Grimm, too, was pitching fine ball, but not by any means airtight. The Giants had gotten to him for six hits, but, with one exception, no two had been allowed in the same inning, and the Giants were as scoreless as their opponents.
Grimm had thought discretion the better part of valor when Joe had faced him, and had twice passed him deliberately to first. The boos of the spectators failed to disturb Grimm’s equanimity. His motto was “safety first.” On a third occasion, his cunning miscarried, and Joe, walking into the ball in desperation, had clouted it for a two baser. But as two were out at the time and the next man fanned, he was left holding second.
In the ninth, Joe put on extra steam and fanned three men in a row, amid the cheers of the Giant rooters.
Then the Giants came in for their last half. Grimm made Burkett hit a grounder to first that was an easy out. Larry sent a Texas leaguer behind second that was gathered in by the guardian of that bag. Then Joe came to the bat.
Grimm still had no mind to give him a hit, and the first two balls were wide of the plate. He tried to put the third in the same place, but his control faltered and the ball came within Joe’s reach.
There was a mighty crash, and the ball started on a line between right and center. At the crack of the bat, Joe was off like a frightened jackrabbit. He rounded first and started for second.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the right- and centerfielders running for the ball, which had struck the ground and was rolling toward the wall. He knew that it would rebound, and that one of the fielders would “play the angle,” and thus get it the sooner.
The people in the stands had risen now, and were shouting like madmen. He caught just one glimpse of Mabel, standing in her box with her hands pressed on her heart.
He made second and kept on for third. On and on he went, as though on wings. His heart beat like a trip hammer. His lungs seemed as though they would burst. The wind whistled in his ears. He had never run like that in his life.
He rounded third and made for home. The ball was coming, as he knew from the shouts of the spectators and the warning yells of his comrades. Down that white stretch he tore. He saw the catcher set himself for the coming ball, knew from his eyes that the ball was near. With one mighty leap, he threw himself to the ground in a marvelous hook slide that swung his body out of the catcher’s reach and yet just permitted his outstretched fingers to touch the plate before the catcher put the ball on him.