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Programming Cultures Architecture Art And Science In The Age Of Software Development Architectural Design 07082006 Vol 76 N 4 1st Edition Mike Silver

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Programming Cultures Architecture Art And Science In The Age Of Software Development Architectural Design 07082006 Vol 76 N 4 1st Edition Mike Silver Programming Cultures Architecture Art And Science In The Age Of Software Development Architectural Design 07082006 Vol 76 N 4 1st Edition Mike Silver Programming Cultures Architecture Art And Science In The Age Of Software Development Architectural Design 07082006 Vol 76 N 4 1st Edition Mike Silver

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Programming Cultures Architecture Art And Science In The Age Of Software Development Architectural Design 07082006 Vol 76 N 4 1st Edition Mike Silver
4 4 Programming Cultures
Individual backlist issues of 4 are available for purchase at £22.99. To order and subscribe for 2006 see page 136. Volume 76 No. 2 ISBN 0470015292 Volume 76 No. 3 ISBN 0470018399 Volume 75 No. 1 ISBN 0470090928 Volume 75 No. 2 ISBN 047001136X Volume 75 No. 3 ISBN 0470093285 Volume 75 No. 4 ISBN 0470090936 Volume 75 No. 5 ISBN 0470014679 Volume 75 No. 6 ISBN 0470024186 4Architectural Design Backlist Titles Volume 76 No. 1 ISBN 047001623X
4Architectural Design Forthcoming Titles 2006 January/February 2007, Profile No 185 Elegance Guest-edited by Ali Rahim and Hina Jamelle Elegance represents an important watershed in architectural design. Since the onset of computer-driven technologies, innovative designers have, almost exclusively, been preoccupied with the pursuit of digital techniques. This issue of 3 extrapolates current design tendencies and brings them together to present a new type of architecture, one that is seamlessly tying processes, space, structure and material together with a self-assured beauty. For this title, Ali Rahim, the editor of the seminal Contemporary Processes in Architecture and Contemporary Techniques in Architecture issues of 3, teams up with Hina Jamelle, also of the Contemporary Architecture Practice in New York. The issue includes an extensive new essay by Manuel Delanda on ele- gant digital algorithms, as well as contributions from Irene Cheng, David Goldblatt, Joseph Rosa and Patrik Schumacher. Featured architects include: Asymptote, Hernan Diaz Alonso, Mark Goulthorpe of DECOI, Zaha Hadid Architects, Greg Lynn and Preston Scott Cohen. September/October 2006, Profile No 183 Collective Intelligence in Design Guest-edited by Christopher Hight and Chris Perry Exploring how today’s most compelling design is emerging from new forms of collaborative practice and modes of collective intelligence, this title of 3 engages two predominant phenomena: design’s relation- ship with new information and telecommunications technologies and new economies of globalisation. With the shift from the second machine age to the age of information, the network has replaced the assembly line as a pre-eminent model of organisation. With this shift has come the introduction of numerous alternative modes of social, economic and political organisation in the form of peer-to-peer networks and open-source communities. This has radically altered conventional models of collective invention, and has challenged received notions of individual authorship and agency, questioning the way in which traditional disciplines organise themselves. Such reorganisation is apparent within archi- tectural practice, as well as within its participation in a greater cultural context of increasing interdisci- plinarity. For the design disciplines, this includes the emergence of new forms of collective intelligence in a number of different fields including architecture, software and interaction design, fashion, typogra- phy and product design. Collective Intelligence in Design includes contributions from: Servo, EAR Studio, the Radical Software Group, United Architects, biothing, Continuum (working with the Smart Geometry Group and Bentley Systems), Hernan Diaz-Alonso and Benjamin Bratton, Gehry