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The Floating Press - Lester Chadwick

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121 pages

English

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Baseball phenom Joe Matson is back in Baseball Joe, Captain of the Team. After remarkable success in his debut seasons in the major leagues, Joe gets promoted to the rank of team captain. But despite his best efforts, some of his teammates still harbor jealousy over his meteoric rise -- and Joe soon finds himself ensnared in all kinds of trouble on and off the field.

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Children's

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 décembre 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776595778
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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BASEBALL JOE, CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM
OR, BITTER STRUGGLES ON THE DIAMOND
* * *
LESTER CHADWICK

*
Baseball Joe, Captain of the Team Or, Bitter Struggles on the Diamond First published in 1924 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-577-8 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-578-5 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
Chapter I - Queer Tactics Chapter II - A Bitter Struggle Chapter III - Thrown Away Chapter IV - From Bad to Worse Chapter V - A Startling Suggestion Chapter VI - Perplexing Problems Chapter VII - Bad News for Jim Chapter VIII - The Hidden-Ball Trick Chapter IX - The New Captain Chapter X - Getting in Shape Chapter XI - Winging Them Over Chapter XII - An Amazing Feat Chapter XIII - Clever Strategy Chapter XIV - Deepening Mystery Chapter XV - Trouble Brewing Chapter XVI - Out for Revenge Chapter XVII - Stealing Home Chapter XVIII - A Test of Nerve Chapter XIX - The Warning Buzz Chapter XX - The Package of Mystery Chapter XXI - Dropping Back Chapter XXII - Under Heavy Strain Chapter XXIII - Blundering Old Reggie Chapter XXIV - Getting a Confession Chapter XXV - In the Depths Chapter XXVI - Off His Stride Chapter XXVII - Taken by Surprise Chapter XXVIII - A Fresh Spurt Chapter XXIX - The Snake's Head Chapter XXX - The Final Battle
Chapter I - Queer Tactics
*
"No use talking, Joe, we seem to be on the toboggan," remarked JimBarclay, one of the first string pitchers of the Giant team, to hisclosest chum, Joe Matson; as they came out of the clubhouse at theChicago baseball park and strolled over toward their dugout in theshadow of the grandstand.
"You're right, old boy," agreed Joe—"Baseball Joe," as he was known bythe fans all over the country. "We seem to be headed straight for thecellar championship, and at the present rate it won't be long before weland there. I can't tell what's got into the boys. Perhaps I'm as muchto blame as any of the rest of them. I've lost the last two games Ipitched."
"Huh!" snorted Jim. "Look at the way you lost them! You never pitchedbetter in your life. You had everything—speed, curves, control, andthat old fadeaway of yours was working like a charm. But the boysplayed behind you like a lot of sand-lotters. They simply threw thegame away—handed it to the Cubs on a silver platter. What they did inthe field was a sin and a shame. And when it came to batting, they wereeven worse. The home run and triple you pasted out yourself were theonly clouts worth mentioning."
"The boys do seem to have lost their batting eyes," agreed Joe. "Andwhen it comes to fielding, they're all thumbs. What do you think thetrouble is?"
"Search me," replied Jim. "We've got the same team we had when westarted the season. Look at the way we started off: Three out of fourfrom the Brooklyns, the same from the Bostons, and a clean sweep fromthe Phillies. It looked as though we were going to go through theLeague like a prairie fire. But the instant we struck the West we wentdown with a sickening thud. Pittsburgh wiped up the earth with us. TheReds walked all over us. The Cubs in the last two games have given usthe razz. We're beginning to look like something the cat dragged in."
"I can't make it out," observed Joe, thoughtfully. "Of course, everyteam gets in a slump sometimes. But this has lasted longer than usual,and it's time we snapped out of it. McRae will be a raving lunatic ifwe don't."
"He's pretty near that now," replied Jim. "And I don't wonder. He'd sethis heart on winning the flag this season, and it begins to look asthough his cake was dough."
"Even Robbie's lost his smile," said Joe. "And things must be prettybad when he gets into the doleful dumps."
"I thought that when we got those rascals, Hupft and McCarney, off theteam, everything would be plain sailing," remarked Jim. "They seemed tobe the only disorganizing element."
"Yes," agreed Joe. "And especially when we got such crackerjacks intheir places as Jackwell and Bowen. But speaking of them, have younoticed anything peculiar about them?"
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Jim, in some alarm. "You don't mean tointimate that they're crooks, too?"
