CHAPTER XXIX
A DIAMOND BATTLE
Confusion reigned supreme for a moment. Several autos that were passingstopped, and men and women came running up to be of assistance ifnecessary.
But neither Joe nor Reggie was hurt.
Slowly the young pitcher picked himself up, and gazed about in somebewilderment. For a moment he could not understand what had happened.Then he saw Reggie disentangling himself from the steering wheel.
"Hurt?" asked Joe, anxiously.
"No. Are you?"
"Not a scratch."
"Rotten luck!" commented Reggie. "Now you'll never get to the game ontime."
"Lucky you weren't both killed," commented an elderly autoist. "And yourcar isn't damaged to speak of. Only a tire to the bad. That grassy banksaved you."
"Yes," assented Reggie. "All she needs is righting, but by the timethat's done it will be too late."
"Where were you going?" asked another man.
"To the game," answered Reggie.
"I'm on the Pittston team," said Joe. "I'm supposed to be there to pitchif I'm needed. Only--I won't be there," he finished grimly.
"Yes you will!" cried a man who had a big machine. "I'll take youboth--that is, if you want to leave your car," he added to Reggie.
"Oh, I guess that will be safe enough. I'll notify some garage man tocome and get it," was the reply.
"Then get into my car," urged the gentleman. "I've got plenty ofroom--only my two daughters with me. They'll be glad to meet aplayer--they're crazy about baseball--we're going to the game, in fact.Get in!"
Escorted by the man who had so kindly come to their assistance, Joe andReggie got into the big touring car.
The other autoists who had stopped went on, one offering to notify acertain garage to come and get Reggie's car. Then the young pitcher wasagain speeded on his way.
The big car was driven at almost reckless speed, and when Joe reachedthe ball park, and fairly sprang in through the gate, he was an hourlate--the game was about half over.
Without looking at Gregory and the other players who were on the bench,Joe gave a quick glance at the score board. It told the story in mutefigures.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 PITTSTON 0 0 0 0 CLEVEFIELD 1 0 2 3
It was the start of the fifth inning, and Pittston was at bat. Unlessshe had made some runs so far the tally was six to nothing in favor ofClevefield. Joe groaned in spirit.
"Any runs?" gasped Joe, as he veered over to the bench where his matessat. He was short of breath, for he had fairly leaped across the field.
"Not a one," said Gregory, and Joe thought he spoke sharply. "What's thematter? Where have you been?"
Joe gaspingly explained. When he spoke of the slow watch he looked atCollin sharply. For a moment the old pitcher tried to look Joe in theface. Then his eyes fell. It was enough for Joe.
"He did it!" he decided to himself.
"How many out?" was Joe's next question.
"Only one. We have a chance," replied Gregory. "Get into a uniform asfast as you can and warm up."
"Are you going to pitch me?"
"I guess I'll have to. They've been knocking Collin out of the box."Gregory said the last in a low voice, but he might as well have shoutedit for it was only too well known. Collin himself realized it. He fairlyglared at Joe.
As Joe hurried to the dressing room--his uniform fortunately having beenleft there early that morning--he looked at the bases. Bob Newton was onsecond, having completed a successful steal as Joe rushed in. CharlieHall was at bat, and Joe heard the umpire drone as he went under thegrandstand:
"Strike two!"
"Our chances are narrowing," thought Joe, and a chill seemed to strikehim. "If we lose this game it practically means the loss of the pennant,and----"
But he did not like to think further. He realized that the money he hadcounted on would not be forthcoming.
"I'm not going to admit that we'll lose," and Joe gritted his teeth."We're going to win."
Quickly he changed into his uniform, and while he was doing it the standabove him fairly shook with a mighty yell.
"Somebody's done something!" cried Joe aloud. "Oh, if I was only thereto see!"
The yelling continued, and there was a sound like thunder as thousandsof feet stamped on the stand above Joe's head.
"What is it? What is it?" he asked himself, feverishly, and his handstrembled so that he could hardly tie the laces of his shoes.
He rushed out to find the applause still continuing and was just in timeto see Charlie Hall cross the rubber plate.
"He must have made a home run! That means two, for he brought in Bob!"thought Joe.
