White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1926-10-01
YELLOW!!
BY DOUGLAS MACK

! with them, but in the eighth Blake
fooled an easy grounder and almost
before the big fellow had given prop
er vent to his feelings, the second
batter lined one over second that
Chesters missed by hair Jim Pot
ter's poise seemed to vanish. 1t was
very apparent to the experienced eyes
of his teammates; his growing ner-
vousness, his reluctance to make the
next pitch. They talked to him,
patted him on the back, and Blake
damned himself and called Chesters
seven kinds of an idiot.
We're to blame," he growled, mot
you. Just settle down and toss 'em
in there. Well do the rest"
Jim appeared to steady, and the
next Offering was fair.
BALL." decided the umpire.
The next pitch was pounded out of
the park, and the game was lost. Nc
earthly left the recruit in until two
more batters. hit safely, and then he
called Jim from the box.
Gene Martin, the understood lad of
ten who mascoted the Brown Sox
! when he wasn't in school. followed
Jim to the showers.
you weren't to blame" he de-
clared, as Jim stopped to listen.
'That big bozo on first, and d.
That's all right, youngster," Jim
broke in. II was to blame. Next time
I'll do better. Run along now; maybe
it's not too late to pull the boys
through"
They sent Jim in again four days
| later, and he met similar fate. Be.
/ cause of his unusual stuff, Mccarthy
continued to work him. If he had
gone six or seven innings regularly
before the crash the riddle might
have been solved, but he sometimes
weakened early in the game. Without
men on the bags he worked smoothly
and confidently-let one error or a
bingle come, and the blowup became
| inevitable.
| The pitcher became the center of
interest. Well stocked with veteran
right handlers who were fair, needing
only capable southpaw to make
| them contenders the coming season,
they studied Potter and worked to
steady him, but without avail. Not
until the last game of the season did
/ the cruel word creep in, and Blake,
big, uncouth but kindly Blake, was
the offender.
"The fellows yellow!" he declared
to Mccarthy. "He can't stand the
gait. He'll never be a big leaguer!"
Too late did Mccarthy give him the
silencing stare. Two others on the
bench had heard and passed it along.
Mccarthy decided to release Potter
and asked for waivers. Five clubs re-
fuse dto waive and Mccarthy waxed
warmly: IF he's good enough for
them, can use him. / will, and by
!! the great hornspoons I'll cure him."
Which, though it was emphatically
impressive, disclosed how little Nc
earthly knew Of Jim Potter.
| April, and the southland's warming
breezes created optimism that ran
high among the Brown Sox, admatted
by critics to be a dark horse of alarm
ing proportions or of pleasing magni-
tude, dependent upon which side of
the fence the critic was on. Potter
queerly regained his place as the CEN
ter of attraction, did it easily and
quickly. The attempt to dispose of
him did not seem to rankle in his
breast; he practised as though this
was simply another spring in the life
of a recognized big timer. AS soon
as his arm hardened he began cutting
lose and pitching low score games.
Untoughened hands made errors back
of him; he toiled on with the easy
poise that made watchers marvel He
refused to weaken; the ninth inning
found him collected and in complete
command of the situation.
And one day, after particularly
impressive victory over the Red Legs,
big Blake made a speech to his as
sociates, at the whispered behest of
Nc arthy.
II said that Potter was yellow"
Blake said. well, ought to be shot.
He was just green and wasn't used
to the sudden change. This year !
wouldn't be surprised if he won
twenty-five games"
1t sounded good, was music to their
ears, and the men applauded. Around
Potter they built an imaginary
throne; he was the king that could
lead them into the worlds series. Nc
Carthy, watching and listening, won
dered. What If things went different
ly when the season opened; when
games really counted? What-he too