The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1913-07-25
HOW BIG LEAGUE PLAYERS ARE MADE

In the August American Maga zine Hugh s. Fullerton writes an article en- titled The Making of a Big Leaguer.'' It is a true story of the development of one of the greatest ball players in the United States told by himself to MT. FSullerto This player, of course began the game as a ber and passed through all the stages from amateur to minor league teams and then into the big 1eauge In this ear ly experience he became a great vic tim of the ttSVeIEed head and finally lost his position on the big league team. After many vicissitudes he lost his f'swelled head" and got into the big league again, where, today, at thirty-four years of age, he is one of the greatest veterans of the game. Of his final entrance into the big league he says:
 'In June, I was purchased for a large sum by the club which then was the strongest in the country. I didn't say a word about money, although the club paid over four thousand dollars for me. The new. manager sat down with me in the hotel the night joined his team.
 "sAl want he said. is for you to get out there and hustle and behave yourself. Eve heard you're hard to handle, but I'll take a chance f You won't have any trouble with me- assured him. All I want is a chance to show that can play. =
 You'll get all the chance you want,,' he said quietly. You're in the lineup tomorrow
 Stage fright! Did you ever suffer it? I did that night, My nerves were jumping and a thousand times I fig ured out plays-yes, and made them in planning what I would do the next day.
 We were playing a game against a team which we figured we would have to beat out to win the championship. pictured myself hitting home runs and making triple plays, and when awole in the morning I was nervous, a shaky, uncertain and scared ball player In practice before the game everything hit my way I either fum- bled or threw wild, as my nerves were rags. The crowd seemed to be sorry for me-when they weren't mocking It was a relief when the game start ed.
 T was second at bat in the lineup, on a. foreign field and with a hostile crowd roaring. The first man flied out. Wait him out. Take two,' said the manager as picked up a bat. The first pitched ball cut the heart of the plate. l saw 1t all the way up and knew it would have been easy to hit it hard, yet I let it go. Strike one,' the umpire yelled, and the crowd hoW1ed. was cool as a Boston east wind The second ball came whizzing up, straight over the plate with noth- ing on it, and itched to hit it, yet 1et it go for the second strike. Then I settled to hit, expecting a curve ball. The curve went wide, g. fast. one went high and .wide. II figured that the pitcher thought he had sucker at bat and would curve one over. He came with fast ball a foot high and I swung at 1t and struck out. My heart nearly got spiked as it sank into my toes going back to the bench.
 s' That's the boy said the manager. wait him out Make him pitch
 T could have kissed him for those words. I went to short with my nerves steady and my system full of conh- dence. The first ball hit was a sizzler over second I got the ball with one hand and there wasn't a chance to throw the runner out if I stopped to straighten up, so threw without