Baseball Joe in the World Series; or, Pitching for the Championship

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XI

  SNATCHED FROM THE FIRE

  Not a bit dismayed by their unpromising beginning, the Red Sox tookthe field, and speedily showed that they too could uncork a brand ofpitching that was not to be despised.

  The best that Burkett could do was to raise a "Texas Leaguer" that Berrygobbled in without any trouble. Larry chopped an easy one to Girdner,who got him at first with plenty to spare. Denton dribbled a slow rollerthat Fraser gathered in on the first base line, tagging the runner as hepassed.

  And now it was the turn of the Boston enthusiasts, of whom thousands hadmade the trip to see their favorites play, to yell frantically for theRed Sox.

  Joe realized at once that he had a foeman in Fraser who was worthy ofhis steel, and knew that all his skill and cunning would be required towin.

  For the next two innings the sides were mowed down with unfailingregularity, and not a man on either side reached first base. It lookedas though the game were going to resolve itself into a pitchers' duel,and the crowds were breathless with excitement as batter after batterwas sent to the bench.

  The Giants broke the ice in the fourth. Burkett scorched a single toright, and by daring base-running stretched it to a double, as Cooperwas slow in making the return. Barrett sacrificed him to third. Fraserput on steam and fanned Denton on strikes. Then Willis came to therescue with a sizzling hit just inside the third base line, and Burkettcame galloping over the plate with the first run of the game.

  The crowd rose and cheered wildly, and the Giants from their dugoutthrew their caps in the air and gathered around Burkett in jubilation.It was only one run, but the way the game was going that run looked asbig as a mountain.

  Willis was caught napping off first by a snap throw from Thompson toHobbs, and the inning ended.

  The fifth was devoid of scoring, but in the sixth the Bostons not onlytied the Giants but passed them.

  Loomis, the crack left fielder of the visitors, started the troublewith a sharp hit to Larry, who "booted" the ball, letting Loomis getto first. Hobbs lay down a bunt on which Joe had no time to get Loomisat second, though he tossed out Hobbs at first. Walters lined out thefirst clean hit that the Red Sox had made so far in the game. If it hadbeen properly played and taken on the bound, it could have been held toa single. But Becker made a mistake in thinking that he could make afly catch. The ball struck the ground in front of him, bounded over hishead and rolled to the further corner of the field. Before it could berecovered, Walters had made the circuit of the bases, following Loomisover the plate, and the Red Sox were in the lead by two runs to one.

  The Boston rooters started their marching song of "Tessie," while theNew Yorkers sat glum and silent.

  Joe tightened up and struck out the two following batters in jig time,but it looked as though the mischief had been done.

  "Don't let that worry you, Joe," counseled McRae, as he came in to thebench. "You're pitching like a Gatling gun. That's the first hit they'vegot off you in six innings and it ought to have been a single only.We'll beat 'em yet."

  "Sure we will," answered Joe, cheerfully. "We've only begun to fight."

  At the beginning of the "lucky seventh," the crowd rose and stretched inthe fond hope that it would bring the necessary luck for their favorites.

  The omen might have worked, had it not been for a dazzling bit of playon the part of the Bostons.

  Their own half had been fruitless. Joe was pitching now like a maninspired, and his bewildering curves and slants had made the Bostonsluggers look like "bushers."

  In the Giants' half, Joe was the first man up and he laced out a hotliner between second and short that carried him easily to first. Mylerthit to short and Joe was forced at second, though Berry relayed theball to Hobbs too late for a double play. A wild pitch, the only one ofthe game, advanced Mylert a base. Burkett received a pass. Now therewas a man on first, another on second, and rousing cheers came from thestands. There was only one man out, Fraser was evidently getting wild,and it looked as though New York might score.

  The Boston infield moved in for a double play. And it looked for amoment as though they would make it. Larry hit to short, and a groanwent up. But the hit was so sharp that Stock could not handle itcleanly, and, though he succeeded in getting Burkett at second Larryreached first safely while Mylert raced to third.

