Baseball Joe, Captain of the Team; or, Bitter Struggles on the Diamond

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER II

  A BITTER STRUGGLE

  Jackwell's legs were sagging, and Joe, alarmed at his condition andafraid that he was going to fall, put his arm about the baseman'sshoulder to support him.

  "Brace up, old man," he counseled. "What's come over you?"

  "I--I don't know," answered Jackwell, trying desperately to get a gripon himself. "I suddenly felt faint. Everything got black before myeyes."

  "Touch of the sun, maybe," said Joe, kindly. "Come over and get a drinkof water and then sit down on the bench for a few minutes. I'll ask oneof the other fellows to take your place at third for practice."

  Jackwell sank down on the bench, while Joe returned to his practicewith Mylert, somewhat upset by the incident.

  A moment later, Bowen, the new centerfielder, came along, and Jackwellbeckoned to him. He sat down beside him, and the two conversed inwhispers, casting surreptitious glances at a part of the grandstandalmost directly behind the third-base position.

  Joe kept his eye on the two men and saw Bowen start violently atsomething Jackwell whispered to him. His face seemed suddenly to havebeen drained of every drop of blood, and he shook like a man with theague.

  Just then McRae, who had been having an exchange of repartee with Evans,the manager of the Chicago team, who had chaffed him unmercifully aboutthe playing of the Giants, came back to the dugout. He glanced insurprise at the two players.

  "What are you fellows doing here?" he asked sharply, glowering at them."Didn't you hear the bell ring for practice? Why aren't you in yourplaces on the field?"

  "I'm sick, Mr. McRae," replied Jackwell. "I wish you'd put somebodyelse in my place. I ain't in condition to play to-day."

  "I'm in the same fix," put in Bowen. "I feel like thirty cents."

  "That's what the whole team's worth," growled McRae. "And even at thatprice the fellow that bought them would get stung. What do you mean,sick? Are you sick or just lazy, soldiering on the job? You seemedhusky enough this morning."

  "It--it may have been something we ate at noon," suggested Jackwell,rather lamely. "A touch of ptomaine poisoning, or something like that."

  "Of course, I'll play if you tell me to," put in Bowen. "But I don'tfeel up to my work."

  McRae stood for a moment in exasperated study of the two. For somereason their excuses did not ring true. Yet their pale faces andevidently unstrung condition seemed to bear out their words.

  "Guess there is a jinx after this team all right," he growled. "Youfellows go over to the club doctor and let him find out what's thematter with you. I'll put other men in your places for the present."

  They hurriedly availed themselves of the permission, and McRae, aftera consultation with Robbie, put Renton in Jackwell's place and sentMcGuire out in center to hold down Bowen's position.

  Again the bell rang, and the Cubs took their final practice. That theywere in fine condition for the fray was evident from the way they shotthe ball across the diamond. Dazzling plays and almost impossiblecatches brought round after round of applause from the spectators. Itwas plain that the whole team was in fine fettle, and that the Giantshad their work cut out for them if they were to win.

  The Giants, as the visiting team, were first at bat. Axander, the startwirler of the Cubs, picked up the ball and went into the box with ajaunty air that bespoke plenty of confidence.

  "Play ball!" cried the umpire.

  Axander dug his toes into the box and wound up for the first pitch.

  And while the crowd watched breathlessly to see the ball leave hishand, it may be well for the benefit of those who have not read thepreceding volumes of this series to tell who Baseball Joe was and tracehis career up to the time this story opens.

  Joe Matson had been born and brought up in the little town of Riversidein a middle western state. From early boyhood he had been a great loverof the national game, especially of the pitching end of it, to whichhe had taken naturally. His coolness, quick thinking, good judgmentand powerful arm specially fitted him for the box. He soon becameknown for his skill as a twirler on his home team, and his reputationspread to surrounding towns. His early exploits and the difficultieshe had to encounter and overcome are told in the first volume of thisseries, entitled: "Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars; or, The Rivals ofRiverside."

  Later, on his school nine, he overcame the obstacles thrown in his wayby the bully of the school and pitched his team to victory over hisrivals. His field was widened when he went to Yale, and in an emergencyhe assumed the pitcher's burden and downed Princeton in a gloriousbattle.

  That victory proved a turning point in Joe's life, for the game hadbeen witnessed by a scout for a minor-league team, always on the alertfor talent, and he made Joe an offer to join the Pittston team ofthe Central League. Joe accepted the offer, and soon climbed to theposition of the leading twirler in the League.

  Still, he was only a "busher," and his delight can be imagined when, atthe end of the season, he was drafted into the St. Louis team of theNational League. Now he was really in fast company, and had to test hisskill against the greatest twirlers in the country. But the fans werequick to learn that he could hold his own with the best of them.

