The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1914-08-12
ED WALSH TELLS THE STORY
 OF HIS RETURN ID GOOD FORM
Former Meriden Twir1er Gives Inside Story Of Modern Diamond
 Mystery

passed the thirty mark considerably, I wasn1 ready to say good bye to the old game by any means And cer- tainIy dldn, want to quit, if I had to quit in that unsatisfactory way. It is hard to break your arm or have a railroad accident, or a. severe or ex- hausting sickness which robs you Of your effectiveness, but at least those things are conclusive. They put a finishing touch on your career that you can see and feel and that is final But to go as did, after a good sea- son, where had worked as well as ever hads and then to lose your effec- tiveness uncouscfous1y overnight, and without any reason. was too much It was the uncertainty, the tndehniteness, the mystery about it that baffIed me and made the season of 1913 the worst year have ever known, the worst year. hope. I will ever know.
 A Brief Victory.
 1T believe 1t was the first game of the season We were playing St Louis It was the ninth inning. and there were three men on ba4es and no one out had been called into q breach of this kind so many times that had lost all count It is in a crisis such as this that the pitcher needs to have suprem command Of himself He needs to be matter of all there is in him, for the Slightest
 break, the smallest slip of infelder or catcher will spill the game. In such a pinch the strike-out is the only sure way, for even an easy infleld out may be jugg1ed tenth of a second too l long. An outfe1d fly is pretty sure to be fatal. had faced this situation scores of times before and won out q good majority of the times But as entered the box that day I won't l deny that my heart failed me. The lunaccountab1e defeats at Venies and Ine do1~v <s5 f7. | dence. I was no longer fnvinci b1e l But had one determination. that I would not be huniIiated now. I would I show that could still control the spit 1 ball and drive it where the batters would have to go arm in arm with I gflt-edged luck and surplus horse shoes to find it. And so tore my arm loose from the shoulder. pitch ed with all my strength kfew that | the arm wasn't the same old arm that had stood by me all these years. T could feel the muscles grind and l wrench, and it seemed to me that 1t would leap out of the socket when I
 shot the ball across the plate. But l I burned that old baseball over just the same made 1t dip and duck
 my life The batters dived for it and reached for 1t and tied them
 selves into knots in their efforts to get l it, but it seemed to me that the spit
 ball laughed at their efforts as it sung through the air was getting some I revenge for my previous defeats. even if the arm did droop and wilt. and il took all my will power to raise 1t for
 the throw. Those batters struck out
 one, two three in order just as they Eeame up to the plate. And those three
 men who were on their toes for the
 dash home died where they were CT
 the bases. If couldn't last out 3
 whole game, had proved to my owr
 satisfaction that-I could at least pitcE Il an inning up to my old form An6
 that was some consolation to me ever that night. though my arm kept me
 awake till morning with a pain thai
 I had never known before.
 Just what was the matter with tht
 arm all this time don't know, and guess it's a. safe bet no. one else does It is one of the mysteries of baseball