“Salberg hid the ball under his arm instead of throwing it back to the pitcher,” explained Joe. “Iredell took it for granted that he had thrown it, and was so busy dusting off his clothes that he didn’t make sure of it. Why, Shem tried that on Japhet when they came out of the ark. And to think that he chose this moment to pull that bonehead play! Look at that hit by Burkett. It would have brought Iredell home with the run which would have tied the score.”
Their eyes followed the flight of the ball, which was a mighty three-bagger that Burkett had lined out between right and center. It brought a rousing cheer from the Giant partisans, and hope revived that the game might yet be saved. But the hope was vain, for the fly that Wheeler sent out into the field settled firmly in the leftfielder’s hand, and the inning and the game were over, with the St. Louis having the big end of the score.
It was a hard game to lose, and it was a disgruntled lot of Giant players that filed off dejectedly to their dressing rooms. A sure tie, at least, had been within their grasp, and, as a matter of fact, a probable victory. For if Iredell had scored, as he could easily have done on the three base hit of Burkett, the latter would have been on third with only one man out instead of two and with the score tied. Then Wheeler’s long hit, even though an out, would have gone for a sacrifice and Burkett could easily have scored from third, putting the Giants one run ahead. To be sure, the St. Louis would still have had the last half of the ninth, but the Giants, fighting to hold their advantage, would have had all the odds in their favor.
But all the post mortems in the world could not change the fact that the game had gone into the St. Louis column and that the Giants, instead of taking three out of four, had had to be content with an even break. It was small consolation that that was better than they had been able to do with the other Western teams. The trip had been a terrible flivver, one of the worst that the Giant team had ever made while swinging around the circle.
“That’s the last straw that breaks the camel’s back,” growled McRae, savagely. “It’ll make us the laughing stock of the League. Why, at this minute, the crowds before the bulletin boards all over the United States are snickering at the Giants. Not merely a Giant player—that would be bad enough—but the Giant captain—get me?—the Giant captain, supposed to show his men how the game should be played, gets caught by the oldest and cheapest trick in the game. It’s all we needed to wind up this trip. I want to go away somewhere and hide my head. I hate to go back and face the grins of the New York fans.”
“It sure is tough,” agreed Robbie. “Of course that finishes Iredell as captain.”
“That goes without saying,” replied McRae. “Even if I were disposed to overlook it and give him another chance, I couldn’t do it now. When a captain, instead of being respected by his men, becomes the butt of the team and a joke to the fans all over the circuit, he’s through.”
A little later the stocky manager sought out Iredell and found him alone.
“I know what you want to see me about,” Iredell forestalled him. “You want my resignation as captain of the team. Well, here it is,” and he handed over a paper.