Technologies (working with the AA/DRL) and MIT’s Media Lab. Additionally, the issue features essays from a diverse pool of academics and designers, including Brett Steele, Branden Hookway, Alexander Galloway and Eugene Thacker, and Michael Hensel, as well as an extensive interview with Michael Hardt, co-author of two important and influential books on contemporary issues of globalisation, Empire and Multitude: War and Democracy in the Age of Empire. November/December 2006, Profile No 184 Architextiles Guest-edited by Mark Garcia This issue of 3 explores the intersections between architectural and textile design. Focusing on the possi- bilities for contemporary architectural and urban design, it examines the generative set of concepts, forms, patterns, materials, processes, technologies and practices that are driving the proliferation of this multidisciplinary design hybrid. Architextiles represents a transition stage in the reorientation of spatial design towards a more networked, dynamic, interactive, multifunctional and communicative state. The paradigms of fashion and textile design, with their unique, accelerated aesthetics and ability to embody a burgeoning, composite and complex range of properties such as lightness, flow, flexibility, surface com- plexity and movement, have a natural affinity with architecture's shifts towards a more liquid state. The preoccupation with textiles in architecture challenges traditional perceptions and practices in interior, architectural, urban, landscape, and fashion design. Interweaving new designs and speculative projects of the future, Architextiles brings together architects, designers, engineers, technologists, theorists and mate- rials researchers to unravel these new methodologies of fabricating space. This title features the work of Will Alsop, Nigel Coates, Robert Kronenburg, Dominique Perrault, Lars Spuybroek and Ushida Findlay. As well as contributions from Bradley Quinn, Dagmar Richter, Peter Testa and Matilda McQuaid, it encompass- es new projects and writings from young and emerging designers and theorists. 4 Collective Intelligence in Design
4 Programming Cultures: Art and Architecture in the Age of Software Guest-edited by Mike Silver Architectural Design July/August 2006
Editorial Offices International House Ealing Broadway Centre London W5 5DB T: +44 (0)20 8326 3800 F: +44 (0)20 8326 3801 E: architecturaldesign@wiley.co.uk Editor Helen Castle Design and Editorial Management Mariangela Palazzi-Williams Project Coordinator and Picture Editor Caroline Ellerby Design and Prepress Artmedia Press London Printed in Italy by Conti Tipicolor Advertisement Sales Faith Pidduck/Wayne Frost T +44 (0)1243 770254 E fpidduck@wiley.co.uk Editorial Board Will Alsop, Denise Bratton, Adriaan Beukers, André Chaszar, Peter Cook, Teddy Cruz, Max Fordham, Massimiliano Fuksas, Edwin Heathcote, Anthony Hunt, Charles Jencks, Jan Kaplicky, Robert Maxwell, Jayne Merkel, Monica Pidgeon, Antoine Predock, Michael Rotondi, Leon van Schaik, Ken Yeang Contributing Editors André Chaszar Jeremy Melvin Jayne Merkel Abbreviated positions b = bottom, c = centre, l = left, r = right Front cover: Process 6 (Image 4), 28” x 28” inkjet print, 2005. Print derived from Process 6 (see ‘Process/Drawing’, pp 26–33). A dense surface of circles emanate from fixed points. The forms emerge as lines are drawn between their centre points as they expand outwards. Each circular element is the same software run with a different configuration. Each grows differently in response to its sim- ulated environment. © CEB Reas. 4 p 4 courtesy Greg Lynn FORM; pp 5-11, 13 & 46-51 © Mike Silver; pp 16-17, 19 & 23-5 © Ingeborg Rocker; p 18 © Stephen Wolfram LLC; p 20(t) © From Alan Turing, The Enigma, by Andrew Hodges, published by Hutchinson. Reprinted by permission of The Random House Group Ltd; p 20(b) courtesy Arthur W Burks, from John von Neumann, Essays on Cellular Automata; p 21 © Kevin Lindsey www.kevlindev.com; p 22(t) © Reprinted from Aristid Lindenmayer, ‘Mathematical models of cellular interactions in development: I. Filaments with one-sided inputs’, Journal for Theoretical Biology, Vol 18, 1968, figs 