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[Illustration: HE BEAT THE BALL BY A NARROW MARGIN, AND WAS DECLARED
SAFE. Page 245.]
Baseball Joe in
the Big League
OR
A Young Pitcher's Hardest Struggles
_By_ LESTER CHADWICK
AUTHOR OF
"BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS,"
"BASEBALL JOE AT YALE,"
"BASEBALL JOE IN THE CENTRAL LEAGUE,"
"THE RIVAL PITCHERS,"
"THE EIGHT-OARED VICTORS," ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
Copyright, 1915, by
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
Baseball Joe in the Big League
Printed in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I TWO LETTERS 1
II TO THE RESCUE 11
III AN UPSET 19
IV AN APPEAL 30
V THE THREAT 38
VI A WARNING 46
VII BASEBALL TALK 54
VIII THE QUARREL 61
IX JOE IS DRAFTED 70
X OFF TO ST. LOUIS 77
XI GOING DOWN SOUTH 87
XII THE QUARRELING MAN 97
XIII UNDER SUNNY SKIES 103
XIV HARD WORK 112
XV ANOTHER THREAT 122
XVI JOE'S TRIUMPH 129
XVII "PLAY BALL!" 140
XVIII HOT WORDS 148
XIX JOE GOES IN 153
XX STAGE FRIGHT 162
XXI A QUEER MESSAGE 175
XXII IN DANGER 182
XXIII A LAME ARM 191
XXIV A TIGHT GAME 201
XXV IN NEW YORK 208
XXVI ADRIFT 217
XXVII THE RESCUE 223
XXVIII MOVING PICTURES 229
XXIX SHALLEG'S DOWNFALL 234
XXX THE HARDEST BATTLE 240
BASEBALL JOE IN THE BIG LEAGUE
CHAPTER I
TWO LETTERS
"Whew!" whistled Joe Matson, the astonishment on his bronzed face being
indicated by his surprised exclamation of:
"Well, what do you know about that, Sis?"
"What is it, Joe?" asked his sister Clara, as she looked up from a
letter she was reading to see her brother staring at a sheet of paper he
had just withdrawn from an envelope, for the morning mail had been
delivered a few minutes before. "What is it?" the girl went on, laying
aside her own correspondence. "Is it anything serious--anything about
father's business? Don't tell me there is more trouble, Joe!"
"I'm not going to, Clara. It isn't trouble, but, if what he says is
true, it's going to make a big difference to me," and Joe looked out of
the window, across a snowy expanse of yard, and gazed at, without
consciously seeing, a myriad of white flakes swirling down through the
wintry air.
"No, it isn't exactly trouble," went on Joe, "and I suppose I ought to
be corkingly glad of it; but I hadn't counted on leaving the Central
Baseball League quite so soon."
"Oh, Joe! Have you lost your place?" exclaimed Clara. "And just after
you have done so well, too; and helped them win the pennant! I call that
a shame! I thought baseball men were better 'sports' than that."
"Listen to her--my little sister using slang!" laughed Joe.
"'Sports' isn't slang," defended Clara. "I've heard lots of girls use
it. I mean it in the right sense. But have you really lost your place on
the team, Joe?"
"Well, not exactly, Sis, but I'm about to, I'm afraid. However, I guess
I may as well make the best of it, and be glad. I sure can use the extra
money!"
"I certainly don't know what you're talking about," went on Clara, with
a helpless look at her big, handsome brother, "and I suppose you'll take
your own time in telling me. But I _would_ like to know what it all
means, Joe. And about extra money. Who's going to give it to you?"
"Nobody. I'll have to earn it with this pitching arm of mine," and the
young baseball player swung it around, as though "winding-up" for a
swift delivery.
"Look out, Joe!" cried Clara, but she gave the warning too late.
At that moment Mrs. Matson entered the room with a jug of water, which
she intended pouring on a window-box of flowers. Joe's arm struck the
jug a glancing blow, and sent it flying, the water spraying over the
floor, and the jug itself falling, and cracking into many pieces.
