CHAPTER XXI
THE WINNING STREAK
The Giants were in for a winning streak, and New York City promptlywent baseball mad!
Now there was no question of filling the grounds. It was rather aquestion of getting there early enough to secure seats.
The Polo Grounds could accommodate thirty-five thousand, and again andagain that number was reached and exceeded. The great amphitheatre wasa sea of eager faces. Fans stood in hundreds in the rear of the uppergrandstands. The lower stand too was filled to overflowing, and thebleachers were packed. It was astonishing how many business men closedtheir rolltop desks with a bang on those summer afternoons. Young andold alike were wild to be at the games and see the Giants add one moreto their rapidly mounting list of victories.
Thirteen--fourteen--fifteen--sixteen! Were the Giants ever going to bestopped? If so, who was going to stop them? The Western teams werecoming now and the St. Louis team had left their scalps in the Giant'swigwam. Chicago was next in line. Could they stop the Giants in theirmad rush for the flag?
They could not, although they tried desperately, and Brennan, theirresourceful manager, used all the cunning and guile that his longexperience had taught him. The Giants tamed the Cubs with a thoroughnessthat left nothing to be desired from a New York point of view. And nowthe string of victories had mounted to twenty.
Old records were got out and furbished up. It was found that oncebefore, when Markwith and Hughson were in their prime, the New Yorkshad won twenty-six games in a row. Could they repeat? Could they beattheir own record that had been hung up so long for other teams to aimat? That was the question that absorbed public interest, not only inNew York, but in baseball circles all over the country.
The reason for this phenomenal spurt of the Giants, it was recognized,could be found in two chief factors. One was the wonderful work beingdone by Joe both as a pitcher and a batter. The other was the marvelousadvance that had been made by Jim as a twirler.
Joe had never had such complete mastery of the ball as he was showingthis season. Even the pitching he had done the previous year, in theWorld Series between the Giants and the Sox, paled in comparison withwhat he was doing now. His control was something almost magical. It wassuch a rarity for him to give a base on balls that when it happened itwas specially noted by the sporting writers. He worked the corners ofthe plate to perfection. He mixed up his fast ones with slow teasersthat made the opposing batsmen look ridiculous as they broke theirbacks reaching for them. His slants and twists and hops and curves hadnever been so baffling. It was fast getting to the point where theother teams were half beaten as soon as they saw Joe pick up his gloveand go into the box.
But it was not even his pitching, great as it was, that held theworshiping attention of the crowds. It was the home run record that hewas piling up in such an amazing fashion that already he was rated bymany the equal of the wonderful Kid Rose. That wonderful eye of hishad learned to time the ball so accurately as it came up to the platethat the bat met it at precisely the hundredth part of a second whenit did the most good. Then all his mighty arm and shoulder leaned onthe ball and gave it wings. Almost every other game now saw a home runchalked up to his credit. In three games of the winning streak he hadmade two home runs in a single game. It was common talk that he wasout to tie the record of Ed Delehanty, the one-time mighty sluggerof the Phillies, who in the years of long ago had hung up a record offour homers in a game. He had not done it yet, but there was still timebefore the season closed.
More still would have gone to his credit had not the opposing pitchersbecome so afraid of him that they would not let him hit the ball. Againand again when he came to the bat, the catcher would stand away off tothe side and the pitcher would deliberately send over four balls, sowide that Joe could not possibly reach them without stepping out of thebox. This was a mighty disappointment to the crowds, half of whom hadcome with no other object in view than to see Joe smash out a homer.They would jeer and taunt the pitcher for his cowardice in fearingto match his slants against Joe's bat, but the practice continuednevertheless.
Even this, however, was not a total loss to the Giants. It put Joe onfirst anyway, and counted at least for as much as a single would havedone. And Joe was so fleet of foot on the bases that McRae once saidjokingly that he would have to have detectives on the field to keep himfrom stealing so many bags. Many a base on balls thus given to Joe outof fear for his mighty bat was eventually turned into a run that helpedto win the game.
