Baseball Joe, Captain of the Team or, Bitter Struggles on the Diamond by Lester Chadwick Lester Chadwick B00HZ70F2E
	File Size: 424 KB.     BUY NOW Book Description :- sport, fiction, Captain, Baseball, Tactics, Thrown Away, Hidden-Ball Trick Baseball Joe, Captain of the Team or, Bitter Struggles on the Diamond by Lester Chadwick Author of "Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars," "Baseball Joe, Home Run King," "The Rival Pitchers," "The Eight-Oared Victors," Etc. CHAPTER I. QUEER TACTICS "No use talking, Joe, we seem to be on the toboggan," remarked Jim Barclay, one of the first string pitchers of the Giant team, to his closest chum, Joe Matson; as they came out of the clubhouse at the Chicago baseball park and strolled over toward their dugout in the shadow of the grandstand. "You're right, old boy," agreed Joe--"Baseball Joe," as he was known by the fans all over the country. "We seem to be headed straight for the cellar championship, and at the present rate it won't be long before we land there. I can't tell what's got into the boys. Perhaps I'm as much to blame as any of the rest of them. I've lost the last two games I pitched." "Huh!" snorted Jim. "Look at the way you lost them! You never pitched better in your life. You had everything--speed, curves, control, and that old fadeaway of yours was working like a charm. But the boys played behind you like a lot of sand-lotters. They simply threw the game away--handed it to the Cubs on a silver platter. What they did in the field was a sin and a shame. And when it came to batting, they were even worse. The home run and triple you pasted out yourself were the only clouts worth mentioning." "The boys do seem to have lost their batting eyes," agreed Joe. "And when it comes to fielding, they're all thumbs. What do you think the trouble is?" "Search me," replied Jim. "We've got the same team we had when we started the season. Look at the way we started off: Three out of four from the Brooklyns, the same from the Bostons, and a clean sweep from the Phillies. It looked as though we were going to go through the League like a prairie fire. But the instant we struck the West we went down with a sickening thud. Pittsburgh wiped up the earth with us. The Reds walked all over us. The Cubs in the last two games have given us the razz. We're beginning to look like something the cat dragged in."
Baseball Joe, Home Run King or, The Greatest Pitcher and Batter on Record by Lester Chadwick Lester Chadwick B00G1VGTY8
	File Size: 660 KB.     BUY NOW Book Description :- sport, fiction, action, Baseball, Home Run, Champions, League CHAPTER I. A DANGEROUS PLUNGE "I'm going to tie you up in knots, old man," said Jim Barclay, with a smile, as he picked up the ball and stepped into the box in batting practice at the training camp. "I've heard that kind of talk before," retorted Joe Matson, known all over the country as "Baseball Joe," the king pitcher of the Giants. "But untying knots is the best thing I do. Give me the best you have in the shop." Jim wound up and put one over that just cut the corner of the plate. Joe made a mighty swing at it, but it was just beyond his reach. "Nearly broke your back reaching for that one, eh?" laughed Jim, as the ball was thrown back to him. "I was just kidding you that time," grinned Joe. "I'm going to kill the next one." Again the ball whizzed to the plate. It was a fast, straight ball with a slight hop to it. Joe caught it near the end of his bat and "leaned on it" heavily. The ball soared out between right and center, and the outfielders covering that position gave one look at it and then turned and ran with the ball. But it kept on and on until it cleared the fence, and the discomfited fielders threw up their hands and came slowly back to their positions. Jim looked sheepish, and Joe, who was his chum and best friend, laughed outright as he relinquished the bat to the next man in line. "A sweet home run, Jim," he remarked. "I should say so!" snorted Jim. "That hit was good for two home runs. The ball was ticketed for kingdom come." "Who was it said that pitchers couldn't hit?" laughed Mylert, the burly catcher of the Giant team, as he took Joe's place. "I'll tell the world that some of them can!" exclaimed Jim, as he prepared to try his luck again. "Gee, Joe, if that had happened to me in a regular game, it would have broken my heart." Two keen-eyed men in uniform had been standing near the side lines, watching intently every move of the players, as they tried out their batting eyes and arms. One was stocky and of medium height, with hair that had begun to grey at the temples. The other was stout and ruddy, with a twinkle in his eyes that bespoke good nature. Both were veterans of many hard-fought baseball campaigns, and both had played on the Baltimore Orioles when that great organization of stars was the sensation of the baseball world. "Did you see that hit, Robbie?" asked McRae, the manager of the Giants, of his stout companion. "Not all of it," replied Robson, the coach of the team. "But I followed it as far as the fence. That was a whale of a wallop. I'll bet the ball's going yet," and the man chuckled gleefully.
