CHAPTER XIII
OFF FOR THE TRAINING CAMP
The next few days flew by as though on wings. There were a hundredthings to be done before Joe would set out on the long swing around thecircuit that was to increase or diminish his fame, as fate might decree.Above all, he was anxious to spend all the time he could in practice, soas to report at the training camp in superb condition.
One thing that pleased him immensely was the success of the scheme hehad carried through with Dick Talbot. True to his promise, Dick hadbeen on hand at the appointed time with his camera and they had carriedout the program he had suggested. Joe broke the white sheet of paperstretched between the bamboo poles so repeatedly and conclusively thatonly an idiot could have questioned that he had curved the ball. Andit is only fair to state that when the film was reeled off before theastonished eyes of Professor Enoch Crabbe he admitted this fact.
"I have to admit that you are right, Mr. Matson," he avowed, "and I'msorry that I was so positive about it the other day. I shall have tostudy up the law that controls the curve, and by the time you come backat the end of the season perhaps I shall have found out what it is."
"I'm sure that you can find it if anybody can, Professor," said Joe,not to be outdone in politeness; and so the two opponents parted withincreased respect for each other.
"I hear the Giants are going to train at Marlin Springs this year," saidTom Davis, as they left the gymnasium and walked up the street together.
"Yes," answered Joe. "McRae seems to have a liking for Texas as a placeto get in condition. And he ought to know, for he's tried almost everyplace on the map. He's taken his team to Birmingham, to Memphis, to LosAngeles, and one year he didn't go any farther south than Lakewood, NewJersey. So that if he's finally fixed on Marlin, he must believe that ithas advantages over all the others."
"Isn't this southern training trip a rather modern idea?" asked Tom.
"Oh, no," answered Joe. "All the big teams have been doing it for anumber of years now. I think it was old Cap Anson of the Chicagos whostarted the thing, in 1882. He took the team down south while all theother teams stayed in the north as usual. The result was that when theChicagos came north they mowed down the other teams like grass and wonthe pennant that year without half trying. That put a flea in the earsof the other managers, and since then it has been a regular thing. It'sa mighty good thing, too, in more ways than one. It gives the managera chance to try out all the material he has bought or drafted from theminor leagues. In the north, with so many cold and rainy days, theywouldn't get half a chance. Then, too, there are usually plenty of goodteams in the vicinity of the training grounds and the boys can getplenty of practice in regular games without the weather's interfering.McRae, for instance, can find crack teams at Dallas and Waco and Houstonthat sometimes give the Giants all they want to do to win. The result isthat when the boys come north they're in crackerjack condition. They'relike so many thoroughbreds waiting for the flag to fall, and the publicgets good games for its money from the very start of the season."
"Just what time do you have to report?" asked Tom.
"In just about a week," answered Joe. "I think I'll start next Thursdayafternoon."
"Are you going straight to New York and go south with the rest of theteam?" Tom inquired.
"I don't think so," was the reply. "McRae left it to me to pick out myroute in any way that would be most convenient to me as long as I joinedthe party somewhere on the way. I think I'll go by way of Goldsboro,North Carolina. The boys go through there, and that will be as good aplace as any to meet them."
Joe spoke with an elaborate affectation of carelessness, but he couldnot prevent that troublesome blood of his from flooding his face.
"Gee, Joe, but you're red!" cried honest Tom. "You haven't beenexercising too much this afternoon, have you?"
"Not a bit of it," returned Joe, with unnecessary emphasis. "I neverfelt better in my life."
But if he could fool Tom, he could not "get away with it" with Clara,and he was subjected to an unmerciful teasing when that young ladylearned of the route he had chosen.
"Goldsboro, North Carolina," she mused. "Where have I heard that namebefore? Oh, how stupid of me! Of course, that is where Reggie lives. Isuppose you're awfully anxious to see him."
But Joe was so engrossed in his packing just then that he pretended notto hear, and all her efforts to get a reply out of him, although carriedout with a perseverance worthy of a better cause, ended in comparativefailure.
The dreaded afternoon came at last, dreaded by all the members of thelittle family who were welded so closely together in heart and life.The others all went down to the train to see Joe off, and it wasonly the presence of a large part of the population of Riverside, whohad come with a similar purpose, that kept the mother and sister frombreaking down entirely at the thought of the long parting from the sonand brother that they idolized. As it was, they bore up bravely, andwaved their handkerchiefs with smiles that were tremulous as the trainmoved out of the station to the accompaniment of a storm of cheers fromthe crowd that packed the platform. Joe waved back, but he had eyes foronly three figures in all that throng. The train rounded a curve and hewas off, leaving the old home town behind him for many months to come.
The train was a local and he had to travel twenty miles before he shouldreach the Junction, where he was to connect with the "Flyer." He foundthe latter train puffing impatiently when he arrived, and it was thework of a moment to transfer his belongings to the sleeper. He found theseat which his ticket called for and settled down for an unbroken tripto Goldsboro.
He was lost in the pleasant thoughts this name called up when the porterpassed through announcing that dinner was ready in the dining car. Joe'shealthy appetite seldom had to be prodded by a second announcement, andhe promptly went forward. He found a good seat facing forward, and hewas soon engrossed in a careful study of the bill of fare. It proved tobe all that he could ask, and he soon had a most tempting and abundantmeal spread before him.
He applied himself to this conscientiously, and was half-way throughthe meal when a man took the seat directly opposite him. Joe gave him apassing glance and saw that he was a man rather advanced in years butwho bore himself with a certain suppleness and vigor that bespoke anearly athletic training. It was an honest, pleasing face he had, Joedecided, after a careless glance. Then he went on eating and forgot allabout the stranger.
But the newcomer kept looking at Joe from time to time with a puzzledexpression, as though he had seen him before but scarcely knew how toplace him. Several times he seemed on the point of addressing the youngpitcher, but checked himself. At last the impulse proved too strong forhim to resist.
"Beg pardon," he said, "but your face looks very familiar to me. Wouldyou mind telling me your name?"
Joe looked up with quick suspicion. He had been approached more thanonce by oily strangers who had sought to scrape acquaintance, and he hadlearned to be on his guard. But there was nothing in the frank smile andcandid face before him to arouse distrust, and he answered readily:
"Not the least in the world. My name is Joseph Matson."
"Not the Matson that is going to play on the Giants this year?" askedthe stranger eagerly.
"I guess I am," returned Joe, smiling.
"That explains why your face looked so familiar!" exclaimed the other."I've seen your picture in various papers twenty times in the lastweek. I've read all about you, and I'm mighty glad to meet you. My nameis Wilson, and I'm an old ball player myself. In fact, I guess I wasplaying professional ball twenty years or more before you were born."
"That's a long time ago," laughed Joe, as he took the stranger's offeredhand and shook it heartily. "What team did you play on and what was yourposition?"
"I played right field on the old Red Stockings of Cincinnati," was theanswer.
Joe almost jumped out of his seat.
"Not _the_ Red Stockings, the team of 1869?" he cried. "Not the teamthat whipped them all, that went thro
ugh the whole season without losinga single game?"
"That was my team," was the answer given calmly, though a gleam ofpride and exultation came into the stranger's eyes as he noted Joe'senthusiasm.
Baseball Joe on the Giants; or, Making Good as a Ball Twirler in the Metropolis Page 13
