Baseball Joe in the Big League; or, A Young Pitcher's Hardest Struggles

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Baseball Joe in the Big League; or, A Young Pitcher's Hardest Struggles Page 10

by Lester Chadwick


  CHAPTER X

  OFF TO ST. LOUIS

  For a few seconds, after Joe's announcement, there was silence in theroom. Then, as the realization of what it meant came to them, Clara wasthe first to speak.

  "I'm _so_ glad, Joe," she said, simply, but there was real meaning inher words.

  "And I congratulate you, son," added Mr. Matson. "It's something to beproud of, even if St. Louis isn't in the first division."

  "Oh, they'll get there, as soon as I begin pitching," declared Joe witha smile.

  Mrs. Matson said nothing for a while. Her son, and the rest of thefamily, knew of her objection to baseball, and her disappointment thatJoe had not entered the ministry, or some of the so-called learnedprofessions.

  But, as she looked at the smiling and proud face of her boy she couldnot help remarking:

  "Joe, I, too, am very glad for your sake. I don't know much aboutsporting matters, but I suppose this is a promotion."

  "Indeed it is, Mother!" Joe cried, getting up to go around the table andkiss her. "It's a fine promotion for a young player, and now it's up tome to make good. And I will, too!" he added earnestly.

  "Is that all Mr. Gregory, your former manager, says in the telegram?"asked Mr. Matson.

  "No, he says a letter of explanation will follow, and also a contract tosign."

  "Will you get more money, Joe?" asked Clara.

  "Sure, Sis. I know what you're thinking of," Joe added, with a smile atthe girl, as he put his stick-pin in his scarf. "You're thinking of thering I promised to buy you if I got this place. Well, I'll keep my word.You can go down and get measured for it to-day."

  "Oh, Joe, what a good brother you are!" she cried.

  "Then you really will get more money?" asked Mrs. Matson, and her voicewas a bit eager. Indeed Joe's salary, and the cash he received as hisshare of the pennant games, had been a blessing to the family during Mr.Matson's illness, for the inventor had lost considerable funds.

  "Yes, I'll get quite a bit more," said Joe. "I got fifteen hundred ayear with the Pittstons, and Mr. Gregory said I ought to get at leastdouble that if I go with St. Louis. It will put us on Easy Street; won'tit, Momsey?"

  "It will be very welcome," she replied, with a sigh, but it was rather ahappy sigh at that. She had known the pinch of hard times in her day,had Mrs. Matson.

  "I'd have to be at the game of lawyering or doctoring a long while,before I'd get an advance like this," went on Joe, as he read thetelegram over a second time. And then he put it carefully in his pocket,to be filed away with other treasures, such as young men love to look atfrom time to time; a faded flower, worn by "Someone," a letter or two,a--but there, I promised not to tell secrets.

  The first one who knew of his promotion, after the folks at home, wasMabel. Joe made some excuse to call at the hotel. Reggie was out onbusiness, but Joe did not mind that.

  "Oh, I'm so glad--for your sake, Joe!" exclaimed Mabel warmly. "I hopeyou make a great reputation!"

  "It won't be from lack of trying," he said, with a smile. "And I do hopeyou can get out to St. Louis this Summer."

  "We expect to," she answered. "I have been there with Reggie severaltimes."

  "What sort of a place is it?" asked Joe eagerly, "and where does myteam play?" he inquired, with an accent on the "my."

  "There are two major league teams in St. Louis," explained Mabel, who,as I have said, was an ardent "fan." She was almost as good as a boy inthis respect. "The National League St. Louis team, or the 'Cardinals,'as I suppose you know they are nicknamed, plays on Robison Field, atVandeventer and Natural Bridge road. I've often been out there to gameswith Reggie, but I'll look forward to seeing them now, with a lot morepleasure," she added, blushing slightly.

  "Thanks," laughed Joe. "I guess I'll be able to find my way about thecity. But, after all, I'll be likely to strike it with the team, forI'll probably have to go South training before I report in St. Louis."

  "It isn't hard to find your way about St. Louis," went on Mabel. "Justtake a Natural Bridge line car, and that'll bring you out to RobisonField. Or you can take a trunk line, and transfer to Vandeventer. Butthe best way is the Natural Bridge route. Is there anything else you'dlike to know?" she asked, with a smile. "Information supplied at shortnotice. The Browns, or American League team, play at Grand andDodier----"

  "Oh, I'm not interested in them!" interrupted Joe. "I'm going to stickto my colors--cardinal."

  "And I'll wear them, too," said Mabel in a low voice, and the blush inher cheeks deepened. Already she was wearing Joe's color.

  "This is our last day here," the girl went on, after a pause.

  "It is?" cried Joe in surprise. "Why, I thought----"

  "I'm sorry, too," she broke in with. "You have given Reggie and me alovely time. I've enjoyed myself very much."

  "Not half as much as _I_ have," murmured Joe.

  Reggie came in a little later, and congratulated the young player, andthen Charlie Hall added his good wishes. It was his last day in townalso, and he and the Varleys left on the same train, Joe and his sistergoing to the station to see them off.

  "If you get snowed in again, just let me know," called Joe, with alaugh, as the train pulled out. "I'll come for you in an airship."

