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

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XXX

  A GLORIOUS VICTORY

  There was a mad scramble and Joe was almost pulled to pieces by hisrelieved and exulting mates. Then came a torrent of questions which Joegood-naturedly parried.

  "After the game, boys, I'll tell you all about it," he said, "but justnow I want to get a little practice in tossing them over."

  "Didn't I tell you that nothing could stop that boy from getting here?"crowed Robson, gleefully.

  "I thought so myself," answered McRae, "but when they 'phoned up to methat he hadn't come in on that regular morning train, I thought ourgoose was cooked."

  In some mysterious way, though McRae had tried to keep it a profoundsecret, the news had got abroad that something had occurred that wouldkeep Matson out of the game, and the crowds that had put their chiefreliance on that mighty arm of his had been restless and fearful. Sowhen they recognized him the stands rocked and thundered with applause,and the general relief was not much less than that felt by the Giantsthemselves at the return of their crack pitcher.

  But it was toward an upper box that Joe's eyes first turned. There wasa wild flutter of handkerchiefs and clapping of hands. Mabel and Clarawere leaning far out and waving to him. But Mrs. Matson's face washidden by her handkerchief, and Joe saw his father quietly slip his armaround her. Joe did not dare to look any longer for he suddenly felt adimness come over his own eyes, and he hastily turned to the tremendoustask that confronted him.

  For that afternoon he was fighting against odds. His head was stillaching from the effects of the blow and the chloroform. The rocking ofthe engine had made his legs unsteady. And the only food he had hadsince the night before was a sandwich he had sent for while he wasslipping into his uniform.

  But it is just such circumstances that bring out the thoroughbred strainin a man, and as Baseball Joe took his place in the box and lookedaround at the enormous crowd and realized the immense responsibilitythat rested on him, he rose magnificently to the occasion. Gone wasweariness and pain and weakness. His nerves stiffened to the strain, andthe game he pitched that afternoon was destined to become a classic inbaseball history.

  The first ball he whipped over the plate went for a strike. A secondand a third followed. And from that time on Joe knew that he held theBostons in the hollow of his hand.

  There are times when to feel invincible is to be invincible. Joe wasin that mood. He was a glorious figure of athletic young manhood ashe stood there with forty thousand pairs of eyes riveted upon him. Hehad discarded his cap because the band hurt his head where he had beenstruck, and his brown hair gleamed in the bright sun as he hurled theball with deadly precision toward the batter. Like a piston rod his armshot out untiringly and the ball whistled as it cut the plate.

  "Gee whiz, see that ball come over!" muttered McRae.

  "He'll wear himself out," said Robson, anxiously. "It isn't in flesh andblood to keep up that gait for nine innings."

  Fraser was in the box for the Bostons, and he, too, was pitchingfirst-class ball. But the Giants by the end of the fourth inning werebeginning to solve his delivery. The hits were getting a sharper ringto them and going out more on a line. But superb fielding helped theBostonian out of several tight places and he "got by" until the fifth.

  Then the Giants broke the ice. Larry sent a corking single out tocenter. Denton whaled out a tremendous hit that had all the earmarks ofa home run. But Walters, by a wonderful sprint, got under it and Larry,who had rounded second, had all he could do to get back to first beforethe throw in.

  "Highway robbery," growled Denton, as he went disconsolately back to thebench.

  Willis went out on strikes, but Becker poled out a crashing three-baggerthat brought Larry over the rubber for the first run of the game andsent the stands into hysterics.

  Becker was caught napping a moment later and the inning ended. The NewYorkers were hilarious while the Boston rooters were correspondinglydepressed.

  "You're getting to him, boys!" yelled McRae. "We'll drive him to thetall timber before long."

  But Fraser had views of his own on that subject and refused to bedriven. He had no ambition to be slaughtered to make a New York holiday.

  Still, though he uncorked a dazzling assortment of shoots and slants,the Giants scored another run in the sixth though it took two singles,two passes and a wild pitch before it was finally recorded.

  Iredell beat out a slow roller to Hobbs and took second on a single byCurry to right field. Both of them were advanced a base on a wild pitchthat just touched the tips of Thompson's fingers as he leaped for it,and rolled all the way to the Bostons' dugout before it was regained.Joe was purposely passed, Fraser thinking that with the bases full adouble play might pull him out of danger.

  Mylert hit to Hobbs, forcing Iredell at the plate, although he made agreat slide. Another pass given to Burkett forced Curry home for thesecond run of the game, leaving the bases still full. Larry was at thebat and there was a great chance to "clean up," as he was franticallyurged to do by the excited spectators. But the best he could do was totap weakly to Fraser who fired it back to the plate making a force out.Thompson, in turn, shot it to Hobbs in plenty of time to get the runner,making a sharp and snappy double play.

  "We ought to have made more out of that than we did," growled McRae."That's what I call bush league work. To have the bases full twice andas the result of it all one little measly run!"

  "Never mind, John," chuckled Robson. "It's one more to the good, anyway,and even if it is measly I'll bet that Boston would be mighty glad tohave one like it."

  In the seventh inning, Walters, the first man up, sent up a high foulthat Burkett and Mylert started for at once. Larry, who was fieldcaptain, shouted to Burkett to take the ball. But Mylert either did nothear or trusted to his own judgment and collided forcibly with the firstbaseman, both going to the ground with a crash, while the ball droppedbetween them.

  The other players rushed to the spot and lifted the players to theirfeet. Luckily, they were not unconscious although badly shaken, but itwas fully five minutes before the game was resumed.

