Evening star., 1922-09-17

wasn't able to attenu tne game
that day and see for herself that
glorious smash in the seventh in
ming, Had she known that it was the
last hit Tom Barry was destined TO get
for many, many weeks, she would nave
found some way of reaching her nus
bands side, for Maizie was loyal little
woman. But OF Joe Slump always
comes when he is least expected.
Barry's last hit was a corker. Brick
McGovern needed three runs. TWO
men were out in the lucky seventh
when Brown carved a vicious single
past third. Bristol followed with a
smash to right that went for two bases.
Then up came Shortstop Barry with
the bleachers roaring his name. He
drove the first ball over the fence.
Crash, Bang. Zowie!
When the noise had partially sub
sided the official scorer turned TO his
colleagues in the press box.
You know" he said. ''those three
birds remind me of the story about
Casey. who gave hundred dollars
toward the lew chimes in his parish
church Later he wanted his money
back because all the bells said. morn
Ing, noon and night. was: Dillon-Don-
lon-Dolan n-'Doolin-Diron Donlon, Dolan-
Doolin.' not word about Casey at all!
Any time Brown leads off the guy on
the other end of my phone puts down
the rest of 1t without me saying
word We just keep that line OF type
standing: Brown singles. Bristol dou-
bles, Barry scores EN- Darned If
they're not the great 'Biff bang boom"
of bass ball
rRigAt." said Whitney Of the Star.
"Ther1s no insurance against that
trio: they're a work OF God. All
pitcher can do is throw the ball and
duck. Funny how these old birds fig
ure they're through until they come out
here TO the coast and get a shot OF
this climate Then you can't kill en-
The others grunted affirmation and
devoted themselves. after the time
honored custom of all base ball writer's,
to imploring the umpires to hasten the
proceedings. The gentleman Of the
press box takes it as personal insult
il he is compelled to stay there longer
than is absolutely necessary. Extra
inning games. on which fandom feasts
joyously, bring only groans from the
reporters table.
Come on, BILL they pleaded.
Hurry 'em up: get it over with. We
don't want to be here all night. Lille
more pep, for the love o. heaven
ALL in good time the contest ended;
n the players raced for the club
house; fandom streamed home
ward and the reporters headed down
town to rattle their typewriters in the
customary tribute to Brick Meow
ern's Big Three
Brown. Bristol and Barry-truly
that was a trio to gladden. the heart
of any minor league manager! They
could wreck perfectly good ball
game quicker than an earthquake. and
with far less fuss. Whenever an op-
posing pitcher, already in trouble,
saw those three men, each swinging
a cluster of bats. amble out or the
dugout and approach the plate, he
knew there was no use looking TO ths
bench for advice.
Happy? Well, you don't know ball
players if you think that those who
have reached the age of thirty-five
and are still crashing the old agate
every day are not basking In the sun
shine of paradise. They would not
have traded jobs with any man in the
world, excepting, Of course. Babe
Ruth, And the happiest Of the trio
was Barry, the Big Bertha of the
wrecking crew. the larruping pom
bardier of the Coast League-the man
who played Porthos to the others
Athos and Arams. He was the be-
loved bulwark of the Three Bludgeon-
eers.
Understand that every one connected
with a ball club, from manager to pat
boy, considers that his own position is
not only the most important. but the
most difficult to fill. Pitchers catchers.
infielders, outfelders-all have their
favorite arguments; and when all IS
said and done, the shortstop has Just
"A little the best of the debate. He Is
required to think more quickly and
move more swiftly than any other
man: he covers more territory, figures
in more plays, is required to come in
on a fast ball and throw off balance,
and is not alone the backbone OF the
defense, but is usually the medium
through which the signals are relayed
from the catcher to the rest or the
club. In the assumption that he has
more time in which to gauge and han
die a hard-hit ball, he gets fewer ex-
emptions from errors than any other
player.
Tom Barry was a shortstop, loose
hung. broad-shouldered man with
clear blue eyes that sparkled from a
face whipped by the wind and burned
by the sun Of many seasons. He was
fully two steps slower going down to
first than he had been when major
league managers decided he was
through 1t took him few minutes
longer to warm up to practice. to
loosen his muscles and start the per-
spiration flowing; but there was no
question about his ability to hold his
lob. Tom Barry was smashing the
ball as he had never done before In
his career The balmy climate OF
California had brought him second
lease of life. His teammates banked
on him The bleachers idolized him.
His bride of a year loved him. and he
worshiped her. Better than all, the
stork was lowering over a nat In
which the furniture, including six
hundr ed dollar player-piano. was all
paid for. Oh. yes, the world was his+
Tom Barry was going good!
tcv,, to t1o ,ncft