“Looks as though Red had their goat, John,” Robson remarked to McRae.
“He’s doing fine,” McRae returned, “and our boys seem to be getting to Banks pretty freely.”
The Giants had, in fact, got a pretty good line on Banks, the port flinger of the Red Sox, and had accumulated three runs, which, with Markwith going as he was, seemed a very comfortable lead.
But the glorious uncertainty of the national game was demonstrated in the next inning. The Giants had been disposed of in their half with a goose egg, and the Red Sox came in to bat.
The first man up was given a base on balls. The next hit a sharp bounder to Denton, who ought to have made an easy out either at first or second, but he juggled the ball and both men were safe.
The error seemed to unnerve Markwith, and he gave another pass, filling the bases.
“Get to him, boys!” screamed the Boston coacher on the side lines near first base. “He’s got nothing on the ball but his glove and a prayer.”
Walters, the slugging center fielder, caught the second ball pitched right on the seam and sent it on a line between left and center for the cleanest of home runs, clearing the bases and denting the rubber himself for the fourth run. In jig time, the Red Sox had wiped out the Giants’ advantage and taken the lead.
The crowd went wild and the “Tessie” song swelled up from the stands.
McRae, with his brow like a thunder cloud, beckoned Red from the box and called in Jim, who, as a matter of precaution but with little idea of being called upon, had been warming up in a corner of the grounds.