This is RetroSports Radio. Visit RetroSeasons.com for more sports history.
Your family theater presents Eddie Bracken, Kathy O'Donnell and Branch Rickey.
From Hollywood, the mutual network brings you the Scow, starring Eddie Bracken with Kathy O'Donnell.
To introduce the drama, your host, Branch Rickey.
Thank you, Gene. We on Family Theater welcome our stars Eddie Bracken and Kathy O'Donnell to our stage.
In a story that is close to my heart because I've been around the game of baseball for a pretty long time.
Long enough to have a deep-seated respect for the sport and for the men who participate in it.
Men like Lou Gehrig, Monty Stratton, George Sissler, Honest Wagner and the Mighty Babe,
who've given to it so many fine traditions of honesty and integrity and courage.
Men such as Skip Welch, whose story you will hear tonight.
No, no, you won't find Skip's name in any World Series lineup.
And it doesn't appear in any of the Major League record books.
Yet in my humble opinion Skip was as great a big league ball player as they come.
The reason why? Well, suppose I just begin the story for him and let him carry on from there.
It was some years ago in a small Midwestern town of Rosson that a group of intent, wide-eyed boys
from the local orphan asylum was gathered at the town's ball field.
A grinning, cocky young fella in the uniform of Rosson's minor league ball club was talking to them.
And believe me, they weren't missing a single word he was saying.
All right, fellas, the hit and run is on. Are you tearing down towards second base?
Chuck, let's see how you slide into that bag. Come on.
Okay, Skip, here I come.
Oh, is that Skip?
You slid in hard, all right, Chuck. What's the idea coming up with your feet waving in the air like that?
Oh, my gosh, I figure if I got spikes on my shoes and I chop at the second baseman that way,
maybe he'll get scared and won't be able to make a double play.
Yeah, and maybe he'll spike the guy, maybe cut a tendon in his leg and finish him as a ball player.
Gee, I never thought of it that way. You've got to think of it that way.
When you slide into base, just slide hard, sure, but clean.
That's the way a real ball play always plays, hard but clean.
Remember that if you want to be a big leaguer someday.
Boy, a big leaguer. Wouldn't that be something?
Skip's going to be a big leaguer someday. Ain't you Skip?
Well, where'd you get that cock-eyed idea, Chuck?
Why, Skip, you're the best pitcher Rosson ever had. Everybody knows that.
Well, that's a fine vote of confidence, Chuck, but there's a well-of-a-lot of difference between winning games
for a bush-league team and playing in the majors.
Let's get back to coaching. Now, let's say the hit-and-run worked okay, see?
Uh-oh, there's the station wagon for you.
Well, that's all for today. On the double, the last one there is a bush-league.
And don't forget what I told you about sliding into second.
You bet you, Skip. Slide in hard.
Yeah, but clean, Ed. Don't forget that. You've got to play clean. Skip says so.
That's right, Chuck. You're a good leaguer.
Oh, what a bunch of swell kids. Swell kids.
Kind of like them, do you, Skip?
Oh, Mary. Hey, when did you sneak in, sweetheart?
A few minutes ago. But I'd better check up and see if those boys have taken you away from me yet.
Are you kidding? There's nothing we'll ever take first place ahead of you, honey.
And don't you ever forget it.
You better say that if you know what's good for you.
But seriously, Skip, those boys really worship you.
You're a hero to them, Chuck, particularly.
That's crazy. So I'm coaching them at baseball, so what?
No, you're a goodie more than a baseball coach.
They know you came from the same orphanage once, too.
So they think of you as a pal, a big brother.
And from what I've seen, they have a real right to.
Hey, for Pete's sake, how did we get caught off base like this?
You know it's getting late. And my inner man says it's time to eat.
Are you asking me to share a snack with you?
I'm asking.
Then I'm sharing.
Well, let's get moving, sweetheart.
I've got plenty of vitals, because tomorrow's game's going to be a big day, you know.
Oh, what's so special about it, Skip?
Well, I'm pitching them our honey, and there's going to be some big league scouts around.
And if they tell me what I figure they're going to tell me, well...
Skip, you don't mean...
Look, all I'm saying is that if they do, you and me, well, we have some important talking to do.
You betcha, Miss Collins, plenty important.
Well, it was a big day, all right, in more ways than one.
And when it was all over, Mary and I had our little talk on the front porch of the Collins' home.
Only it wasn't exactly the way I figured it would be.
