Baseball Joe In The Big League Part 28

"Yes, but the season isn't half over yet. I think you'll do better."

"I sure do hope so," murmured Joe. "But, for all that, I am afraid you won't see me pitch to-day. Mr. Watson won't dare risk me, though I think I could do some good work. I'm feeling fine."

"Oh, I do hope you get a chance!" Mabel exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Anyhow, I'm going to have one of the front boxes, and there are to be some girl friends with me. You know them, I think--Hattie Walsh and Jean Dougla.s.s."

"Oh, yes, I remember them," Joe said. "Well, I hope you see us win, but I doubt it."

And now, as the game was about to start, Joe looked up and saw, in one of the front boxes, Mabel and her friends. He went over to speak to them, as he walked in from practice.

"For good luck!" said Mabel softly, as she gave him one of the flowers she was wearing.

"Thanks," and Joe blushed.

As yet the battery of the Cardinals had not been announced. Clearly Manager Watson was in a quandary. He and Boswell consulted together, while the players waited nervously. Some of the newspaper reporters, anxious to flash some word to their papers, asked who was to pitch.

"I'll let you know in a few minutes," was the manager's answer.

And then, as the time for calling the game approached, Mr. Watson handed his batting order to the umpire.

The latter stared at it a moment before making the announcement. He seemed a trifle surprised.

"Batteries!" he called through his megaphone. "For New York, Hankinson and Burke--for St. Louis--Matson and Russell."

Joe was to pitch, and in the biggest game he had ever attempted!

There was a rushing and roaring in his ears, and for a moment he could not see clearly.

"Go to it, Matson," said the manager. "I'm going to try you out."

Joe's lips trembled. He was glad his teammates could not know how he felt. Nervously he walked out to the mound, and caught the new ball which the umpire divested of its foil cover and tossed to him. Russell girded himself in protector and mask, and the batter stepped back to allow the usual practice b.a.l.l.s.

Someone in a box applauded. Joe could not see, but he knew it was Mabel.

"Oh, Joe's going to pitch!" she exclaimed to her girl friends. "I hope he strikes them all out!"

"Not much chance," her brother said, rather grimly.

Joe sent the first ball whizzing in. It went so wild that the catcher had to jump for it. There was a murmur from the stands, and some of the Giants grinned at one another.

Russell signalled to Joe that he wanted to speak to him. Pitcher and catcher advanced toward one another.

"What's the matter?" Russell wanted to know, while some in the crowd laughed at the conference. "Got stage fright?"

"Ye--yes," stammered Joe. Poor Joe, he had a bad case of nerves.

"Say, look here!" exclaimed Russell with a intentional fierceness. "If you don't get over it, and pitch good ball, I'll give you the best beating up you ever had when we get to the clubhouse! I'm not going to stand being laughed at because you're such a rotten pitcher! Do you get me!" and he leered savagely at Joe.

The effect on the young pitcher was like an electric shock. He had never been spoken to like that before. But it was just the tonic he needed.

"I get you," he said briefly.

"It's a good thing you do!" said Russell brutally, and, as he walked back to his place his face softened. "I hated to speak that way to the lad," he murmured to himself, "but it was the only way to get him over his fright."

CHAPTER XXI

A QUEER MESSAGE

The next practice ball Joe sent in went cleanly over the plate, and landed with a thud in the catcher's glove. Russell nodded at Joe, to indicate that was what he wanted.

"Play ball!" directed the umpire, and the batter moved up closer to the plate.

Stooping low, and concealing his signal with his big glove, Russell called for a straight, swift ball. Joe gave it, and as it was in the proper place, though the striker did not attempt to hit it, the umpire called:

"Strike--one!"

Indignantly the batter looked around, but it was only done for effect.

He knew it was a strike.

"That's the way. Now we've got 'em!" cried Boswell from the coaching line.

"Ball one," was the next decision of the umpire, and Joe felt a little resentment, for he had made sure it went over the plate. But there was little use to object.

A curve was next called for, and Joe succeeded in enticing the batter to strike at it. But the stick missed the horsehide cleanly. It was two strikes.

"Pretty work! Oh, pretty work!" howled Boswell.

A foul next resulted, and Russell missed it by inches. The batter had still another chance. But it availed him little, for Joe fooled him on the next one.

"Good!" nodded the catcher to the young pitcher, and Joe felt his vision clearing now. He looked over toward where Mabel was sitting. She smiled encouragingly at him.

The New Yorks got one hit off Joe that inning, but, though the man on first stole second, after Joe had tried to nip him several times, the other two men struck out, and a goose egg went up in the first frame.

"Well, if you can do that eight more times the game is ours, if we can only get one run," said Manager Watson, as Joe came up to the bench, smiling happily.

"I'll try," was all he said.

But the Cardinals did not get their run that inning, nor the next nor the next nor next. The game ran along for five innings with neither side crossing home plate, and talk of a "pitchers' battle" began to be heard.

Joe was pitching remarkably well, allowing only scattering hits. The Giants could not seem to bunch them.

Then, as might have been expected, Joe had a bit of bad luck. There had been hard work for him that day--hard and nervous work, and it told on him. He was. .h.i.t for a two-bagger, and the next man walked, though Joe thought some of the decisions unfair.

Then the runner attempted to steal third. There was a wild throw, and the man came in, scoring the first run. Joe felt a wave of chagrin sweep over him. He felt that the game was going.

"Tighten up! Tighten up!" he heard Boswell call to him. By a determined effort he got himself well in hand, and then amid the cheers of the crowd he succeeded in striking out the other men up, so that only the one run was in.