Baseball Joe on the Giants; or, Making Good as a Ball Twirler in the Metropolis

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XIV

  DIAMOND HEROES

  Joe was all excitement and animation. He had never dreamed that he wouldever be sitting face to face with one of the famous team that sweptthrough our country like a prairie fire and made a record that has neverbeen equaled in the history of baseball.

  "This is sure my lucky day!" he cried. "I'd willingly have traveledhundreds of miles to have a look at you and hear you talk. And here youdrop right down at my table! I'll have something to tell the rest of theboys that will make them green with envy. I give you fair warning thatI'm going to keep you talking till bedtime or until I pump you dry."

  The old-time player laughed at Joe's delight, but he would have beenmore or less than human if he had not been pleased by it.

  "I'm afraid you make too much of it," he said, with a deprecating waveof the hand. "You young fellows have the center of the stage just now.We old boys are the has-beens. There are only four of our old teamleft. All the others have crossed the Great Divide."

  "Their memory won't die, though, as long as there is a baseball fan leftin these United States," declared Joe. "Why, there's scarcely a 'fanningbee' that I've ever been in, but what the name of the famous old RedStockings comes up in some way or other. They've left a mark upon thegame that will never grow dim."

  "It's good to hear you say so, anyway," said Wilson. "We thoughtourselves that we were 'some pumpkins' when we started out, especiallyafter we'd handed a few lacings to some of the other teams, but we neverthought we were going to win fifty-seven games right off the reel. Weused to look at each other, as one team after the other fell by thewayside, and wonder when our turn would come. It certainly seemed amiracle that we should escape with a whole skin every time. I supposewe would have gone under toward the end of the season if our reputationhadn't scared the other teams so that they were licked before they cameon the field. As it was, the scores as a rule weren't even close. Ourtightest squeeze was when we whipped the Mutuals of New York by four totwo. But the way we treated the Buckeye team was a sin and a shame," hechuckled. "We walloped them by one hundred and three to eight."

  The veteran was getting warmed up now and his eyes flashed as herecalled the glorious exploits of his young manhood.

  Just then the waiter came along and placed two checks on the table.Wilson reached for his, but Joe was too quick for him.

  "No, you don't," he laughed, as his hand closed over both checks. "Thisis on me. It isn't often that one has a chance of having a Red Stockingfor a guest, and I'm going to make the most of it."

  "'Youth will be served,'" quoted Wilson, with a smile, as he acquiescedgood-naturedly.

  "I hope you're not traveling with anybody," said Joe, as they rose toleave the table, "because if you're not I hope to have your company forthe rest of the evening."

  "I'm all by my lonesome," returned his new friend, "and I'll be only tooglad to accept your invitation. To tell the truth, I was looking forwardto a dull evening all by myself, as my eyes are not strong enough to domuch reading at night."

  They made their way back to Joe's reservation and settled themselvescozily for a long talk. They formed a dramatic contrast, if they hadthought of it. On the one hand was a veteran, who, like Goldsmith'ssoldier:

  "Shouldered his crutch to show how fields were won,"

  while Joe presented a picture of eager, ambitious youth, dreaming ofcoming fame and standing with shining eyes on the very threshold ofachievement. But though so widely separated in years, they were one inthe mystic free masonry that unites all lovers of the great nationalgame of our country.

  "We didn't use to travel in any such style as this in the old days,"remarked Wilson, as he looked around at the rich appointments of thePullman. "As a matter of fact, we had to scratch sometimes to get moneyenough to carry the team from one place to another in an ordinary daycoach. Those were the days when baseball was a sport, pure and simple,and nobody thought of it as a business to make money from. Usually therewere no regular salaries for the players, and they simply divided up thereceipts from the different games and made them go as far as they would.Many of the games were played in open fields, where everybody couldcome and contribute what they liked when the hat was passed for thecollection. Even when there were enclosed grounds, the admission fee wastwenty-five cents or less, and except on special occasions the crowdswere nowhere near as large as they are to-day. But we'd rather play thaneat, and we played the game for the fun we could get out of it. And funit was, I assure you."

  "You spoke of making over a hundred runs in a single game," remarkedJoe. "There must have been some walloping of the horsehide, and I feelsorry for the fielders that had to chase the ball."

  "They certainly got plenty of exercise," chuckled Wilson. "Of course,the batters in those days had a big advantage over the pitchers. Nobodyknew anything about curving the ball until the time of Cummings andMathews, and instead of the ball looking like a pea as it came over theplate it was more like a balloon. The ball had no friends, and everybodytook a poke at it. The batter, too, could step out of the box to reachfor a ball, and they took advantage of it. If they do it today, you callthem out. There was no 'waiting out' the pitcher in order to get a baseon balls. It was a point of honor to swipe the ball for all you wereworth, and the public expected you to do it.

