CHAPTER IX

THE NEW CAPTAIN

Although Iredell had himself offered his resignation, he had only done it to take the wind out of McRae’s sails and put himself in a better strategic position. If worst came to worst, he could save his pride by saying that he had resigned of his own accord instead of being “fired.”

But he had hoped, nevertheless, that the resignation would be refused and that McRae, after perhaps giving him a lecture, would accord him another chance. The prompt acceptance had caught him off his balance, and he was full of rage at the conviction that McRae had sought him out for the express purpose of displacing him.

As Robbie had previously intimated, Iredell was a poor sport. The events of the last few days should have taught him that the duties of captain were too much for him. But like many other people, he was inclined to blame everything and everybody else for his own shortcomings. He had been intensely vain of his position as captain of the team. His nature was, at bottom, petty and vindictive, and from the moment it dawned upon him what had happened to him, he framed a resolution to do all that lay in his power to thwart the plans of his successor. If he had failed, he would try to prove that whoever took his place could do no better.

With his resentment was mingled curiosity as to the man that was to succeed him. Who could it be? He ran over in his mind the other members of the outfield and infield, never once thinking of the pitchers, who were assumed to be out of the question. The more he pondered, the more puzzled he became. Well, after all, it did not matter. He would know soon enough. And whoever it was would find his work mighty hard for him, as far as he, Iredell, could make it so.

That night the Giants shook the dust of St. Louis from their feet, and with a sigh of relief, not unmingled with apprehension, took the train for the long jump home. Relief that the disastrous Western trip was at last over. Apprehension at the reception they would meet from the newspapers and fans of New York.

Mabel was to accompany Joe back to New York and remain there for about two weeks before she returned for a while to Goldsboro. Joe looked forward to these as golden days, and the outlook went far to console him for his chagrin at the Giants’ poor showing.

His leg and foot were mending rapidly, and he hoped to be in form again almost as soon as he reached New York and to be able to go in and take his regular turn in the box. And if ever the Giants needed his pitching and batting strength, it was now!

He and Mabel had just returned from the dining car to the Pullman that first evening on the train that was bearing them East, when McRae and Robbie came along.

They knew Mabel well, because, on the trip of the Giants around the world, she had gone along with Mrs. McRae and other married women as chaperons.

“Blooming as a rose,” said Robbie, gallantly. “When it comes to picking, we have to hand it to Joe.”

“Still as full of blarney as ever,” laughed Mabel. “I suppose you say that to every girl you meet.”

“Not at all, not-at-all!” disclaimed Robbie, his round face beaming.

“King of Northern pitchers and queen of Southern women,” put in McRae. “It’s a winning combination.”

“I’ll admit the part about the women,” agreed Joe.

“And I’ll admit the part about the pitchers,” said Mabel, her smile enhanced by a bewitching dimple.

“Then we’re all happy,” laughed McRae. “But now I’m going to ask the queen to let the king come along with Robbie and me into the smoking car for a while. I’ve got a little business to talk over.”

“Hold on to me, Mabel,” cried Joe, in mock alarm. “Mac wants to fire me, but he won’t do it as long as I’m with you.”

“I’m not very much worried,” responded Mabel, merrily. “For that matter, I shouldn’t wonder if you were honing to get rid of me. Go along now, and I’ll console myself with a magazine until you get back.”

The three men went into the smoking car and settled themselves comfortably. Then when the two older men had lighted cigars, McRae hurled a question.

“Joe, how would you like to be captain of the Giants?” he asked.

Joe was completely taken aback for a moment.

“Great Scott! You sure do hit a fellow right between the eyes, Mac,” he responded. “Just what do you mean? You’ve got a captain now, haven’t you?”

“I had an apology for a captain up to this afternoon,” was the reply. “But I haven’t even that now. Here, read this,” and he thrust Iredell’s written resignation into his hand.

Joe read it with minute attention.

“I’m sorry for Iredell,” he remarked, as he refolded the paper and handed it back. “But I won’t pretend that I’m surprised. But what strikes me all in a heap is your question to me. Remember that I’m a pitcher. As my brother-in-law, Reggie, would remark, ‘it simply isn’t done.’”

“You’re a pitcher, all right,” responded McRae, “and the best that comes. But you’re more than that. You’re a thinker. And that’s the kind of man I’ve got to have for captain. There’s no other man on the team that fills the bill. They’d rattle around in the position like a pea in a tincup. You’d fill it to perfection. That’s the reason I offer it to you. You know, of course, that it means an increase in your salary, but I know that isn’t the thing that would especially appeal to you. I want you to take the position because I think it will be the best thing for the Giants. Think it over.”

There was silence for a few minutes while Joe thought it over and thought hard. He knew that it would mean an immense addition to his work and his responsibilities. He would have to play every day, while now he played, at the most, only twice a week.