1 &2 (p 286), figs 4 & 5 (p 310) & figs 6 & 7 (p 312); p 22(b) © Allen Bernholtz, FRAIC; pp 26-33 © CEB Reas, courtesy of bitforms gallery, New York; pp 34-37 © Stephen Wolfram LLC; pp 38 & 43-44 © Karl Chu; p 41 courtesy Karl Chu; pp 52, 56(bl), 57 & 59-60 © Lalvani Studio; p 53 © Milgo/Bufkin; pp 54-55 & 56(br) © Milgo-Lalvani; pp 62-71 © Evan Douglis; pp 72-81 © Alisa Andrasek; pp 82-87 © Gehry Technologies; pp 88-95 courtesy Greg Lynn FORM. 4+ pp 98, 99 & 100 © Arup Associates; p 101 © Christian Richters; pp 102-103 © Arup Associates/Oaker; p 104(t) © Peter Cook; p 104(b) © Arup Associates/Roland Reinardy; pp 106–109 © Dine Murphy Wood; p 110 © David Clifton; pp 113, 115(b) & 117(t) © Jordan Mozer and Associates; p 114 © Kingmond Young; pp 115 (tl, tr & c), 116 & 117(b) © Doug Snower Photography; pp 118- 119, 120(c&b), 121 © Philip Ruault; p 120(t) © Lacaton Vassal; pp 122 & 128 © FAT; pp 123- 24 &126-127 © Len Grant; p 129 © NASA; pp 130-131 © Will McLean; pp 132-134 © Helen Peyton. Published in Great Britain in 2006 by Wiley-Academy, a division of John Wiley & Sons Ltd Copyright © 2006, John Wiley & Sons Ltd, The Atrium, Southern Gate, Chichester, West Sussex PO19 8SQ, England, Telephone +44 (0)1243 779777 Email (for orders and customer service enquiries): cs-books@wiley.co.uk Visit our Home Page on wileyeurope.com or wiley.com pp 34-7 © Stephen Wolfram LLC All Rights Reserved. No part of this publica- tion may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise, except under the terms of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 or under the terms of a licence issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency Ltd, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1T 4LP, UK, without the permission in writing of the Publisher. Requests to the Publisher should be addressed to: Permissions Department, John Wiley & Sons Ltd, The Atrium Southern Gate Chichester, West Sussex PO19 8SQ England F: +44 (0)1243 770571 E: permreq@wiley.co.uk Subscription Offices UK John Wiley & Sons Ltd Journals Administration Department 1 Oldlands Way, Bognor Regis West Sussex, PO22 9SA T: +44 (0)1243 843272 F: +44 (0)1243 843232 E: cs-journals@wiley.co.uk [ISSN: 0003-8504] 4 is published bimonthly and is available to purchase on both a subscription basis and as individual volumes at the following prices. Single Issues Single issues UK: £22.99 Single issues outside UK: US$45.00 Details of postage and packing charges avail- able on request. Annual Subscription Rates 2006 Institutional Rate Print only or Online only: UK£175/US$290 Combined Print and Online: UK£193/US$320 Personal Rate Print only: UK£99/US$155 Student Rate Print only: UK£70/US$110 Prices are for six issues and include postage and handling charges. Periodicals postage paid at Jamaica, NY 11431. Air freight and mailing in the USA by Publications Expediting Services Inc, 200 Meacham Avenue, Elmont, NY 11003 Individual rate subscriptions must be paid by personal cheque or credit card. Individual rate subscriptions may not be resold or used as library copies. All prices are subject to change without notice. Postmaster Send address changes to 3 Publications Expediting Services, 200 Meacham Avenue, Elmont, NY 11003 26 ISBN-13 9780470025857 ISBN-10 0470025859 Profile No 182 Vol 76 No 4 4
Contents 52 62 + 4 Editorial Helen Castle 4 Introduction Towards a Programming Culture in the Design Arts Mike Silver 5 20 Years of Scripted Space Malcolm McCullough 12 When Code Matters Ingeborg M Rocker 16 Process/Drawing CEB Reas 26 How Do Simple Programs Behave? Stephen Wolfram 34 Metaphysics of Genetic Architecture and Computation Karl Chu 38 Building Without Drawings: Automason Ver 1.0 Mike Silver 46 The Milgo Experiment: An Interview with Haresh Lalvani John Lobell 52 Codes, Eros and Craft: An Interview with Evan Douglis Mike Silver 62 All-Over, Over-All: biothing and Emergent Composition Pia Ednie-Brown 72 Tectonics, Economics and the Reconfiguration of Practice: The Case for Process Change by Digital Means Dennis R Shelden 82 Calculus-Based Form: An Interview with Greg Lynn Ingeborg M Rocker 88 Unified Design: Collaborative Working at Arup Associates Helen Castle 98+ Interior Eye Colors Restaurant Jayne Merkel 106+ Practice Profile Jordan Mozer & Associates: New American Narratives Howard Watson 110+ Building Profile House in Keremma Jeremy Melvin 118+ Home Run Islington Square, Manchester Bruce Stewart 122+ McLean’s Nuggets Will McLean 129+ Site Lines The Crown Liquor Saloon, Belfast Jane Peyton 132+
