Mordecai Brown by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Mordecai Brown

Page 85

didn’t need to. His pitches bent and dipped and whispered across the plate with that impossible late movement that had baffled hitters for years.

Wagner fouled the first one straight back. The second he chopped into the dirt. The third he missed entirely.

He stepped out of the box and stared at Brown with mock accusation.

“You’re not right,” Wagner said. “A man shouldn’t be able to make a ball do that.”

Brown shrugged. “Lost a couple fingers. Had to make do.”

Wagner shook his head, smiling. “You’re the only pitcher in the league who can make me feel like a rookie.”

Brown tipped his cap. “And you’re the only hitter who makes me wish I had all five.”

They went on like that for a while; two men at the height of their powers, each sharpening the other without ever saying so. The Pirates would win 110 games that year. The Cubs would win 104 and still finish second. Brown would post a 1.31 ERA, virtually matching Mathewson pitch for pitch. Wagner would lead the league in almost everything a man could lead.