“I was going to pitch you today,” he declared, “but I’ve changed my mind. I’ll have to save my ace to take the last trick, if necessary. I’m going to keep you for the final. Markwith goes in today and I’ll take a chance on Barclay tomorrow. That spitter of his may fool them.”
But neither Markwith nor Barclay fulfilled the hope of their manager. The Chicagos, who were like wild men, now that they seemed to have another chance with the dreaded Hughson out of the way, batted like fiends, and the two games went to their credit by scores of seven to two and six to four. Jim had held them to a tie up to the eleventh inning, but then he faltered and they batted in the winning runs.
Now the score was even. The result of the last game would decide the championship and tell whether the flag would fly in the East or the West.
It was up to Joe. Upon his shoulders rested the fortunes of his team. Would he be equal to the task? That question was being asked in every city between the Atlantic and the Pacific. Reputation, the pennant, the chance to get into the World’s Series—all of these depended upon the skill and strength of that right arm of his.
The enormous crowd that packed the stands gave him a tremendous greeting when he came on the field and began to warm up. But in all that sea of human faces, the only one that Joe looked for was in an upper box where a handkerchief waved at him. And in the pocket of his baseball shirt a tiny glove lay close to his heart.
“How did he warm up, Robbie?” asked McRae anxiously, as the bell rang for the game to begin and Robson came back to where he was sitting on the players’ bench.
“All to the good,” declared Robson. “The ball came into my mitt almost hard enough to knock me down. They won’t be able to see them.”
For a moment, as Joe took up his position, he had a touch of stage fright. His head whirled and everything seemed to swim before his eyes. Then his vision cleared, his heart ceased its thumping, and his nerves became like steel.
“Zimmie,” the big third baseman of the Chicagos, who led off in the batting order, swaggered up to the plate, swinging three bats. He threw away two of them and gripped the remaining one tightly and glared at Joe.