Baseball Joe, Home Run King; or, The Greatest Pitcher and Batter on Record

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XXIII

  HOLDING THEM DOWN

  Baseball circles had rarely been more deeply stirred than by the issueof the game, by winning which the Giants had tied their record. It wasnot merely the winning, but the sensational way in which Baseball Joe'shome run had turned the scales in the last minute and snatched victoryfrom defeat that excited the fans.

  But now that the record was tied, would the Giants be able to hangup a new one? That was the question on every lip, the question whosediscussion filled column after column of the sporting pages of thenewspapers.

  All agreed that the Giants had been lucky to win. If it had not beenfor the error of the pitcher on Denton's slow dribble, they would havelost. But it was conceded that it was not luck that had secured thatmighty home run that Joe had hammered out to the bleachers. That wasball playing. That was muscle. That was determination. Once again hiscool head and quick eye and powerful arm had shown that the game wasnot over until the last man was out.

  It was Joe's turn to pitch, and it was upon that fact more thananything else that the vast crowd that stormed the Polo Grounds reliedfor annexing the twenty-seventh game. The Pittsburghs too were holdingout their star pitcher, Hooper, for that critical game, and it wascertain that they would put forth superhuman efforts to win.

  In more senses than one, the game was an important one. The last twovictories of the Giants had wiped out the lead that the Pirates hadhad over them, and the two teams were now on even terms in games wonand lost for the season, so that the Pirates had a double incentive towin. If they took the game they would not only prevent the Giants frombreaking their own record for a winning streak, but would also oncemore stand at the head of the League.

  "It's up to you, Joe," McRae said, just before the bell rang for thegame to begin. "How are you feeling? Are you tired at all from pitchingthose last two innings yesterday?"

  "Not a bit tired," replied Joe promptly. "That little work yesterdaywas just the practice I needed to get into form. I'm feeling as fine assilk."

  "You look it," said the manager admiringly, as his eye took in thestrong, lithe figure, the bronzed face and clear eyes of his starpitcher. "Well go in now Joe and eat them up. Hooper will be in thebox for them, and I'm not denying that he's some pitcher. But he neversaw the day that you couldn't run rings around him. Go in and win."

  It was evident from the start that there would be no such free hittingthat day as there had been the day before. Both boxmen were in superbform, and by the time the first inning for each side was over, thespectators had settled down to witness a pitcher's duel.

  Hooper was a spitball artist, and his moist slants kept the Giantsguessing in the early part of the game. But while he depended chieflyon this form of delivery, he had other puzzlers in his assortment, andhe mixed them up in a most deceptive manner. In the first three inningshe had four strike-outs to his credit, and when the Giants did connectwith the ball it went up into the air and into the hands of somewaiting fielder. His control of the slippery sphere also was excellent,and he issued no passes.

  In the fourth inning, the Giants began to nibble at his offerings.Curry rapped one out to right for the first single of the game. Iredellwas robbed of a hit by a great jumping catch of O'Connor, who spearedthe ball with his gloved hand. Burkett lined out a two-bagger thatcarried Curry easily to third, but in trying to stretch the hit, hewas caught by Ralston's magnificent throw to the plate. Burkett inthe meantime had made a dash for third, but thought better of it, andscrambled back to second just in time. The next man up went out fromshort to first and the inning ended without scoring. But the Giants hadproved to themselves that Hooper could be hit, and it was with renewedconfidence that they took their places in the field.

  Joe in the meantime was mowing his opponents down with the regularityof a machine. His mighty arm swung back and forth like a piston rod.He had never cared for the spitball, as he knew that sooner or laterit destroyed a pitcher's effectiveness. But in his repertoire ofcurves and slants he had weapons far more deadly. His fast straightone whizzed over the plate like a bullet. He mixed these up with aslow, dipping curve that the Pirates endeavored in vain to solve. Onlywith the head of the Pittsburgh batting order did he at times resortto the fadeaway. That he kept in reserve for some moment when dangerthreatened. Twice in the first five innings he set down the sideon strikes, and not a man reached first on balls. It was wonderfulpitching, and again and again Joe was forced to doff his cap to thecheers of the crowd, as he came into the bench.

  In the sixth inning, the Giants got busy. Wheeler lashed out a whale ofa three-bagger to left. Willis laid down a neat sacrifice, bringingWheeler home for the first run of the game. Larry hit the ball on theseam for a single, but was caught a moment later in trying to purloinsecond. The next batter up went out on strikes and the inning endedwith the Giants one run to the good.

  The seventh inning came and passed and not a hit had been made by thePirates. Then it began to be realized that Joe was out for a no-hitgame, and the crowd rooted for him madly.

  Joe himself was about the only cool man on the grounds. He measuredevery man that came to the plate and took his time about pitching tohim. Man after man he fanned or made him hit feeble grounders to theinfield. And that wonderful control of his forbade any passes. ThePirates did not dare to wait him out. It was a case of strike or bestruck out, and so they struck at the ball, but usually struck only theempty air.

  That ball! Sometimes it was a wheedling, coaxing ball, that saunteredup to the plate as though just begging to be hit. Again it was avanishing ball that grew smaller from the time it left Joe's hand untilit became a mere pin point as it glinted over the rubber. Still againit was a savage ball that shot over the plate with a rush and a hissthat made the batter jump back. But always it was a deceptive ball,that slipped by, hopped by, loafed by, twisted by, dodged by, and thePirate sluggers strained their backs as well as their tempers in tryingto hit it.

  McRae and Robbie on the bench watched with fascination and delight thework of their king pitcher.

  "It's magic, I tell you, John, just magic!" blurted out Robbie, asanother victim went out on strikes and threw down his bat in disgust.

  "It sure looks like it," grinned McRae. "He has those fellows jumpingthrough the hoops all right. I'm free to say I never saw anything likeit."

  "He's got the ball trained, I tell you," persisted Robbie, rubbing hishands in jubilation. "It's an educated ball. It does just what Joetells it to."

  Almost uncontrollable excitement prevailed as the Pirates came in fortheir last inning. Their heaviest sluggers were coming to the bat, andnow if ever was the time to do something. They figured that the strainmust have told on Joe and that a crack was due.

  Their hope grew dimmer, however, when Ralston, after fouling off two,fanned on the third strike. But it revived again when Baskervillerolled an easy one to Larry, that the latter fumbled for a moment andthen hurled to first a fraction of a second too late.

  There was a roar of glee from the Pirates, and they began to chatterin the hope of rattling the pitcher. Bemis, the next man up, came tothe plate swinging three bats. He discarded two of them and glared atJoe.

  "Here's where you meet your finish," he boasted, as he brandished hisbat.

  Joe merely smiled and put one over. Bemis drove it straight for thebox. Joe leaped into the air, caught it in his ungloved hand and shotit like lightning to first, catching Baskerville before he could getback.

  It was as pretty a double play as had ever been made on the New Yorkgrounds!