He knew this was so, for, a moment later he caught the frantic shouts:
"Home-run Hall! Home-run Hall!"
"Did you do it, old man?" cried Joe, rushing up to him.
"Well, I just _had_ to," was the modest reply. "I'm not going to let youdo all the work on this team."
Gregory was clapping the shortstop on the back.
"Good work!" he said, his eyes sparkling. "Now, boys, we'll do 'em! Getbusy, Joe. Peters, you take him off there and warm up with him."
Charlie had caught a ball just where he wanted it and had "slammed" itout into the left field bleachers for a home run. It was a great effort,and just what was needed at a most needful time.
Then the game went on. Clevefield was not so confident now. Her pitcher,really a talented chap, was beginning to be "found."
Whether it was the advent of Joe, after his sensational race, orwhether the Pittston players "got onto the Clevefield man's curves," asCharlie Hall expressed it, was not quite clear. Certainly they beganplaying better from that moment and when their half of the fifth closedthey had three runs to their credit. The score was
PITTSTON 3 CLEVEFIELD 6
"We only need four more to win--if we can shut them out," said Gregory,as his men took the field again. He sat on the bench directing the game."Go to it, Joe!"
"I'm going!" declared our hero, grimly.
He realized that he had a hard struggle ahead of him. Not only must heallow as few hits as possible, but, with his team-mates, he must help togather in four more tallies.
And then the battle of the diamond began in earnest.
Joe pitched magnificently. The first man up was a notoriously heavyhitter, and Joe felt tempted to give him his base on balls. Insteadhe nerved himself to strike him out if it could be done. Working across-fire, varying it with his now famous fade-away ball, Joe managedto get to two balls and two strikes, both the latter being foul ones.
He had two more deliveries left, and the next one he sent in with allthe force at his command.
The bat met it, and for an instant Joe's heart almost stopped a beat.Then he saw the ball sailing directly into the hands of Charlie Hall.The man was out.
Joe did not allow a hit that inning. Not a man got to first, and thelast man up was struck out cleanly, never even fouling the ball.
"That's the boy!" cried the crowd as Joe came in. "That's the boy!"
His face flushed with pleasure. He looked for Collin, but that playerhad disappeared.
The rest of that game is history in the Central League. How Pittstonrallied, getting one run in the sixth, and another in the lucky seventh,has been told over and over again.
Joe kept up his good work, not allowing a hit in the sixth. In theseventh he was pounded for a two-bagger, and then he "tightened up," andthere were no runs for the Clevefields.
They were fighting desperately, for they saw the battle slippingaway from them. Pittston tied the score in the eighth and there waspandemonium in the stands. The crowd went wild with delight.
"Hold yourself in, old man," Gregory warned his pitcher. "Don't let 'emget your goat. They'll try to."
"All right," laughed Joe. He was supremely happy.
There was almost a calamity in the beginning of the ninth. Pittston'sfirst batter--Gus Harrison--struck out, an
d there was a groan ofanguish. Only one run was needed to win the game, for it was now evidentthat the Clevefield batters could not find Joe.
George Lee came up, and popped a little fly. The shortstop fumbled it,but stung it over to first. It seemed that George was safe there, butthe umpire called him out.
"Boys, we've got a bare chance left," said Gregory. "Go to it."
And they did. It was not remarkable playing, for the Clevefields had putin a new pitcher who lost his nerve. With two out he gave Joe, the nextman, his base. Joe daringly stole to second, and then Terry Hanson madeup for previous bad work by knocking a three-bagger. Joe came in withthe winning run amid a riot of yells. The score, at the beginning of thelast half of the ninth:
PITTSTON 7 CLEVEFIELD 6
"Hold 'em down, Joe! Hold 'em down!" pleaded Gregory.
And Joe did. It was not easy work, for he was tired and excitedfrom the auto run, and the close call he had had. But he pitchedmagnificently, and Clevefield's last record at bat was but a single hit.No runs came in. Pittston had won the second game of the pennant seriesby one run. Narrow margin, but sufficient.
And what rejoicing there was! Joe was the hero of the hour, but hisovation was shared by Charlie Hall and the others who had done suchsplendid work. Pop Dutton did not play, much to his regret.
