Lefty Locke Pitcher-Manager

he eyes of Lefty Locke was masked by a shadow.

ockings was spending the winter with his wife, once more settled back, taking a long, satisfied pull at the stump of his fragrant Havana. He was chuckling bene

voice. "What's the joke?"

visitor. "I'm not given to j

sterous! A pitc

he only pitcher who has

me when he was on the

tcher shouldn't manage a ball team. You've been doing it with the littl

for the coming season. I couldn't find anybody else to organize the club and handle it, so I had to. I have only three other players who have been with me from the start. The rest of the nine has been composed of changing players who came and went, college men, or just

onizingly, "and I am satisfied that you can fill the

d–you! How about

regular business outside baseball, and therefore his business has suffered. He has had heavy financial reverses that have worried him. And now the meddling of the Feds has hurt the value of the ball club. The stock

llier now?" aske

last heard from, but he has since left there

communicated with in

he remnant of the other away. The glow of the match fully

him away where he could not be troubled by business of

arkable," said

seemed so incongruous for a person who was otherwise not overfat. "Really, he was in a bad way.

en Collier's policy to keep a close and constant watch upon his baseball property, but now, at a time when such surveillance was particularly needed because of the harassing activities of the Federals, having turned authority over to a subordinate, not only had he taken himself beyond the range of easy communication, but apparently

e snap of his fingers. "By the way,"

aid Lefty.

r that you hurt it in the last game of the season. S

e pitching for my te

t. You'll be in form again, the greatest

stical enough to put t

f the sharps call you. Th

scheduled to play a roving independent nine known as the Wind Jammers, and I

n pitching

y one game thus far, and that was our second one. The eccentric manager and owner of the Wind Jammers, who calls himself Cap'n Wiley,

nson anywhere, much less traveling around with a bunch of hipp

ny games with it thi

d to be felt, and if Dillon jumps–Look here, Locke, we've got to g

W

e. You should know about that. I'm wise that he has consulted you regularly. He's sought your advice, and listened to it; so, in a way, you've had considerable to do with the managem

ed," murm

isten to advice and counsel. Old Jack is hard-headed and stiff; when he makes up his mind there's no turning him. He takes the bit in his teeth, and he wants

ou think the manager should be a man with few

es it imperative that I should keep my fingers on the pulse of things. I couldn't conscientiously discharge my duty unless I did so. I know I could never get along with Kennedy. The manager must work with me; we'll work together. Of course, in most respects he'll be permitted

eegman," he said. "What you want is a putty man, a figurehea