CHAPTER XIII
CLEVER STRATEGY
"Quit your kidding," laughed Joe. "Let's just say that the breaks ofthe game were with us and let it go at that. The main thing is thatwe've put another game on the right side of the ledger. We've turnedthe Brooklyns back, and now it's up to us to give the same dose to theBostons and the Phillies."
"They'll be easy," prophesied Curry, as he finished fastening his shoelaces.
"Don't fool yourself," cautioned Joe. "They're playing better now thanthey were earlier in the season, and they won't be such cinches as theywere in the last series. We'll have to step lively to beat them, andkeep trying every minute. Ginger's the word from now on."
"Ginger" had been his watchword ever since he had been made captain ofthe team. He had tried to inspire them with his own indomitable energyand vim, and was gratified to see that with the exception of Iredell hewas succeeding. It was doubly necessary in the case of the Giants, formost of the team was composed of veterans. They were superb players,but some of them were letting up on their speed and needed prodding tokeep them at the top of their form.
Still there had been an infusion of new blood, and McRae was constantlyon the lookout for more. The Giants' roster contained a number ofpromising rookies, such as Renton, Ledwith, Merton and others, and Joewas constantly coaching them in the fine points of the game.
In Merton, especially, he thought he had all the material of apromising pitcher. The youngster had been obtained from the OaklandSeals, and had won a high reputation in the Pacific Coast League. Hehad speed, a good assortment of curves, and a fair measure of control.But pitching against big leaguers was a very different matter fromtrying to outguess minor league batters, and Joe had not thought itadvisable as yet to send him in for a full game.
One of his chief faults was that opponents could steal bases on himwith comparative impunity. It was almost uncanny to note the ease withwhich a runner on the bases could detect whether Merton was going topitch to the batter or throw the ball to first. Joe was not long indiscovering the reason.
"Here's your trouble, Merton," he said. "You invariably lift yourright heel from the ground when you are about to throw to the plate.You keep it on the ground when you're planning to throw to first. So,by watching you, those fellows can get a long lead off first and easilymake second. Just try now, and see."
"You're right," admitted Merton, after practising a few minutes. "Funnythat I never noticed that before. But none of the fellows in thePacific Coast League noticed it, either. They didn't steal much on methere."
"That's just because they were minor leaguers," returned Joe. "Butyou're in big-league company now, and the wise birds on the other teamsget on to you at once."
Merton was grateful for the tip, and practised assiduously until he hadgot rid of the mannerism. He was docile and willing to learn, and Joecould see his pitching ability increase from day to day.
Not only in pitching, but in batting, Joe was able to be of incalculablevalue to the younger members of the team. How to outguess the pitcher,when to wait him out, how to walk into the ball instead of drawing awayfrom it, the best way of laying down bunts--these and a host of otherthings in which he was a past master were freely imparted to his chargesand illustrated by object lessons that were even more effective thanthe spoken word.
McRae and Robbie were delighted with the results of the change ofcaptains, and more and more they gave him a free hand, knowing thatJoe would get out of the Giants all that was in them. And, knowing thepower of the Giant machine when going at full speed, that was all thatthey asked.
The next series on the Giants' schedule was with the Boston Braves onthe latter's grounds. As Joe had anticipated, the Braves put up a muchstiffer fight than they had earlier in the season. They were goingwell, had already passed the Phillies and the Cardinals and were makinga desperate attempt to get into the first division.
Markwith pitched the first game, and did very well until the last twoframes. Then a veritable torrent of hits broke from the Bostons' batsand drove the southpaw from the mound. Joe took his place, and thehitting suddenly ceased. But the damage had already been done, and thegame was placed in the Boston column.
Jim pitched in the second game and chalked up a victory. Young Mertonwas given his chance in the third, and justified Joe's confidence byalso winning, although the score was close.
Joe himself went in for the fourth and won, thus getting three outof four in the series, which, for a team on the road, was not to becomplained of.
With the Phillies, on the latter's grounds, the Giants cleaned up thefirst three games right off the reel. In the fourth, the Phillies wokeup and played like champions. They fielded and batted like demons, sowell indeed that when the ninth inning began, the Phillies were aheadby a score of three to two.
In the Giants' half, with one man on base, Joe cut loose with a homerthat put his team a run to the good. Not daunted, however, the Philliescame in for their half. Two men were out, and a couple of Giant fumbleshad permitted two to get on the bases.
Mallinson, the heaviest batter of the Phillies, was up. He shook hisbat menacingly and glared at Joe. With the team behind him the leastbit shaky on account of the fumbles, Joe tried a new stunt on Mallinson.