"Congratulations, old man," said the Clevefield manager to Gregory."That's some little pitcher you've got there."
"That's what we think."
"Is he for sale?"
"Not on your life."
"Still, I think you're going to lose him," went on Clevefield's manager.
"How's that?" asked Gregory in alarm.
The other whispered something.
"Is that so! Scouting here, eh? Well, if they get Joe in a big league Isuppose I ought to be glad, for his sake. Still, I sure will hate tolose him. He was handicapped to-day, too," and he told of the delay.
"He sure has nerve!" was the well-deserved compliment.
CHAPTER XXX
THE PENNANT
The pennant was not yet won. So far the teams had broken even, andunless Pittston could take the next two games there would be a fifth onenecessary.
"If there is," decided Gregory, "we'll make it an exhibition, on someneutral diamond, and get a big crowd. It will mean a lot more money forus."
"Will it?" asked Joe. "Then let's do it!"
"We can't make sure of it," went on the manager. "We'll not think ofthat, for it would mean throwing a game away if we won the next one, andI've never thrown a game yet, and never will. No, Joe, we'll try to winboth games straight, even if it doesn't mean so much cash. Now take careof yourself."
"I'll try," promised Joe.
The next contest would take place at Pittston, and thither the two teamsjourneyed that evening. Before they left Joe spent a pleasant time atthe hotel where Reggie and his sister had rooms.
"Are you coming back to Pittston, or stay here for the fourth game?" theyoung pitcher asked.
"We're going to see you play--of course!" exclaimed Mabel. "I wouldn'tmiss it for anything."
"Thank you!" laughed Joe, and blushed. "Did you get your auto allright?" he asked Reggie.
"Yes. The man brought her in. Not damaged a bit. Sis and I are going tomotor in to-morrow. But I won't take a chance in giving you a rideagain--not so close to the game."
"I guess not," agreed Joe, laughing.
"Did you find out anything?" Reggie went on. "About who meddled withyour watch?"
"I didn't ask any questions. It was too unpleasant a thing to have comeout. But my first guess was right. And I don't think that player willstay around here."
I may say, in passing, that Collin did not. He left town that night andwas not seen in that part of the country for some years. He broke hiscontract, but Gregory did not much care for that, as he was about readyto release him anyhow. Joe told the story to the manager only, and theykept it a secret between them. It was a mystery to Collin's team-mateswhy he disappeared so strangely, but few ever heard the real story.
The third game with Clevefield came off before a record-breaking crowd.It was a great contest, and was only won for Pittston in the tenthinning, when Jimmie Mack, the doughty first-baseman, scored the winningrun.
The crowd went wild at that, for it had looked as though Clevefieldwould take the game home with them. But they could not stand againstJoe's terrific pitching.
This made the pennant series stand two to one in favor of the Pittstonteam. Another victory would clinch the banner for them, but thefollowing game must take place in Clevefield, and this fact was rathera disadvantage to Joe's team.
"Now, boys, do your best," pleaded Gregory, as he sat with his men onthe bench, making up the batting order. "We want to win!"
Tom Tooley was to pitch in Joe's place, for our hero's arm really neededa rest.
"I may have to use you anyhow, toward the end, if we get in a hole,Joe," said the manager. "So hold yourself in readiness."
Much as Joe liked to pitch he was really glad that he did not have togo in, for he was very tired. The strain of the season, added to theresponsibility of the final big games, was telling on him.
The battle opened, and at first it seemed to favor Pittston. Then herbest hitters began to "slump," and the game slipped away from them.Clevefield came up strong and though, as a desperate resort, Joe wassent in, it was too late. Clevefield won the fourth game by a score ofnine to seven.
"That means a fifth game!" announced Gregory. "Well, we'll have a betterchance in that! Oh, for a rain!"
"Why?" asked Jimmie Mack, as they walked off the field.
"To give Joe a chance to rest up. He needs it."
And the rain came. It lasted for two days, and a third one had to passto let the grounds at Washburg dry up. It had been decided to playoff the tie there, for the diamond was a fine one, and Washburg wascentrally located, insuring a big attendance.
