A CLOSE CALL
The crowds in the stand, which had been uproarious a few moments before,
were quiet now. The lead which the local club had held throughout the game
had vanished; the visitors had played an uphill game worthy of their
reputation, and now they had at least an even chance.
Denton came to the bat, eager to emulate Larry's feat, but Alvarez was
unsteady now--that last home run had taken something out of him. He found
it hard to locate the plate, and Denton trotted down to first on balls.
As no man was out and only one run was needed to gain the lead, a
sacrifice was the proper play, and Burkett laid down a neat bunt in front
of the plate that carried Denton to second, although the batter died at
first.
Alvarez purposely passed Willis on the chance of the next batter hitting
into a double play, which would have retired the side. Becker made a
mighty effort to bring his comrades in, but hit under the ball, and it
went high in the air and was caught by Alvarez as it came down, without
the pitcher moving from his tracks.
With two out, there was no need of a double play and the infielders, who
had been playing close in, resumed their usual positions. Iredell, the
next man up caught the ball square on the end of his bat and sent it
whistling between center and third. The shortstop leaped up and knocked
the ball down, but it was going too fast for him to hold.
Denton had left second at the crack of the bat, and by the time the
infielder regained the ball had rounded third and was tearing like a
racehorse toward the plate. There was little time to get set and the
hurried throw home went over the catcher's head. Denton slid feet first
over the plate, scoring the run that put his team in the lead.
Willis tried to make it good measure by coming close behind him, but by
this time the catcher had recovered the ball and shot it back to Alvarez
who was guarding the plate. He nipped Willis by three feet and the side
was out.
But that one run in the lead looked as big as a house at that stage in the
game.
"All you've got to do now, Hamilton, old man, is to hold them down in
their half," said Brennan.
"Cinch," grinned Hamilton. "I'll have them eating out of my hand."
But the uncertainty that makes the national game the most fascinating one
in the world was demonstrated when the Denver team came in to do-or-die in
their half of the ninth.
Hamilton fed the first batter a snaky curve, which he lashed at savagely
but vainly. The next was a slow one and resulted in a chop to the infield
which Larry would have ordinarily gobbled up without trouble. But the ball
took an ugly bound just as he was all set for it and went over his head
toward right. Before Curry could get the ball the batter had reached
second and the stands were once more in an uproar.
The uproar increased when Hamilton, somewhat shaken by the incident, gave
the next batter a base on balls, and the broad smiles which had suffused
the faces of Robbie and McRae began to fade.
"Is Hamilton going up, do you think?" asked the Giant manager, anxiously.
"Looks something like it," replied Robbie, "but he'll probably brace. You
see Denton's talking to him now, to give him a chance to rest up a
little."
The third baseman had strolled over to Hamilton on pretense of discussing
some point of play, but the crowd saw through the subterfuge, and shouts
of protest went up:
"Hire a hall!"
"Write him a letter!"
"Play ball!"
Not a bit flustered by the shouts, Denton took his time, and after
encouraging his team mate sauntered slowly back to his position.
But Hamilton's good right arm had lost its cunning. His first ball was
wild, and the batter, seeing this, waited him out and was given a pass.
His comrades moved up and the bags were full, with none out and the
heaviest sluggers of the team coming to the bat.
McRae and Brennan had been holding an earnest conference, and now on a
signal from them Hamilton came in from the box.
"It's no use," said McRae to Brennan, while the crowd howled in derision.
"We'll have to play our trump and put Matson in to hold them down."
"But he hasn't warmed up," said Brennan dubiously.
"That makes no difference," replied McRae. "I'd rather put him in cold
than anyone else warm."
"All right; do as you please," responded the other manager.
McRae called over to where Joe was sitting. The crack pitcher had been
watching the progress of the game with keen interest, although making
comparatively few comments. As McRae approached Joe, the crowd howled
louder than ever at Hamilton.
"Why don't you learn how to pitch?"
"Say, let us send one of the high-school boys into the box for you!"
"Too bad, old man, but I guess we've got your goat all right!"
"I guess you know what I want, Joe," cried McRae. "I want you to get in
the box for us."
"All right, Mac," was the young pitcher's answer.
"And, Joe," went on the other earnestly, "try to think for the next five
minutes that you're pitching for the pennant."
"I'll do anything you say," was Joe's reply; and then he drew on his glove
and walked out upon the ball field.
"Hello! what do you know about that?"
"Matson is going to pitch for them!"
"I guess they've enough of that other dub!"
