Kid from Tomkinsville by John R. Tunis

chair. “How’s that for a stop, hey?”
    “Looks as if maybe he might have something. I talked to him last night; say, he’s full of pepper. Know what he says? Says, ‘I can hit any right-handed pitcher in this-here League.’ ‘Oh, yeah?’ sez I; ‘well, maybe you’ll have a chance against Ruffing.’ ‘Okay,’ he sez; ‘I'll hit him.’ How’s that?”
    “Well, he will, too. And he can bat from either side, remember.”
    “Can he? He ought to be a ballplayer one of these days. Who’s that kid in the box now, Jack?”
    “Roy Tucker. Lad from Tomkinsville; I was telling you about him.”
    “Oh, yeah, I remember. Has he been out all along? I haven’t noticed he has much. And if that hotfoot out there in short hadn’t picked up that liner he would have been scored on in the last inning. Now the rookie I like is young Jack Maguire with the Giants....”
    MacManus hurled his cigarette away. His face lost its contented look and he scowled as he turned on the sportswriter. “The Giants, the Giants, the Giants. You sportswriters give me a pain in the neck. Shoot, if a man wears a Giant uniform you all think he’s hot stuff, and if he’s on the Dodgers it doesn’t matter how good he is. Look at Caballero, this Cuban first baseman Murphy’s trying out. I bet you five bucks he’ll be out of the lineup by June, but the way they’re playing him in the papers you’d think he was Greenberg and Gehrig and Hal Chase rolled into one. The Giants...” and he snorted as he crossed his legs and turned his back to the other man who winked at MacDonald and moved back to work in the press box while the teams changed sides.
    “Okay, wait and see what Caballero does, that’s all.”
    “I’ll wait. The Giants!” said MacManus to the man next to him. “Those fellas are all alike. How you making out this year, Red?”
    MacDonald thought he had a better team. So did every manager. “Say, Jack, how about Nugent? Think he can come back or not? I only watched the last inning.”
    MacManus became serious again. “Well, to tell the truth, Red, we don’t know. This is the first time he’s been in; you know he was a holdout the first ten days or so. Just now he’s tending to business, and he pitched good ball today; his old fast one was burning in there. He’s promised to cut out that wild stuff and play all season, and I think he will.”
    “When he’s good that baby is sure good. But he gets mighty crazy when he starts to tear things up. How about this new man from Memphis, De Voe? And old Foster?”
    “Can’t tell yet about De Voe. Foster has just as much stuff as ever. What’s the matter, looking for a pitcher?”
    “I could use an extra one. How about this kid in the box there? What you gonna do with him?”
    “Send him along to Nashville, I suppose. Interested?”
    “Not especially. I might be willing to take him off your hands though if the price was right.”
    “Like his motion? He’s got an easy swing there, hasn’t he?”
    “Yeah,” replied the other man without enthusiasm. “He’s got a good swing. I like it.”
    “So do I,” retorted the other with emphasis. Someone had been tipping Red off about the Kid, and if MacDonald wanted him enough to come up and watch him play, the boy was worth hanging on to. He turned back to the game. “Hullo, that’s two strike-outs this inning. Red, you’re pretty dumb. This kid will do all right when he gets some seasoning.”
    As inning after inning went on and neither team scored or made a hit, MacManus was unable to stand the strain. He rose nervously, walked over to the clubhouse porch, leaning against one of the posts of the roof. Then he lit a cigarette, threw it away half smoked, went back to his chair where he was now alone. He shoved his hat back over his head and a few minutes later pulled it down over his eyes. Harry Chase of the Times , watching from the press box, saw him twisting and turning in his chair. “Look at Jack over there; he’s going