You pitched a wonderful game today, Skip.
What's so wonderful about it?
Of course I won. Didn't see any scouts come up to me afterwards, did ya?
Nobody offered me any dotted line to sign, did they?
Oh, don't be so disappointed, Skip, honey.
Being a big league baseball player isn't everything.
Isn't it? Well, it's kind of late to tell me that.
It's all I've eaten and breathed and dreamed about all my life, that's all.
I know, Skip, but just remember this.
You don't need to be a big league ball player to make you important to those boys at the asylum.
Or to me.
Yeah, that sounded fine.
Sounded swell, only I wasn't kidding myself.
Kids don't pick failures as their heroes.
And I wasn't asking Mary to tie herself up to life to a Bush leaguer who never earned more than a two-bit salary.
I was feeling pretty low, and when I walked home that night,
maybe that's why I didn't hear him come up to me when he spoke.
Still interested in that big league contract, Skip?
Huh? Where did you come from?
Oh, I've been following you for some time, Skip.
Watching your progress, keeping an eye on you.
What are you talking about? Who are you, anyway?
Why, I guess you'd call me a scout.
A scout? Hey, you don't mean from one of the big leagues?
Well, there are only two big leagues. I represent one of them.
Then that crack you made about, was I still interested in a contract? That was on the level? You're serious?
I'm quite serious, Skip. If you sign with me, I'll guarantee that you'll be pitching major league ball within a year.
You interested?
Brother, you just signed yourself a boy.
Well, maybe you'd better hear my terms first. There'd be a personal contract just between the two of us.
Well, I haven't heard anything so tough so far. What else?
You'd have to let me coach you, play the game my way, right down the line.
Well, as long as it's baseball, I'll play it next.
And you'd have to understand that when you're playing for me, winning is all that matters.
They don't give contracts to losing pitchers. Is that clearly agreed?
Oh, sure. You haven't thrown me a curve yet.
It's fine, Skip. Now, that's all for now. Good night.
Good night. Hey, wait a minute, wait a minute. I haven't signed that contract yet.
Haven't you? Well, don't worry about it. You'll find that our little verbal agreement is binding enough. Good night, Skip.
Well, that was the way I met him. Kind of a screwy guy, sounded like to me.
But if he could get me into the big leagues, he could have more screws loose than the Model A Ford and I'd still love him.
I was feeling like a million bucks when I hustled out to the ballpark the next morning to give Chuck and the boys their regular quotient session.
I was early, they hadn't gotten there yet. But someone else had.
Good morning, Skip.
Hey, the scout. What you doing out here this hour?
A good manager always checks up on his property, Skip.
Huh? Oh, I get it. Well, I coach some kids out here, Scout. Some of them are pretty good, too.
Might make some pretty good material for you in a couple of years.
Yes, I have high hopes for that, Skip. But you're all through coaching here.
I'm all through coaching? What do you mean, Scout?
You're a valuable piece of property, Skip. Twisted ankle, a broken finger, sore arm. Your value is gone.
Now I don't take chances like that with my property.
From now on, you don't touch a baseball unless you're paid for it. I think you understand.
No, I didn't understand. Matter of fact, I was pretty burned up about that property gag.
And I wasn't figuring on stopping coaching with Chuck and the boys for nobody.
So I started telling him off. Then it happened. The thing that kept happening to me after that.
He was smiling at me like he'd done the night before on my way home. I seemed to hear him say something.
There'll be a personal contract between the two of us, Skip. I think you'll find our little verbal agreement is binding enough.
All of a sudden, everything he said made sense.
I'd be a sucker taking any chances on an accident. I was heading for the big leagues. Why, he guaranteed it.
What a joker I'd be throwing away a prize like that trying to teach kids, well, a bunch of goofy kids how to play ball.
I saw Mary again that night and was all set to spring the big news on her. Only she opened up on me first.
Skip, why did you stop coaching the boys?
Well, how did you...
Oh, Chuck must have phoned you, huh?
Yes. He said some scout was there who talked you out of it because you were valuable property.
Well, yeah, yeah, that's right, Mary. You see, I...
Since when have you become too valuable to spend a little time with some orphans who idolize you?
Well...
You know, I'm not that kind of coaching. You can give them.
Oh, look, Mary, you don't get it. The scout guaranteed me a major league contract inside of a year, but I've got to work for it, concentrate on it.
