It came sooner than he expected. Collin unexpectedly “blew up,” and had to be taken out of the box. Joe was called on, at the proper time, and walked nervously to the mound. But he knew he must conquer this feeling and he looked at Nelson, who was catching. The back-stop smiled, and signalled for a fade-away, but Joe shook his head.
He was not quite ready for that ball yet.
By using straight, swift balls, interspersed with ins and drops, he fooled the batter into striking out. The next man went out on a pop fly, and Joe teased the third man into striking at an elusive out. Clevefield was retired runless and the ovation to Pittston grew.
But it was not all to be as easy as this. Joe found himself in a tight place, and then, with a catching of his breath, he signalled that he would use the fade-away.
In it shot—the batter smiled confidently—struck—and missed. He did it twice before he realized what was happening, and then when Joe felt sure that his next fade-away would be hit, he swiftly changed to an up-shoot that ended the matter.
Clevefield fought hard, and once when Joe was hit for a long fly, that seemed good for at least two bases, Pop Dutton was just where he was most needed, and made a sensational catch.
There was a howl of delight, and Gregory said to Joe afterward:
“Your man is making good.”
Joe was immensely pleased. And when, a little later, at a critical point in the game, he struck out the third man, again using his famous fade-away, his triumph was heralded in shouts and cries, for Pittston had won. It was a triumph for Joe in two ways—his own personal one, and in the fact that he had been instrumental in having Pop Dutton play—and Pop’s one play, at least that day, saved a run that would have tied the score.