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

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XXX

  A GLORIOUS SUCCESS

  Consternation sat on every face. The easy confidence of the night beforewas gone. A thunderbolt had come out of the blue. The chief prop hadbeen knocked from under them. The easy way in which Hughson had tamedthe men from the wild and woolly West had made it seem a dead certaintythat he would win if he should be called on to repeat.

  There was hot scurrying to and fro among the leaders. McRae and Robson,with drawn faces, were deep in discussion as to the best thing to bedone. The program would have to be radically changed.

  McRae came hurrying over to Joe when the latter entered the clubhouse.

  "I was going to pitch you today," he declared, "but I've changed mymind. I'll have to save my ace to take the last trick, if necessary. I'mgoing to keep you for the final. Markwith goes in today and I'll take achance on Barclay tomorrow. That spitter of his may fool them."

  But neither Markwith nor Barclay fulfilled the hope of their manager.The Chicagos, who were like wild men, now that they seemed to haveanother chance with the dreaded Hughson out of the way, batted likefiends, and the two games went to their credit by scores of seven to twoand six to four. Jim had held them to a tie up to the eleventh inning,but then he faltered and they batted in the winning runs.

  Now the score was even. The result of the last game would decide thechampionship and tell whether the flag would fly in the East or the West.

  It was up to Joe. Upon his shoulders rested the fortunes of his team.Would he be equal to the task? That question was being asked in everycity between the Atlantic and the Pacific. Reputation, the pennant, thechance to get into the World's Series--all of these depended upon theskill and strength of that right arm of his.

  The enormous crowd that packed the stands gave him a tremendous greetingwhen he came on the field and began to warm up. But in all that sea ofhuman faces, the only one that Joe looked for was in an upper box wherea handkerchief waved at him. And in the pocket of his baseball shirt atiny glove lay close to his heart.

  "How did he warm up, Robbie?" asked McRae anxiously, as the bell rangfor the game to begin and Robson came back to where he was sitting onthe players' bench.

  "All to the good," declared Robson. "The ball came into my mitt almosthard enough to knock me down. They won't be able to see them."

  For a moment, as Joe took up his position, he had a touch of stagefright. His head whirled and everything seemed to swim before his eyes.Then his vision cleared, his heart ceased its thumping, and his nervesbecame like steel.

  "Zimmie," the big third baseman of the Chicagos, who led off in thebatting order, swaggered up to the plate, swinging three bats. He threwaway two of them and gripped the remaining one tightly and glared at Joe.

  "Trot them out, kid," he called, "and I'll murder them. You're only afalse alarm, anyway."

  Joe shot the first one over for a beautiful strike and the crowd yelledin delight.

  "That's the way, old man!" sang out Larry from second. "They can't touchyou."

  The second was a ball and the next a foul. Then a high, fast one with ahop to it, eluded Zimmie's bat and sent him back to the bench lookingsheepish.

  The next one up hit a slow one to short that got to first in plenty oftime, and the third man closed the inning with a two-balls-three-strikesrecord.

  A tempest of cheers compelled Joe to remove his cap as he came in to thebench.

  "You're going like a runaway horse, Matson," said McRae. "Keep it up andthe flag is ours."

  "We'll hand you a couple of runs to start off with," declared Larry, ashe strode to the plate.

  But neither in that inning nor in the next three, did the promised runscome in. Hamilton, the Chicago pitcher, was at his best, and his famousdrop ball was working to perfection. It seemed as though the game weregoing to resolve itself into a duel between the pitchers, and the crowdheld its breath as man after man went down before the rival boxmen.

  "Isn't he a wizard?" exclaimed McRae, as Joe mowed the enemy down asfast as they came to the plate. "They're so much putty in his hands.That rise ball of his has a jump on it that's got those fellowsbuffaloed. They miss it by six inches."

  "And his fadeaway," put in Robson. "Do you see how he mixes it in withthe fast ones? He's outguessing them all the way."

  Joe's heart was beating high with elation. The sense of mastery thrilledhim. He was absolutely in control of all his curves. They broke justwhere he wanted them. The Chicagos knew that their only chance was torattle him, and their coachers danced up and down on the side lines,hurling out jibes and jeers that they hoped would "get under his skin."But they fell away from him like water from a duck's back.

  But in the fifth inning the Giants "cracked."

  Denton, at third, fumbled an easy roller and when at last he had stoppedjuggling the ball, he threw over the first baseman's head and the battergot to third on the error. The fielders played close in to get him atthe plate, but a "Texas leaguer" that Larry could easily have gobbledif he had been in his usual position, dropped behind him and the man onthird came home for the first run of the game.

  The next man up rapped a fly to right, that Curry lost in the sun, andmade the round of the bases, driving his comrade in ahead of him. Threeruns to the good for the Chicagos and not one of them earned!

  Joe put on steam and fanned the rest of the side, but the damage hadbeen done. In so close a game as that, three runs seemed like a winninglead.

  McRae was raging, and stormed among his players like a cyclone as theycame in to bat.

  "Get after them!" he cried, furiously. "Give Matson something to go on.Your bats have holes in them. You're hitting like a lot of old women.Knock the ball out of the lot. We've got to win."

