In the Giants’ half, Joe was the first man up and he laced out a hot liner between second and short that carried him easily to first. Mylert hit to short and Joe was forced at second, though Berry relayed the ball to Hobbs too late for a double play. A wild pitch, the only one of the game, advanced Mylert a base. Burkett received a pass. Now there was a man on first, another on second, and rousing cheers came from the stands. There was only one man out, Fraser was evidently getting wild, and it looked as though New York might score.
The Boston infield moved in for a double play. And it looked for a moment as though they would make it. Larry hit to short, and a groan went up. But the hit was so sharp that Stock could not handle it cleanly, and, though he succeeded in getting Burkett at second Larry reached first safely while Mylert raced to third.
It was a time for desperate measures, and McRae gave the signal for a double steal. The moment Fraser wound up, Larry started for second, not with a design of reaching it, but hoping to draw a throw from the catcher, under cover of which Mylert might scamper home from third. If he could touch the plate before Larry was put out, the run would count and the score be tied.
Thompson threw like a shot to Berry at second. But instead of chasing Larry, who had stopped midway between first and second, he kept threatening to throw to third and catch Mylert, who was taking as big a lead toward home as he dared. After playing hide and seek for a moment, Berry thought he saw a chance to nip Mylert and threw to Girdner at third. But the ball touched the tips of his fingers and got past him, and Mylert started for home.
A howl of exultation went up from the throng. Then it died away as suddenly as it had risen.
Girdner, chasing the ball, slipped as he went to pick it up. Lying on the grass, he made a desperate throw in the direction of the plate. It went high, but Thompson made a tremendous jump, pulled it down and clapped it on Mylert just as he slid into the rubber.
“Out,” yelled the umpire.
It was as classy a play as any of the spectators had ever seen, and even the New Yorkers, sore as they were at losing the run, joined generously in the applause that greeted it.
“That fellow Girdner must have a rabbit’s foot about him somewhere,” remarked Robson to McRae with a twisted smile. “He couldn’t do that thing again in a thousand years.”
“A few more things like that and the crowd will die of heart disease or nervous prostration,” answered McRae. “But they can’t have all the breaks. Just watch. Our turn will be coming next.”