In the next inning Pittston managed, by hard work, and a close decision on the part of the umpire, to add another run to their score. This put them one ahead, and the struggle now was to hold their opponents hitless. It devolved upon Joe to accomplish this.
And he did it.
Perhaps it was no great feat, as baseball history goes, but it meant much to him—a raw recruit in his first professional league, “bush” though it was. Joe made good, and when he struck out the last man (one of the best hitters, too, by the way) there was an enthusiastic scene on that little ball field.
“Good, Joe! Good!” cried Jimmie Mack, and even the rather staid Mr. Gregory condescended to smile and say:
“I thought you could do it!”
Collin, suffering from his turn-down, sulked on the bench, and growled:
“I’ll show that young upstart! He can’t come here and walk over me.”
“He didn’t walk over you—he pitched over you,” said George Lee, the second baseman. “He pitched good ball.”
“Bah! Just a fluke! If I hadn’t strained my arm yesterday I’d have made this home team look like a sick cat!”
“Post-mortems are out of style,” said Lee. “Be a sport! It’s all in the game!”