A thunderous cheer went up from the crowd as the team emerged from the clubhouse with Joe and Jim in the van and marched across the field. Again and again the waves of sound drowned out the music of the band. As by one impulse, the crowd sprang from their seats, waving their hats and yelling in delirium.
It was a welcome from the metropolis to its athletic heroes that warmed the hearts of the latter because of its spontaneousness and sincerity. The players’ bronzed faces were flushed as they removed their caps again and again in response to the plaudits. Then they scattered for batting practice while the pitchers went out to the bull pen to warm up.
“How are you feeling to-day, Joe?” asked McRae as the pitcher approached the bench on which the manager and Robbie were sitting just under the grandstand.
“Fine and dandy,” returned Joe, as he smilingly greeted them. “Ready to pitch for a man’s life.”
“Good!” replied McRae, while Robbie’s rubicund face glowed with satisfaction. “You’ll probably need all your stuff to-day, for the Dodgers seem to be in fine shape. Just see the way those fellows are shooting the ball around the diamond.”
Their eyes turned to the Brooklyn infield, who, as the visitors, were having their first turn at practice on the bases.
“They’re certainly doing good work,” pronounced Joe, after a moment’s scrutiny. “I guess the crowd is going to get its money’s worth.”
“Of course you’re going to pitch this game,” said McRae, “and I suppose you’ll stack up against Rance. He’s the Brooklyn’s best bet. I hear he’s been going great guns in practice at the training camp.”
“He’s always a tough bird to handle,” replied Joe. “The game won’t be any walkover.”