Young Lonigan - James T. Farrell [66]
“Hey! Hey! can the goofin’,” he added.
Coady twirled the ball, and Paulie sizzled one along the ground.
“Goddamn you! Pitch right!” Paulie snarled.
“I’m pitchin’ it all right. Can’t you hit it?” answered Coady.
“You ain’t. Come on, you Goddamn punk, or I’ll fling the bat at you!” Paulie said.
“You better not. He’s Tommy Doyle’s cousin,” young Dennis said.
“All right, punk. No one asked you tuh put your two cents in,” Paulie said to Dennis.
“Hey, can it!” Studs said.
Coady made an elaborate pitching gesture, and underhanded a floater straight over the pan. Paulie let it go by.
“Damn you, pitch right,” Paulie said.
Studs walked in and out. He picked up stones, and threw them aimlessly.
“I’m pitchin’ all right. Why don’t you hit it?” asked Coady.
“You lousy punk, pitch right!” Paulie said.
Coady twirled the next pitch, and Paulie lashed, hitting a mean, twisting foul by first base. Coady ran after it, and got his hands on the ball but muffed it.
“Come on, Joe! Let ’im hit it,” Davey yelled.
“Pitch it right, you little bitch,” said Paulie.
Coady did, an easy floater, and Paulie popped a fly to Denny. He threw the bat at Coady, but Joe dodged and laughed. He moved toward him. Coady ran, Paulie wriggling his tomato after Joe. Joe was too swift for Haggerty.
“If I catch you, I’ll bust your neck,” yelled Paulie.
“Hey, cut it out,” Studs yelled.
“Aw, come on, you guys,” pleaded Denny.
Paulie kept shagging Coady. Joe would slow down until Paulie got near him, then he would dodge, twist and dart off, laughing at Paulie. Joe had won medals in grammar school track meets, and he was fast. He had Paulie puffing like a balloon, and Haggerty had to give it up. Joe laughed at him.
Studs got sore and threw pebbles at both of them. Paulie lined rocks at Joe.
Studs asked Paulie if he wanted to keep on playing.
“Yeh, but I’d like to kill the lousy punk and bust his freckled neck,” said Paulie.
He shook his fist at Joe.
“Can’t you hit? . . . You couldn’t hit the flat side of a barn . . . you couldn’t hit one if it had crutches on it,” Joe yelled.
“Lemme get my hands on you, and I’ll hit all right,” Paulie said.
“Come on, Paulie, can it! You’ll get another bat,” said Davey.
Paulie took his place out in center field. Denny pitched. Coady batted. He hit the first one on a line past third. No one was near it. Davey shagged after the ball.
Denny pitched again.
Coady did not swing.
“Come on! Hit it!” yelled Paulie.
“I will,” said Joe.
Denny pitched.
Joe smacked another one over third.
He hit another one over third.
They all got sore and yelled at him.
Studs went over and leaned against the ladders in foul territory.
Coady lined one to right field. Studs would have had it, if he had been in position. He got sore and cursed, running after the ball.
Coady kept on placing his hits, chopping them, hitting down and lining out grounders, cutting them over third, drawing them in back of first base.
“What the hell you think you’re doin’?” raged Paulie.
“I’m batting, ain’t I?”
“What you think you are?” asked Studs.
Joe accidentally hit one on first bounce to Denny, and his turn would have been up, but Denny fumbled.
“Christ sake! You’re all thumbs,” said Paulie.
“Come on, you punks,” said Studs.
Coady placed one over Davey’s head in deep short. The ball rolled way out in left field. Davey watched it roll. So did Paulie. They looked at each other.
“You’re the outfield,” said Davey.
“I’m centerfield,” Paulie said.
“I’m playin’ infield,” Davey said.
“I’m not gonna get it. It wasn’t my field,” Paulie said.
“Well, I’m not neither,” Davey said.
Paulie sat down.
Davey sat down.
Studs went over and leaned against the slide bars.
“You get it, Denny,” Davey said.
“I don’t have to get it. It ain’t my ball. I was pitchin’,” Denny said defensively.
“One of you guys gotta get it,” Studs said.
“It ain’t mine,” Paulie said.
“It ain’t mine,” Davey said.
“Come on and quit dynamitin’,” Studs said.
“I ain’t dynamitin’,” said Davey.
“Commere, Denny,” Studs said.
“No, I won’t. I’m pitchin’. I don’t have to get it,”