Baseball Joe In The Big League Part 19

A big team must have a number of pitchers, and not all of them can be "first string" men. Some must be kept to work against weak teams, to spare the stars for tight places. Joe realized this.

"But if hard work will get me anywhere I'm going to arrive!" he said to himself, grimly, as the crowd of players went back to the hotel.

The days that followed were given up to hard and constant practice. Each day brought a little more hard work, for the time was approaching when practice games must be played with the local teams, and it was necessary that the Cardinals make a good showing.

Life in the training camp of a major league team was different than Joe had found it with the Pittstons. There was a more business-like tone to it, and more snap.

The newspaper men found plenty of copy at first, in chronicling the doings of the big fellows, telling how this one was working up his pitching speed, or how that one was improving his batting. Then, too, the funny little incidents and happenings about the diamond and hotel were made as much of as possible.

The various reporters had their own papers sent on to them, and soon, in some of these, notably the St. Louis publications, Joe began to find himself mentioned occasionally. These clippings he sent home to the folks. He wanted to send some to Mabel, but he was afraid she might think he was attaching too much importance to himself, so he refrained.

Some of the reporters did not speak very highly of Joe's abilities, and others complimented him slightly. All of them intimated that some day he might amount to something, and then, again, he might not. Occasionally he was spoken of as a "promising youngster."

It was rather faint praise, but it was better than none. And Joe steeled himself to go on in his own way, taking the well-intentioned advice of the other baseball players, Boswell in particular.

Joe had other things besides hard work to contend against. This was the petty jealousy that always crops up in a high-tensioned ball team. There were three other chief pitchers on the nine, Toe Barter, Sam Willard and Slim c.o.o.ney. Slim and Toe were veterans, and the mainstays of the team, and Sam Willard was one of those chaps so often seen in baseball, a brilliant but erratic performer.

Sometimes he would do excellently, and again he would "fall down"

lamentably. And, for some reason, Sam became jealous of Joe. Perhaps he would have been jealous of any young pitcher who he thought might, in time, displace him. But he seemed to be particularly vindictive against Joe. It started one day in a little practice game, when Sam, after some particularly wild work, was replaced by our hero.

"Huh! Now we'll see some real pitching," Sam sneered as he sulked away to the bench.

Joe turned red, and was nervous as he took his place.

Perhaps if Joe had made a fizzle of it Willard might have forgiven him, but Joe, after a few rather poor b.a.l.l.s, tightened up and struck out several men neatly, though they were not star batters.

"The Boy Wonder!" sneered Willard after the game. "Better order a cap a couple of sizes larger for him after this, Roger," he went on to the coach.

"Oh, dry up!" retorted Boswell, who had little liking for Willard.

And so the hard work went on. The men, whitened by the indoor life of the winter, were beginning to take on a bronze tan. Muscles hardened and become more springy. Running legs improved. The pitchers were sending in swifter b.a.l.l.s, Joe included. The fungo batters were sending up better flies. The training work was telling.

CHAPTER XV

ANOTHER THREAT

"Play ball!"

"Batter up!"

"Clang! Clang!"

The old familiar cries, and the resonant sound of the starting gong, were heard at the Reedville diamond. It was the first real game of the season, and it was awaited anxiously, not only by the players, but by Manager Watson, the coach, and by the owners back home. For it would give a "line" on what St. Louis could do.

Of course it was not a league contest, and the work, good, bad or indifferent, would not count in the averages. Joe hoped he would get a chance to pitch, at least part of the game, but he was not likely to, Boswell frankly told him, as it was desired to let Barter and c.o.o.ney have a fairly hard work-out on this occasion.

"But your turn will come, son," said the coach, kindly. "Don't you fret.

I think you're improving, and, to be frank with you, there's lots of room for it. But you've got grit, and that's what I like to see."

Reedville was a good baseball town, which was one of the reasons why Manager Watson had selected it as his training camp. The townspeople were ardent supporters of the home team, and they welcomed the advent of the big leaguers. In the vicinity were also other teams that played good ball.

The bleachers and grandstand were well filled when the umpire gave his echoing cry of:

"Play ball!"

The ball-t.o.s.s.e.rs had been warming up, both the Cardinals and the home team, which proved to be a husky aggregation of lads, with tremendous. .h.i.tting abilities, provided they could connect with the ball. And that was just what the St. Louis pitchers hoped to prevent.

"Willard, you can lead off," was the unexpected announcement of Mr.

Watson, as he scanned his batting order. "McCann will catch for you. Now let's see what you can do."

"I'll show 'em!" exclaimed the "grouchy" pitcher as he unb.u.t.toned his glove from his belt. He had been warming up, and had come to the bench, donning a sweater, with no hope of being put in the game at the start off. But, unexpectedly, he had been called on.

"Play ball!" cried the umpire again.

Joe wished, with all his heart, that he was going in, but it was not to be.

In order to give the home team every possible advantage, they were to go to bat last. And there was some little wonder when the first St. Louis player faced the local pitcher. There were cries of encouragement from the crowd, for Robert Lee Randolph--the pitcher in question--had aspirations to the big league. He was a tall, lanky youth, and, as the Cardinal players soon discovered, had not much except speed in his box.

But he certainly had speed, and that, with his ability, or inability, to throw wildly, made him a player to be feared as much as he was admired.

He hit three players during the course of the game, and hit them hard.

"If they can't beat us any other way they're going to cripple us," said Rad grimly to Joe, as they sat on the bench.

"It does look that way; doesn't it?" agreed our hero.

The game went on, and, as might have been expected, the St. Louis team did about as they pleased. No, that is hardly correct. Even a country aggregation of players can sometimes make the finest nine of professionals stand on its mettle. And, in this case, for a time, the contest was comparatively close.

For Mr. Watson did not send in all his best players, and, from the fact that his men had not been in a game since the former season closed, whereas the Reedville team had been at the game for two months or more, the disadvantage was not as great as it might have seemed.

But there was one surprise. When Willard first went in he pitched brilliantly, and struck out the local players in good order, allowing only a few scattering hits.

Then he suddenly went to pieces, and was severely pounded. Only excellent fielding saved him, for he was well backed-up by his fellow players.

"Rexter will bat for you, Willard," said Manager Watson, when the inning was over. "c.o.o.ney, you go out and warm up."

"What's the matter. Ain't I pitching all right?" angrily demanded the deposed one.

"I'm sorry to say you're not. I'm not afraid of losing the game, but I don't want any more of this sort of stuff going back home," replied the manager, as he nodded over to where the newspaper reporters were chuckling among themselves over the comparatively poor exhibition the St. Louis Cardinals had so far put up.

So Willard went to the bench, while crafty c.o.o.ney, with his left-hand delivery, went to warm up. And how Joe did wish _he_ would get a chance!

But he did not, and the game ended, as might have been expected, with the Cardinals snowing under their country opponents.

Hard practice followed that first exhibition game, and there were some s.h.i.+fts among the players, for unexpected weakness, as well as strength had by this time developed in certain quarters.