Baseball Joe in the World Series Or, Pitching for the Championship by Lester Chadwick Lester Chadwick B00EIKTQSA
	File Size: 599 KB.     BUY NOW Book Description :- fiction, sport, baseball, Championship, victory, action, game AN INSOLENT INTRUDER "Here he comes!" "Hurrah for Matson!" "Great game, old man." "You stood the Chicagos on their heads that time, Joe." "That home run of yours was a dandy." "What's the matter with Matson?" "He's all right!" A wild uproar greeted the appearance of Joe Matson, the famous pitcher of the New York Giants, as he emerged from the clubhouse at the Polo Grounds after the great game in which he had pitched the Giants to the head of the National League and put them in line for the World Series with the champions of the American League. It was no wonder that the crowd had gone crazy with excitement. All New York shared the same madness. The race for the pennant had been one of the closest ever known. In the last few weeks it had narrowed down to a fight between the Giants and the Chicagos, and the two teams had come down the stretch, nose to nose, fighting for every inch, each straining every nerve to win. It had been a slap-dash, ding-dong finish, and the Giants had won "by a hair." Joe Matson--affectionately known as "Baseball Joe"--had pitched the deciding game, and to him above all others had gone the honors of the victory. Not only had he twirled a superb game, but it had been his home run in the ninth inning after two men were out that had brought the pennant to New York. And just at this moment his name was on more tongues than that of any other man in the United States. Telegraph wires had flashed the news of his triumph to every city and village in the country, and the cables and wireless had borne it to every American colony in the world. Joe's hand had been shaken and his back pounded by exulting enthusiasts until he was lame and sore all over. It was with a feeling of relief that he had gained the shelter of the clubhouse with its refreshing shower and rubdown. Even here his mates had pawed and mauled him in their delight at the glorious victory, until he had laughingly threatened to thrash a few of them. And now, as, after getting into his street clothes, he came out into the side street and viewed the crowd that waited for him, he saw that he was in for a new ordeal. "Gee whiz!" he exclaimed to his friend and fellow player, Jim Barclay, who accompanied him. "Will they never let up on me?" "It's one of the penalties of fame, old man," laughed Jim. "Don't make out that you don't like it, you old hypocrite." "Of course I like it," admitted Joe with a grin. "All the same I don't want to have this old wing of mine torn from its socket. I need it in my business." "You bet you do," agreed Jim. "It's going to come in mighty handy for the World Series. But we'll be out of this in a minute." He held up his hand to signal a passing taxicab, and the cab edged its way to the curb. The crowd swept in upon the players and they had all they could do to elbow their way through. They succeeded finally and slammed the door shut, while the chauffeur threw in the clutch and the taxicab darted off, pursued by the shouts and plaudits of the crowd. Joe sank back on the cushions with a sigh of relief. "The first free breath I've drawn since the game ended," he remarked.
Baseball Joe on the Giants Or Making Good as a Ball Twirler in the Metropolis by Lester Chadwick Lester Chadwick B00DLSTRO8
	File Size: 607 KB.     BUY NOW Book Description :- sport, fiction, action, adventure, Heroes, Fighting, Slump CHAPTER I. PUTTING THEM OVER "Now then, Joe, send it over!" "Show us what you can do!" "Make the ball hum!" "Split the ozone!" These and a host of similar cries greeted Joe Matson as he carelessly caught the ball tossed to him by one of his friends and walked over to a corner of the gymnasium that was marked off as a pitcher's box. "All right, fellows," he answered, laughingly. "Anything to oblige my friends." "And that means all of us, Joe," cried one of the boys heartily. "You bet it does!" chorused the others, with a fervor that spoke volumes for the popularity of the young pitcher. It was a cold day in late winter and a large number of the village youth had gathered at the Riverside gymnasium. Riverside was Joe's home town where his people had lived for years, and where he always spent the months between the ending of one baseball season and the beginning of the next. Joe wound up, while the spectators stretched out in a long line and waited with interest for the first ball. "Not too hot at the start, Joe," cautioned Tom Davis, his old-time chum, who stood ready at the receiving end. "Remember I'm out of practice just now and I don't want you to lift me off my feet." "All right, old scout," returned Joe. "I'm not any too anxious myself to pitch my arm out at the start. I'll just float up a few teasers to begin with." He let the ball go without any conscious effort, and it sailed lazily across the sixty feet that represented the distance between himself and Tom, who stood directly behind the plate that had been improvised for the occasion. It was a drop that broke just before it reached the plate and shot downward into Tom's extended glove. "That was a pretty one," said Tom. "Now give us an upshoot." Joe complied, and then in response to requests from the crowd gave them specimens of his "knuckle" ball, his in-and-out curves, his "fadeaway," and in fact everything he had in stock. Then with a twinkle in his eyes, seeing that Tom by this time was pretty well warmed up, he cut loose a fast one that traveled so swiftly that the eye could scarcely follow it. It landed in Tom's glove with a report like the crack of a whip, and a roar of laughter went up from the crowd as Tom danced around rubbing his hands. "Wow!" he yelled. "That one had whiskers on it for fair. Have a heart, Joe. I'm too young to die." "Don't worry about dying, Tom," piped up Dick Little. "Only the good die young, and that makes you safe for a while." "Is that the kind you feed to old Wagner when he comes up to the plate and shakes his hat at you?" asked Ben Atkins. "It doesn't matter much what you serve to that tough old bird," answered Joe grimly. "He lams them all if they come within reach." "How fast do you suppose that last ball of yours was traveling anyway, Joe?" asked Ed Wilson.

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12:48 12/8/2566