JOE'S TRIUMPH
Then began a lesson, the learning of which proved of great value to Joe
in his after life as a ball player. If Old Pop Dutton had not the nerve
to "come back" as a pitcher in a big league, at least he could show a
rising young one how to correct his faults. And a fault Joe certainly
had.
For several years he had been throwing the fade-away ball in the wrong
manner. Not entirely wrong, to be sure, or he never would have attained
the results he had, but it was sufficiently wrong to prevent him from
having perfect control of that style of ball, and perfect control is the
first law of pitching.
For some time the two practiced, unobserved, and Joe was glad of this.
He felt more hopeful than at any time since his team had commenced to
"slump."
"Am I getting there?" Joe anxiously asked of the veteran, one day.
"Indeed you are, boy! But that's enough for to-day. You are using some
new muscles in your arm and hand, and I don't want you to tire out.
You'll probably have to pitch to-morrow."
"I only wish I could use this style ball."
"It wouldn't be safe yet."
"No, I suppose not. But I'm going to keep at it."
It was not easy. It is always more difficult to "unlearn" a wrong way of
doing a thing, and start over again on the right, than it is to learn
the proper way at first. The old method will crop up most unexpectedly;
and this happened in Joe's case more times than he liked.
But he persisted and gradually he felt that he was able to deliver the
fade-away as it ought to come from a pitcher's hand. Now he waited the
opportunity.
Meanwhile baseball matters were going on in rather slow fashion. All the
teams, after the fierce rush and enthusiasm of the opening season, had
now begun to fall off. The dog-days were upon them, and the heat seemed
to take all the energy out of the men.
Still the games went on, with Pittston rising and falling on the
baseball thermometer from fourth to second place and occasionally
remaining stationary in third. First place was within striking distance
several times, but always something seemed to happen to keep Joe's team
back.
It was not always poor playing, though occasionally it was due to this.
Often it was just fate, luck, or whatever you want to call it. Fielders
would be almost certain of a ball rolling toward them, then it would
strike a stone or a clod of dirt and roll to one side.
Not much, perhaps, but enough so that the man would miss the ball, and
the runner would be safe, by a fraction of time or space. It was
heart-breaking.
Joe continued to work at the proper fade-away and he was getting more
and more expert in its use. His control was almost perfect. Still he
hesitated to use it in a game, for he wanted to be perfect.
A new pitcher--another south-paw, or left-hander--was purchased from
another league club, at a high price, and for a time he made good. Joe
was fearful lest he be given his release, for really he was not doing as
well as he had at first. Truth to tell he was tired out, and Gregory
should have realized this.
But he did not until one day a sporting writer, in a sensible article
telling of the chances of the different teams in the Central League for
winning the pennant, wrote of Joe:
"This young pitcher, of whom bright things were predicted at the opening
of the season, has fallen off woefully. At times he shows brilliant
flashes of form, but it seems to me that he is going stale. Gregory
should give him a few days off."
Then the manager "woke up."
"Joe, is this true?" he asked, showing the youth the article.
"Well, I am a bit tired, Gregory, but I'm not asking for a vacation,"
answered Joe.
"I know you're not, but you're going to get it. You just take a run home
and see your folks. When you come back I'm going to pitch you in a
series of our hardest games. We go up against Clevefield again. You take
a rest."
Joe objected, but half-heartedly, and ended by taking the train for
home.
His heart felt lighter the moment he had started, and when he got to
Riverside, and found his father much improved, Joe was more like himself
than at any time since the opening of the ball season. His folks were
exceedingly glad to see him, and Joe went about town, renewing old
acquaintances, and being treated as a sort of local lion.
Tom Davis, Joe's chum, looked at the young pitcher closely.
"Joe," he said, "you're getting thin. Either you're in love, or you
aren't making good."
"Both, I guess," answered Joe, with a short laugh. "But I'm going to
make good very soon. You watch the papers."
Joe rejoined his team with a sparkle in his eye and a spring in his step
that told how much good the little vacation had done him. He was warmly
welcomed back--only Collin showing no joy.
Truth to tell Collin had been doing some wonderful pitching those last
few days, and he was winning games for the team. The advent of Joe gave
him little pleasure, for none knew better than he on how slim a margin a
pitcher works, nor how easily he may be displaced, not only in the
affection of the public, always fickle, but in the estimation of the
manager.
"Hang him! I wish he'd stayed away!" muttered Collin. "Now he's fresh
and he may get my place again. But I'll find a way to stop him, if
Gregory gives him the preference!"
Joe went back at practice with renewed hope. He took Gregory and the
catchers into his confidence, and explained about the fade-away. They
were enthusiastic over it.
"Save it for Clevefield," advised the manager.
The day when Pittston was to play the top-notchers arrived. There were
to be four games on Pittston's grounds, and for the first time since his
reformation began, Pop Dutton was allowed to play in an important
contest.
"I'm depending on you," Gregory warned him.
"And you won't be disappointed," was the reply. Certainly the old player
had improved greatly. His eyes were bright and his skin ruddy and
clear.
Joe was a bit nonplussed when Collin was sent in for the opening game.
But he knew Gregory had his reasons. And perhaps it was wise, for Collin
was always at his best when he could deliver the first ball, and open
the game.
Clevefield was shut out in the first inning, and, to the howling delight
of the crowd of Pittston sympathizers and "fans," the home team got a
run.
This gave the players much-needed confidence, and though the visitors
managed to tie the score in their half of the second inning, Pittston
went right after them, and got two more tallies.
"We're going to win, Joe!" cried Charlie Hall. "We're going to win. Our
hoodoo is busted!"
"I hope so," said the young pitcher, wishing he had a chance to play.
It came sooner than he expected. Collin unexpectedly "blew up," and had
to be taken out of the box. Joe was called on, at the proper time, and
walked nervously to the mound. But he knew he must conquer this feeling
and he looked at Nelson, who was catching. The back-stop smiled, and
signalled for a fade-away, but Joe shook his head.
He was not quite ready for that ball yet.
By using straight, swift balls, interspersed with ins and drops, he
fooled the batter into striking out. The next man went out on a pop
fly, and Joe teased the third man into striking at an elusive out.
Clevefield was retired runless and the ovation to Pittston grew.
But it was not all to be as easy as this. Joe found himself in a tight
place, and then, with a catching of his breath, he signalled that he
would use the fade-away.
In it shot--the batter smiled confidently--struck--and missed. He did it
twice before he realized what was happening, and then when Joe felt sure
that his next fade-away would be hit, he swiftly changed to an up-shoot
that ended the matter.
Clevefield fought hard, and once when Joe was hit for a long fly, that
seemed good for at least two bases, Pop Dutton was just where he was
most needed, and made a sensational catch.
There was a howl of delight, and Gregory said to Joe afterward:
"Your man is making good."
Joe was immensely pleased. And when, a little later, at a critical
point in the game, he struck out the third man, again using his famous
fade-away, his triumph was heralded in shouts and cries, for Pittston
had won. It was a triumph for Joe in two ways--his own personal one, and
in the fact that he had been instrumental in having Pop Dutton play--and
Pop's one play, at least that day, saved a run that would have tied the
score.