For a moment there was a momentous silence, after two startled
screams--one each from Mrs. Matson and Clara. Then Joe cried gaily:
"Out at first! Say, Momsey, I hope I didn't hit you!"
"No, you didn't," and she laughed now. "But what does it all mean? Are
you practicing so early in the season? Oh, my carpet! It will be
ruined!" she went on, as she saw the water. "But I'm glad I didn't bring
in a good jug. Did you hurt your hand?"
"Nary a hurt," said Joe, with a smile. "Ha! I'll save _you_ from a
wetting!" he exclaimed, as he stooped quickly and picked up an unopened
letter, the address of which was in a girlish hand.
"Get the mop, while you're at it," advised Clara. A little later Joe had
sopped up the water, and quiet was restored.
"And now suppose you tell us all about it," suggested Mrs. Mason. "Why
were you practicing gymnastics, Joe?" and she smiled at her athletic
son.
"I was just telling Clara that my pitching arm was likely to bring me in
more money this year, Momsey, and I was giving it a twirl, when you
happened to get in my way. Now I'll tell you all about it. It's this
letter," and Joe held out the one he had been reading.
"Are you sure it isn't the _other_?" asked Clara, with a sly look at her
brother, for she had glanced at the writing on the unopened envelope Joe
had picked up from the floor. "Let me read that other letter, Joe," she
teased.
"A little later--maybe!" he parried. "But this one," and he fluttered
the open sheet in his hand, "this one is from Mr. Gregory, manager of
the Pittston team, with whom I have the honor to be associated," and Joe
bowed low to his mother and sister. "Mr. Gregory gives me a bit of news.
It is nothing less than that the manager of the St. Louis Nationals is
negotiating for the services of yours truly--your humble servant, Joseph
Matson," and again the young ball player bowed, and laughed.
"Joe, you don't mean it!" cried his sister. "You're going to belong to a
major league team!" for Clara was almost as ardent a baseball "fan" as
was her brother.
"Well, it looks like it, Sis," replied Joe, slowly, as he glanced at the
letter again. "Of course it isn't settled, but Mr. Gregory says I'm
pretty sure to be drafted to St. Louis."
"Drafted!" exclaimed his mother. "That sounds like war times, when they
used to draft men to go to the front. Do you mean you haven't any choice
in the matter, Joe?"
"Well, that's about it, Momsey," the young man explained. "You see,
baseball is pretty well organized. It has to be, to make it the success
it is," he added frankly, "though lots of people are opposed to the
system. But I haven't been in it long enough to find fault, even if I
wanted to--which I don't."
"But it seems queer that you can't stay with the Pittston team if you
want to," said Mrs. Matson.
"I don't know as I want to," spoke Joe, slowly, "especially when I'll
surely get more money with St. Louis, besides having the honor of
pitching for a major league team, even if it isn't one of the
top-notchers, and a pennant winner. So if they want to draft me, let
them do their worst!" and he laughed, showing his even, white teeth.
"You see," he resumed, "when I signed a contract with the Pittstons, of
the Central League, I gave them the right to control my services as long
as I played baseball. I had to agree not to go to any other team
without permission, and, in fact, no other organized team would take me
unless the Pittston management released me. I went into it with my eyes
open.
"And, you see, the Pittston team, being one of the small ones, has to
give way to a major league team. That is, any major league team, like
the St. Louis Nationals, can call for, or draft, any player in a smaller
team. So if they call me I'll have to go. And I'll be glad to. I'll get
more money and fame.
"That is, I hope I will," and Joe spoke more soberly. "I know I'm not
going to have any snap of it. It's going to be hard work from the word
go, for there will be other pitchers on the St. Louis team, and I'll
have to do my best to make a showing against them.
"And I will, too!" cried Joe, resolutely. "I'll make good, Momsey!"
"I hope so, my son," she responded, quietly. "You know I was not much in
favor of your taking up baseball for a living, but I must say you have
done well at it, and after all, if one does one's best at anything, that
is what counts. So I hope you make good with the St. Louis team--I
suppose 'make good' is the proper expression," she added, with a smile.
