BITTERNESS
Joe glanced over to where Gregory sat on the bench, from which he would
engineer this first game of the season. The manager caught the eye of
the young pitcher, and something in Joe's manner must have told the
veteran that his latest recruit was nervous. He signalled to Joe to try
a few practice balls, and our hero nodded comprehensively.
The batter stepped back from the plate, and Joe thought he detected a
smile of derision at his own newness, and perhaps rawness.
"But I'll show him!" whispered Joe fiercely to himself, as he clinched
his teeth and stung in the ball. It landed in the mitt of the catcher
with a resounding thud.
"That's the boy!" called Gregory to him. "You'll do, old man. Sting in
another."
Joe threw with all his force, but there was a sickening fear in his
heart that he was not keeping good control over the ball. Nelson
signalled to him to hold his curves in a little more, and Joe nodded to
show he understood.
"Play ball!" drawled the umpire again, and the batter took his place at
the plate.
Joe looked at the man, and reviewing the baseball "dope" he recalled
that the player batted well over .300, and was regarded as the despair
of many pitchers.
"If I could only strike him out!" thought Joe.
His first ball went a little wild. He realized that it was going to be a
poor one as soon as it left his hand, but he could not for the life of
him recover in time.
"Ball one!" yelled the umpire.
"That's the way!"
"Make him give you what you want!"
"Wait for a pretty one!"
"That's their ten thousand dollar college pitcher! Back to the bench for
his!"
These were only a few of the remarks, sarcastic and otherwise, that
greeted Joe's first performance. He felt the hot blood rush to his face,
and then, as he stepped forward to receive the ball which the catcher
tossed back to him, he tried to master his feelings. The catcher shook
his head in a certain way, to signal to Joe to be on his guard. Joe
looked over at Gregory, who did not glance at him.
"I'll do better this time!" whispered Joe, fiercely.
He deliberated a moment before hurling in the next ball.
"Here goes a home run! Clout it over the fence, Pike!" called an
enthusiastic "fan" in a shrill voice and the crowd laughed.
"Not if I know it!" muttered Joe.
The ball clipped the corner of the plate cleanly, and the batter, who
had made a half motion to hit at it, refrained.
"Strike one!" yelled the umpire, throwing up his arm.
"That's the way, Matson!"
"Two more like that and he's a dead one!"
Joe caught the signal for a drop, but shook his head. He was going to
try another out. Again his catcher signalled for a drop, but Joe was,
perhaps, a trifle obstinate. He felt that he had been successful once
with an out, and he was going to do it again. The catcher finally nodded
in agreement, though reluctantly.
Joe shot in a fast one, and he knew that he had the ball under perfect
control. Perhaps he was as disappointed as any of the home players when
there came a resounding crack, and the white sphere sailed aloft, and
well out over centre field.
"That's the way, Pike! Two bags anyhow!"
But the redoubtable Pike was to have no such good fortune, for the
centre fielder, after a heart-breaking run, got under the fly and caught
it, winning much applause from the crowd for his plucky effort.
"One down!" called Gregory, cheerfully. "Only two more, Joe."
Joe wished that he had struck out his man, but it was some consolation
to know that he was being supported by good fielding.
The next man up had a ball and a strike called on him, and Joe was a bit
puzzled as to just what to offer. He decided on a swift in, and thought
it was going to make good, but the batter was a crafty veteran, and
managed to connect with the ball. He sent a swift liner which the
shortstop gathered in, however, and there was another added to the list
of outs.
"One more and that'll be about all!" called the Pittston catcher. Joe
threw the ball over to first for a little practice, while the next
batter was picking out his stick, and then came another try.
"I've got to strike him out!" decided the young pitcher. "I've got to
make good!"
His heart was fluttering, and his nerves were not as calm as they
ought to have been. He stooped over and made a pretence of tying his
shoe-lace. When he straightened up he had, in a measure, gained a
mastery of himself. He felt cool and collected.
In went the ball with certain aim, and Joe knew that it was just what he
had intended it should be.
"Strike!" called the umpire, though the batter had not moved. There was
some laughter from the grandstand, and the batter tapped the plate
nervously. Joe smiled.
"Good work!" called Gregory from the bench.
Again the ball went sailing in, but this time Joe's luck played him a
shabby trick, or perhaps the umpire was not watching closely. Certainly
Joe thought it a strike, but "ball" was called. Joe sent in the next one
so quickly that the batter was scarcely prepared for it. But it was
perfectly legitimate and the umpire howled:
"Strike two!"
"That's the boy!"
"Good work!"
"Another like that now, Joe!"
Thus cried the throng. Gregory looked pleased.
"I guess Mack didn't make any mistake picking him up," he said.
The batter knocked a little foul next, that the catcher tried in vain to
get. And then, when he faced Joe again, our hero sent in such a puzzling
drop that the man was deceived and struck out.
"That's the boy!"
"What do you think of our ten thousand dollar college pitcher now?"
"Come on, Clevefield! He's got some more just like that!"
The home team and its supporters were jubilant, and Joe felt a sense of
elation as he walked in to the bench.
"Now see what my opponent can do," he murmured.
McGuinness was an old time pitcher, nothing very remarkable, but one any
small club would be glad to get. He had the "number" of most of the
Pittston players, and served them balls and strikes in such order that
though two little pop flies were knocked no one made a run. The result
of the first inning was a zero for each team.
"Now Joe, be a little more careful, and I think you can get three good
ones," said Gregory, as his team again took the field.
"I'll try," replied Joe, earnestly.
He got two men, but not the third, who knocked a clean two-bagger, amid
enthusiastic howls from admiring "fans."
This two-base hit seemed to spell Joe's undoing, for the next man
duplicated and the first run was scored. There were two out, and it
looked as though Clevefield had struck a winning streak, for the next
man knocked what looked to be good for single. But Bob Newton, the right
fielder, caught it, and the side was retired with one run.
Pittston tried hard to score, but the crafty pitcher, aided by effective
fielding, shut them out, and another zero was their portion on the score
board.
"Joe, we've got to get 'em!" exclaimed Gregory, earnestly.
"I'll try!" was the sturdy answer.
It was heart-breaking, though, when the first man up singled, and then
came a hit and run play. Joe was not the only player on the Pittston
team who rather lost his head that inning. For, though Joe was hit
badly, others made errors, and the net result was that Clevefield had
four runs to add to the one, while Pittston had none.
They managed, however, to get two in the following inning, more by good
luck than good management, and the game began to look, as Jimmie Mack
said, as though the other team had it in the "refrigerator."
How it happened Joe never knew, but he seemed to go to pieces. Probably
it was all a case of nerves, and the realization that this game meant
more to him than any college contest.
However that may be, the result was that Joe was effectively hit the
next inning, and when it was over, and three more runs had come in,
Gregory said sharply:
"Collin, you'll pitch now!"
It meant that Joe had been "knocked out of the box."
"We've got to get this game!" explained the manager, not unkindly. But
Joe felt, with bitterness in his heart, that he had failed.