Willis was caught napping off first by a snap throw from Thompson to Hobbs, and the inning ended.
The fifth was devoid of scoring, but in the sixth the Bostons not only tied the Giants but passed them.
Loomis, the crack left fielder of the visitors, started the trouble with a sharp hit to Larry, who “booted” the ball, letting Loomis get to first. Hobbs lay down a bunt on which Joe had no time to get Loomis at second, though he tossed out Hobbs at first. Walters lined out the first clean hit that the Red Sox had made so far in the game. If it had been properly played and taken on the bound, it could have been held to a single. But Becker made a mistake in thinking that he could make a fly catch. The ball struck the ground in front of him, bounded over his head and rolled to the further corner of the field. Before it could be recovered, Walters had made the circuit of the bases, following Loomis over the plate, and the Red Sox were in the lead by two runs to one.
The Boston rooters started their marching song of “Tessie,” while the New Yorkers sat glum and silent.
Joe tightened up and struck out the two following batters in jig time, but it looked as though the mischief had been done.
“Don’t let that worry you, Joe,” counseled McRae, as he came in to the bench. “You’re pitching like a Gatling gun. That’s the first hit they’ve got off you in six innings and it ought to have been a single only. We’ll beat ’em yet.”
“Sure we will,” answered Joe, cheerfully. “We’ve only begun to fight.”
At the beginning of the “lucky seventh,” the crowd rose and stretched in the fond hope that it would bring the necessary luck for their favorites.
The omen might have worked, had it not been for a dazzling bit of play on the part of the Bostons.
Their own half had been fruitless. Joe was pitching now like a man inspired, and his bewildering curves and slants had made the Boston sluggers look like “bushers.”