  McRae, the manager of the Giants, one of the ablest men in baseballwhen it came to judging the ability of a player, determined to get Joefor the Giants. He did get him, and had never ceased congratulatinghimself on the stroke that brought Joe to his team. He soon became itsmainstay, and had been the main factor in winning the championship ofthe National League and the World Series twice in succession. He was awizard in the box, and his record as pitcher had never been equaled inthe history of the game.

  And not only in the box, but at the bat he had proved himself without apeer. He was a natural batsman, timing and meeting the ball perfectlyand leaning all the weight of his mighty shoulders against it so thatit soared far beyond the reach of the fielders. When he hit the ballit was very often ticketed for a homer, and at every city on theLeague circuit thousands were attracted to the games not only to see amarvelous exhibition of pitching but to see Matson "knock out anotherhome run." What celebrity he gained by his work in both departmentsis told in a previous volume, and the way in which he saved the gamefrom scandal when it was threatened by a gang of crooked gamblers isnarrated in the last volume of the series entitled: "Baseball JoeSaving the League; or, Breaking Up a Great Conspiracy."

  But Joe had won other triumphs than those of baseball. He had fallenin love with Mabel Varley, a charming girl whose life he had saved ina runaway accident, and he had married her at the end of the previousseason on the diamond. They were ideally happy.

  Jim Barclay, a Princeton man who had joined the Giants, had speedilydeveloped into a pitcher only second to Joe himself. He and Joe hadbecome the closest of chums, and on a visit to Riverside Jim had fallena victim to the charms of Joe's pretty sister, Clara, and was nowengaged to her and hoped for an early marriage.

  And now to return to the tense situation on the Chicago ball field,where the Cubs and Giants faced each other in one of the critical gamesof the series.

  Curry, the rightfielder of the Giants, was first at bat. He was a goodhitter and was as fast as a flash in getting to first.

  Axander shot over a high fast one at which Curry refused to bite, andit went as a ball. Then came a pretty first strike right over the heartof the plate. Axander came back with a slow one that lobbed up to theplate looking as big as a balloon. Curry nearly dislocated his spinereaching for it, and though he connected with it he raised an easy fly,which the Cubs' third baseman caught without moving from his tracks.

  Iredell came next to the plate, swinging three bats. He threw away twoof them, tapped each of his heels with the other for luck, faced thepitcher and glared at him ferociously.

  "Put one over, you false alarm, and see me murder it," he called toAxander.

  Axander grinned at him.

  "You're the captain of the team, aren't you?" he asked. "Well, you'llbe only a lieutenant when I get through w
ith you."

  He whizzed one over that Iredell swung at savagely and missed. The nexthe fouled off, making the second strike. Then came a ball and then athird strike, so swift that Iredell struck at it as it settled in thecatcher's glove.

  "You're out!" shouted the umpire.

  Iredell threw down his bat in chagrin and retired to the bench.

  Then Burkett, the burly first baseman of the Giants, strode to theplate. He caught the first ball pitched right near the end of his stickand belted it into the rightfield stands. It looked like a sure homer,and the contingent of loyal Giant rooters burst into a cheer. But thecheer was premature, as the umpire called it a foul, and Burkett, whohad already rounded first, returned, disgruntled, to the plate.

  "Had your eyes tried for glasses lately?" he asked the umpire.

  "That'll be about all from you," returned that functionary. "Anotherwise crack like that, and it's you for the showers."

  Axander's next throw went for a ball. On the next Burkett whaled asharp single over second. A moment later, however, he was caughtnapping at first by a quick throw from the pitcher, and the inningended without a score. Burkett, who found himself in his regularposition at first, put on his glove and stayed there, glad enough thathe was not near enough to the Giants' dugout to get the tongue lashingthat McRae had all ready for him.

  "Did you see that boob play, Robbie?" McRae growled. "Did you see theway that perfectly good hit was wasted?"

  "Sure, I saw it, John," replied Robson, laying his hand soothingly onthe knee of his irate friend. "'Twas enough to make a man tear his hairout by the roots. But the game's young yet and we may have the lastlaugh. I'm banking heavily on what Joe's going to do to them birds."

  Joe in the meantime had walked out to the box. It was a tribute tothe admiration that was felt for him by fans everywhere that even theChicago partisans welcomed his coming with a hearty round of applause.He was more than a Giant standby. He was the idol of all true lovers ofthe national game.

  Burton, the heaviest slugger on the Chicago team, was first at bat. Joelooked him over and then sent the ball over for a perfect strike. Itcame in like a bullet. Burton did not even offer at it.

  "Strike one!" called the umpire.

  The next one had a fast hop on it, and Burton swung six inches beneathit.

  "Strike two!"

  Burton set himself for the next one, and succeeded only in foulingit off. Mylert got the ball and returned it to Joe on the bound. Thelatter caught it carelessly and then, without his usual wind-up, sentit whistling across the plate. It caught Burton entirely off his guard,and his futile stab at it caused even the Chicago fans to break intolaughter.

  "Out!" cried the umpire, and the discomfited Burton retired sheepishlyto the bench.