Editorial Despite 4’s long-standing association with the digital in design, this is the first issue with any reference to programming or software in the title. This says much about architecture’s previous relationship with the computer. At the end of the 1990s when I first started editing 4, I was often confounded by the gap between design process and text. Why was everyone generating amorphous Maya-inspired blobs, but talking about Derrida? Programming Cultures hails the way for a new generation of work that comes out of a pure, unadulterated passion for software. For a young designer like CEB Reas, who has been playing with script since childhood, it is an entirely natural creative impulse. For experienced designers like Malcolm McCullough and Greg Lynn, it has come out of decades of pioneering work on computer-aided design. McCullough, one of the first architecture managers for Autodesk, exhorts us that ‘all you need is the will to improvise’; Lynn enthuses ‘I love the moment when I discover some new potential in software.’ This is all constructive play which, as described by Ingeborg M Rocker in her interview with Lynn, adds up to ‘exhaustive exploration’. It is a not insignificant shift, which moves architects away from being mere consumers of software towards becoming knowledgeable adapters, crafters and, ultimately, producers. So much more than a development of architects’ technical skill bases, it is set to have a huge impact on the culture of architecture. Could the deftness with scripting that educators and designers like Mike Silver, the guest-editor of this issue, is encouraging in his students at New York’s Pratt Institute of Architecture become commonplace? Could scripting become the new drawing? The potential aesthetic impact of this way of working is anticipated by Pia Ednie-Brown’s discussion of the new compositional principles spearheaded in the work of Alisa Andrasek of biothing. For, as Ednie-Brown points out: ‘Working with computational algorithms as primary generative material offers a different bent to, for example, the mathematical ratios of the Renaissance or the flow diagrams of Modernism.’ At such a nascent stage, the ultimate cultural repercussions of a new programming era are only to be guessed at. The implications are that we could be at the brink of an entirely new period of culture and knowledge; if so, could Stephen Wolfram be set to become the next Isaac Newton, and Gehry Technologies’ software be about to eclipse the pattern-books of Palladio? Helen Castle 4 Greg Lynn, Slavin House, Venice, California, due for completion 2007 In this project, Lynn is testing the limits of Gehry Technologies’ software. As Lynn states in his interview with Ingeborg M Rocker (page 88), the use of the software is ‘provocative at many levels and is having a pretty significant effect on my work’.
5 Introduction Towards a Programming Culture in the Design Arts Pratt Institute School of Architecture, Carbon-fibre chandelier studio project, autumn 2006 In this studio led by Professor Mike Silver, students’ bent for scripting was applied in a project that developed new software to coordinate the movement of a CNC machine’s rotating bed with the controlled trajectory of its servo-controlled hotwire. Here, foam shapes cut on a CNC hotwire foam-cutter were used as moulds for hand- laid carbon-fibre panels. In his introduction to this issue of 4, guest-editor Mike Silver celebrates ‘the flexible language of commands and logical procedures’ of computers whose creative potential has until now been undervalued in architecture. He explains how the ‘happy accident’ of late 1990s blob architecture is now giving way to a focus on programming and composing new code, which promises ‘to generate new and unprecedented modes of expression’.
