But Tozier might call a strike on me---most likely would.

Darry, you idiot, you've got to hit the next delivery, even if it goes by you ten feet from the line." Poising himself on tip-toe, Dave awaited the coming of the ball.
Wells, with a wicked grin, signaled for a ball that he felt sure would catch Dave napping.

Earlier in the game it might have done so, but Ted's right "wing" was now drooping.

Hi did his best, but Dave reached and clubbed the leather.

In raced Greg, while Dick had a loafing time on his way to third.