the table: "Jennings is going to throw the hooks into Post." Post thought so himself. He stumbled a bit as he stood up; then he squared himself doggedly and walked out to meet the coach.
"Post," Jennings said, "you're not playing your game. Why?"
The shortstop shook his head. "I don't know." But he did know. Yet he would not say the word that would shift any of the blame to other shoulders.
The coach liked him the better for it. "I do know, Post. The nine's been playing with Martin so long that it cannot see anybody else in his place; and you're letting that throw you out of gear. When I picked you to fill Martin's shoes I knew that you could fill them. I still know it. I believe in you and I know you're going to come through. You've got it in you."
The boy drew a deep breath. There was an interval of silence. Then:
"Whatever comes, Post, you're going to play that position. If you've been thinking of being benched, forget it. You're going to stay right where you are. That's the strength of my faith in you. Now—what are you going to do for me?"
There was another period of silence.
"I'm going to play ball," Post said quietly.
