Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1915-07-02

Gus Bergstrom was the last man to
reach the bench. All the way across the
field the beacherites yelled at him ana
called him RIP Van Wrinkle" and other
uncompllmentnry names. Not that Gus
cared He had played baseball too long
to mind what the 5O-cent customers said
about him. He knew that the idol oil
Monday is the dog" on Tuesday
The real reception awaited him on the
bench There are no hired men In the
world who throw into their daily work
half tho enthusiasm and nervous energy
of the professional baseball players. No
amateur sportsmen fight harder against
defeat, or cry louder when 1t comes The
Apaches had fought uphill all afternoon.
their nerves strung to the breaking
point. They had won the game only to
see 1t thrown away by an ineXcusable
blunder.
The overstrained nerves exploded like
a pack of firecrackers as Bergstrom
came within hearing distance. Sarcasm.
invective and downright abuse filckered
along the bench like heat lightning play
ing along the horizon.
you blind stih" snarled Walrus
Potter. "Pete was yellin' his head off
for Jordan! And you bull right along
in with that thick head Of yours and
bust up the camel Fine lot of runs
you've made of us!'
Pete Carr forgot the kld-glove policy.
You big leather neck, you ought to
be catching barrels off a beer wagon!
What kind of baseball do you call that?"
Sprained Jordan's ankle. too! ought TO
fine you for that play!'
Fine him. helll" snapped Shorty"
Kincaid. "He ought to get six months
in the county jail! I'll bet you could
run an augur clear through that Swede's
head and never bring up thing but
bone shavings!"
They said other things, too-things best
indicated by dots and dashes and eX-
clamation points with an asterlsk thrown
In here and there. Not since his first
year with the team had Bergstrom heard
anything like 1t.
He remembered, in dull, heavy fash
ion. that he was to follow Kincaid at the
bat. He rose and picked out his favorite
stick. and suddenly all the anger that
had been smoldering inside him for two
hours burst into a white flame. Berg
strom hurled the bat from him with a
savage curse and started to walk Off the
field. Carr ran after him. clutchlng at
his sleeve,
Gus. you're next up!" he cried.
"You and your team to the devilp said
Bergstrom thickly.
Jake Myers rose from his box in the
upper tier OF the grand stand and hurried
through the runway which led TO the
cluDnOube'
A substitute batted for Bergstrom, and
the agony was prolonged for five min
utes. but tho Renegades won by a score
OF to g.
Pete Carr was the first man to reach
tho clubhouse. Jake Myers met him at
the door, perspiring freely. and sucking
exctedly at an unlighted cigar.
well, you've done 1t nowl" chartered
tho manager. you've spilled the beans
for fairl You gave Bergstrom the ex-
cuse he was looking for all season and
now he's quit.
The members Of the club pleaded with
the recFeant one as he sulenly kicked
his way into his street clothes He was
deaf to entreaty and dumb 10 argument
IL was like making impassloned speeches
70 a cigar store Indian.
Bergstrom snapped on his made-up
bow tie, parted his blond thatch with
two vicious Jabs OF the comb, and swept
the room with his light blue eyes Walk
ing across TO his locker he kicked his
soiled uniform out OF sight and slammed
the door. At the threshold he extracted
a key ring from his pocket and detached
the locker key, which he dropped on the
floor. and then, squaring his shoulders
with a Erunt, he strode out OF the club
house, Jake Myers trotted at his heels,
arguing. entreating, threatening.
"Ah-h-h" said Potter "let him Eol
He'll git over III That old ten thousand
a year looks good TO him.
What did you want 70 go and jump