6 Chandelier fabrication process using epoxy resin, carbon-fibre and Nomex drapes over a CNC foam- cut mandrel.
7
8 Proprietary script for generating ruled surfaces. Ruled Surface Foam Block Ruled surface. ‘You write a few lines of code and suddenly life is better for a hundred million people.’ Charles Simonyi, inventor of Microsoft Word1 The first architects to use computers were interested primarily in maximising the efficiency of conventional modes of production. Designers working on the World’s Fair in 1964 used a primitive calculating machine to build the Unisphere, and around the same time Eero Saarinen engineered the complex reinforced-concrete shells of his TWA terminal using early structural-analysis software. During the 1980s many architectural practices employed the first automated systems for drafting construction documents, as computers became cheaper and more readily available. In the 1990s the buzz surrounding blob architecture embodied design’s obsession with digital media at the brink of a new millennium. This trend has now given way to the more urgent problem of process and code. Many of the contributors to this issue have expanded on a programming paradigm originally explored at MIT by the artist and graphic designer John Maeda, whose protégé, CEB Reas is featured in this issue. Not surprisingly, architecture has lagged far behind these pioneers with creativity and experimentation taking a back seat to the priorities of disciplinary continuity, history and function. At MIT, architecture’s foray into programming was mostly restricted to the computer replication of known forms and building types exemplified in the work of William Mitchell and Richard Freeman, and the shape grammars of George Stiny. As Greg Lynn has pointed out, these systems were ‘merely an extension of a previously delineated and closed set of potential Ruled surface generated from proprietary script by Japhy Bartlett.
9 forms whose characteristics can be stated in advance by an ideal mathematics’.2 Today, programming in architecture has become a much more open process, one that is inspired by the capacity to generate new and unprecedented modes of expression (see Malcolm McCullough’s essay on scripted space). For many architects coding has become the formal and operative focus of building itself. Universality = Difference In the 1990s, the association between computers and architecture was marked by the proliferation of amorphous, curvilinear forms. But this link is far from necessary or inevitable. It is, in fact, a happy accident precipitated by pre- computational experiments based on ‘folding’ and the subsequent appropriation of operationally specific modelling software. How, then, do we determine the relationship between computing and architecture? What forms, practices and techniques will seem most relevant if the internal structure of software and the theories that drive its development are changed at the same time? Can we even define computational architecture? The answer to this last question is that we cannot. As Ingeborg M Rocker’s essay on page 16 shows, computers are universal machines. Unlike classical machines (clocks, steam engines and tin-openers) they can perform a wide variety of tasks without significant changes to their physical design. Through the writing of new programs, very different operations can be executed on a single device. Where the information theorist defines universality through the production of difference, for architects it holds exactly the opposite meaning. The stripped-down and monolithic style of international Modernism was thought to be universal for all places and times. Miesian ‘universal space’ was constrained by a homogeneous and infinitely extended grid, very much unlike the complex, convoluted matrix of interconnected microcircuitry that constitutes today’s digital networks. The universality of a programmable computer is therefore measured by its degrees of freedom. What makes it unique, as a device, is the flexible language of commands and logical procedures that can instantly transform it from one function to another. With existing software, designers are often forced to conduct experimental work using fixed protocols originally developed to solve the visualisation problems faced by aircraft designers and Hollywood film- makers. Even in these disciplines, staff programmers are busy creating new codes for challenges that are beyond the scope of a particular product. Not surprisingly, this has also become true for the early advocates of software appropriation in architecture. Faced with increasingly complex commissions and a growing practice, many designers have turned to the in- house creation of proprietary code. Here, one immediately thinks of Dennis Shelden’s redevelopment of CATIA at Gehry Systems, and Greg Lynn’s collaboration with Microstation. Both examples suggest the possibility of freeing computer- aided design (CAD) from any one particular concept of form rooted in any one particular software. If indeed codes can be changed to fit specific needs or developed from scratch, then there can be no such thing as a ‘computational architecture’; only possible architectures actualised by new programs. These programs can be both simple, generative codes that Finished panels for the Carbon-fibre chandelier project.
