“It is!” cried Joe, with memories of the Yale-Princeton contest he had taken part in there. “And I’m going to do it again, some time!”
“You are?”
“I sure am. I’m going to break into a big league if it’s possible.”
“Good for you, Joe!”
“Still, the grounds aren’t everything, Charlie,” went on Joe. “We’ve got to play the best ball to win the game.”
“And we’ll do it, too! Don’t worry.”
The practice was worked up to a fast and snappy point, and then Gregory sent his men for a brisk walk, to be followed by a shower bath in preparation for the afternoon contest.
Certainly when the Pittston team started for the grounds again they were a bright, clean-looking lot of players. Joe was wondering whether he would have a chance to pitch, but, following his usual policy, the crafty manager did not announce his battery until the last moment.
There was a big crowd out to see the game, for the rivalry in the Central League was now intense, and interest was well keyed up. Joe had seen Mabel and her brother start for the grounds, and he wished, more than ever before, perhaps, that he would be sent to the mound to do battle for his team.