The day had dawned clear and bright, and for hours before the time for the game to start the trains and trolleys had been disgorging their crowds at the gates. The far famed Polo Grounds had never been in more superb condition. The diamond was like so much soft green velvet. The white markings of the base lines were dazzling by way of contrast with the green. Boxes, grandstands and bleachers were filled to overflowing with a hilarious, good-natured crowd, that was out for a good time and determined to have it. Long before the time for starting the game, it became evident that “ground rules” would have to be established, making a hit into the crowd only good for two bases, no matter how far it went.
The Boston “Braves” were to cross bats with the Giants, and there was a keen curiosity in the crowd to see how “Rawling’s cast-offs” would shape up, although few gave them more than an outside chance to win.
“Line up now, boys, for the grand march,” sang out Robson, as he bustled into the clubhouse.
The team came out and got into line, McRae and Hughson leading. The Bostons joined them and the two teams came down to the plate amid an uproar of boisterous applause. The leaders clasped hands at the plate, the movie men, who were there in droves, set their machines going, and then the members of the two teams broke ranks and scattered for preliminary practice. This was snappy and lightning fast, and “stunts” were pulled off by both teams that brought the crowds to their feet.
Then the bell rang for the game to begin. The mayor of the city threw out the first ball. Hughson caught it and returned it to the mayor’s wife to keep as a souvenir, after first writing his autograph on it at her request. Then he took his place in the box, the first Boston batter came to the plate, the umpire cried “Play ball!” and the championship race was on in earnest.
Joe and Jim had warmed up together with the other pitchers and now sat on the bench together with the rest of the New York team who were not actually playing in the game.
“Watch that drop. Wasn’t it a beauty?” commented Joe enthusiastically, as the first ball eluded the batter’s savage swing and fell with a thud into the catcher’s glove.
“It was a lulu, all right,” agreed Jim. “If that’s a sample of what the old boy has in stock today, they’ll break their backs going after them.”
The first man proved an easy victim by the “strike out route,” the second dribbled a slow roller to the box that Hughson got to first in plenty of time, and the third succumbed to a high foul that Mylert, the catcher, gathered in close to the right of first base. It was a quick inning and Hughson was greeted with cheers as he walked in.
“That’s the way, Hughie, old boy!”