The Birmingham age-herald., 1922-12-03

Those fool kids had accidently founQ the hole. I went back to the hotel, feeling blue"
 And the man downstairs is Lynn?'
 yep"
 But how did he become deaf?"
 q went to New Haven the next day" Murphy related ..He pitched again. Nothing yellow in him. Just one of them psychological things professors gab about. You see, when I take a fancy to an amateur, look up the family history. These Lynns have been icked. but they never laid down. Well, he pitched three ccrking innings and got three-bagger. But he went high sky in the fourth. It was a darned shame. Here was the making of a great pitcher, gone wrong.
 He was the first man up in the last fourth. The first bali-zowie! He damned it over to Hartford and logged around the bags. No yellow boy could have done that. This bucked me up He could stand up there and lam the ball when he knew they were going to yodel him off the mound. The other team got five runs off him next inning. His mates were good sports. They let HlHl stay. uE It3t litItS liC NdhlS to bat he damned another homer, but the wind carried 1t outside. And then the pitcher beaned him knocked him cold, down and out. I hung around until they got him into the clubhouse; then l left the lot
 T begin to see That ball busted his ears Tough lucku'
 Tougher than you know Listen: Ii hit him smack on the left ear, busted the drum; and the right ear went along in sympathy. That was the dope in the morning paper. Mac, this was q real tragedy. Seems he was a rich mans son, youngest of four. Wanted to play professional ball; didn't want to work under his brothers in the steel mills. He had fallen out with the old man; and his busted ears left him high and dry Get in2 great pitcher with a big future in front of him knocked out like that. And no home to go back to, and no money in his jeans"
 That's mighty tough feel sorry for the .boy. but don't see-''
 Wake up! I tell you he's a great pitcher already Can't you get it? They can't blow him up now. He's deaf He won't see anything but the plate and Slatterly's fingers. And on top of this, he's a natural hitter. rare thing in a pitcher. Give him try-out. for the love O Mike!'"
 Mcclure got up and began to pace the room He smoked rapidly
 "All right" he said at last. I'll try him out in the morning just to prove if you know what pitcher is Mind I'll give him a gruelling. I'll have the boys use every trick in the bag to fuss him. If he comes through. if he gets by Jenkins bat well. maybe I'll put him on the bench"
 @You'vS said something! I've got a hunch. You're paying for my lunches. And I'll eat my hat if this boy doesn't surprise you. Come on. Let's go down and hunt him up"
 Mcclure fussed and fumed the fol- lowing morning. He sat cross-ieg- ged on the grass, chewing the sugary ends of the blades He was angry. He had sworn all his life he would never sign up a freak, no matter how good a ball player he might be. Boneheads he couldn't escape, but he could side-step individuals who weren't "all there" He, Mcclure, would have to learn to talk with his fingers, or forever and eternal be sticking out his hand for the tab and pencil. How could he bawl out a dummy?
 Nevertheless. McGuire watched the