Carbon-fibre chandelier project showing the movable light-reflecting ceiling shroud and retractable downlights. 10
produce complexity (see, for example, the articles by Stephen Wolfram and Karl Chu),3 or complex programs that help make difficult tasks easy. Programs have become pervasive mainly because their instructions can be applied to so many diverse problems (for example, one piece of software in the stealth bomber actually counteracts the plane’s poor aerodynamics and prevents it falling from the sky even when the pilot deliberately initiates a stall). New systems of feedback and control, database-management protocols, genetic design algorithms and a whole universe of scripting systems now drive everything from a simple electric toothbrush to the Internet. Building Programs and Programs for Building The ability to craft tools that address both the practical challenges of building design and the human capacity to imagine new forms is a fairly recent development. As specific programming languages become less mysterious and easier to master, ‘home-made’ software will most likely become a familiar part of design culture. This move by the design community to take an active role in the production of code transcends the limitations of prefabricated software tools. To a great extent this shift is becoming a necessity. Large, unanticipated gaps in the computer-aided design and construction process can only be bridged by the creation of special software. Many of these tools cannot be anticipated in advance by outside developers since the most imaginative projects begin with ideas that exceed ordinary expectations. In order to connect different production processes, materials and fabrication devices, new tools are required. In fact, as architect Haresh Lalvani has demonstrated in his collaboration with Milgo/Bufkin (see his interview with John Lobell), unexpected functions for standard digital-fabrication equipment can be created simply by writing code. In academia, students and teachers have been increasingly drawn to the possibilities of proprietary software development. For many architects programming has become the new drawing. In the carbon-fibre chandelier project designed for the lobby of Pratt Institute’s new School of Architecture,4 complex EPS moulds for hand-laid composites were produced using a large-scale computer-numerically controlled (CNC) foam-cutter. In order to precisely construct the necessary 3-D shapes, new software was developed to coordinate the movement of the machine’s rotating bed with the controlled trajectory of its servo-controlled hotwire. The ability to link disparate material practices (foam-cutting and advanced composite construction) would not have been possible without the new scripts. With these examples in mind, Programming Cultures explores the power of code by encouraging artists and architects to become more involved in the creation of home- made, task-specific tools. Through individual labour or by collaborating with skilled developers, designers can harness the power of universality. In this way universality supports difference in opposition to the sterile homogeneity commonly associated with rigid protocols and fixed procedures. What computation must now serve (as the work of Evan Douglis aptly demonstrates) are the founding concepts, intuitions and desires that can only emerge from a varied and creative practice. Rather than working through algorithms imposed on the architect by an external agent or product philosophy, intuition and desire motivate artistic production while encouraging the spread of individual creativity. As the projects in this book suggest, it is only a question of time before software development becomes an integral part of the building design process. Certainly, this will be an unprecedented moment in the history of architecture. 4 Mike Silver Thank you to Evan Douglis and Dean Thomas Hanrahan at the Pratt Institute School of Architecture for their support of the Universal Machines symposium held during the spring of 2005, which provided the original impetus for this issue. Malcolm McCullough, John Lobell and Yee Peng Chia were especially instrumental in provoking questions and inspiring discussion. Programming Cultures: Architecture, Art and Science in the Age of Software Development would not have been possible if it were not for the support provided by Helen Castle, the staff of John Wiley & Sons and a generous grant from the Graham Foundation. Notes 1 Steve Lohr, Go To, Perseus Books (New York), 2001, p 2. 2 Greg Lynn, ‘Variations on the Rowe Complex’, from Folds, Bodies and Blobs: Collected Essays, Books-by Architects Series, Bibliotheque de Belgique, 1998, p 212. 3 Where Wolfram defines ‘code’ as a generative abstraction that emulates pattern formation at a multitude of spatial dimensions within the universe (analytic) for Chu ‘codes’ are used for the construction of possible worlds (synthetic). 