“Good. You’ll probably have to use it.”
And Joe did. He was sent in at the seventh, when the Clevefield nine was three runs ahead, and Joe stopped the slump. Then, whether it was this encouragement, or whether the other team went to pieces, did not develop, but the game ended with Pittston a winner by two runs.
The crowd went wild, for there had been a most unexpected ending, and so sure had some of the “fans” been that the top-notchers would come out ahead, that they had started to leave.
But the unexpected happens in baseball as often as in football, and it did in this case.
Pittston thus had two out of the four games, and the even break had increased her percentage to a pleasing point. If they could have taken the fourth they would have fine hopes of the pennant, but it was not to be. An even break, though there was a close finish in the last game, was the best they could get.
However, this was better than for some time, and Gregory and his associates were well pleased.
Then came a series of games in the different league cities, and matters were practically unchanged. In turn Buffington, Loston and Manhattan were visited, the Pittston nine doing well, but nothing remarkable.
Joe seemed firmly established in the place he most desired, and his fine delivery was increasing in effectiveness each day. His fade-away remained a puzzle to many, though some fathomed it and profited thereby. But Joe did not use it too often.
The secret of good pitching lies in the “cross-fire,” and in varying the delivery. No pitcher can continue to send in the same kind of balls in regular order to each batter. He must study his man and use his brains.
Joe knew this. He also knew that he was not alone a pitcher, but a ball player, and that he must attend to his portion of the diamond. Too many twirlers forget this, and Joe frequently got in on sensational plays that earned him almost as much applause as his box-work did.