Leominster High School - Magnet Yearbook (Leominster, MA)

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THE MAGNET - The Last Inning HE sun was slowly sinking beneath the clouds on the western horizon and the vast crowd beyond the ropes on Hillcroft’s side of the diamond were rooting hard for Hillcroft, for she was ahead four to two at the end of the first half of the ninth. Seten Hall’s followers, dis- heartened, remained silent and downcast, for the victory seemed snatched away, and defeat at the hands of Hillcroft, its bitterest rival, seemed certain. Captain “Bob” Enslie walked to and fro among the Seten Hall nine, whispering, urging, and gesticulating with his grimy hands and distorted fingers which were driven out of shape by hard pitched balls. Bob was a catcher and was due for a tryout with the New York ‘Giants’ that very fall. He had been at Seten Hall for four years, was a first-class good fellow, and had been captain for the last two years. Every one knew that the critical moment was at hand. “ Batter up!” cried the umpire. “Hurry,” cried Bob to Mitchell, the second baseman, ‘“ Wait him out, now; take your time, kid.” But Mitchell was a poor batter and Dale, the Hillcroft pitcher, knew it. He had the lanky second baseman swing at two wide balls and then sneaked a beautiful strike over for a neat strikeout. As Mitchell strode gloomily toward the Seten Hall bench, Dale grinned from ear to ear—a grin that angered Captain Enslie more and more. In the corner of the Seten Hall bench sat a youth of perhaps seventeen years, with a bright red mackinaw thrown loosely over his shoulders. He had a firm-set jaw, a jaw of a resolute nature, and also a “never say die”’ look on his face. This youth’s name was Curtis, Jim Curtis, called the ‘Kid sub”’ by his older and more seasoned teammates. “ Batter up,” agin cried the umpire. Captain Enslie strode up to the plate. The first ball pitched he met and sent it a scorching single toward right field. “Butch” Kane, the Seten Hall first baseman, was now up, and he fol- lowed Bob’s signals from first. The Seten Hall crowd now cheered. “ Only one out, Butch,” they cried. ‘Wait him out.” “Bob will steal.” And Bob did steal, making a beautiful fadeaway slide into second. “ Butch,” meanwhile, waited out a base on balls and ran leisurely to first base. “Johnny” Willard, the next man up, sent a long sacrifice fly to deep center, advancing Bob to third and Kane to second.

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6 CED Si GIN Earn the right to say “Our school paper.’ Can you say this when the English department hands in all the material? Suppose, taking the School Notes for example, that the only notes printed were those contributed. It is easy to guess how many, or, rather, how few, there would be. Then the Joke, the Alumni, and the Athletic departments, all need support. Surely it cannot be em- barrassing to see your article printed, since your name appears with none of those subjects. Change the paper from a teacher’s paper to a school paper. Have higher aims and make it a paper of the school, for the school, and dy the school. 66 AR special!’ How familiar a cry this has grown to be! And yet, why should it not be so, for what is there which is not war? School, itself, is one continuous struggle. It begins with getting up in the morning on time, and continues throughout the day. Each lesson requires ready thought and quick action; the athletics demand courage; everything you enter into needs brave and persevering effort. The school spirit, which represents the school, becomes as a large ship, attacked by an unseen, unsus- pected submarine. The disloyal criticism of those who, unable to write or to join the athletics, are unwilling others should, almost destroys the school spirit of those who are striving for higher things. But in war there is a reserve force. Why should there not be reserves in school? Pupils who are unable to join in the struggle, join the reserves. Encourage those who are fighting by upholding and cheering them. Howcan you stand by with a “ don't-care”’ attitude in such a fight? Join the reserves, if you have not already joined the workers, and fight! And the end, the supreme cause of the struggle,—is it Wealth? Perhaps. Is it Power or Standing? Possibly. Is it Honor? Yes! M. L. RicHArpDsoN, 16.

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8 THE MAGNET ay wae Two out!” bawled the Hillcroft crowd. ‘It’s your game today, Dale, af kia!” Dale grinned again and the young substitute seated on the bench ground his teeth harder. He pawed his spikes nervously into the ground and chewed his gum faster than ever. On third, Bob Enslie was doing some hard thinking. ‘ Pete” Cum- mings, Seten Hall’s pitcher, was now up. Pete was a fair pitcher, but Bob knew that pitchers are usually poor batters, and Pete was no exception to the rule. ‘‘There’s only one hope left,” Bob muttered to himself. “It lies in ‘ Kid’ Curtis.” ‘Curtis, bat for Cummings”’ he sang out from third; and “ Jim, old boy,” he added, “get a hit for the honor of old Seten Hall.” Jim sprang up, threw off his coat and grabbed his favorite bat, striding up to the plate. ‘““« Jim,’ he muttered to himself. ‘‘ Think of it; he called me ‘Jim,’ not the ‘ Kid,’ and, by thunder, I'll pay him back for the honor of old Seten Fail; But, “Strike one!” bawled the umpire. ‘‘Dreaming!’’ cried the crowd. ‘“Hey, Kid; wake up!” Dale smiled that cruel grin again, the grin that Curtis hated and had seen so many times that day. But the next ball pitched was too wide and so the next. ‘ Two balls, one strike,” cried the “ump.” | The next ball sailed directly over the plate. Curtis knew it would come over when it left Dale’s clutched hand. He knew that Dale would not get into the dreaded “hole” which all pitchers hate to get into and he figured that Dale would pitch the very best ball he had. He stepped back and took a broad wing, using every bit of force he had stored up during the ‘long Spring practice. ‘ Crack,” and the sphere went sailing over third. On, on it went, with Hanes, the Hillcroft left fielder, leaping after it. Meanwhile Curtis rounded second and now tore for third. Hanes now had the ball and relayed it home, but too late. Curtis had scored the two needed runs and himself and Seten Hall had won! Curtis was borne triumphantly on the shoulders of his fellow students to the club house. The next evening Curtis was studying in his room at dormitory eight, when a knock was heard at his door. ‘ Come in,” he said. ‘Hello, Jim,’ and none other than Bob Enslie strode in, ‘“‘Jim,’’ said Bob, ‘‘ How did you do it?,” “Bob” said Curtis, solemnly, “I did it for you, for the honor of Seten Hall, and to wipe that grin of Dale’s away forever!” HAROLD S. PARKER, ’I7.