AN UMPIRE'S DILEMMA.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1617, 25 February 1903, Page 9

AN UMPIRE'S DILEMMA.

GAME WON BY A SIXTEENTH OH A. HUN. “Three to two —a chase game.” The fat ex-mascot sniffed contemptuously. “Why. back in the clays when 1 was connected with the Lightfoot Lilies we had contests that were so close they fairly stifled. Take the Jones County championship of ’B7 fox* example. “In the first game we defeated the formidable Ringtail Roarers by a score of 1-16 to 0. Now. that was close. “Impossible, you say? Not at all. This fractional score was made possible by the mathematical precision of the decisions rendered by that prince of all umpires, old Hoc Quackenhush. “Cy Priest was pitching for the home team, and it’s only just right to say hero that even if he was a Ringtail Roarer he was probably the speediest twirler that ever shot the pill over the pie. Why. lie pitched so fast 'that an ordinary umpire, bad to keep his eyes open wide to see the ball go by, let alone being able to toll whether it went over the' plate or not. “From the bleachers you couldn’t even tell ho was pitching, except for the' fact that the catcher tossed the ball back to him at regular intervals. Well, anyhow, that’s the man who ivas pitching for the Rearers, “The scoring was all done in the beginning of the first innings. Bull Thompson, our heavy hitting backstop, selected a well-seasoned og of lignum vitate from among the Lilies’ bats, and swaggered to. the plate. / “As he doffed his cap in response to the deafening applause which greeted him, the rasping sound of tearing flannel rent the air. and an abnormally developed biceps burst through his right shirt sleeve. Bull Thompson was ’n prime condition in ’B7. “Cy Priest hitched his trousers and drew his arm back. Bull swung his bat defiantly. Zip! came the hall. Crack! went the hat against, it, and a moment later a cloud c-f dust was chasing the Bull towards first. “ ‘Humay, lie’s safe !’ shouted the Lily roo-tei*s as the Bull crossed first well before the ball readied there. “.Safe, nothin’; he’s out!’ cried the Roarers, springing to their feet and pointing to- the short-stop, who had just gobbled in a fly that seemed to have come from the Bull’s bat. “We couldn’t understand it, ; were there two balls? y “Doc Quackenhush rushed over and examined the ball that the short-stop had just caught. Then he ran over to first and grabbed the ball which the first baseman was trying to hide. A smile of intelligence illuminated his face. “ ‘Ladies and gentlemen-’ he began, addressing the grand stands, ‘a most unusual problem has presented itself to me in my official capacity of umpire. Mr Thompson' hit the ball so hard that he has split it in two pieces. Half of it was caught on the fly. The other half he beat out to first. After a careful diagnosis cf the case, the only just decision., I believe, is to cTedare Air Thompson half out at first.’’ “At this nmusuat solution of the ease

a general buzz of excitement broke out ail over the field. “ ‘Then make the half of him that’s out get off the base,’ demanded Cy Priest, who was captain of the Rovers. ‘I object to ’ “ ‘Pardon me,’ Don Quackenhush interrupted. ‘I did not say half of the runner was all out; I said all of the runner was half out. Therefore ’ “ ‘Hi, there ! He's making for second !’ the Roarers yelled. ‘Throw the ball! Quick!’ . .' . “They looked arenud just m nine to •me the short-stop clap his half of the ball on the Bull asHhe. latter wass sliding for second. - “ ‘Well, he-’s all out now, anyhow, i Cv said. '“But the Bull evidently thought otherwise, for the next instant he had picked himself up, and was tearing towards third. The short-stop, all excite- ! ment, slung the half ball bo had over to the third baseman, and the Bull was once more touched out. In the meantime Doc Quackenhush had taken out his pencil, and was making lightning calculations on his cuff. “ ‘What in the name of Simplicity Jefferson are you doing now?’ demanded Cy, turning on the umpire. ‘Do you mean to say that that man isn’t out yet ?’ ■ “ ‘He is exactly seven-eighths out at present,’ the Doe replied calmly. ‘He still has one-eighth to the good.’. . “‘What do' you think we are playing, anyway. Baseball or arithmetic?' “ ‘Come here and I’ll prove it for you.’ “The Dec pulled up his other sleeve, and began figuring on that cuff. “ ‘Half out at first,’ he began. ‘Remaining half cut at second. J. of 7 making }■ This 7 makes for third, where it is again reduced to 1, leaving hut £■, and there goes that -l- . by jingo !’ “True enough, -Bull Thompson, still one-sightli to the good, was sprinting for home as if his mother-in-law was after him. The third baseman socked the half ball which lie had down to the catcher. “ ‘Throw your half too, you dummy!’ Cy yelled at the first baseman. ““The two half balls reached the catcher amost together. He caught the one from third, and thumped Bull on the back with it. The throw from first was high, however, and as the catcher jumnocl for it the bull, still one-six-teenth to the good, dived under him, and crossed the plate with what finally proved to ho the winning run. “For proof of all this you have only to visit Jones County, as I understand that the shirt upon which Poc Qunckenbush ma.de his remarkable calculations is still preserved in the trophy case at the town hall.”—“New York Sun.”