The net result was only one run, but the most encouraging feature of the inning was the exhibition of free hitting.
“Three clean hits in one time at bat is going some,” Robson exulted.
“The boys seem to have their batting clothes on for fair,” responded McRae, vastly pleased.
“I doubt if that bird will come again for more,” judged “Robbie.” “They’ll probably take him out and put Fraser in.”
Joe was in fine fettle, and he showed his appreciation of the lead his mates had given him by retiring the Red Sox without a man seeing first base.
Contrary to Robson’s prediction, the Boston manager elected still to pin his faith to Roth, who tightened up after his bad start and for the next three innings held the Giants scoreless.
He was helped in this by the superb support given him. Both the outfield and infield were on their toes all the time, and drives that ordinarily would have gone for hits were turned into outs in dazzling fashion.
One magnificent catch by Thompson, the Red Sox catcher, was the feature of the fourth inning. Iredell, who was at bat, sent up a sky-piercing foul. Thompson, Hobbs and Roth started for it.
“I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” yelled Thompson.
The ball swerved toward the Boston dugout, where the substitutes and extra pitchers of the team were sitting.
A shout of warning went up, but Thompson did not falter. With his eye on the ball and his hands outstretched, he plunged ahead.
He grabbed the ball in a terrific forward lunge and went head over heels into the dugout, where his comrades caught him and saved him from injury. But he still clutched the ball as he was put on his feet, and a tempest of applause went up in which even the Giants and their partisans could not help joining.
“Suffering cats!” exclaimed McRae. “That was a miracle catch.”
“Never saw a better one in all my years on the ball field,” Robson conceded generously.
Thompson was forced to remove his cap again and again before the crowds would stop their cheering, and the play put still greater stiffness into the Boston’s defence.
But they needed something more than a stone wall defence. They had a lead of one run to overcome, and at the rate Joe was mowing them down, this seemed a tremendous obstacle.
Joe had never felt in better form. He had superb control and had not yet issued a pass. His mastery of the ball seemed almost uncanny. It seemed to understand him and obeyed his slightest wish.