4 Carbon-fibre chandelier. Critic: Professor Mike Silver. Advisers: Mark Parsons, Evan Douglis, Rob Langoni. Programming: Japhy Bartlett. Design and Construction: Patrick Weise, Hanna Meeran, Felice Basti, Jakie Nguyen, Milton Hernandez, Genoveva Alvarez, Jonathan Lee, Julie Camfrancq, Michael Chase, Jean Keesler, Eddy Adu, Jong Kim, Tomoko Miyazaki. Research: Mel Sakor, Arta Yazdansets, Hasti Valipour, Kenneth Chong, Caitlin Duffy. The Universal Machines Symposium This issue of 4 developed out of the Universal Machines symposium held at the School of Architecture at the Pratt Institute in February 2005. The symposium continued a long tradition at Pratt of combining interests in theory and practice, thereby allowing students, teachers and practitioners to address emerging technological and social issues in architecture. It is therefore satisfying to see that while several of the articles here address highly theoretical issues on computation and architecture, just as many bring that interest into new forms of material practice. The faculty and programmes at Pratt are diverse and address a wide range of interests, all of which combine to create Pratt’s unique strength. With the Universal Machines symposium and this issue of 4 we are continuing a long-standing commitment to design excellence. Thomas Hanrahan, Dean, School of Architecture, Pratt Institute 11
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you could hit a coin. They can’t touch you. They’ll be rolling over and playing dead.” “That listens good,” laughed Joe. “At that, I’ll need all I’ve got to make those fellows be good.” The preliminary practice gave evidence that the game would be for blood. Both teams were on their toes, and the dazzling plays that featured their work brought frequent roars of applause from the Giant and Brooklyn rooters. Then the bell rang, the umpire dusted off the plate and the vast throng settled down with delighted anticipation to watch the game. The Brooklyns, as the visiting team, went first to bat. A roar went up from the stands as Joe walked out to the mound. The Giant rooters promptly put the game down as won. But the Brooklyns pinned their faith to their phenomenal pitcher, Dizzy Rance, and had different ideas about the outcome of the game. The first inning was short and sweet. Leete, the leftfielder of the Dodgers, who, year in and year out, had a batting average of .300 or better, swung savagely at the first ball pitched and raised a skyscraping fly that Jackwell at third promptly gathered in. Mornier, with the count at three balls and two strikes, sent up a foul that Mylert caught close to the stands after a long run. Tonsten lunged at the first ball and missed. The second was a beauty that cut the outer corner of the plate at which he did not offer and which went for a strike. Then Joe shot over a high fast one and struck him out. “Atta boy, Joe!” and similar shouts of encouragement came from stands and bleachers, as Joe pulled off his glove and went in to the bench. Rance, the Brooklyn pitcher, did not lack a generous round of applause as he took up his position in the box. He had already pitched two games against the Giants and won them both. But he had never happened to be pitted against Joe, and despite his air of confidence he knew he had his work cut out for him.
Curry made a good try on the second ball pitched and sent a long fly to center that was caught by Maley after a long run. Iredell sent a sharp single to left. Burkett slammed one off Rance’s shins, and the ball rolled between short and second. Before it could be recovered, Burkett had reached first and Iredell was safe at second. Wheeler tried to wait Rance out, but when the count had reached three and two he sent a single to center that scored Iredell from second and carried Burkett to third. A moment later the latter was caught napping by a snap throw from catcher to third and came in sheepishly to the bench. Rance then put on steam and set Jackwell down on three successive strikes. “There’s one of the runs we promised you, Joe,” sang out Larry, as the Giants took the field. “That’s good as far as it goes,” laughed Joe. “But don’t forget I’m looking for more.” For the Brooklyns, Trench was an easy out on a roller to Joe, who ran over and tagged him on the base line. Naylor dribbled one to Jackwell that rolled so slowly that the batter reached first. But no damage was done, for Joe pitched an outcurve to Maley and made him hit into a fast double play, Iredell to Barrett to Burkett. It was snappy pitching, backed up by good support, and that it was appreciated was shown by the shouts that came from the Giant rooters, who cheered until Joe had to remove his cap. But Rance, although the Giants had got to him for three hits in the first inning, showed strength in the second that delighted his supporters. He mowed the Giants down as fast as they came to the bat. The best that Larry could do was to lift a towering fly to center that was taken care of by Maley. Bowen lifted a twisting foul that the Brooklyn catcher did not have to stir out of his tracks to get. Joe hit a smoking liner that was superbly caught by Tonsten, who had to go up in the air for it, but held on.
