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May 3, 1911
Francis stepped out of the box and wiped his brow. It was the bottom of the sixth, with the Maple Leafs up 5-4 against the Quebec Chiefs, and Francis badly wanted to get on base to lead off the inning. However, the count was 2-2 and he hadn’t even taken the bat off his shoulder.
He looked out beyond the Hanlan Point Park’s fence to gather his thoughts.
Francis had struggled through the first two games, both Maple Leaf wins over the Montreal Royals, and he was currently hitless in eight at bats. However, he had felt comfortable and knew it was only a matter of time.
Just then he heard a familiar voice.
“Hey kid, relax up there.”
He turned to see Jacky, standing on the front step, tightening and loosening his hands. Francis smiled and nodded. Jacky hadn’t been quite friendly to him, to anyone really, since the bar fight, even though certain people lied in order to keep Jacky on the club. Perhaps he was ashamed.
As he settled into the box, he dug his cleats deep into the dirt, and stared out at the tall lefty reliever. The pitcher rocked back and fired a curve, low and away. Francis swung and hit a hard grounder in between first and second. The second basemen raced over and dove, but the ball was just out of his reach.
Francis clapped his hands as he touched first base.
“Thatta boy,” yelled Jacky from the dugout, clapping his hands, “There’s plenty more where that came from Franky!”
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