One morning when Joe, with the rest of the Giant team, was going outon the field for practice, his eye caught sight of a long white streakof kalsomine that ran up the right field wall to the top, behind thebleachers.
"What's the idea?" he asked, turning to Robbie, who was close besidehim.
"Don't you really know, you old fence-breaker?" asked Robbie, a smilebreaking over his jovial face.
"Blest if I do," answered Joe.
"Well, I'll tell you," answered Robbie. "The fact is that you'vegot into such a habit of knocking the ball into the right fieldstands--mighty good habit, too, if you ask me--that the umpires haveasked us to paint this line so that they can see whether the hit isfair or foul. The ordinary hit they can tell easy enough. But yours areso far out that they have to have especial help in judging them. It'sthe first time it's had to be done for any hitter in the history of thegame. Some compliment, what?"
But Joe's work, wonderful as it was, would not alone have started andmaintained the Giants' winning streak. No one man, however great, cancarry a whole team on his shoulders. The next most important elementwas the pitching that Jim was showing. It was only second in qualityto that turned in by Joe himself. Jim was a natural ball player, andhis close association and friendship with Joe had taught him all thefine points of the game. He had learned the weaknesses of opposingbatters. He knew those who would bite at an outcurve and those to whoma fast high one was poison; those who would offer at the first ball andthose who would try to wait him out; those who would crowd the plateand those who would flinch when he wound the ball around their necks.He had a splendid head on his shoulders and a world of power in hisbiceps; and those two things go far to make a winning combination.
Another element of strength was the return of Hughson to the team andhis ability to take his regular turn in the box. His arm still hurthim, and it was beginning to be evident that he would never again bethe Hughson of old. But his skill and knowledge of the game and thebatters was so great that it more than atoned for the weakness of hispitching arm. His control was as wonderful as ever, and he nursed hisarm as much as possible. He did not attempt to do much striking out,as that would have been too severe a strain. More and more he let thebatsmen hit the ball, and depended upon the eight men behind him toback him up. Often he would go through an inning this way and the threeput outs would be made by the infield on grounders and the outfielderson flies. But once let a man get on first and the "Old Master" wouldtighten up and prevent scoring. By thus favoring his arm, he was ableto turn in his share of the victories.
Markwith also had a new lease of life, and was winging them over as inthe days when he had been without question the best port side flingerin the League.
In fact the pitching staff was at the height of its form and hadnever been going better. And the rest of the team, without exception,was playing great ball. There was not a cripple on the list. Willisand Iredell had been restored to their positions at third and shortrespectively, and were playing the best ball of their careers. WithLarry at second and Burkett at first, they formed a stonewall infieldthat seldom let anything get away from them. They made hair-raisingstops and dazzling double plays, gobbling up grounders on either side,spearing high liners that were ticketed for singles, and played likesupermen. The outfielders had caught the spirit of enthusiasm thatpervaded the team, and were making what seemed like impossible catches.Add to this that the team members were batting like fiends and runningbases like so many ghosts, and the reason for the winning streakbecomes a
pparent. The Giants were simply playing unbeatable ball.
So the Cincinnatis found when the time came for their heads to dropinto the basket. That series was sweet revenge for the Giants, who hadnot forgotten the beating the Reds had given them on their last swingaround the circuit.
Twenty-one--twenty-two--twenty-three--twenty-four. Two more games totie their own previous record. Three more to beat it. Would they do it?
Many shook their heads. On the mere law of averages, a break for theGiants was now due. The team had been under a fearful strain. Suchphenomenal work could not last forever.
Besides, the severest test was now at hand. The Pittsburghs werecoming. The Smoky City boys had been playing great ball themselves.They had won nineteen games out of the last twenty-four, and the marginof seven games that they had had when the Giants began their streakstill kept them in the lead by two games. They had boasted that theywould break the Giants' streak as soon as they struck New York.
The time had come to make good their boast. Would they do it?