WHIRLWIND PITCHING
“A fellow who would do a thing like that is taking long chances,” said McRae doubtfully.
“And how could he do it?” put in Robbie. “The name would have to be cut from one piece of paper and pasted on another, wouldn’t it?”
“Even admitting that they might get your name from a check or letter, I don’t see how a thing like that could stand inspection for a minute,” chimed in Willis. “Even if it were so well done that an eye couldn’t detect it, a microscope would give it away.”
“And you can bet that the reporters who hunted up this thing haven’t overlooked any bets,” said Brennan. “They knew that the signature was the nub of the whole thing and if there was anything phony about the paper they’d have got next at once.”
“It’s a horrible mixup!” cried Joe, who felt that he was being enmeshed in a net of circumstantial 228 evidence which he might find it impossible to break. “Let me read the story first from end to end. Then, perhaps, I’ll find some clue that will solve the mystery.”
He plunged at once into the reading, but the more he read the worse the matter looked.
He found that a nation-wide interest had been excited by his denial and his challenge. The officers of the All-Star League had been besieged by reporters, who had made it clear to them that they must prove their statement that Matson had signed with them or else stand convicted before the American public, on whose favor they depended for support in the coming season, of being slanderers and liars.
Mr. Beckworth Fleming, the president of the All-Star League, had shown a little hesitation in responding to these demands. This, perhaps, was natural enough, since no business organization cares to have the terms of its contracts blazoned forth to the world, perhaps to the benefit of its rivals. Still, under all the circumstances, Mr. Fleming had finally decided to permit a photographic copy to be made of the contract in order to establish the good faith of the new league. This had been done and facsimiles had been sent to all the leading newspapers of the United States.
There was no question that the contract was 229 genuine. It had been submitted to bank cashiers who were familiar with Mr. Matson’s writing, and they had pronounced it his signature beyond the shadow of a doubt. The paper had been examined under powerful glasses and found to be a single piece. Everything was in proper form, and it was clearly up to Mr. Matson to explain what seemed to be explainable only in one way, namely, that he had signed the contract.
There were many worthy charities that could find a good use for the thousand dollars that the great pitcher had so rashly offered.
This was the gist of the story in all the papers. There were various suggested explanations. One paper hinted that men had been known to sign papers when they had dined and wined too well.
Another thought that the denial was purely a “diplomatic” one. Others ventured the hypothesis that the whole thing was an advertising dodge, designed to set the country agog with excitement and stimulate big audiences for the coming season.
But underneath all the suppositions one thing seemed to be unquestioned by the papers, and that was that Joe had signed a contract to play with the All-Star League and had left the Giants in the lurch.
Joe felt as though the ground were slipping from beneath his feet. He was perfectly 230 innocent, and yet he already stood convicted in the public mind of having done a thing that he loathed and abhorred. And the worst of it was that he had not the slightest clue to the scoundrel or scoundrels who had brought this thing about.
“It’s beyond me, Mac,” he said at last in despair, as he looked up and saw the Giants’ manager’s eyes fixed upon him as though they would read into his soul. “They seem to have a strangle hold on me. And yet as black as things look I tell you straight, Mac, that you know every bit as much about this as I do.”
“That’s all right, Joe,” returned McRae. “I’ll admit I’m flabbergasted. Who wouldn’t be? There’s a plot here somewhere, and the fox that planned it has been mighty cunning in covering up his tracks. But there never yet was a lie that didn’t have a weak point somewhere, and soon or late we’ll find it.”
Mabel and Clara, as well as Jim, were beside themselves with anger at the dastardly trick. They racked their brains to find the explanation, but every time they came up against a blank wall.
“I certainly can’t understand it, Joe,” said Mabel, for at least the tenth time.
“Well, I can’t understand it myself, Mabel,” he replied.
“Are you sure you didn’t sign that contract, thinking it was something else—an order for 231 something, or something like that?” questioned Clara.
“I’m not in the habit of signing anything without knowing what it is,” said the crack pitcher. “If any of those fellows had brought such a thing to me to sign, I would have handed it back and given the fellow a piece of my mind. No, there is something else in all this, though what it is I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“It’s too bad we’re so far away from those fellows just at present,” put in Jim. “If we were close by we might interview them, and find out some of the details that are as yet missing. And then maybe somebody would get a broken head,” he added vigorously.
“Oh, Jim! would you break anybody’s head?” burst out Clara in horror.
“I sure would if he was trying to put Joe in such a hole as this!” returned the young man promptly. “Maybe you don’t understand what a black eye this is calculated to give your brother.”
“Oh, yes, I can understand that well enough,” sighed Joe’s sister.
“I think it’s the meanest thing that ever could possibly happen!” burst out Mabel. “And I don’t wonder that Jim is angry enough to break somebody’s head for it,” and she looked lovingly at Joe.
“Oh, I suppose it will come out all right in the 232 end,” answered Joe. But he said this merely to ease Mabel’s mind. Secretly he was afraid that he was in for some real trouble.
It was early spring when they landed in Naples, but the winter had been prolonged more than usual and it was too cold to play. At Monte Carlo and Nice, however, they were able to get in two games, both of which were won by the All-Americans. This put the teams again on an equality as to games won and lost, and revived the hopes of the All-Americans that they might still come out ahead in the series.
They made but a short stay in Paris, and the weather was so inclement that games were out of the question. But it would have taken more than bad weather to prevent the shopping and sightseeing that all had been looking forward eagerly to in the great French capital, and they enjoyed their visit to the full.
In London they met with the greatest welcome of their trip. They played at Lord’s Oval, the most famous grounds in the United Kingdom, and before an audience that included the most distinguished people in the realm, including the king himself.
The American colony, too, was there almost to a man, and the United States ambassador lent his presence to the occasion.
It was the most distinguished audience, 233 probably, that had ever witnessed a baseball game.
And here it was that Joe did the most brilliant pitching of the trip. His tireless arm mowed down his opponents inning after inning. They came to the bat only to go back to the bench. His mastery of the ball seemed almost uncanny, and as inning after inning passed without a hit being made, it began to look as though he were in for that dream of all pitchers—a no-hit game.
Brennan, the Chicago manager, fidgeted restlessly on the bench and glowered as his pets were slaughtered. He tried all the tactics known to clever managers, but in vain. It was simply a day when Baseball Joe was not to be denied.
His comrades, too, gave him brilliant support and nothing got away from them, so that when finally the last man up in the ninth inning in the All-American team lifted a towering skyscraper that Joe caught without stirring from his tracks, a pandemonium of cheers forced him to remove his cap and bow to the applauding crowds again and again.
Not a man had scored, not a man had been passed, not a man had reached first, not a man had hit safe. Joe had won the most notable game in his whole career!