Of course not; you and the other ****s instinctively understand this. -------------------------------------- Out on first base, Smitty took a slight lead. His mind and hopes were up at the plate where the rangy lad with the sandy, square features was already waiting. Two away, one run behind, last of the ninth. It was up to Bronc or else. Bronc Burnett, who had taken Notah's place in the batting order, had already selected his bat and was ready to go to the plate when Cap'n Al Carter came out to him. The coach put his arm across Bronc's shoulders. "How do you feel, lad?" "I'm ready." "Nervous?" "I don't think so." Bronc held out his hand. The fingers were steady. "Good! Now here's something I've noticed," Cap'n Al confided hastily. "This pitcher likes to be ahead of the batters, especially with runners on base. And every time tonight, with a man on first, he has brought that first pitch across for a strike. Every time, I tell you. Do you get the idea?" Bronc nodded eagerly. "You mean for me to hit that first pitch." "Not hit it. liquidate it!" "I'll give it the works," grinned Bronc. "Good luck, lad." - Bases Loaded, a Bronc Burnett story, by Wilfred McCormick (Grossett & Dunlap, 1950)
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