CHAPTER XI
A CLOSE CALL
The crowds in the stand, which had been uproarious a few moments before,were quiet now. The lead which the local club had held throughout the gamehad vanished; the visitors had played an uphill game worthy of theirreputation, and now they had at least an even chance.
Denton came to the bat, eager to emulate Larry's feat, but Alvarez wasunsteady now--that last home run had taken something out of him. He foundit hard to locate the plate, and Denton trotted down to first on balls.
As no man was out and only one run was needed to gain the lead, asacrifice was the proper play, and Burkett laid down a neat bunt in frontof the plate that carried Denton to second, although the batter died atfirst.
Alvarez purposely passed Willis on the chance of the next batter hittinginto a double play, which would have retired the side. Becker made amighty effort to bring his comrades in, but hit under the ball, and itwent high in the air and was caught by Alvarez as it came down, withoutthe pitcher moving from his tracks.
With two out, there was no need of a double play and the infielders, whohad been playing close in, resumed their usual positions. Iredell, thenext man up caught the ball square on the end of his bat and sent itwhistling between center and third. The shortstop leaped up and knockedthe ball down, but it was going too fast for him to hold.
Denton had left second at the crack of the bat, and by the time theinfielder regained the ball had rounded third and was tearing like aracehorse toward the plate. There was little time to get set and thehurried throw home went over the catcher's head. Denton slid feet firstover the plate, scoring the run that put his team in the lead.
Willis tried to make it good measure by coming close behind him, but bythis time the catcher had recovered the ball and shot it back to Alvarezwho was guarding the plate. He nipped Willis by three feet and the sidewas out.
But that one run in the lead looked as big as a house at that stage in thegame.
"All you've got to do now, Hamilton, old man, is to hold them down intheir half," said Brennan.
"Cinch," grinned Hamilton. "I'll have them eating out of my hand."
But the uncertainty that makes the national game the most fascinating onein the world was demonstrated when the Denver team came in to do-or-die intheir half of the ninth.
Hamilton fed the first batter a snaky curve, which he lashed at savagelybut vainly. The next was a slow one and resulted in a chop to the infieldwhich Larry would have ordinarily gobbled up without trouble. But the balltook an ugly bound just as he was all set for it and went over his headtoward right. Before Curry could get the ball the batter had reachedsecond and the stands were once more in an uproar.
The uproar increased when Hamilton, somewhat shaken by the incident, gavethe next batter a base on balls, and the broad smiles which had suffusedthe faces of Robbie and McRae began to fade.
"Is Hamilton going up, do you think?" asked the Giant manager, anxiously.
"Looks something like it," replied Robbie, "but he'll probably brace. Yousee Denton's talking to him now, to give him a chance to rest up alittle."
The third baseman had strolled over to Hamilton on pretense of discussingsome point of play, but the crowd saw through the subterfuge, and shoutsof protest went up:
"Hire a hall!"
"Write him a letter!"
"Play ball!"
Not a bit flustered by the shouts, Denton took his time, and afterencouraging his team mate sauntered slowly back to his position.
But Hamilton's good right arm had lost its cunning. His first ball waswild, and the batter, seeing this, waited him out and was given a pass.His comrades moved up and the bags were full, with none out and theheaviest sluggers of the team coming to the bat.
McRae and Brennan had been holding an earnest conference, and now on asignal from them Hamilton came in from the box.
"It's no use," said McRae to Brennan, while the crowd howled in derision."We'll have to play our trump and put Matson in to hold them down."
"But he hasn't warmed up," said Brennan dubiously.
"That makes no difference," replied McRae. "I'd rather put him in coldthan anyone else warm."
"All right; do as you please," responded the other manager.
McRae called over to where Joe was sitting. The crack pitcher had beenwatching the progress of the game with keen interest, although makingcomparatively few comments. As McRae approached Joe, the crowd howledlouder than ever at Hamilton.
"Why don't you learn how to pitch?"
"Say, let us send one of the high-school boys into the box for you!"
"Too bad, old man, but I guess we've got your goat all right!"
"I guess you know what I want, Joe," cried McRae. "I want you to get inthe box for us."
"All right, Mac," was the young pitcher's answer.
"And, Joe," went on the other earnestly, "try to think for the next fiveminutes that you're pitching for the pennant."
"I'll do anything you say," was Joe's reply; and then he drew on his gloveand walked out upon the ball field.
"Hello! what do you know about that?"
"Matson is going to pitch for them!"
"I guess they've enough of that other dub!"