  "It was mighty hard on the fielders in the old days," he went on,"because none of them wore gloves, and as the ball was harder andlivelier than it is today, broken fingers were much more common. I'veseen some of the old boys who had had every finger on both hands brokenat some time or another. I was an outfielder and got off more easily;but I've had two broken fingers," and he held up his right hand for Joeto see.

  "I don't see how the catchers got along without gloves, even if theother players did," suggested Joe.

  "Well, the pitching wasn't as swift then as it is now," explained theveteran. "Besides, base stealing hadn't been reduced to the science itis today, and the catchers didn't need to get hold of the ball in such ahurry. Moreover, a third strike was out if the catcher caught it on thefirst bound, so that as a rule they relied on this and stood a good waybehind the plate."

  "Do you think that the game has advanced very much since the old days?"asked Joe.

  "Oh, immensely!" was the generous and unexpected concession. "We didn'tknow anything in the old days of the 'inside stuff' you set such storeby today. The 'squeeze play,' the 'delayed steal,' the 'sacrifice hit'are all modern inventions. But when it comes to fielding, there isn't aman to-day that could show George Wright anything at shortstop or RossBarnes at second base. And we had batters that could give points toWagner and Cobb."

  "I suppose you wanted to 'kill the umpire' once in a while, just as wedo now," suggested Joe, with a grin.

  "Once in a while, but not so often," smiled the other. "Umpiring was amighty sight easier job then than now. The umpire used to sit in an easychair at the side of the plate and a good distance off so that therewas no danger of being hit by a thrown ball or a foul tip. But he didn'tget the big salary that the men with the indicator get today. Two orthree dollars at the end of a game was considered plenty, and there werelots of times when he didn't get even that."

  "I'll bet you've seen some sparkling plays in your time," said Joe.

  "You're just right," agreed Wilson. "I've seen lots of things that tookthe spectators clear off their feet. One of the queerest I remember wasa triple play made by an outfielder. Have you ever seen one?"

  "I've only seen one in my life," answered Joe. "They are pretty scarcebirds and often the league goes through a whole season without one beingmade. And when they do happen, it's an infielder who makes it. I don'texactly see how an outfielder could pull it off."

  "I don't think it has ever been done but once," returned Wilson, "and Ihad the luck to be playing in that game. Paul Hines, the center fielderof the Providence Club, was the player who turned the trick.

  "There were men on second and third and nobody out. The man at batlifted a short fly into c
enter, just back of short. It seemed a deadcertainty that the ball would fall safe, and the men on bases set sailfor the home plate. Hines came in like a quarter horse and just managedto catch the ball on a level with his shoe tops. In the meantime, theman on third had reached home and the man from second had rounded thirdand was scooting for the plate. Hines had had to run so far in that hewas close to third, so he simply kept on running and stepped on the bag.That of course put out both men, who couldn't get back to third in time,which, with the fly catch, made three out in all. It was a remarkableplay, and it was a long time before the papers got through talking aboutit."

  "I don't wonder," Joe declared. "It was a case of dandy fielding andquick thinking."

  "But now tell me about yourself," urged Wilson. "Here I've been runningon, as old fellows will, and you've hardly said a word about yourself."

  "The case is different," protested Joe. "You're the fellow who hasactually done things, and I'm the one who's only hoping to do them."

  "You can't tell me that," came back Wilson. "Any man who has already hada season with the St. Louis Club in the National League and was so goodthat McRae made a grab for him, has already done things worth doing.I've seen your record, young man, and it's a crackerjack. I'm lookingfor you to burn things up, when the season opens."

  "I only hope you're right," said Joe. "But it's going to be a toughproposition. All the clubs have been strengthened since last season, andthere isn't one of them that can be figured as an easy mark. Chicago andPittsburgh especially will be strong contenders, and the club that beatsthem out will win the pennant. I think the Giants have the best chance,but if we do win we'll know we've been in a fight."

  The talk continued with such a disregard for the passage of time thatbefore they knew it most of the berths had been made up and all thepassengers except themselves were getting ready to retire. Then Wilsonrose.

  "My berth is in the next sleeper," he said, as he extended his hand,"and as I reach my station at five o'clock in the morning I won't have achance to see you again right away. But I'll see you play more than oncethis season. I hope you'll have the best of luck and come out ahead inthe race for the pennant. And I'm more glad than I can tell that I'verun across you. With young men like you in it, the future of the game issafe."

  Joe shook hands warmly.

  "The game would have gone to smash long ago if it hadn't been for thestrong foundation laid for it by famous old teams like yours," heasserted. "As for me, I'll never forget as long as I live that I'veshaken hands with one of the old Red Stockings of sixty-nine."

  Joe was in high spirits after his visitor left. The chance meeting hadbraced him like a tonic. If he had been the least bit superstitious, hemight have been inclined to look upon it as more than a coincidence.

  Here he is, on his way to join the most famous team of the present. Atthe very start of his journey he meets a member of the most famous teamof the past.

  Is it an omen of coming triumph? At any rate, it is an inspiration.

  That night in his sleep Joe pitched the Giants to victory!