“I think a good deal of him. He doesn’t amount to much as yet, but he’s in earnest and he’s got grit. In time I think he’ll make a player.”
“He wants to pitch.”
“I know he does, but it’s out of the question yet. Have you any line on him?”
“Not yet,” answered Rankin, “but I’ll keep my eyes open. He’s a good fielder all right, now that he isn’t so nervous. He wants to play his head off. But Sam—well, we can’t do any better right away, and—well, I guess we’ll win this game.”
“We’ve got to!” insisted the manager earnestly, “if we want the people of Riverside to support us. They won’t come to see a losing home team all the while.”
The game with the Whizzers was to take place on their grounds, and early on that morning the Silver Stars, some substitutes, and a crowd of “rooters” got ready for the trip. Denville was about seven miles from Riverside, back from the stream, and could be reached by trolley. A special car had been engaged for the team.
The game started off well, and the Silver Stars got three runs in their half of the first inning. The home team was blanked and for a time it looked as if there would be an easy victory for the visitors.
Sam was pitching in good form, and had struck several men out. For three innings the home team did not get a run, and there was only one to their credit in the fourth. There was gloom and despair among their supporters while the “rooters” of the visiting team were happy singing songs and yelling.
Joe played well and had two outs to his credit on long flies, with no errors to mar his record. But he noticed that as the home team came to the bat in their half of the fifth, in which the Silver Stars had made two runs, that Darrell and the captain were in earnest consultation with Sam. They seemed to be remonstrating with him, and Joe heard the manager say:
“Take it easy now; we have the game on ice.”