"Oh, Hamilton isn't a dub, by any means," replied one of the spectatorssharply. "He's a good player, but a pitcher can't always be at his best."
"But just you wait and see how we do up Matson!" cried a localsympathizer.
At a signal the next man to bat stepped away from the plate, and Joe hadthe privilege of warming up by sending three hot ones to the catcher.
"He'll put 'em over all right enough!" cried one of his friends.
"That's what he will!" returned another.
"Not much! He'll be snowed under!"
"This is our winning day!"
So the cries continued until the umpire held up his hand for silence.
"He's going to make an announcement!" cried a number of the spectators.
"Ladies and gentlemen," roared the umpire, removing his cap, "Matson nowpitching for the All-Americans."
A howl went up from the stands, made up in about equal parts of derisionand applause. Derision because the All-American team must, they figured,be scared to death when they had to send their greatest player into thegame. Whether they won or lost it was a great compliment to the Denverteam. The applause came from the genuine sportsmen who knew the famouspitcher by reputation and welcomed the chance to see him in action.
The three men on the bases were dancing about like dervishes in the hopeof rattling the newcomer. They did not know Joe.
Never cooler than when the strain was greatest and the need most urgent,Joe bent down to pick up the ball. As he did so, he touched it, apparentlyaccidentally, against his right heel.
It was a signal meant for Denton, the third baseman, who was watching himlike a hawk.
Joe took up his position in the box, took a grip on the ball, but insteadof delivering it to the batter turned suddenly on his left heel, as thoughto snap it down to first. The Denver player at that bag, who had taken alead of several feet, made a frantic slide back to safety.
But the ball never got to first, for Joe had swung himself all the wayround and shot the ball like a bullet to Denton at third. The local playerat third had been watching eagerly the outcome of the supposed throw tofirst and was caught completely unawares.
Down came Denton's hand, clapping the ball on his back, while the victimstood dazed as though in a trance.
It was the prettiest kind of "inside work," and even the home crowd wentinto convulsions of laughter as the trapped player came sheepishly in fromthird to the bench.
McRae was beaming, and Robbie's rubicund face became several degreesredder under the strain of his emotion.
"Say, is that boy class, John?" Robbie gurgled, as soon as he couldspeak.
"Never saw a niftier thing on the ball field," responded McRae warmly."When that boy thinks, he runs rings around lightning."
"And he's thinking all the time," chimed in Jim.
But the peril was not yet over. The man at the most dangerous corner hadbeen disposed of, yet there was still a man on first and another onsecond. A safe hit would tie the game at least, and possibly win it.
Joe wound up deliberately and shot a high fast one over the plate. It cameso swiftly that the batter did not offer at it, and looked aggrieved whenthe umpire called it a strike.
The next was a crafty outcurve which went as a ball. The batsman fouledoff the next.
With two strikes on and only one ball called, Joe was on "easy street" andcould afford to "waste a few." Twice in succession he tempted the batsmanwith balls that were wide of the plate, but the batter was wary andrefused them.
Now the count was "two and three," and the crowd broke into a roar.
"Good eye, old man!" they shouted to the batter.
"You've got him in a hole!"
"It only takes one to do it!"
"He's got to put it over!"
With all the force of his sinewy arm, Joe "put it over."
The batsman made a wicked drive at it and sent it hurtling to the boxabout two feet over Joe's head.
Joe saw it coming, leaped into the air and speared it with his glovedhand. The men on bases had started to run, thinking it a sure hit. Joewheeled and sent the ball down to Burkett at first.
"Look at that!"
"Some speed, eh?"
"I should say so."
"Matson has got them going!"
The man who had left the bag strove desperately to get back, but he wastoo late. That rattling double play had ended the game with theAll-American team a victor by a score of four to three.
Joe's fingers tingled as he pulled off the glove, for that terrific drivehad stung. The crowd had been stunned for a moment by the suddenness withwhich the game and their hopes of victory had gone glimmering. But it hadbeen a remarkable play and the first silence was followed by a round ofsportsmanlike applause--though of course it was nothing to what would havegreeted the victory of the home team.
"Fine work, Matson!"
"Best I ever saw!"
"You're the boy to do it."
"Best pitcher in the world!"
Joe found himself the center of a joyous crowd when he reached his ownbench. All were jubilant that they had escaped the humiliation of beingwhipped by a minor league team.
"You've brought home the bacon, Joe!" chortled McRae.
"We all did," replied Joe. "But we almost dropped it on the way!" headded, with a grin.
Baseball Joe Around the World; or, Pitching on a Grand Tour Page 11