I can't take any chances of anything going wrong, can't you see? I can't let anything get in my way now, can I? I can't.
Is that something this scout said to?
Well, what if it is? What about guys like Feller and Greenberg, Hubbell and Marion?
Do you think those guys could have made it if they didn't have ambition and drive without doing it the hard way?
No, Skip. I'm sure they did it the hard way. But I'll bet they did it the clean way, too.
What's that supposed to mean?
They...they had control of themselves and their ambitions.
Oh, Skip, I'm afraid your ambition has control of you.
So now you think I'm a screw loose dope with one foot on a cloud and the other in a bucket?
No, Skip, no. It's just that I...I'm afraid, Skip.
Please don't listen to that scout anymore. Please forget about making the big league that way.
Please, Skip, for our sakes, please.
I couldn't figure it. Just didn't make sense.
I thought she'd get as excited over the good news as I was.
She called my home run a foul ball. I couldn't figure it.
I tried to forget Mary and concentrate on baseball.
The scout was working with me all the time, advising me, coaching me.
And everything he told me, just like when I brushed off Chuck and the boys, everything made sense.
I started learning fast.
I knew it was that game with the red shirts.
A couple of errors behind me put me in a tough spot.
The men on base and the league's leading hitter waiting at the plate.
The manager came out to the mound from the dugout to talk to me.
What do you think, Skip? He's a tough baby.
Yeah, he'll get what, uh, well, what he don't like. I can pitch to him.
Maybe. What are you figuring? Something low and inside?
Yeah, yeah, low and inside. Get back there. I'll pitch to him.
He'll get what the scout told me to give him.
If a batter crowds the plate on you, throw a hard, fast one at his head.
That'll drive him back, Skip. That'll loosen him up.
So I pitched to him. I gave him one on the inside all right, right at his head.
Hey, he beaned him. Got him right in the head.
That boy's finished for this game. Yeah, if he ain't finished for good.
Okay, we won the game and others too.
Like the one with the golden bees.
It was the last half of the night. Score tied.
One out. We had a guy on third and I wangled a base on balls and was sitting on first.
Almost anything meant the winning run now.
Not anything but a double play. A double play would kill us.
The pitcher told the rubber, loved the ball, looked at me over his shoulder
and then he threw to the plate and I started tearing toward second.
The hit and run was on and the batter took a swing.
I saw the play out of the corner of my eye. I deep grounded a short.
The shortstop threw it to second. One out.
And the second baseman started his pivot to the throw to first.
And if he made it, it was a double play and then I heard the scout.
Break up that double play, Skip. If you have to give him the spikes, break it up, Skip. The spikes.
I went into second sliding hard with my razor edge spikes cutting across the baseman's legs.
Oh!
We won that game too. It's just like the scout said.
You have to play to win, Skip. The big leagues are waiting.
Play to win, Skip. That's all it counts.
Play to win, Skip. Play to win. Play to win.
And I was winning too. 13 out of my next 15 starts.
Winding up the season with 27 wins and only four losses.
How good can a pitcher be?
So maybe I beamed a few guys who wouldn't back away.
Maybe a couple of second baseman needed a few leg stitches for spike wounds.
Maybe the fans were starting to boom me and the other guys on the club were giving me the cold shoulder.
So what? Like the scout said.
What do you care, Skip? You're not gonna be here forever.
You're gonna win those ball games and you'll move on. That's all it counts. Winning those ball games.
I hadn't seen Mary all that time. I talked myself into thinking that it made no difference.
It didn't bother me. Then it was the day before the last game of the season.
The game we needed to cinch the pen.
I was gonna pitch that game and I was in my hotel room studying the batting order,
figuring my strategy when there was a knock on the door. I opened it.
Hello, Skip. Mary. Hiya, Skip.
And Chuck. And Mary. Come in. Come in.
I'll sit down. Sit down. Thanks.
She'll look nice, Mary. Thank you, Skip.
You too, Chuck. Bet you've grown a foot since I last saw you. I'm playing any ball?
You bet I have. Our team won the school league pen and Skip. How's the picture? We skunked everybody.
Oh, boy, that's well.
Yeah, it was the coach and you'd given us before you...
Well...
Why didn't you tell him about the rally, Chuck?
Rally? What rally's that?
Well, jeez, Skip, Miss Counts was gonna give us a picnic up in the mountains today.
You know, I saw a reward like for winning the league race.