  Walters' second effort was a sharp grounder straight at Denton, whichthe latter shot to first in plenty of time. But the ball went high androlled almost to the right field wall. By the time it was retrieved,Walters had got around to third amid the frantic acclamations of theBoston rooters who thought they saw at last a chance to score.

  With a man on third, no man out and some of the heaviest sluggers comingup, it looked as though the Red Sox would break their string of zeros.

  A long fly to the outfield, even though caught, would in all probabilitybring in Walters from third.

  But Joe tightened up and struck out the next man up in three pitchedballs. He made Hobbs chop a bounder to the box on which Walters did notdare to try for the plate. Then with two out he beguiled Girdner intosending up a towering foul which Mylert caught almost without stirringfrom his position. Poor Walters, left at third, hurled his cap to theground in a movement of despair, and the gloom about the Boston sectionof the stands could be fairly felt.

  The Bostons now were growing desperate. They bunted. They tried to waitJoe out. They sought to rattle him by finding fault with his position inthe box. They put in pinch hitters. They pulled all the "inside stuff"they knew.

  But Joe obstinately refused to "crack." He "had everything" on the ball.His change of pace was perfect. His curves worked beautifully. His dropball broke sharply, inches below their bats.

  "All over but the shouting," chuckled McRae, as the Red Sox came in fortheir last inning.

  But two minutes later he was pale as chalk while the Boston partisanswere in delirium.

  Girdner sent an easy grasser to Larry, who booted it, and the batterreached first. Stock followed with a bunt that Denton slipped down onas he ran in for it. These mishaps must have got on Burkett's nerves,for he squarely muffed Thompson's pop fly that any "busher" could havecaught.

  There were three men on bases, though none had made a hit.
No man wasout, and Cooper, the slugger of the Boston team, was coming to the plate.

  A hit of any kind would bring in two men and tie the game. A two-baggerwould clear the bases and put Boston in the lead. The Red Sox rooterswere on their feet and screaming like mad.

  Joe shot over a ball at which Cooper refused to "bite." The next one,however, suited him better, and he sent it hurtling toward the box likea bullet.

  Joe saw it coming two feet over his head. Like a flash he leaped up andcaught it in his ungloved hand. He turned and shot it over to Denton atthird. Denton touched the bag putting out Girdner who had turned to goback and then got the ball down to Larry before Stock could get back tosecond.

  It was a triple play! The game was over, the Series was won and theGiants had become the champions of the world!

  For a moment the crowd was fairly stunned. Then wild howls and yellsarose and an uproar ensued that was deafening. Staid citizens forgottheir dignity and danced up and down like madmen, utter strangers huggedeach other, straw hats were tossed into the air or smashed on theirowners' heads. Then the crowd hurdled over the stands and swooped downon the players who were making tracks as fast as they could for theclubhouse to escape the deluge.

  "A no-hit game! A triple play!" gasped McRae, as he almost wrenchedJoe's arm from its socket. "Joe, you're a wonder. And now for that touraround the world. You've got to go with me, Joe. I won't take No for ananswer. You'll be our greatest drawing card."

  How Joe accepted the invitation and the startling events that followedwill be told in the next volume of the series, to be entitled: "BaseballJoe Around the World; Or, Pitching on a Grand Tour."

  It was a long time before Joe could tear himself away from his hilariousteam-mates and reach his party at the Marlborough. How his mother criedover him in her joy and pride, how Mr. Matson wrung his hand and pattedhis shoulder hardly trusting himself to speak, how Clara hugged andkissed him, how Mabel would have liked to do the same but did not dareto, how Jim and Reggie mauled and pounded him--all this can be easilyguessed. They were happy beyond all words.

  But there was an impalpable something in the air that gradually thinnedout the party. Mrs. Matson motioned her husband to come with her. Jimand Clara, only too glad of the excuse, slipped away, casting a roguishglance behind them, and even the obtuse Reggie remembered a letter hehad to write and vanished.

  Joe and Mabel, left alone, looked at each other, but Mabel's eyes fellinstantly before what they read in Joe's. Her cheeks flushed, her breathcame faster and she began to tremble.

  "Mabel," Joe began, a trifle huskily.

  "Yes, Joe," she faltered.

  He took her little glove from his pocket and bent toward her tenderly.

  "This little glove of yours has done wonders for me," he said. "It hashelped me to win two championships. But these victories are nothing tome unless I win you, too. Will you be my wife, Mabel--will you? You knowI love you."

  He read his answer in the beautiful eyes full of love and trust that sheturned up to his. The next instant she was in his arms.

  Decidedly, it was Joe's winning day.

  And that good right arm of his had made it a winning day also for hostsof others. The whole National League was aflame with exultation. Thecity of New York was wild with joy. And every member of the Giant teamwas tasting the delights of victory to the full.

  They had all played their parts well and ably. But they knew perfectlywell that more credit belonged to Joe than to any one else and they wereloud in their praises of his skill and courage.

  "I've seen some dandy pitching in my life," Robson declared to the groupof Giant players who had gathered round for an impromptu jollification,"but that performance of Matson's this afternoon was far and away thebest of all. He was as cool as a cucumber and it was impossible torattle him. He couldn't have done better. He's the greatest pitcher inthe League to-day, barring none!"

  "Right you are!" exclaimed McRae, clapping him on the shoulder. "I tellyou, Robbie, it was a great day for New York when I signed Baseball Joefor the Giant team!"

  THE END