  They made a gallant effort and got two men on bases. But although theyhit the ball hard a Chicago fielder always seemed to be in front of it.

  The sixth inning was full of thrills and it looked for a time as thoughthe New Yorks would score, and score heavily.

  Joe had got through the first half with nothing against him but a baseon balls--a decision which led to an acrimonious discussion betweenMcRae and the umpire in which the scrappy manager narrowly escaped beingordered off the field.

  In the Giant's half, Iredell, the first man up, was given his base onballs. McRae thought he detected signs of wobbling on Hamilton's partand began to "ride" him from the first base side lines. Larry, who wascoaching at third, ably seconded his chief, and the crowd joined intrying to make the pitcher "crack."

  Hamilton was a veteran and used to such tactics, and ordinarily theywould not have affected him. But there was so much at stake on this gameand the strain up to now had been so tremendous that for a moment hefaltered and passed the second man.

  The yells of the crowd increased at this, nor was his agitation lessenedwhen McRae entered a vehement protest against his delivery, claimingthat he lifted his foot from the ground when releasing the ball.

  There was some ground for this and the umpire cautioned Hamilton, who bythis time was plainly rattled. He pulled himself together, though, andmade the next batter put up a high fly to short.

  The next man went out on strikes and Chicago breathed more easily. ButHamilton was not yet himself and a third pass filled the bases.

  The crowd was crazed with excitement now, and Meyers, the next man up,was entreated to "kill the ball" as he came to the plate.

  There were "two and three" on him when at last he got the ball hewanted. It left his bat with the crack of a bullet and soared high inthe air toward center. It had all the earmarks of a home run and thecrowd went wild, while the three men on bases tore around them towardthe plate like so many runaway horses.

  On, on, the ball went as though it were going clear to the fence. ButLange, than whom there was no swifter center fielder in either of themajor leagues, had started for it at the crack of the bat, running withhis back to the ball and looking back over his shoulder from time totime to gauge its course. At the last second he leaped high in the a
ir,clutched the ball with one hand, and fell to the ground, rolling overand over, but coming up still holding on to the ball.

  A groan rose from the New York bench and the yells of the jubilant crowdin the stands were suddenly stilled. It was hard to have their soaringhopes so suddenly brought to earth. But it was a magnificent play, andgenerous applause greeted the center fielder as he came in to be huggedand pawed by his exulting comrades.

  At the "lucky seventh" the crowd rose and stretched loyally but in vain.Only two more innings remained and the crowds were like mourners at afuneral.

  Five minutes later they were shouting and screaming like maniacs.

  It was the last half of the eighth, and the Giants' turn had come. Larryled off with a rattling two base hit to right. Denton sacrificed him tothird. Curry lined out a single to center, bringing Larry home. He stolesecond by a close margin. Byrnes clipped a two bagger just inside thethird base line, and Willis cleaned up by lacing a three bagger betweenleft and center. The score was tied and the crowd promptly went mad. Thenext two men went out in order, and the Chicagos, sore and raging, camein for their last time at bat.

  But Joe felt now that he had the strength of ten. The ball shot over theplate like a bullet and not a man reached first.

  "Now for the World's Series, boys!" encouraged McRae. "Now for fiftythousand dollars! Here's where you win it!"

  But it was the tail of the batting order that was coming up now. Thefirst two men were easy outs and then Joe came to the plate.

  "It looks like an extra inning game," was the remark that went aroundthe stands.

  Like all pitchers, Joe was only a moderately good batter and his averagehovered around the two hundred mark.

  Perhaps on this account Hamilton was too confident, for he took a chanceand put one over "in the groove." Joe caught it square on the end of thebat and the ball sailed far away into right over the fielder's head.

  Joe was off with the crack of the bat. He rounded first like afrightened jackrabbit and straightened out for second. The ground fellaway from under his flying feet. He was running like the wind. He heardthe frantic roar of the crowds, the yells of the coachers. On he wenttoward third, touched it and thundered down to the plate. He knew theball was coming, he saw the catcher set himself. Twenty feet from homehe launched himself into the air and slid into the rubber, just eludingthe catcher's outstretched hand.

  The game was over, the Giants had won the pennant, and had putthemselves in line for the great Series that would decide thechampionship of the world!

  How they came through that ordeal will be told in our next volumeentitled: "Baseball Joe in the World's Series; Or, Pitching for theChampionship."

  Joe could never quite remember just what happened for the next fewminutes. The gleeful shouts of his team-mates, the rush and roar of thegreat crowd that surged down upon him, the tugging and pulling thatseemed to be rending him apart--all this he sensed but dimly. He onlyknew that he was blissfully, supremely happy. He had played his partgallantly. He had made good on the Giants. He had won the flag!

  But had he not won more than that? Was he not now free to speak? Hetouched the little glove that lay in his pocket.

  He dressed as rapidly as he could and emerged with Jim into the street.He hailed a passing taxi.

  "Where are you going, Joe?" asked Jim.

  "Going?" repeated Joe. "I'm going straight to the Marlborough Hotel."

  THE END