When the Western teams finished their first visit East, the Chicagos were leading the league by three full games. Brooklyn was second, and St. Louis was tied with the Giants for third.
That they were not leading at this stage in the season did not greatly worry McRae. He knew what a fearful strain was on the team that went out in front and he was content to let it make the pace, as long as he could trail along within easy striking distance.
Joe, however, was not so philosophical. He had the instinct of the thoroughbred, and hated to see anyone bowling along in front of him.
“I hate to take anyone’s dust,” he said one day to Jim. “It makes me wild to have Chicago showing us the way.”
“They’ll come back to us all right,” said Jim, confidently. “The last few games they’ve just won out and that’s all. They’ve fallen down badly of late in their batting.”
And Jim was right, for, two weeks later, Chicago had resigned the lead to Brooklyn and had fallen to the foot of the first division.
The see-saw persisted until the latter part of August. By that time “class” had begun to tell. Three teams had drawn away from all the others, and it was clear that, barring accidents, the flag would fly in one of three cities, Boston, Chicago or New York.
The Giants on their last trip West had made a runaway campaign of it. They had simply cleaned up everything. They led the league in batting and were third in fielding. But what counted most was that they were out in front ten straight games ahead of the nearest contender. The New York papers were already beginning to speculate what pitchers McRae would pin his faith to in the World’s Series.
“It’s our pitching staff that has carried us through so far,” exulted McRae in one of his talks with Robson. “That is,” he corrected, “it’s the great work of Hughson and Matson. That young Barclay, too, has rounded to in fine shape. If only Markwith had kept up his great work this season, we’d be so far ahead that they couldn’t see us with a telescope.”