Back Aa

Baseball Joe in the Central League

Close

<h2>CHAPTER XIV BAD NEWS</h2> Grounds that were soggy and wet, and a dreary drizzle of rain, prevented a game next day, and there was much disappointment. Weather reports were eagerly scanned, and the skies looked at more than once. “I think it’ll clear to-morrow,” remarked Joe to Charlie Hall. “I sure hope so. I want to see what sort of meat these Newkirk fellows are made of since we played against ’em last.” “Oh, they’re husky enough, as we found, Charlie,” for there had been several league games between this team and the Pittston nine, but in the latter town. Now the tables might be turned. “They’ve got some new players,” went on Charlie, “and a pitcher who’s said to be a marvel.” “Well, you’ve got me,” laughed Joe, in simulated pride. “That’s right, old man, and I’m glad of it. I[114] think you’re going to pull us to the top in this pennant race.” “Oh, I haven’t such a swelled head as to think that,” spoke Joe, “but I’m going to work hard—I guess we all are. But what does it look like for Clevefield to-day? You know she’s got to lose and we’ve got to win to put us on top.” “I know. There wasn’t any report of rain there, so the game must be going on. We ought to get results soon. Come on over to the ticker.” It was after luncheon, and the game in Clevefield, with the Washburg nine, would soon start. Then telegraphic reports of the contest that, in a way, meant so much for Pittston would begin coming in. After the delightful dinner Joe had had with Mabel his pleasure was further added to when he went with her to the theatre. Reggie telephoned that he could not get back in time, and asked Joe to take his sister, she having the tickets. Of course the young pitcher was delighted, but he could not get over the uneasy feeling that young Varley was suspicious of him. “Hang it all!” exclaimed Joe, mentally. “I’ve just got to get that out of his mind! But how? Only by finding his watch or Mabel’s jewelry, and I suppose I might as well look for a needle in a haystack.” Joe sat in the hotel corridor, looking over a[115] newspaper, and waiting for some news of the Clevefield game, as many of his team were doing. An item caught the eye of the young pitcher that caused him to start. It was to the effect that the unfortunate Pop Dutton had been arrested for creating a scene at a ball park. “Poor old man!” mused Joe. “I wish I could do something for him. I feel sort of responsible for him, since I saved his life. I wonder if he couldn’t be straightened up? I must have another talk with Gregory about him.” A yell from some of the players gathered about the news ticker in the smoking room brought Joe to his feet. “What is it?” he called to Charlie Hall. “Washburg got three runs the first inning and Clevefield none!” was the answer. “It looks as if Washburg would have a walk-over. And you know what that means for us.” “Yes, if we win to-morrow.” “Win! Of course we’ll win, you old bone-head!” cried Charlie, clapping Joe affectionately on the back. Further news from the game was eagerly awaited and when the last inning had been ticked off, and Washburg had won by a margin of three runs, the Pittston team was delighted. Not at the downfall of fellow players, understand,[116] but because it gave Pittston the coveted chance to be at the top of the first division. “Boys, we’ve just got to win that game to-morrow!” cried Gregory. “If they don’t I’ll make them live on bread and water for a week!” cried Trainer McGuire, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. The second day following proved all that could be desired from a weather standpoint for a ball game, the grounds having dried up meanwhile. It was bright and sunny, but not too warm, and soon after breakfast the team was ordered out on the field for light practice. This was necessary as their day of comparative idleness, added to the damp character of the weather, had made them all a little stiff. “Get limbered up, boys,” advised Jimmie Mack. “You’ll need all the speed and power you can bring along to-day. Joe, how’s your arm?” “All right, I guess,” answered the young pitcher. “Well, do some light practice. Come on. I’ll catch for you a while.” There had been some slight changes made in the Newkirk grounds since last season, and Gregory wanted his players to familiarize themselves with the new layout. Joe was delighted with the diamond. Though Newkirk was a smaller city[117] than Pittston the ball field was kept in better shape. “Of course it isn’t the Polo Grounds,” Joe confided to Charlie Hall, “but they’re pretty good.” “I wonder if I’ll ever get a chance to play on the Polo Grounds?” murmured Charlie, half enviously. “It must be great!” “It is!” cried Joe, with memories of the Yale-Princeton contest he had taken part in there. “And I’m going to do it again, some time!” “You are?” “I sure am. I’m going to break into a big league if it’s possible.” “Good for you, Joe!” “Still, the grounds aren’t everything, Charlie,” went on Joe. “We’ve got to play the best ball to win the game.” “And we’ll do it, too! Don’t worry.” The practice was worked up to a fast and snappy point, and then Gregory sent his men for a brisk walk, to be followed by a shower bath in preparation for the afternoon contest. Certainly when the Pittston team started for the grounds again they were a bright, clean-looking lot of players. Joe was wondering whether he would have a chance to pitch, but, following his usual policy, the crafty manager did not announce his battery until the last moment. [118] There was a big crowd out to see the game, for the rivalry in the Central League was now intense, and interest was well keyed up. Joe had seen Mabel and her brother start for the grounds, and he wished, more than ever before, perhaps, that he would be sent to the mound to do battle for his team. The Newkirk men were out on the diamond when the Pittston players arrived, and, after an interval the latter team was given a chance to warm up. Joe and the other pitchers began their usual practice, and Joe felt that he could do himself justice if he could but get a chance. There was silence as the batteries were announced, and Joe could not help feeling a keen disappointment as Tooley, the south-paw, was named to open the contest. “There’s a lot of queer batters on the Newkirks,” Joe heard Bob Newton, the right fielder, say to Terry Hanson, who played left. “I guess that’s the reason the old man wants Tooley to feel them out.” “I reckon.” “Play ball!” droned the umpire as the gong clanged, and George Lee, the second baseman, who was first at bat, strolled out to pick up his club. The first part of the game was rather a surprise to the Pittston players. Lee was struck out[119] with amazing ease, and even Jimmie Mack, who had the best batting average of any on the team, “fell” for a delusive “fade-away” ball. “But I’ve got his number!” he exclaimed, as he nodded at the opposing pitcher. “He won’t get me again.” Pittston did not get a run, though she had three men on bases when the last one went down, and it looked as though her chances were good. Then came more disappointment when Tooley failed to get his batters, and Newkirk had two runs chalked up to her credit. The second inning was almost like the first and then at the proper time, Gregory, with a decisive gesture, signalled to Joe. “You’ll have to pitch us out of this hole!” he said, grimly. Collin, who had said openly that he expected to be called on, looked blackly at our hero. As Joe started to take his place a messenger boy handed him a telegram. He was a little startled at first, and then laughed at his fears. “Probably good wishes from home,” he murmured, as he tore open the envelope. And then the bright day seemed to go black as he read: <div class="blockquot"> “Your father hurt in explosion. No danger of death, but may lose eyesight. If you can come home do so.    Mother.” </div> <hr class="chap" /> [120] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2