“Well, I’ll have to be going,” he remarked after a moment. “I understand you’re going to pitch against the Phillies this afternoon. Hope you trim them, all right.”
“Thanks,” responded Joe. “I’ll do my best, but they have a big batting streak on just now and all pitchers look alike to them. But if our boys back me up with the stick, I’ll try to hold them down.”
After Hartley had gone, Joe glanced at his watch. He saw that it was later than he thought and swallowed his coffee hastily. He noticed that it had rather a bitter taste, but the matter passed from his mind the next moment.
[CHAPTER XXVII]
FROM BAD TO WORSE
Whatever the drug that Hartley had used, it was of such a nature that it did not take effect at once. Joe felt in his usual good shape for some time after he got into his baseball togs. It is true that the ball seemed to feel a little heavier than usual when he was warming up, but he suspected nothing when the time came for him to go into the box.
The first thing that he noticed was that he did not have his usual control. His curves would not break at the right place, and he could not seem to get them over the plate. Then too, his speed was missing. He called on all his resources, but the ball sailed up to the plate as “big as a balloon.”
The Phillies were quick to notice that something was wrong with that “wing” of Matson’s, which in previous games they had learned to respect. Before the first inning was over, they had lined out two slashing hits which, with three bases on balls, netted them three runs to start with.