Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-04-12

town in the rural hill is my neghbor
and friend, Roscoe Tracey. He is an
extra-large, freckled man. with out
SIZE hands and feet who moves among
his prize-winning Squashss With a majestic
shuttle He has name for each OF them ana
will tell you about them proudly
Not that he is given to boaSt1ng-a more
modest and unassuming man does not exist In
the country-nor does he talk much. He IS one
Of those rare people who only speak when tney
have something to say, ano usually Wnab ne
says is interesting.
In our community he is held in high esteem.
We have elected him second selectman for nine
straight terms, and he is pillar OF our churcn,
as well as bass soloist in the choir.
His farm is not large one, but it makes
profit in spite of the stony soil OF this region
and in spite OF the fact that he is not often at
home during the Spring and Summer months;
for by profession he is a baseball player, snd
has been for nearly 20 years one OF the most
valuable players on big league team az
salary q trifle larger than that paid to the Vice
President of the United States; but that gentle
man can hardly complain as he did not pitch
30 games last year and lose only nine OF them
On Sunday afternoon not long ago was
taking a walk when, passing his house Spled
his lank loose figure Sprawled in chair on tine
porch knee deep in Sunday papers. He caheo
out q greeting to me, and went up his trim
gravel path and shook hand as brown as q
horses hoof.
WE talked squashes, sensed though, that
w he was troubled in his mind about some
thing. We sat for perhaps 20 minutes saying
nothing, while he masticated tobacco. SUDDEN
ly he slapped the newspaper which lay across
his lap, and exclaimed:~
"a doggone' sour-bellied old knocker, and q
talsifier to boot, that's what he is, dagnab him"
This was uncommonly strong language for
Roscoe.
''Who -is?" asked
.This here smart-aleck," he said, Shaping
the paper again. Listen to this"
He read from the paper:
LAS an unfortunate who, for his sins. has
been sentenced to life as sports writer, have
been peering at ball players for 30 years, and
candor compels me to state that with few ex-
ceptions the hero Of the diamond is pretty
sorry fellow. OF sportsmanship he knows
nothing. He is vain, jealous greedy, ychndlsh
and generally dumb. He Is loyal to no one but
himself. He may slap the back Of teammate
who has just hit home run, but behind ais
hack he viii say, THE big bum was shot with
luck Every hit he ever got in his life was an
accident"
EVERY players bench sounds like black
mnith shop. The old anvil chorus rings out
most heartily when some veteran begins 20
crack. He may have given his best and won
remnants for his team but the instant he starts
to slip the younger players are on him like
pack of wolves A falling star Is q pitiful sight,
but ball players are hardhearted crew.
There's no sentiment in modern base ball
Roscoe Tracey crumpled up the paper with
= quick movement Of hts powerful fingers and
flung it from him.
Nov listen to this" he said.
Back a lot Of years ago-Roscoe Tracey told
rne-a scout for the Warriors named Hank
Clarity fell on train In dinky place called.
well, Yapsburg, and having day on with
nothing to do, he naturally rambled into q
ball game. It was played on pasture With
nat stones for bases and ground rules for hits
that went down woodchuck holes, and it was
between the YapSburg Demons and the Hickory
Swamp Angels
young farmer named-wen, John Brown,
as doing the pitching for the Angels in pair
Of overalIs q red undershirt and the sort Of
glove kids used to get for saving up thousand
cigarette pictures This John Brown held the
Demons to IL runs gave 16 bases on balls, un-
corked six wild pitches, hit three men-and
nobody bothered to count the errors his team
made behind him. but the thing that caught
old Hanks eye was that this Brown famed II
men and the only clean hit made OF him was
fly that dropped safe in left field which the
fielder could have caught IL he hadn't been
busy shOoing . COW on the lot.
This John Brown, as Hank could see right
away, was what we call "throWer" That's
a pitcher Who has fast ball he tries to throw
past the batter so swift no can't see it. John
didn't have much aim and when he cut loose
nobody knew including hiIn, whether the apple
going to cut the plate or kill pig In the
next township; but when it did go near the
rate, the batter just blinked. He didn't have
time TO get his club on his shoulder. This
Brown was big and young and tough and just
. natural born throwing fool '"
Hank persuaded the Ola Man to give hinA
q trial He didn't have 10 persuade John