  "That's showing them up, Joe," called up Larry Barrett from second.

  "Why didn't you soak that first ball?" demanded Evans, the Chicagomanager. "It was a beauty, right in the groove."

  "Aw," growled Burton, "how can I hit a ball that I can't see? That camelike a shot from a rifle. I ain't no miracle man."

  Gallagher came next and had no better luck. One strike was called onhim, and the other two he missed.

  "Look at that boy, John," exulted Robbie, his red face beaming. "He'sgot them fellows buffaloed right from the jump. He's making them eatout of his hand. He's skinning 'em alive."

  "Fine work," agreed McRae, his anxious features relaxing somewhat."'Twas the best day's work I ever did when I got him on the team. He'sa whole nine by himself. And--blistering billikens! Look at that!"

  The "that" was a hot liner that Weston had sent right over the box.Like a flash Joe had leaped into the air and speared it with his glovedhand. The force of the hit was so great that it knocked him down, buthe came up smiling with the ball in his hand.

  There was a moment of stupefied silence, and then the stands rockedwith applause, contributed by the Cub as well as the Giant rooters.That play alone was worth the price of admission.

  Joe drew off his glove and came in from the box, while the Chicagos ranout to take their places in the field.

  "Great stuff, Joe," cried Jim jubilantly, as he hit his chum aresounding whack on the shoulder. "They didn't have a chance. Keep itup and you'll have those Cubs crawling into their hole and lickingtheir wounds."

  "Oh, it will do for a start," said Joe, modestly. "But that's only oneinning out of nine, and those fellows may break loose any time. But ifour fellows will only give me a run or two, I'll try to hold them down."

  But the wished-for runs did not materialize in the Giants' second turnat bat. Wheeler made a strong bid for a run when he sent the ball ona high line between right and center, but the Chicago rightfielder wasoff at the crack of the bat and just managed to get his hands on theball and shut off what seemed to have all the earmarks of a homer. Itwas a sparkling catch and evoked rounds of applause from the Chicagorooters.

  McGuire dribbled a slow one to the box that Axander had no trouble ingetting to first on time. Renton was an easy victim on strikes.

  "Looks as if you'd have to win your own game, Joe," grumbled McRae."These boobs have more holes in their bats than a chunk of Swisscheese."

  In the Cubs' half Joe mowed them down as fast as they came to the bat.His curve and hop ball were working to perfection. He varied his fastand slow ones with such cunning that he had his opponents up in theair. It was just a procession of bewildered batters to the plate andthen back to the bench. It looked as though Joe were in for one of thebest days of his brilliant career.

  In the third inning the Giants at last broke the ice. Barrett lay downa well-placed bunt along the third base line that the Cub third basemangot all mixed up on in his efforts to field. When at last he did gethis hands on it he threw wild, and Barrett easily reached second beforethe ball was retrieved.

  It looked like the possible beginning of a rally, and instantly allwas commotion on the Giants' bench. McRae himself ran out to thecoaching line near first, while he sent Jim over to third. The Giantplayers began a line of chatter designed to rattle the Cub pitcher.

  But Axander only smiled as he took up his position in the box. Hewas too much of a veteran to let his opponents get him fussed. Buthis smile, though it did not entirely disappear, lost some of itsbrightness when he saw that Baseball Joe was the next man to face him.

  Cries of encouragement rose from Joe's mates and from the Giant rootersin the stands.

  "Oh, you home-run slugger!"

  "Give the ball a ride!"

  "Show him where you live!"

  "Send it to kingdom come!"

  Amid the babel of cries, Joe took up his position at the plate. Hisbrain was alert and his nerves like steel.

  "Sorry, Matson, but I'll have to strike you out," said Axander, with agrin. "All Giants look alike to me to-day. Giant killer is my middlename."

  "Don't waste any sympathy on me," retorted Joe. "You can send flowersto my funeral later on. But first give me a chance at the ball."

  Axander wound up and put one over the corner of the plate with all theforce he could muster. Joe caught it near the end of his bat and sentit soaring out toward rightfield. It was a mighty clout, but when itcame down it was just about six inches on the wrong side of the foulline.

  Joe, who was well on his way to second, came back and again took up hisposition at the bat.

  But that tremendous hit had given Axander food for thought. The nextball that came over was so wide of the plate that the catcher had tojump for it.

  Another ball followed in the same place, and the stands began to murmur.

  "He's afraid to let him hit it!"

  "He's going to walk him!"

  "Matson's got his goat!"

  But Axander had resolved to play safe, and the next ball was so widethat it was plain he was doing it with deliberate design.

  "Thought you were a giant killer," jeered Joe. "Have you lost yournerve? I can see from here you're trembling."

  Stung by the taunt, Axander put all the stuff h
e had on the ball andsent in a swift incurve.

  Joe timed it perfectly. There was a terrific crash as the bat met theball, and the next instant Joe had dropped the bat and was running tofirst like a deer.