Without self-conceit, he knew that he could qualify for the position. Again and again he had groaned inwardly at baseball sins of omission and commission that he felt sure would not have occurred had he had the deciding voice on the field.

It finally simmered down to this: Would it help the Giants? Would it increase their chances for the pennant? He decided that it would. And the moment he reached that conclusion his answer was ready.

“I’ll take it, Mac,” he announced.

“Bully!” exclaimed McRae, as he reached over and shook Joe’s hand to bind the bargain. “Don’t think for a minute, Joe, that I don’t appreciate the immense amount of work that this will put upon you. I don’t want to ride a willing horse to death.”

“That’s all right, Mac,” answered Joe. “The only possible doubt in my mind was as to whether it might affect my pitching or hitting. I wouldn’t want to let down in those things. But if you’re willing to take a chance, I am.”

“I’ll take all the chances and all the responsibility,” replied McRae, confidently. “I haven’t watched you all these years for nothing. I’ve never asked you to do anything yet that you haven’t done to the queen’s taste. You’ve developed into the best pitcher in the game. You’ve developed into the best batter in the game. Now I look for you to develop into the best captain in the game.”

“I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts that he will,” broke in Robbie, his rubicund face aglow with satisfaction. “Now we’ll begin to see the Giants climb.”

“I’m sure they will,” affirmed McRae. “We’ve added fifty per cent. to the Giants’ strength by this night’s work. You know as well as I do, Joe, that the class is there. All it needs is to be brought out. And you’re the boy that’s going to do it. Put your fighting spirit into them. I was going to say put your brains into them, but that couldn’t be done without a surgical operation. But you can teach them to use the brains they have, and that itself will go a long way.”

“How did Iredell take it when you saw him?” asked Joe, thoughtfully.

“Of course he was sore,” answered McRae. “But how much of that was due to his soreness over that bonehead play, and how much to the fact that I accepted his resignation so promptly, I can’t say. But I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with him.”

Joe, who knew Iredell’s nature a good deal better than McRae, was not at all sure, but he said nothing.

“As for the other members of the team,” went on McRae, “they all think you’re about the best that ever happened, and I’m sure they’ll be delighted with the change. You’ll find them backing you up to the limit. The rookies, too, look up to you as a kingpin pitcher and batter, and they’ll be just clay in your hands. You can do with them whatever you will. We’ve picked up some promising material there, and you’re the one to bring out all that’s in them.”

“You can depend on me to do my best,” Joe responded warmly.

“That means that we’ll win the flag even with our bad beginning,” declared McRae. “And now just one other thing, Joe. I want you to feel perfectly free to discuss with Robbie and me anything you think will be for the best interests of the team. If you think any man ought to be fired, tell me so. If you think of any player we can go out and get, tell me that, too. We’ll welcome any suggestions. Have you anything of that kind now in mind? If so, let’s have it.”

“I certainly don’t want any one fired,” said Joe, with a smile. “At least, not for the present. As to getting any new players, I saw something in the evening papers a half an hour ago that set me thinking. Have you seen that the Yankees have determined to let Hays go?”

“No, I haven’t,” replied McRae with quickened interest. “I haven’t looked at to-night’s papers. But after all that won’t do us any good. Some other club in the American League will snap him up.”

“That’s what I should have thought,” answered Joe. “But the surprising thing is that all the other clubs in the American have waived claims upon him. That leaves us free to make an offer for him, if we want him.”

“That’s funny,” mused McRae. “Remember the way he played against us in the World Series? He had us nailed to the mast and crying for help.”

“He sure did,” agreed Robbie. “But he hasn’t been going very well since then. Rather hard to manage in the first place, and then, too, he seems to be losing his effectiveness. If no other club in the American League wants him, he must be nearly through.”

“That’s the way it struck me at first when I read the telegram,” said Joe. “Then I got to thinking it over. Why don’t the other clubs in the American League want him?”

“I’ll bite,” said McRae. “What’s the answer?”

“Perhaps it’s this,” suggested Joe. “Hays, as you know, has that peculiar cross-fire delivery that singles him out among pitchers. No other pitcher in either League has one just like it. It isn’t that it’s so very effective when you come to know it. But because it’s so unlike any other, it puzzles all teams until they get used to it. That’s the way it was with us in the Series. The first two games we couldn’t do a thing to him. In the third we were beginning to bat him more freely.

“Now, what does that lead up to? Just this. The other teams in the American League have become so used to his pitching that it’s lost its terrors. If any one of them bought him from the Yankees, they’d have to stack him up against the seven other teams in their League who have learned to bat him without trouble.

“But with the National League it’s different. It would take them considerable time to get on to him. In the meantime, he might have won two or three games from each of them before they solved him. He might be good for fifteen or twenty victories before this season is over. He might----”

“By ginger!” interrupted McRae. “Joe, that think tank of yours is working day and night. I’ll get in touch with the Yankee management by wire at the next station.”