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Show In the second inning a Lund batter knocked a grounder between first and second. Vernon pounced on it. Just as fast Clyde covered first and took Vernon's toss to put out the runner. Clyde struck out the next man. But the third batter hit a single. Then Clyde began to bear down. He threw a ball high and inside. From that zipping projectile the Lund player jerked his body back so violently he sat down on the ground. Embarrassed and a shade fearful, he glared at the pitcher. He got up and dusted off his clean trousers' seat with stiff dignity. I wondered if Clyde's religious intensity wasn't boiling over into his baseball. "Was he trying to hit him?" I said to old Mr. Carpenter beside me. The old man's brief comments had suggested that he was knowledgeable about the game. He laughed. "No," he responded, "Clyde wouldn't try to bean 'im. He was just dustin' him off, lettin' 'm know about that fast ball." Lund began to show Clyde respect tinged with something more. Obviously he had great control. I believe they sensed that even his "bad" throws, most of them , were thrown witli a purpose. The Lundites ceased to crowd the plate. They tended to swing a fraction of a second too late. Most of them went down swinging or took a called third strike. Once in a rare while Lund got on base when Phil let a third strike get by him. But Clyde was alert and accurate. He and Vernon held the runner close to first. Lund never scored. The game ended Nada 7, Lund 0. The rest of that summer I looked at Phil with mingled respect and loathing. But grim, taciturn Clyde Bangle I admired almost with awe. So did all of us, including Lund^ |