"It'll do first-rate, Momsey," laughed Joe. "Now let's see what else
Gregory says."
He glanced over the letter again, and remarked:
"Well, there's nothing definite. The managers are laying their plans for
the Spring work, and he says I'm being considered. He adds he will be
sorry to lose me."
"I should think he would be!" exclaimed Clara, a flush coming into her
cheeks. "You were the best pitcher on his team!"
"Oh, I wouldn't go as far as to say that!" cried Joe, "though I
appreciate your feeling, Sis. I had a good bit of luck, winning some of
the games the way I did. Well, I guess I'll go look up some St. Louis
records, and see what I'm expected to do in the batting average line
compared with them," the player went on. "The St. Louis team isn't a
wonder, but it's done pretty fair at times, I believe, and it's a step
up for me. I'll be more in line for a place on the New York Giants, or
the Philadelphia Athletics if I make a good showing in Missouri,"
finished Joe.
He started from the room, carrying the two letters, one of which he had
not yet opened.
"Who's it from?" asked Clara, with a smile, as she pointed to the heavy,
square envelope in his hand.
"Oh, one of my many admirers," teased Joe. "I can't tell just which one
until I open it. And, just to satisfy your curiosity, I'll do so now,"
and he proceeded to slit the envelope with his pocket-knife.
"Oh, it's from Mabel Varley!" he exclaimed.
"Just as if you didn't know all the while!" scoffed Clara. "You wouldn't
forget her handwriting so soon, Joe Matson."
"Um!" he murmured, non-committally. "Why, this is news!" he cried,
suddenly. "Mabel and her brother Reggie are coming here!"
"Here!" exclaimed Clara. "To visit us?"
"Oh, no, not that exactly," Joe went on. "They're on a trip, it seems,
and they're going to stop off here for a day or so. Mabel says they'll
try to see us. I hope they will."
"I've never met them," observed Clara.
"No," spoke Joe, musingly. "Well, you may soon. Why!" he went on,
"they're coming to-day--on the afternoon express. I must go down to the
station to meet them, though the train is likely to be late, if this
snow keeps up. Whew! see it come down!" and he went over to the window
and looked out.
"It's like a small blizzard," remarked Clara, "and it seems to be
growing worse. Doesn't look much like baseball; does it, Joe?"
"I should say not! Say, I believe I'll go down to the station, anyhow,
and see what the prospects are. Want to come, Sis?"
"No, thank you. Not in this storm. Where are the Varleys going to stop?"
"At the hotel. Reggie has some business in town, Mabel writes. Well, I
sure will be glad to see him again!"
"_Him_? _Her_, you mean!" laughed Clara. "Oh, Joe, you _are_ so simple!"
"Humph!" he exclaimed, as he put the two letters into his pocket--both
of great importance to him. "Well, I'll go down to the station."
Joe was soon trudging through the storm on the way to the depot.
"The St. Louis 'Cardinals'!" he mused, as he bent his head to the blast,
thinking of the letters in his pocket. "I didn't think I'd be in line
for a major league team so soon. I wonder if I can make good?"
Thinking alternately of the pleasure he would have in seeing Miss Mabel
Varley, a girl in whom he was more than ordinarily interested, and of
the new chance that had come to him, Joe soon reached the depot. His
inquiries about the trains were not, however, very satisfactorily
answered.
"We can't tell much about them in this storm," the station master said.
"All our trains are more or less late. Stop in this afternoon, and I may
have some definite information for you."
And later that day, when it was nearly arrival time for the train on
which Mabel and Reggie were to come, Joe received some news that
startled him.
"There's no use in your waiting, Joe," said the station master, as the
young ball player approached him again. "Your train won't be in to-day,
and maybe not for several days."
"Why? What's the matter--a wreck?" cried Joe, a vision of injured
friends looming before him.
"Not exactly a wreck, but almost as bad," went on the official. "The
train is stalled--snowed in at Deep Rock Cut, five miles above here, and
there's no chance of getting her out."
"Great Scott!" cried Joe. "The express snowed in! Why, I've got friends
on that train! I wonder what I can do to help them?"