He threw a swift high one to Thompson which the latter missed by three inches. Mylert threw the ball back to Joe, who stopped it with his foot and stooped as though to adjust his shoe lace. He fumbled an instant with the lace, and then [suddenly picking up the ball hurled it to second] like a shot. Emden, who was taking a long lead off the base, tried to scramble back, but Denton had the ball on him like a flash. Mellen who was on third made a bolt for the plate, but Denton shot the ball to Mylert, and Mellen was run down between third and home. While this was going on, Gallagher had taken second, and profiting by the running down of Mellen, kept on half way to third. He did not dare go all the way to third, because Mellen still had a chance to get back to that base. But the instant Mellen was touched out, Joe, who had taken part in running him down, shot the ball to Willis at third and Gallagher was caught between the second and third bags. Three men were out, the game was over, and the Giants had begun their Western invasion with a 1 to 0 victory.
[SUDDENLY PICKING UP THE BALL HE HURLED IT TO SECOND.]
Joe’s quick thinking had cleared the bags in a twinkling. It had all come so suddenly that the crowd was dumbfounded. Meran, the Cincinnati manager, sat on the bench with his mouth open like a man in a daze. His men were equally “flabbergasted.” Thompson still stood at the plate with his bat in hand. It seemed to him that a bunco game had been played on him, and he was still trying to fathom it.
Then at last the crowd woke up. They hated to see the home team lose, but they could not restrain their meed of admiration and applause. The stands fairly rocked with cheering. They had seen a play that they could talk about all their lives, one that happens perhaps once in a generation, one that they would probably never see again.
McRae and Robbie for a moment acted like men in a trance. Over Robbie’s rubicund face chased all the colors of the chameleon. It almost seemed as though he might have a stroke of apoplexy. Then at last he turned to McRae and smote him mightily on the knees.
“Did you see it, John?” he roared. “Did you see it?”
“I saw it,” answered McRae. “But for the love of Pete, Robbie, keep that pile driver off my knees. Yes, I saw it, and I don’t mind saying that I never saw anything like it in my thirty years of baseball. I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.”
“A miracle man, that’s what he is!” ejaculated Robbie. “That wing of his is wonderful, but it’s the head on him that tops any other in the league. He wasn’t behind the door when brains were given out.”