In the seventh inning, Walters, the first man up, sent up a high foul that Burkett and Mylert started for at once. Larry, who was field captain, shouted to Burkett to take the ball. But Mylert either did not hear or trusted to his own judgment and collided forcibly with the first baseman, both going to the ground with a crash, while the ball dropped between them.
The other players rushed to the spot and lifted the players to their feet. Luckily, they were not unconscious although badly shaken, but it was fully five minutes before the game was resumed.
Walters’ second effort was a sharp grounder straight at Denton, which the latter shot to first in plenty of time. But the ball went high and rolled almost to the right field wall. By the time it was retrieved, Walters had got around to third amid the frantic acclamations of the Boston rooters who thought they saw at last a chance to score.
With a man on third, no man out and some of the heaviest sluggers coming up, it looked as though the Red Sox would break their string of zeros.
A long fly to the outfield, even though caught, would in all probability bring in Walters from third.
But Joe tightened up and struck out the next man up in three pitched balls. He made Hobbs chop a bounder to the box on which Walters did not dare to try for the plate. Then with two out he beguiled Girdner into sending up a towering foul which Mylert caught almost without stirring from his position. Poor Walters, left at third, hurled his cap to the ground in a movement of despair, and the gloom about the Boston section of the stands could be fairly felt.
The Bostons now were growing desperate. They bunted. They tried to wait Joe out. They sought to rattle him by finding fault with his position in the box. They put in pinch hitters. They pulled all the “inside stuff” they knew.
But Joe obstinately refused to “crack.” He “had everything” on the ball. His change of pace was perfect. His curves worked beautifully. His drop ball broke sharply, inches below their bats.
“All over but the shouting,” chuckled McRae, as the Red Sox came in for their last inning.
But two minutes later he was pale as chalk while the Boston partisans were in delirium.