  It was a time for desperate measures, and McRae gave the signal for adouble steal. The moment Fraser wound up, Larry started for second,not with a design of reaching it, but hoping to draw a throw from thecatcher, under cover of which Mylert might scamper home from third. Ifhe could touch the plate before Larry was put out, the run would countand the score be tied.

  Thompson threw like a shot to Berry at second. But instead of chasingLarry, who had stopped midway between first and second, he keptthreatening to throw to third and catch Mylert, who was taking as big alead toward home as he dared. After playing hide and seek for a moment,Berry thought he saw a chance to nip Mylert and threw to Girdner atthird. But the ball touched the tips of his fingers and got past him,and Mylert started for home.

  A howl of exultation went up from the throng. Then it died away assuddenly as it had risen.

  Girdner, chasing the ball, slipped as he went to pick it up. Lying onthe grass, he made a desperate throw in the direction of the plate.It went high, but Thompson made a tremendous jump, pulled it down andclapped it on Mylert just as he slid into the rubber.

  "Out," yelled the umpire.

  It was as classy a play as any of the spectators had ever seen, and eventhe New Yorkers, sore as they were at losing the run, joined generouslyin the applause that greeted it.

  "That fellow Girdner must have a rabbit's foot about him somewhere,"remarked Robson to McRae with a twisted smile. "He couldn't do thatthing again in a thousand years."

  "A few more things like that and the crowd will die of heart diseaseor nervous prostration," answered McRae. "But they can't have all thebreaks. Just watch. Our turn will be coming next."

  But nothing happened in the eighth to change the score, and the ninthopened with the Red Sox still in the lead.

  That the Red Sox would not score again was as nearly certain as anythingcan be in baseball. Joe, as cool as an icicle, was going at top speed.They simply could not touch his offerings.

  But as the visitors went back in one, two, three order, they consoledthemselves with the thought that they did not have to do any morescoring. They were already ahead, and if Fraser could hold theiropponents down for one more inning, the game was theirs.

  But Fraser had about reached his limit. He could not stand the gaffas sturdily as Joe. With the exception of that one wild spell, he hadpitched superbly, but the terrific strain was beginning to tell.

  His first two pitches went as balls, and McRae, whose eagle eyes sawsigns of wavering, signaled Becker, who was at the bat, to "wait himout."

  The advice proved good, and Becker trotted down to first where heimmediately began to dance about and yell, hoping to draw a throw whichin the pitcher's nervous condition might go wild.

  The Red Sox players shouted encouragement to their pitcher, and thecatcher walked down to the box on the pretense of advice but really togive him time to recover himself.

  No doubt this helped, for Fraser braced up and made Iredell put up atowering foul, which Thompson caught after a long run.

  Joe came next and cracked out a pretty single between short and second.Becker tried to make third on it, but a magnificent throw by Waltersnipped him at the bag. But in the mix-up, Joe, by daring running, got tosecond.

  With two out, a long hit would tie the game, anyway, and carry it intoextra innings.

  Fraser seemed to waver again and gave Mylert his base on balls. Then bigBurkett, the head of the batting order, strode to the plate.

  Amid frantic adjurations from the crowd to "kill the ball," he caughtthe second one pitched and sent a screaming liner far out toward theright field wall.

  Cooper, the fleet Red Sox right fielder, had sta
rted for it at the crackof the bat. On, on he went, running like a deer.

  Thirty-five thousand people were on their feet, yelling like maniacs,while Joe, Mylert and Burkett raced round the bases.

  Ball and man reached the wall at the same instant. The gallant playerleaped high in the air. But the ball just touched the tips of hisfingers and rolled away, while Joe and Mylert dented the rubber, Burketthalting when he reached second.

  Then the crowd went crazy.

  The game was over. It had been a battle royal, but the Giants hadvanquished the Red Sox, and had taken their first stride toward thechampionship of the world.