Well, that sounds great. Sure, you bet. Only, we thought Scott was talking about it.
Well, usually the guy who fixed it, that's who he could win.
And...
Oh, gosh, Miss Counts, you tell him.
Of course, Chuck.
What the boys want to do, Skip, is to make that picnic a good luck rally for you.
They want to call it the Skip Welch Big League Rally,
and they'd like to have you there as guest of honor.
You mean that, uh...
Well, after all, I...
They still think enough of me to win one...
What do you say, Skip? You'll come with us, won't you?
Gee, those all want to see you real bad.
Well, Skip?
Sure. Sure, you bet I'll come.
You just bet I will.
The picnic rounds were back up in the mountains.
It was quiet there and peaceful with nobody around.
After fellas and I sort of got acquainted again,
they went off exploring trails,
and Mary and I were alone.
It was the first time in a long time, and, well, I felt kind of funny.
I hope you didn't mind too much coming out here today.
Oh, no, no, I...
It was, uh, it was okay with me, Mary.
They tell me that big leagues will all be big in bidding for your services
after tomorrow's game, Skip.
So you've accomplished what you set out to do.
It's not every man who can say that.
Yeah, I guess that's right.
Prove something to you, too, hasn't it?
I think it has, Skip.
It's proved you've won your goal and lost yourself.
Proved that I...
So we'll run that merry-go-round again.
I don't think we've ever been off at Skip.
Well, I'm getting off at it right now.
Here I figured that after I show you I could get where I was heading my way,
you'd listen to reason.
Well, I was gonna rush out to your house tomorrow after things were settled
and ask you to marry me.
I'll be very happy to marry you.
Well, you... you... you...
You'd be very happy to...
I should have said that long ago, I guess.
It's really been my fault what happened to us.
I don't... I don't get it. I... I...
Well, I... I let you battle this thing by yourself, Skip,
instead of helping.
When I read in the papers about... about the way you were playing,
well, I should have gone to you right then.
But maybe it's too late now.
Maybe you don't really want me now.
Merry, merry, honey. Won't you? Gosh, I...
I... I...
Sweetheart, you just wait and see.
Everything's gonna be fine.
Help, Skip! Help! Where are you? Where are you?
Skip, that's Ed. Something's wrong.
Here, Ed! Over here. What's the trouble?
Skip! Skip! It's Chuck. Help, Skip!
It's Chuck.
What about him, Ed? What happened?
He fell over the side of the canyon.
He's lying way down there. Skip, I... I'm scared he's dead.
I tore over to where Ed told me.
Down below, maybe 60, 50 feet was a tiny ledge.
Beyond it, nothing but thin air for another couple of hundred.
Chuck was barely lying on that ledge. He wasn't moving.
Skip, what can we do?
I'm going down there after him. Ed, look!
There's a forest ranger station a couple of miles up the trail.
Get there fast and tell him for Pete's sake to get back with help before it's too late.
You better get... get...
It was pretty tough going. Nothing but loose rock.
I kept sliding out from under my feet, but I finally got there.
Just above Chuck.
I braced myself, wrapped one arm around an ironwood tree,
reached down and managed to hook the fingers of my freehand on the Chuck's belt.
And then the whole ledge gave way under it.
I don't know how long I was hanging there.
One arm wrapped around that tree, the other holding on the Chuck's belt,
but a solid weight was straining at my arm, pulling at it,
tearing at it as though it were going to be yanked right out of my shoulders.
Then after a while, I was like in a daze, a dream.
Voices were coming out of that dream. Voices.
What do you think you're doing, Skip? Playing hero?
Let go of him while you still got a chance to climb back yourself.
Don't skip. Hang on. Help's coming. It's gone to get help.
Don't be a sucker, Skip. The boy's dead. You're just ruining your arm that way. Let go.
No, darling. No. Remember what we said about the boys depending on you. You can't let him down, Skip.
Don't be a fool. Do you know what it means if you ruin your arm?
No big leagues, no money, no job and baseball for the rest of your life.
And what good are you doing, hanging onto a dead boy?
You can't be sure he's dead, Skip. You can't be sure.
Of course you're sure. Drop him, Skip. Drop him.
No, Skip. No.
Drop him.
Hang on, darling.
Drop him.
Hang on.
Drop him. Drop him. Drop him.
Come in.
Good morning, doctor.
Well, Mary, what are you doing here at the hospital so early?
