In addition to pitching balls for Boswell to catch, and doing some stick work, Joe was required to practice with the other catchers of the team.
"I want you to get used to all of them, Matson," said the manager. "There's no telling, in this business, when I may have to call on my youngsters. I want you to be always ready."
"I'll try," promised Joe, with a smile.
"You're coming on," observed Boswell, after a day of hard pitching, which had made Joe's arm ache. "You're coming on, youngster. I guess you're beginning to feel that working in a big league is different than in a minor; eh?"
"It sure is!" admitted Joe, rubbing his aching muscles.
"Well, you're getting more speed and better control," went on the veteran. "And you don't mind taking advice; that's what I like about you."
"Indeed I'd be glad of any tips you could give me," responded Joe, earnestly.
He did indeed realize that there was a hard road ahead of him, and he was a little apprehensive of the time when he might be called on to pitch against such a redoubtable team as the Giants.
"Most folks think," went on Boswell, "that the chief advantage a pitcher has over a batter is his speed or his curves. Well, that isn't exactly so. The thing of it is that the batter has to guess whether the ball that's coming toward him is a swift straight one, or a comparatively slow curve. You see, he's got to make up his mind mighty quickly as to the speed of the horsehide, and he can't always do it.
"Now, if a batter knew in advance just what the pitcher was going to deliver—whether a curve or a straight one, why that batter would have a cinch, so to speak. You may be the best twirler in the league, but you couldn't win your games if the batters knew what you were going to hand them—that is, knew in advance, I mean."