"I'm going to tell you exactly the kind of a ball I'm going to throw toyou," he remarked, with a disarming grin.
"Yes, you are," sneered Mallinson, unbelievingly, while even Mylert,the Giant catcher, looked bewildered.
"Honest Injun," declared Joe. "This first one is going to be a highfast one right over the plate and just below the shoulder."
"G'wan and stop your kidding," growled the burly Philadelphia batter.
He set himself for a curve, not believing for a moment that Joe wouldbe crazy enough to tell him in advance what he was going to pitch. Itwas just on that disbelief that Joe had counted.
Joe wound up and hurled one over exactly as he had promised. Mallinson,all set for a curve, was so flustered that he struck at it hurriedlyand missed.
Joe grinned tantalizingly, while Mallinson glowered at him.
"Didn't believe me, did you?" Joe asked. "Why don't you have more faithin your fellow men? I ought to be real peeved at you for your lack ofconfidence. But I'm of a forgiving nature and I'll overlook it thistime."
"Cut it out," snapped Mallinson savagely. "Go ahead and play the game."
"No pleasing some fellows," mourned Joe plaintively. "Now this time,I'm going to pitch an outcurve. Ready? Let's go."
Mallinson, sure that this time he was going to be double-crossed, gotready for a high fast one, and the outcurve that Joe pitched cut thecorner of the plate and settled in Mylert's glove for the second strike.
"You see!" complained Joe. "There you are again. What's the use of mytipping you off if you don't take advantage? Don't you believe me?Doesn't anybody ever tell the truth in Philadelphia?"
Mallinson tried to say something, but he was so mad that he could onlystutter, while his face looked as though he were going to have a fit ofapoplexy.
"Now," said Joe, "this is your last chance. I'm going to give you myhop ball this time, and that's just because it's you. I wouldn't do itfor everybody. It'll take a jump just as it comes to the plate."
By this time Mallinson was in an almost pitiable state of bewilderment.Would the pitcher again keep his word? Or would Joe figure that nowthat he had twice tipped him off correctly, Mallinson would reallyget set for the hop ball and that now was the time to fool him withsomething else?
He was so up in the air by this time that he could not have hit aballoon, and he struck six inches below the hop ball that Joe sentwhistling over the plate for an out. The game was over and the Giantshad won.
"What was all that chatter that was going on between you and Mallinson?"asked McRae, as he and Robbie, with their faces all smiles, came up toJoe. "I couldn't quite get what it was from the bench. But you seemed toget his goat for fair."
Joe told them, and the pair went into paroxysms of laughte
r, Robbiechoking until they had to pound him on the back.
"For the love of Pete, Mac!" he gurgled, as soon as he could speak,"you'll have to do something with this fellow or he'll be the deathof me yet. To win a ball game just by telling the batsman what he wasgoing to pitch to him! Did you ever hear anything like it before inyour life?"
"I never did," replied the grinning McRae.
At the clubhouse later, there were guffaws of laughter as Mylertdescribed the way that Joe had stood Mallinson on his head.
"And me thinking Joe had simply gone nutty!" Mylert said. "When hepitched that first ball just as he said, I didn't know where I was at.Then the second one got me going still more. But I saw that it hadMallinson going, too, and then I began to catch on. How on earth didyou ever come to think of that, Joe?"
"Just a matter of psychology," Jim answered for him. "And mighty goodpsychology, if you ask me. Baseball Joe's a dabster at that."
"Sike-sike what?" asked Larry, whose vocabulary was not very extensive.
"Psychology," repeated Jim, with a grin. "No, it isn't a new kind ofbreakfast food. Joe simply knew how Mallinson's mind would work and hetook advantage of it. Mallinson coppered everything Joe said to him.He figured that Joe was there to deceive him. He couldn't conceive thatJoe would tell him the truth. And so it was just by telling the truththat Joe got him."
"It just got by because it was new," laughed Joe. "I couldn't do itoften, for if I did they'd begin to take me at my word, and then they'dbat me all over the lot."
By the time the Eastern inter-city games were over, the Giants hadconsiderably bettered their team standing. They had passed theBrooklyns, who had let down a good deal and were now playing in-and-outball. The Chicagos were still in the lead, with Pittsburgh three gamesbehind them, but pressing them closely. Then came the Giants, two gamesin the rear of the men from the Smoky City. The Cincinnati Reds broughtup the rear of the first division, but the conviction was strong in theminds of the Giants that it was either the Pirates or the Cubs they hadto beat in order to win the pennant.
