Then for days Joe almost prayed that there would be no rainy days—no upsetting of the schedule that would necessitate double-headers, or anything that would interfere with playing at Newkirk on the date mentioned. That city, as he found by looking at a map, was on a direct railroad line from Goldsboro.
“I hope nothing slips up!” murmured the young pitcher. From then on he lived in a sort of rosy glow.
The ball season of the Central League was well under way now. A number of games had been played, necessitating travel from one city to another. Some of the journeys Joe liked, and some were tiresome. He met all sorts and conditions of men and was growing to be able to take things as he found them.
Joe worked hard, and he took a defeat more to heart than did any of the others. It seemed to be all in the day’s work with them. With Joe it was a little more. Not that any of the players were careless, though. They were more sophisticated, rather.
The third week of the season, then, found Pittston third in line for pennant honors, and when the loss of a contest to Buffington had set them at the end of the first division there were some rather glum-looking faces seen in the hotel corridor.
“Boys, we’ve got to take a brace!” exclaimed Gregory, and the manner in which he said it told his men that he meant it. Joe went to bed that night wildly resolving to do all sorts of impossible things, so it is no wonder he dreamed that he pitched a no-hit no-run game, and was carried in triumph around the diamond on the shoulders of his enthusiastic comrades.
I shall not weary you with an account of the ordinary games. Just so many had to be played in a certain order to fulfill the league conditions. Some of the contests were brilliant affairs, and others dragged themselves out wearily.
Joe had his share in the good and bad, but, through it all, he was gradually acquiring a good working knowledge of professional baseball. He was getting better control of his curves, and he was getting up speed so that it was noticeable.
“I’ll have to get Nelson a mitt with a deeper pit in it if you keep on,” said Gregory with a laugh, after one exciting contest when Joe had fairly “pitched his head off,” and the game had been won for Pittston by a narrow margin.
Gradually Joe’s team crept up until it was second, with Clevefield still at the head.