"Oh, Hamilton isn't a dub, by any means," replied one of the spectators
sharply. "He's a good player, but a pitcher can't always be at his best."
"But just you wait and see how we do up Matson!" cried a local
sympathizer.
At a signal the next man to bat stepped away from the plate, and Joe had
the privilege of warming up by sending three hot ones to the catcher.
"He'll put 'em over all right enough!" cried one of his friends.
"That's what he will!" returned another.
"Not much! He'll be snowed under!"
"This is our winning day!"
So the cries continued until the umpire held up his hand for silence.
"He's going to make an announcement!" cried a number of the spectators.
"Ladies and gentlemen," roared the umpire, removing his cap, "Matson now
pitching for the All-Americans."
A howl went up from the stands, made up in about equal parts of derision
and applause. Derision because the All-American team must, they figured,
be scared to death when they had to send their greatest player into the
game. Whether they won or lost it was a great compliment to the Denver
team. The applause came from the genuine sportsmen who knew the famous
pitcher by reputation and welcomed the chance to see him in action.
The three men on the bases were dancing about like dervishes in the hope
of rattling the newcomer. They did not know Joe.
Never cooler than when the strain was greatest and the need most urgent,
Joe bent down to pick up the ball. As he did so, he touched it, apparently
accidentally, against his right heel.
It was a signal meant for Denton, the third baseman, who was watching him
like a hawk.
Joe took up his position in the box, took a grip on the ball, but instead
of delivering it to the batter turned suddenly on his left heel, as though
to snap it down to first. The Denver player at that bag, who had taken a
lead of several feet, made a frantic slide back to safety.
But the ball never got to first, for Joe had swung himself all the way
round and shot the ball like a bullet to Denton at third. The local player
at third had been watching eagerly the outcome of the supposed throw to
first and was caught completely unawares.
Down came Denton's hand, clapping the ball on his back, while the victim
stood dazed as though in a trance.
It was the prettiest kind of "inside work," and even the home crowd went
into convulsions of laughter as the trapped player came sheepishly in from
third to the bench.
McRae was beaming, and Robbie's rubicund face became several degrees
redder under the strain of his emotion.
"Say, is that boy class, John?" Robbie gurgled, as soon as he could
speak.
"Never saw a niftier thing on the ball field," responded McRae warmly.
"When that boy thinks, he runs rings around lightning."
"And he's thinking all the time," chimed in Jim.
But the peril was not yet over. The man at the most dangerous corner had
been disposed of, yet there was still a man on first and another on
second. A safe hit would tie the game at least, and possibly win it.
Joe wound up deliberately and shot a high fast one over the plate. It came
so swiftly that the batter did not offer at it, and looked aggrieved when
the umpire called it a strike.
The next was a crafty outcurve which went as a ball. The batsman fouled
off the next.
With two strikes on and only one ball called, Joe was on "easy street" and
could afford to "waste a few." Twice in succession he tempted the batsman
with balls that were wide of the plate, but the batter was wary and
refused them.
Now the count was "two and three," and the crowd broke into a roar.
"Good eye, old man!" they shouted to the batter.
"You've got him in a hole!"
"It only takes one to do it!"
"He's got to put it over!"
With all the force of his sinewy arm, Joe "put it over."
The batsman made a wicked drive at it and sent it hurtling to the box
about two feet over Joe's head.
Joe saw it coming, leaped into the air and speared it with his gloved
hand. The men on bases had started to run, thinking it a sure hit. Joe
wheeled and sent the ball down to Burkett at first.
"Look at that!"
"Some speed, eh?"
"I should say so."
"Matson has got them going!"
The man who had left the bag strove desperately to get back, but he was
too late. That rattling double play had ended the game with the
All-American team a victor by a score of four to three.
Joe's fingers tingled as he pulled off the glove, for that terrific drive
had stung. The crowd had been stunned for a moment by the suddenness with
which the game and their hopes of victory had gone glimmering. But it had
been a remarkable play and the first silence was followed by a round of
sportsmanlike applause--though of course it was nothing to what would have
greeted the victory of the home team.
"Fine work, Matson!"
"Best I ever saw!"
"You're the boy to do it."
"Best pitcher in the world!"
Joe found himself the center of a joyous crowd when he reached his own
bench. All were jubilant that they had escaped the humiliation of being
whipped by a minor league team.
"You've brought home the bacon, Joe!" chortled McRae.
"We all did," replied Joe. "But we almost dropped it on the way!" he
added, with a grin.