  "Thanks!" laughed Mabel, as she waved her hand in a final good-bye.

  As Joe was leaving the station a train from Rocky Ford pulled in, andone of the passengers who alighted from it was the ill-favored man whohad endeavored to pick a quarrel with Joe at the hotel the nightbefore.

  The fellow favored the young player with a surly glance, and seemedabout to approach him. Then, catching sight of Clara at her brother'sside, he evidently thought better of it, and veered off.

  Joe's face must have showed his surprise at the sight of the man, forClara asked:

  "Who is that fellow, Joe? He looked at you in such a peculiar way. Doyou know him?"

  Joe was glad he could answer in the negative. He really did not know theman, and did not want to, though it certainly seemed strange that heshould encounter him again.

  "He seems to know you," persisted Clara, for the man had looked back atJoe twice.

  "Maybe he thinks he does, or maybe he wants to," went on the pitcher,trying to speak indifferently. "Probably he's heard that I'm the comingtwirling wonder of the Cardinals," and he pretended to swell up hischest, and look important.

  "Nothing like having a good opinion of yourself," laughed Clara.

  That afternoon's mail brought Joe a letter from Mr. Gregory, in whichthe news contained in the telegram was confirmed. It was also statedthat Joe would receive formal notice of his draft from the St. Louisteam, and his contract, which was to be signed in duplicate.

  "I wish he'd said something about salary," mused our hero. "But probablythe other letter, from the St. Louis manager, will have that in, and thecontract will, that's certain."

  The following day all the details were settled. Joe received formalnotice of his draft from the Pittstons to the St. Louis Cardinals. Hewas to play for a salary of three thousand dollars a year.

  In consideration of this he had to agree to certain conditions, amongthem being that he would not play with any other team without permissionfrom the organized baseball authorities, and, as long as he was in thegame, and accepted the salary, he would be subject to the call of anyother team in the league, the owners of which might wish to "purchase"him; that is, if they paid the St. Louis team sufficient money.

  "I wonder what they'll consider me worth, say at the end of the firstseason?" said Joe to Clara.

  "What a way to talk!" she exclaimed. "As if you were a horse, or aslave."

  "It does sound a bit that way," he admitted, "and some of the starplayers bring a lot more than valuable horses. Why, some of the playerson the New York Giants cost the owners ten and fifteen thousand dollars,and the Pittsburgh Nationals paid $22,500 for one star fellow as apitcher. I hope I get to be worth that to some club," laughed Joe, "butthere isn't any danger--not right off the bat," he adde
d with a smile.

  "Well, that's a part of baseball I'm not interested in," said Clara. "Ilike to see the game, but I watch it for the fun in it, not for themoney."

  "And yet there has to be money to make it a success," declared Joe."Grounds, grandstands and trips cost cash, and the owners realize on theabilities of the players. In return they pay them good salaries. Many aplayer couldn't make half as much in any other business. I'm glad I'm init."

  Joe signed and returned the contract, and from then on he was the"property" of the St. Louis team, and subject to the orders of theowners and manager.

  A few days later Joe received his first instructions--to go to St.Louis, report to the manager, and then go South to the training camp,with the team. There his real baseball work, as a member of a bigleague, would start.

  Joe packed his grip, stowing away his favorite bat and his new pitcher'sglove, said good-bye to his family and friends in Riverside, and took atrain that eventually would land him in St. Louis, at the Union Depot.

  The journey was without incident of moment, and in due time Joe reachedthe hotel where he had been told the players were quartered.

  "Is Mr. Watson here?" he asked the clerk, inquiring for the manager.

  "I think you'll find him in the billiard room," replied the clerk,sizing up Joe with a critical glance. "Here, boy, show this gentleman toMr. Watson," went on the man at the register.

  "Do you know him by sight?" he asked.

  "No," replied Joe, rather sorry he did not.

  "I know him!" exclaimed the bellboy, coming forward, with a cheerfulgrin on his freckled face. "He sure has a good ball team. I hope theywin the pennant this year. Are you one of the players?" he asked.

  "One of the new ones," spoke Joe, modestly enough.

  "Gee! Dat's great!" exclaimed the lad admiringly. "There's 'Muggins'Watson over there," and he pointed to a man in his shirt sleeves,playing billiards with a young fellow whom Joe recognized, from havingseen his picture in the papers, as 'Slim' Cooney, one of the St. Louispitchers.

  "Mr. Watson?" inquiringly asked Joe, waiting until the manager had made,successfully, a difficult shot, and stood at rest on his cue.

  "That's my name," and a pair of steel-blue eyes looked straight at ourhero. "What can I do for you?"

  "I'm Joe Matson, and----"

  "Oh, yes, the new recruit I signed up from Pittston. Well, this is thefirst time I've seen you. Took you on the report of one of my men. Gladto meet you," and he held out a firm hand. "Slim," he went on to hisopponent at billiards, "let me make you acquainted with one of yourhated rivals--Joe Matson. Matson, this is our famous left-hand twirler."

  Joe laughed and shook hands. He liked the manager and the other player.I might state, at this point, that in this book, while I shall speak ofthe players of the Cardinals, and of the various National League teams,I will not use their real names, for obvious reasons. However, if any ofyou recognize them under their pseudonyms, I cannot help it.

 

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