I guess I couldn't sleep last night, doctor. Tell me how is he?
Chuck. Well, that fall was a pretty bad one, Mary.
There was severe shock, several fractures, internal injuries.
Then that means...
But kids are strangely hardy animals, Mary. Chuck's going to be all right.
And Skip, doctor. What about him?
Well, you know, of course, that his arm is ruined.
But he'll never be able to play baseball again.
I was afraid of that.
How he ever managed to send the terrific pain he must have suffered, I'll never know.
Talk about your torture, Rax. Why, he...
Doctor.
Yes, Mary?
You still haven't answered my real question. How is he?
I don't know. I had to tell him, of course.
Ever since he's been lying in that room, staring up the ceiling, not saying word.
I think you'd better go in and see him, Mary.
Yes, I'll go right away. Thank you, doctor.
Good morning, Miss Collins.
You're the scout, aren't you?
So, you recognize me?
I think I'd recognize you, anyway.
Yes. Yes, I imagine someone like you could do that.
What do you want with me?
Nothing. Except to congratulate you on your victory.
I don't think I understand.
Of course you do.
You know I was doing quite well with Skip, until you threw your weapons on his side.
My weapons?
Now, you needn't pretend innocence, Miss Collins.
You know very well what they are.
Though you used them late, you employed them very effectively.
The victory's yours.
Rather hollow one, isn't it?
Skip's arm ruined, his future gone.
It's not much of a victory.
Goodbye, Miss Collins. I won't be seeing you again.
Come in.
Hello, Skip.
Hello, Mary.
How are you feeling?
Well, my arm is shot, you know. I won't be pitching any ball games.
Yes, I know.
There'll be no big leagues for Skip Welch.
No crowd yelling my name.
That won't make any difference to you, will it?
Why should it skip? It never did before.
Yeah. Yeah, I remember you told me that, didn't you?
Funny thing, Mary. I wasn't going to make the big leagues anyway.
Why, of course you weren't.
No, no. I talked to the manager of our club on the phone this morning, before he knew about my arm.
He said the big leagues didn't want me.
They weren't interested in a beanball pitcher.
And guys who were spike-happy.
Funny, isn't it?
I was on the wrong track all the time.
But you told me that too, Mary.
Skip, what are your plans, Skip, for the future?
Well, I was always a pretty good mechanic.
I guess I can get a job at Randall's Garage.
And there's time for coaching the boys, too.
One of these days, Chuck's is going to make the big leagues the right way.
Skip, I'm sure he will.
There's one more thing, that inner man of mine, he's got plans, too.
Not sharing my heart, my future, my life.
Would you be asking me to share with him, Skip?
I'm asking, Mary.
I'm sharing, darling, everything, for all time.
Music plays
For many years in our country,
sport has been part of the whole educational program.
In our schools, an integral part of the curriculum.
Managers and coaches considered themselves builders of character.
But the professional emphasis, the when at any price idea,
has swept character building almost out of the picture.
Now the tale frequently seems to wag the dog,
character building is laughed at as being no part of the definition of education.
Well, I'm old-fashioned enough not to go for that.
We who believe in the objectives of the family theater
have in mind telling boys and girls and folks everywhere
that there's more to living and striving for material things,
fame or money or whatnot,
and there is more to sport and winning at any price.
It's not easy for a Skip Welch to seek first things first,
unless he has some contact or knowledge of contact with the source of values.
That source is in the church, the school, and above all, the home.
Good sportsmanship is not basically learned on the competitive play fields.
Not there.
Boy had it from within himself long before he knew a formal competitor.
Not honors, but honor probably came to him as a slogan of effort
from his mother's knees and not from any experience with bean balls on a play field.
I have the most tender recollection of the few minutes after supper in my childhood
of my country home on the bareboard floor as my father and my mother led in family prayer.
Yes, we'll have better young men and women, better homes,
and a better nation and a better world.
When more people realize that the family that prays together stays together.
More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.
Family Theater has brought you Eddie Bracken and Kathy O'Donnell in the Scout
written by Sidney Marshall with Branch Rickey as your host.
Music was composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman,
and the production was directed for Family Theater by Jaime Deauville.
This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you
who have felt the need for this type of program,
and by the Mutual Network which has responded to this need.
This is Gene Baker inviting you to join us next week at the same time
when Dan Durie A. will introduce the Postmistress of Law Run by Brett Hart.
Join us, won't you?
This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.
Music plays