"We should have arranged this series to be the best three out of five inthe beginning," said Gregory. "We'll know better next time. There's toomuch uncertainty in a three out of four--it practically means five gamesanyhow."
Reggie and Mabel saw every contest, and announced their intention ofgoing to Washburg for the last. At least Mabel did, and Reggie could dono less than take her.
The rest had done Joe good, though of course it had also allowed hisopponents to recuperate. Joe felt fit to play the game of his life.
The grandstands were filled--the bleachers overflowed--the bandplayed--the crowds yelled and cheered. There was a riot ofcolor--represented by ladies' hats and dresses; there was a forest ofdarkness--represented by the more sober clothes of the men. It was theday of the final game.
"Play ball!" called the umpire, and Joe went to the mound, for Pittstonhad been lucky in the toss-up and could bat last.
Joe hardly knew whether he was more elated over his own chance ofshining in this deciding game or over the fact that Pop Dutton wasplaying. The old pitcher had improved wonderfully, and Gregory said, wasalmost "big league stuff" again. So he had been put in centre field. Hisbatting, too, was a bulwark for Pittston.
Just before the game Joe had received a letter from home, telling himnews that disconcerted him a little. It was to the effect that anoperation would be necessary to restore his father's sight. It wasalmost certain to be successful, however, for a noted surgeon, who hadsaved many by his skill, would perform it. But the cost would be heavy.
"So I've just got to win this game; to make my share of the moneybigger," Joe murmured. "I'll need every cent of it for dad--and Pop."
The winner of the pennant, naturally, would receive the larger share ofthe gate money, and each man on the winning team, the manager hadpromised, was to have his proportion.
"We've just got to win!" repeated Joe.
It was a desperately fought battle from the very start. Joe foundhimself a trifle nervous at first, but he pulled himself together andthen began such a pitching battle as is seldom seen
.
For five innings the game went on without a hit, a run or an error oneither side. It was almost machine-perfect baseball, and it was aquestion of which pitcher would break first. Joe faced batter afterbatter with the coolness of a veteran. Little "no count" flies were allhe was hit for, not a man getting to first.
There came a break in the sixth. How it happened Joe never knew, but hehit the batter, who went to first, and a runner had to be substitutedfor him. Naturally this made Joe nervous and he was not himself. Thenone of the Clevefield players knocked a home run, bringing in the manfrom first, and there were two runs against none for Pittston, and onlyone man out.
Then, if ever, was a crucial moment for Joe. Many young pitchers wouldhave gone to pieces under the strain, but by a supreme effort, Joe gotback his nerve. The crowd, always ready to be unfriendly when it sees apitcher wavering, hooted and howled. Joe only smiled--and struck outthe next man--and the next. He had stopped a winning streak in the nickof time.
"Get some runs, boys! Get some runs!" pleaded Gregory, and his men gotthem. They got three, enough to put them one ahead, and then Joe knew hemust work hard to hold the narrow margin so hardly won.
"I've got to do it! I've just got to do it!" he told himself. "I want towin this game so I'll have money enough for dad--and Pop! I'm going todo it!"
And do it he did. How he did it is history now, but it is history thatwill never be forgotten in the towns of that league. For Joe did notallow another hit that game. He worked himself to the limit, facingveteran batters with a smile of confidence, sending in a deadlycross-fire with his famous fade-away until the last tally was told, andthe score stood:
PITTSTON 3 CLEVEFIELD 2
When the last batter had gone down to defeat in the first half of theninth Joe drew off his glove, and, oblivious to the plaudits of thecrowd and his own mates, hurried to the dressing rooms.
"Where are you going?" cried Charlie Hall. "They're howling for you.They want to see you--hear you talk."
Joe could hear the voices screaming:
"Speech! Speech! Speech, Matson! Baseball Joe!"
"I just can't! I'm all in, Charlie. Tell them," pleaded Joe. "I want tosend a telegram home, telling the folks that I'll be with them whendad's operated on. I can't make a speech!"
Charlie told the crowd, and Joe was cheered louder than before.
And so ended the race for the pennant of the Central League, withPittston the winner.
