Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-04-14
thrilling Moments on the Diamond
By Edward Lyell Fox.

Over the cliff that. rising abruptly from
the Harlem lowlands, goes to meet the
apartment houses on the heights, twi-
light is descending-the yellowing light of
a humid afternoon in June. Below it,
trimming great palace of green, of a
diamond shaped of dark dirt, caught at
its corners by four white bags. sweep the
wooden stands of the Polo Grounds And,
scattered through them. bare spccks
against the countless tiers of seats, are
900 people-black, like flies on some
great sheet of yellow gummed paper But
1000, with the Giants at home of June
day The huge scoreboard, rearing it's
ugly bulk above the distant bleachers.
tells that they are coming to bat for the
last inning-a hopeless formality at best,
for st. Louis leads, runs to o. No
wonder the crowd has dwindled to a
mere scattering. Too bad. The Giants
need every game. Chicago and Pitts
burgh are crowding hard.
About to leave, one of the party de-
tains us.
"Aw. stay" he says, disgus.edIy.
Watch Saliee strike out the side
We remember he bet a straw hat on
the Giants. SO we settle back in our
seats and watch Sallee, the ST. Louis
pitcher-SalIee. living beanpole. who has
had the Giants at his mercy all after
noon Now he begins his gyrations. and
as his long, slender arms meet overhead
we see a confident smirk come into his
face. He knows this last inning will be
easy.
At the plate Doyle. his bat jerking
nervously, stands waiting. Then he
swings-a swift movement typical of the
man-and the ball goes buZzing over the
ground toward shortstop. Comes sharp
throw by tiny Hauser of ST. Louis, but
Doyle's feet feet have carried him to
first ahead of the ball. Still the score
board reads to o and the stands are
silent. It's just the Giants last gasp
Now he'd headed Murray slouches up TO
the plate and sends another ball bound
ing toward shortstop. This time Hauser
wheels deity and throws to Higgins at
second base. Doyle is forced out, ana
as he returns to the bench we see him
scowI Coming in he has noticed some
thing. An irritating grin has settled on
Sallees face-the sort of grin express
ing tolerant pity And this from lowly
St Louis to the New York Giants!
on first. Murray is dancing, but not
swings at the first ball-a white arc
mounting out toward center field and
dropping. ending in the waiting glove of
Cakes. Two are out: The Chants are
four runs behind. Fewer dark specks
are scattered through the yellow stands.
Some vague forms that have been watch
ING the game from the elevated railroad
tracks disappear magically, as if through
some great trapdoor. -
Bridwell, always trying, steps beside
the plate and waits cautiously. We
watch him, but an instant later see Muir
raw dash toward second. Phelps. the
St Louis catcher, let's him go unmolest-
ed. Poor Giants. Like Sallee, Phelps
is grinning But in their grins careless
ness has replaced confidence. A moment
later Sallee gives Bridwell base on
balls.
Instantly we see a commotion in front
of the New York bench. A short. heavy
figure has bounded from the dugout and
is hurrying toward the coaching line be-
hind third base. He is McGraw-a Ma
poleon in base ball uniform and wooden
stockings Then we turn to Sallee and are
surprised to see that the smirk has left
his face. The aspect of the game has
changed A third force has entered.
So with the battle lines changed Deylin
begins the attack by tearing single
through the ST. Louis infield. We see
Murray. racing from second, turn third
and jump for the plate only to be waved