The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1911-11-02

| Do IL udpptutu LhdL oil lhS
home fans knew about Hardy was
the incident of the goat and the
tin can. 1t was not an suspicious
introduction.
| The season opened on the home
grounds, and Handy, playing a sun
field to which he was unaccus'
toned, dropped a fly ball which
he should have caught In his
teeth" as Callahan reminded him
and the error lost the game. This
was unfortunate, for certain
clique of leather-lunged rooters
on the right field bleachers de-
cided that the new man would not
do.
If a dozen baseball fans select a
fixed idea and their voices hold
out, they can do almost anything
BY the end of the first game two
hundred regulars were after the
new right fielder, and 1t pleased
them to see that Hardy resented
their efforts.
Any ballplayer knows what II
means to have enemies in the
home town. He expects to get the
worst of it on the road, but when
he performs at home he expects
loyal support and encouragement
One hundred hostile rooters in the
home town can hound a player
out of the club, and 1t has hap
pened in almost every city in the
league, and will happen again sc
long as performers are susceptible
to outside influence.
The constant chorus Of nth
can! Tin can!' got on Hardy
nerves and worried him. Every
time the ball was hit In his direc-
ton there went up a sarcastic cho.
rus. The boy was unused to this
sort of treatment. In the town
where he had previously played
he had been somewhat of a loca
deity. A bad cigar had been named
after him, and small boys follow.
ed him about the streets. He had
never been a grandstander, but 1,
Is one thing to play ball before g
friendly crowd and quite another
to do ones best when that best
brings only jeers and abuse.
Hardy began to make inexcus.
able errors. Me mislaid his bat.
ting eye, and swung wildly al
bad ones" Opposing pitchers
quickly diagnosed his case.
1.-THE busher is swinging at
en-" they said.
Overanxious, and fretted until
his nerves were raw, Hardy play
ed like a schoolboy, lost his stride
entirely, and brought down upon
himself the wrath of those stern
censors of the press who edit the
most interesting page of the paper.
The sporting writer's began to
howl for his release. Hardy
wouldn't do, they SAID, and they
said it in headlines.
Wise old Ben Daily, manager of
the club and team captain as we'll,
a great infielder in spite of dash
of gray over his temples, tried to
lput some heart into the recruit.
you've let the knockers get
lyou going,' he said. Didn't they
chase Dillon out of Louisville
years ago, and didn't he play
three times as we'll as soon as he
struck a new town? There WASH t
anything the matter with Dillon,
only they got his goat, and they
kept it. There isn't anything the
matter with you, either. You'll
hit your stride one of these days,
and show these flannel mouths
what a regular outfielder looks
like. Buck up, kid"
Hardy shook his head.
81 don't know what's the mat
ter with me. go up there to hit,
and l can't see ball any more"
"You only think So" soothed
DAILY. Don't you think l know a
sweet hitter when l see one? Why,
1 never saw a man show up bet
ter in spring training! You're
just worried, that's all that ails
you. Forget it! You'll get start
ed one of these days"
Another Rank Counterfeit"
the morning papers howled a few
days later.
"These fellows don't want me in
this town." said Hardy to the man.
ager. "They never did want me.
They've been knocking me from
the start. If 1t hadn't ben for
that tin-can thing" and Hardy
broke off miserably.
Tell me the truth" he said.
"Are these fellows right aboutsme?
Am too slow for this company"
DAILY swore heartily.
You've slumped, that's all. If
you could only get going once, you
wouldn't have any trouble. Quit
reading the papers. put some cot
ton In your ears when you get out
the start, and play baseball.
Hardy tried to follow the direc-
tiOnS. but met with flat failure