12 Sports Aces, May 1943 — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

78 ee 12 SPORTS ACES them then, but it was 2-1, favor the Grays. They played even-up ball till the sev- enth when a Bison homer evened the tally. Jeff scratched out a hit in the sixth, but it went for nothing. It looked like a drawn-out tie game in the offing. Going into the ninth, it was still 2-2, Hansen, pitching relief for Dob- son, put them down one-two-three, and the Grays came up for their big chance to | firtish things quickly. Salters was up. He fanned the ozone three times and returned to the dugout. Williams did likewise. Hogeland got hit by a wild one and took base. But with two down, the rooters didn’t perk up very much. Graham was up, which worried the Bi- son, hurler plenty. He walked Graham to get at Jeff. Tuffy Turner said quietly: “He figures you’re easy. Go out and show him he’s wrong.” The gentle tone of the manager’s voice surprised him. Could it be that Tuffy ' hadn’t yet counted him out of the pic- ture? He wondered. Tuffy was square. Jeff took a tight grip on his bat. If he came through now in the clutch, it would swing a lot of weight with Tuffy Turner. The manager had al- ways been strong for money players. The pitcher tried to get him to nibble at a low one. He didn’t budge. The man on the mound studied him, let go with a curve. It leoked close and Jeff held fire, hoping the guy would pitch himself into a. pocket, Strike. One and one. The next ball was wide and high, where he liked them. But he jet it go by for another ball. Phe minute the next one left the pitch- er’s hand, he could see it had nothing on it. The hurler had pulled the string, afraid of missing. Jeff swung mightily. He felt the solid tingle of a hard hit ball in his hands. It rode out to left field, rising. The fielder ran to the wall, then threw up his glove in despair. I¢ was too high for him. ‘Jeff wound on second. Hogeland was romped in with the winning run and the game was over. N THE showers, Tuffy Turner button- holed him. “All right, kid. Let’s have a “Have what?” “The whole story. Where’s your broth- er? And why’d you come up here on his contract?” “You—you knew? All the—” “T’ve known since last night. That let- ter I got seemed a little too cute for a practical joke. And Graham said-you were acting damn funny. I made a few phone calls. Your brother’s in the Army.” Jeff said weakly, “The draft board couldn’t decife which of us they wanted. We both play ball, so when they called Tom we figured one of the Mellick tribe had a tryout coming if Tom gave up his chance to go in the Army. Honest, I thought I could make good.” “Make good as a center fielder. And you a first baseman!” So he knew that, too. Tom sighed. “I knew the hitting was most impor- tant. I was hitting good—in the minors.” The manager stood musing. “You’ve hit good up here. That’s why I used you today—after I found out you’d tricked me. This club needs a good hitter.” Jeff said hopefully, “Give me a break. I’m sorry I tricked you. But it was the only way I could wangle a tryout. Pll work hard, Mr. Turner.” The stocky man stood with his eyes half-closed, trying to reach a decision. “Well, you’ve been nervous as a cat. This thing had you worried. Maybe—you might come areund, Hymie could show you some tricks about fielding.” “You'll do it?” Jeff gulped. “You'll let me stay on?” “Didn’t say that,” the manager snapped. “Have to keep you awhile though, till I get someone better. I dun- no. The thing might plan out.” Jeff moved taward the door. “Hey,” Tuffy called, “where you go- ing?” “Got a date with Graham under the grandstand.” “Lay off that, Mellick, if you wanta stay on this ball club.” Jeff hesitated. “Okay, then. J’H see a guy named Nolan about some insurance.” | Gomichbooks (E@)