He felt sure that every attachment and connection had been properly made and that nothing essential had been overlooked. Still, it was with a certain feeling of apprehension that he turned the knob to tune in when his watch told him that it was three o’clock. The day was hot, and “static” was likely to be troublesome.
There was a moment of hissing and whistling while he was getting perfectly tuned. Then he caught it just right, and into the room, clear and strong, came the announcement of the umpire, repeated by the man at the broadcasting station:
“Ladies and gentlemen: The batteries for to-day’s game are Blake and McCarthy for Pittsburgh, Hardy and Thompson for New York. Play ball!”
There was a roar of delight from the boys in the crowded room and a clapping of hands that made Bob’s face flush with pleasure. But he held up his hand for silence, and the excited boys settled back in their chairs, listening intently so as not to miss a feature of the game.
Then followed, play by play, the story of the first inning with the Pittsburghs, as the visiting team, first at bat.
The hum of conversation had ceased in the room, and the boys leaned forward intently, anxious not to lose a syllable.
“Strike one!” came in stentorian tones.
“Ball one!” followed.
“Strike two!”
“Elton singles to center. Allison made a bad return of the ball, and Elton by fast running reached second. Maginn at bat.”