went swiftly to- ward the showers. Nolan was sure to be sore. He’d break the story sooner or later, Jeff realized glumly. All he could do meanwhile was prove himself capable of fulfilling Tom’s contract! | HEN he got imside, most of the team had left. Jeff showered and Cheeky Graham alone remained im the room with him. The big man said mean- ingly: “Yeah, I waited special. Who was that guy called you? Called you Jeff, didn’t he ?’’ “I’d say that’s my business, Graham.” “Maybe it is. Maybe not. There’s some- thin’ damn funny about you, busher. The way you took that fly ball in the first, for instance. Then this. It don’t kosher up, if you ask me.” It was on Jeff’s tongue to tell him off, tell him to stick it. He decided not to. He decided it would be foolish to get Graham dewn on him. The guy was too close to the right answer for comfort. Jeff thought, I need this guy with me. He can hurt me. “T was nervous when I caught that ball, Graham. As for the guy callin’ me Jeff —that used to be my nickname, Back home.” Graham was :stolidly nodding agree- ment, but his eyes. were like oysters. He still wasn’t satisfied, Jeff saw. “Look,” Jeff said, “you and I got off te a pretty bad start. Maybe it’s my fault. I dunno. Maybe I was lookin’ for trouble. If so, I’m sorry. Whadda you say? No hard feelings.” He put his hand out. Graham looked down in silence at it, not moving. “Somethin’s stewin’ on your mind, or you wouldn’t be makin’ up to me.” Jeff just shrugged, a tired gesture. Graham said: “You’re up to somethin’. I den’t know what. If it was all above board, you’d be talkin’ about it. You ain’t. The only an- swer is you’re pullin’ a swifty some- wheres. If it’s anything to do with this ball elub, to ruin our chances to cop that pennant—” he paused, emphasizing the. last “—-well, these guys are out for their series money. It’ll be hot for you, busher.”’ He snapped his locker door shut with a bang and walked out. Jeff looked after him, musing. Nolan, the insurance man, was onto him, might squawk any moment. Graham was hot on the seent. If Nolan did spill the beans, or if Graham came up with the right answer, Jeff would be up to his neck in trouble. Serious treuble. He wished Nolan hadn’t mentioned that jail business. He put in a rotten night tossing for hours on the hotel bed. Going out on the field the next day, he looked and felt rocky. Tuffy Turner said worriedly: “What's wrong, Mellick? You look like you slept in a coal pile.” “T’m okay, Mr. Turner.” “T hope so. Keep on nudging ’em out like yesterday an’ this club ts a cinch for the pennant.” Tt was a thought, He carried H% with him out to the garden, They wanted his hitting. His fielding was secondary. He wasn’t such a fraud really, if he could keep on hitting. Gomichooks (E@)