OCR Text |
Show HAD EARNED UMPIRE'S SCORN. Official Not Afraid of Being Hit by Such a Batter. Melancholy had been doing her best to mark the umpire for her own but up to the eighth inning she had not been able to leave a dent. He was not of the few whom nature seems to have especially fitted for the responsibilities responsi-bilities thrust upon them in this life. Quick of speech, haughty and overbearing over-bearing and wholly indifferent to the right of others, he delivered his decision de-cision in a way which almost invar-ably invar-ably commanded respect even though it failed to carry conviction. But the penalty which he paid for success in his career, was a heavy one. His disposition was irretrievably ruined. He had become habitually sarcastic. A player on whom three strikes had Just been called was speaking up with all the enthusiasm of a man who realized that this is a free country and the voice of the people as it ascends from the bleaching board is on his side. "T'ree strikes nottin'!" was the loud laconic comment which caused the umpire to look upon him with a majestic glare and exclaim?" "What's dat?" "I said t'ree strikes nottin', an' dat's whut." The altereation proceeded until, in a paroxyism of indignation the player lifted his bat as a weapon. "Look out!" shouted one of the players. "He's goin' to hit ye." But the umpire never flinched. "Don't ye have no fear," he said as he stood in statuesque defiance "After whut he's been doin' at the bat I don't feel that I'm runnin' no risks whatever. He may strike at me, but there ain't any mortal chance ol his touchin' anything." New York Times. |