12 Sports Aces, May 1943 — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

MEET ME UNDER THE GRANDSTAND 71 oe OrrDer rr Der Orr Grr Gre Ber erGre Grr Gur Gee Mr Ger Ber Ger O+1Ger Ore Sure Or Srr nO Oru Per rr Orr Serre Gur Gerd Ore Or Orr Serer Ger Orr Ger er Grrr a Sensor Oana ai Gerrans ° Nice going, Nolan, Jeff thought. Cute. He tried to keep his face from displaying emotion. This, of course, would be No- lan’s way of showing he didn’t intend to take Jeff’s short treatment of him lying down. There had to be one or two lice like Nolan in any business. Tuffy Turner was awaiting an answer. Jeff said, “Somebody must have a sense of humor.” “Practical joker?” “That’s what it looks like to me, Mr. Turner.” The manager stared at him. Jeff’s glance wavered under the steady gray eyes. The manager said: “You didn’t look so good in there to- day. You’re nervous. That shouldn’t be, Mellick; a player with all your expe- rience.” “I know. I'll steady down soon.” “You better. This is no charity ball club. I like to carry you kids all I can, but my big jeb is winning ball games, You’ve got to help me to do it. That’s all I ask of a player.” Jeff nodded. “That’s fair enough.” “You flopped today.” The manager was gentle but definite, ‘““We lost a ball game. It’s too late in the season to take chances, If you come through tomorrow, okay. If you flop, ’'H have to send for another fielder.” Jeff stood there in bleak silence. “All right,” Tuffy said. “That’s all, I guess.” Outside, Jeff thought it over. One more chance. One game in which to prove him- self a player. It seemed unfair. They were putting him on the spot. But in a way, it was lucky. He would ignore Nolan’s message. To- morrow was his big chance to earn that eenter field spot fairly squarely. Then he’d made a clean breast of things to Tuffy Turner. HE last Bison game in the current series produced a big crowd. Jeff was a tight-strung bundle of nerves in the opening innings, But he handled two fielding chances okey in the second, That settled him down a little. Going in for the home half of the third, he heard a familiar voice from the grand- stand. “Tom! Tom Mellick!” He spotted the pudgy insurance man, Nolan, down near the bottom tier. As his eyes met Nolan’s, the man’s face creased in a sardonic grin. Cheeky Graham said in a voice fraught with meaning, “Seems to have forgotten your nickname, Mellick.” “Nuts!” Jeff said. He was nervous, It was his turn at the plate. He went out and the ball came down toward him. All he could see was Nolan’s fat face grinning at him. He swung three times and trudged back to the dugout. Tuffy Turner chewed on his gum and said nothing. He could not have been more eloquent, Jeff thought, if he’d shouted at him. The Grays went down in order. Jeff went out to pasture again. Cheeky Graham said, “You looked pretty, busher, What were you swinging at, mosqui- Jeff said, “You kill me, big shot.” A ball eame at him. He was still think- © ing about Nolan. He misjudged the ball, muffed it. His frantic peg went over the sack, The Bisen runner took second. They made a run on the strength of his error, Going in, Graham said, “Take a good look around, kiddo. Nice field, ain’t it? May be your last look.” “Stuff it,” Jeff said. He was getting ted to the gills with Graham’s wisecracks. It came to him that he was finished, washed up, after today’s lousy showing. He said: “I’ve been taking your lip because: I had to. I don’t any longer. I’ll see you after the ball game, windbag.” Graham’s eyes glinted. His jaw was working. “It'll be a pleasure, busher.” Hogeland went out and punched a single over the Bison third sacker. Graham poled one to the wall for two pases, Hogeland holding at third. Jeff went out and smashed recklessly at the first ball pitched to him. Supris- ingly, it went for a single. Hogeland romped in. Graham held at third. Moffat, pinch-hitting for Dobson, knocked Gra- ham in. The Bisons tightened and held EM PMIE MOOKS (E(@)