"Not at all," replied Joe. "From all I can see, they are as white asany men on the team. And they certainly know baseball from A to Z.They can run rings around Hupft and McCarney. But, just the same, I'venoticed something odd about them from the start."
"What, for instance?" asked Jim, with quickened interest.
"They seem nervous and scared at times," answered Joe. "Jackwell, atthird, keeps looking towards that part of the grandstand. The other dayI was going to throw to him, to catch Elston napping; but I saw thatJackwell wasn't looking at me, and so I held the ball. And I've noticedthat when he's coming into the bench between innings he lets his eyesrange all over the stands."
"Looking to see if his girl was there, perhaps," laughed Jim.
"Nothing so pleasant as that," asserted Joe. "It was as though he werelooking for some one he didn't want to see. And the same thing is trueof Bowen. Of course he's out at center, and I can't observe him as wellas I can Jackwell. But when he's been sitting in the dugout waiting forhis turn at bat, he's always squinting at the fans in the stands andthe bleachers. The other boys aren't that way."
"This is all news to me," remarked Jim. "I've noticed that they've beenrather clannish and stuck close together, but that's natural enough,seeing that they were pals in the minor-league team from which McRaebought them and that they don't feel quite at home yet in big-leaguecompany."
"Well, you keep your eye on them and see if you don't notice what I'vebeen telling you about," counseled Joe. "Of course, it may not mean athing, but all the same it's struck me as queer."
By this time the two pitchers had reached the Giants' dugout, wheremost of their teammates had already gathered.
It was a beautiful day in early summer. The Eastern teams' invasion ofthe West was in full swing, and baseball enthusiasm was running highall over the circuit. The Giants, after a disastrous series of games inPittsburgh and Cincinnati, had struck Chicago. Or, perhaps, it wouldbe more correct to say that Chicago had struck them, for the Cubs hadtaken the first two games with ease.
No doubt that accounted for the tremendous throng that had been pouringinto the gates that afternoon, until now the stands and bleachers werecrowded with enthusiastic fans. For if there was anything in the worldthat Chicago dearly loved, it was to see the Giants beaten. One gamefrom the haughty Giants, the champions of the world, was more keenlyrelished than two games from any other club.
The rivalry between the teams of the two great cities was intense,dating from the days when the old Chicagos, with "Pop" Anson and FrankChance at their head, had been accustomed to sweeping everything beforethem. Now the tables had been turned, and for the last few years, theGiants, with McRae as their astute manager and Baseball Joe as theirpitching "ace," had had the upper hand. Twice in succession the Giantshad won the championship of the National League and had wound up theseason in a blaze of glory by also winning the World Series.
This year they were desperately anxious to repeat. And, as Jim hadsaid, it looked at the beginning of the season as though they weregoing to do it. They got off on the right foot and had an easy time ofit in the games with the other Eastern clubs.
But with the Western clubs it was another story. A "jinx" seemed to bepursuing them. Pittsburgh had tied the can to them, and the Reds, notto be outdone, had tightened the knot. The Cubs thus far had clawedthem savagely. They had tasted blood, and their appetite had grown withwhat it had fed upon. And for that reason the sport lovers of the WindyCity had turned out in force to see the Cubs once more make the Giants"their meat."
McRae, the manager, was sitting on the bench with Robson, hisassistant, as Joe and Jim approached. There was an anxious furrow onhis brow, and even the rotund and rubicund "Robbie," usually jolly andsmiling, seemed in the depths of gloom.
McRae's face lightened a little when he saw Joe.
"I'm going to put you in to pitch to-day, Matson," he said. "How's theold soup-bone feeling?"
"Fine and dandy," returned Joe, with a smile.
"I want you to stand those fellows on their heads," said the manager."They've been making monkeys of us long enough."
"I'll do my best, Mac," promised Joe, as he picked up a ball preparatoryto going out for warming-up practice.
"Your best is good enough," replied McRae.
Joe and Jim went out with their respective catchers and limbered uptheir pitching arms.
"How are they coming, Mylert?" Joe called out to the veteran catcher,who was acting as his backstop.
"Great," pronounced Mylert. "You've got speed to burn and your curvesare all to the merry. That hop of yours is working fine. You'll havethem breaking their backs to get at the ball."
McRae, in the meantime, had beckoned to Iredell, the captain of theteam.
"Look here, Iredell," he asked abruptly, "what's the matter with thisteam? Why are they playing like a lot of old women?"
"I'm sure I don't know," replied Iredell, flushing and twirling his capnervously.
"Don't know?" snapped McRae. "Who should know if you don't? You're thecaptain, aren't you?"
"Sure," admitted Iredell. "But for all that, I can't always get ontowhat's in the minds of the fellows. I've talked to them and razzed themand don