On the eve of the invasion of the East by the Western teams, McRaecalled his men together for a heart-to-heart talk in the clubhouse.
"You boys know that I can give you the rough edge of my tongue when youlay down on me," he said, as he looked around on the group of earnestyoung athletes, who listened to him with respectful attention. "But youknow, too, that I'm always ready to give a man credit when he deservesit. I'm glad to say that just now I'm proud of the men who wear theGiant uniform. You've done good work in cleaning up the Eastern teams.You've played ball right up to the end of the ninth inning, and many agame that looked lost you've pulled out of the fire.
"Now, that's all right as far as it goes. But the Western clubs arecoming, and they're out for scalps. You remember what they did to uson our first trip out there. They gave us one of the most disgracefulbeatings we've had for years. They took everything but our shirts, andthey nearly got those. Are you going to let them do it again?"
There was a yell of dissent that warmed McRae's heart.
"That's the right spirit," he declared approvingly. "Now, go in andshow the same spirit on the field that you're showing in the clubhouse.Beat them to a frazzle. Show them that you're yet the class of theLeague. Don't be satisfied with an even break. That won't get usanywhere. Take three out of four from every one of them. Make a cleansweep if you can. Keep on your toes every minute. You've got thepitching, you've got the fielding, you've got the batting, and you'vegot the best captain that ever wore baseball shoes. What more does anyclub want?"
"Nothing!" shouted Larry. "We'll wipe up the earth with them!"
"That's the stuff," replied McRae. "Now go out and say it with yourbats. I want another championship this year, and I want it so bad thatit hurts. You're the boys that can give it to me, and I'm counting onyou to do it. Show them that you're Giants not only in name, but infact. That's about all."
"What's the matter with McRae?" cried Curry, as the manager, havingsaid his say, turned to leave.
"He's all right!" came in a thundering chorus from all except Iredell,who maintained a moody silence.
McRae waved his hand and vanished through the door.
The Cincinnati Reds were the first of the invaders to make theirappearance at the Polo Grounds. They always drew large crowds, notonly because they usually played good ball against the Giants, butespecially because of the popularity of Hughson, their manager, who formany years had been a mainstay of the Giants and the idol of New Yorkfans.
Hughson was one of the straight, clean, upstanding men who are acredit to the national game. McRae had taken him when he was a rawrookie and given him his chance with the Giants to show what he coulddo. The result had been a sensation. In less than a year Hughsonhad leaped into fame as the greatest pitcher in the country. He hadeverything--courage, speed, curves and control--and with them alla baseball head that enabled him to outguess the craftiest of hisopponents.
For a dozen years he had been the chief reliance of the Giants and oneof the greatest drawing cards in the game. At the time that Joe hadjoined the Giants, however, Hughson's arm was beginning to fail. Thelatter was quick to discover Joe's phenomenal ability and, instead ofshowing any mean jealousy, had done his best to develop it. Between himand Joe a friendship had sprung up that had never diminished.
Hughson's services were in demand as a manager and he was snapped up bythe Cincinnati club to take charge of the Reds. With rather indifferentmaterial to start with, he had built up a strong team that had severaltimes given the Giants a hot race for the championship.
On the afternoon of the first game, Hughson, big and genial as ever,shook Joe's hand warmly when the latter met him near the plate.
"We're going to give you the same dose that we did when you were on ourstamping ground the last time, Joe," he remarked, with a laugh, afterthey had interchanged greetings. "I love the Giants, but, oh, you Reds!"
"If you're so sure of it, why go through the trouble of playing thegame?" retorted Joe.
"Oh, we'll have to do that as a matter of form and to give the crowdtheir money's worth," joked Hughson. "But honestly, Joe, we're goingto put up the stiffest kind of a battle. My men have their fightingclothes on, and they're going good just now."
"I've noticed that," replied Joe. "You took the Pirates neatly intocamp in that last series. The return of Haskins has plugged up a weakpoint in your outfield. I see he didn't lose his batting eye while hewas a hold-out."
"No," said Hughson, "he's as good as ever. I began to think we'd nevercome to terms on the question of salary. You see, after his phenomenalseason last year he got a swelled head and demanded a salary that wasout of all reason. Said he wouldn't play this year unless he got it.But we got together on a compromise at last, and now he's in uniformagain and cavorting around like a two-year-old. Wait until you see himknock the ball out of the lot this afternoon."
"I'll wait," retorted Joe with a grin, "and I'll bet I'll wait a goodlong while."
Baseball Joe, Captain of the Team; or, Bitter Struggles on the Diamond Page 13