As Joe walked off the field, on his way to the telegraph office, beingcheered again and again, while he made his way through the crowd, akeen-faced man looked critically at him.
"I guess you're going to be mine," he said. "I think we'll have to draftyou."
"What's that?" asked Pop Dutton, who recognized the man as a well-knownscout, on the lookout for promising players.
"Oh, nothing," answered the keen-faced one, with a laugh. Pop laughedalso, but it was a laugh of understanding.
And what it meant--and what the man's remark meant to Joe, may be learnedby reading the next volume of this series, to be called: "Baseball Joe inthe Big League; Or, a Young Pitcher's Hardest Struggles."
Joe hurried home that night, stopping only to say good-bye to Mabel,and promising to come and see her as soon as he could. The operation onMr. Matson was highly successful. It cost a large sum, and as his fatherhad no money to pay for it, Joe used much of the extra cash that came tohim as his share in the pennant series. Had his team not won he wouldhardly have had enough.
But there was enough to spare for the simple operation on Pop Dutton'sarm.
"Joe, I hate to have you spend your money this way--on me," objected thegrizzled veteran of many diamonds. "It doesn't seem right."
"Oh, play ball!" cried Joe, gaily. "You can pay me back, if you want to,you old duffer, when you get into a bigger league than the Central, andare earning a good salary."
"I will!" cried Pop, enthusiastically. "For I know I'm good for someyears yet. I have 'come back,' thanks to you, Joe."
They clasped hands silently--the young pitcher at the start of hisbrilliant career, and the old one, whose day was almost done.
Pop's operation was successful, and he went South for the Winter, there,in company with an old friend, to gradually work up into his old form.Hogan seemed to have vanished, but Reggie got all the pawned jewelryback. The Pittston players, in common with the others in the leagueteams, went their several ways to their Winter occupations, there toremain until Spring should again make green the grass of the diamond.
"Oh, Joe!" exclaimed Mrs. Matson, with trembling voice, when it wascertain her husband would see again, "how much we owe to you, my son."
"You owe more to baseball," laughed Joe.
Clara came in with a letter.
"This is for you, Joe," she said, adding mischievously:
"It seems to be from a girl, and it's postmarked Goldsboro, NorthCarolina. Who do you know down there?"
"Give me that letter, Sis!" cried Joe, blushing.
And while he is perusing the missive, the writer of which you canpossibly name, we will, for a time, take leave of Baseball Joe.
THE END
THE BASEBALL JOE SERIES
By LESTER CHADWICK
_12mo. Illustrated. Price 50 cents per volume._
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1. BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS _or The Rivals of Riverside_
2. BASEBALL JOE ON THE SCHOOL NINE _or Pitching for the Blue Banner_
3. BASEBALL JOE AT YALE _or Pitching for the College Championship_
4. BASEBALL JOE IN THE CENTRAL LEAGUE _or Making Good as a Professional Pitcher_
5. BASEBALL JOE IN THE BIG LEAGUE _or A Young Pitcher's Hardest Struggles_
6. BASEBALL JOE ON THE GIANTS _or Making Good as a Twirler in the Metropolis_
7. BASEBALL JOE IN THE WORLD SERIES _or Pitching for the Championship_
8. BASEBALL JOE AROUND THE WORLD _or Pitching on a Grand Tour_
9. BASEBALL JOE: HOME RUN KING _or The Greatest Pitcher and Batter on Record_
10. BASEBALL JOE SAVING THE LEAGUE _or Breaking Up a Great Conspiracy_
11. BASEBALL JOE CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM _or Bitter Struggles on the Diamond_
12. BASEBALL JOE CHAMPION OF THE LEAGUE _or The Record that was Worth While_
13. BASEBALL JOE CLUB OWNER _or Putting the Home Town on the Map_
14. BASEBALL JOE PITCHING WIZARD _or Triumphs Off and On the Diamond_
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By ROY ROCKWOOD
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1. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY _or The Old Naturalist's Secret_
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* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
--Printer, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected, except as noted below.
--Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
--Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.
--Author's em-dash style has been preserved.
--Changed "Rocky-ford" (p. 17) to "Rocky Ford", the Resolutes ball team's home town, for consistency with previous and subsequent books in the series.
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