In the Brooklyns’ third, Joe made a great play on a well-placed bunt by Reis that rolled between the box and third base. Joe slipped and fell as he grasped it, but while in a sitting position he shot it over to first in time to nail the runner. Rance hit a sharp bounder to the box that Joe fielded in plenty of time. Tighe went out on a Texas leaguer that was gathered in by Larry. “That boy’s got ’em eating out of his hand,” exulted Robbie, his red face beaming with satisfaction. “Yes, now,” agreed the more cautious McRae. “But at any time they may turn and bite the hand that’s feeding them. They’re an ungrateful lot.” In their half of the inning, the Giants failed to score. Rance was pitching like a house afire. Mylert went back to the bench after three futile offers at the elusive sphere. Curry popped a weak fly to Trench, and, Iredell, after fouling the ball off half a dozen times, grounded to Mornier at first, who only had to step on the bag to register an out. It was Larry’s turn to be in the limelight in the Brooklyns’ half of the fourth. Leete raised a fly that seemed destined to fall between second and left. It was certain that Wheeler at left could not get to it in time, though he came in racing like an express train. But Larry had started at the crack of the bat, running in the direction of the ball. He reached it just as it was going over his head, and with a wild leap grasped it with one hand and held on to it. It was one of the finest catches ever made on the Polo Grounds. For a moment the crowd sat stupefied. Then, when they realized that a baseball “miracle” had occurred, they raised a din that could have been heard a mile away. “Great stuff, Larry, old boy!” congratulated Joe, as the second baseman resumed his position. “No pitcher could ask for any better support than that.” “Let that go for my share of your birthday present,” returned the grinning Larry.
The next two went out in jig time, one on a grounder and the other on strikes. The Giants added one more run in their half of the fourth by a clever combination of bunts and singles. Joe knew that Rance was weak on fielding bunts, and he directed his men to play on that weakness. The Brooklyn pitcher fell all over himself in trying to handle them, and this had a double advantage, for it not only let men get on bases but it shook for a moment the morale of the boxman and made it easier for the succeeding batsman. It was only by virtue of a lucky double play that Rance got by with only one run scored against him in that inning. With two runs to the good, the Giants went out on the field in a cheerful mood. They were getting onto the redoubtable Rance, not heavily, but still they were hitting him. Joe, on the other hand, seemed to be invincible. He was not trying for strike-outs except when necessary. But his curves were working perfectly, his control was marvelous, and when a third strike was in order he called upon his hop ball or his fadeaway and it did the trick. And the boys behind him were certainly backing him up in fine style. They were fairly “eating up” everything that came their way, digging them out of the dirt, spearing them out of the air, throwing with the precision of expert riflemen. None of them was playing that day for records. They were playing for the team. Already the new spirit that Joe had infused as captain was beginning to tell. In the Giant’s half of the fifth, Joe was the first man up. Rance tried him on an outcurve, but Joe refused to bite. The next was a fast, straight one, and Joe caught it fairly for a terrific smash over the centerfielder’s head. The outfield had gone back when he first came to the bat, but they had not gone back far enough. It was a whale of a hit, and Joe trotted home easily, even then reaching the plate before Maley had laid his hand on the ball. “Frozen hoptoads!” cried Robbie, fairly jumping up and down in exultation. “It’s a murderer he is. He isn’t satisfied with anything less
than killing the ball.” “He’s some killer, all right,” assented McRae. “With one other man like him on the team, the race would be over. The Giants would simply walk in with the flag.” That mammoth hit should have been the beginning of a rally, but Rance tightened up and the next three went out in order, one on strikes and the other two on infield outs. Joe still had control of the situation, and he seemed to grow more unhittable as the game went on. He simply toyed with his opponents, and their vain attempts to land on the ball made them at times seem ludicrous. “Sure, Joe, ’tis a shame what you’re doin’ to those poor boobs,” chuckled Larry, as they came in to the bench together. “But don’t forget that they’re always dangerous,” cautioned Joe. “Do you remember the fourteen runs they made in one of their games against the Phillies? They may stage a comeback any minute.” “Not while you’re in the box, old boy,” declared Larry. “You’ll have to break a leg to lose this game.” Burkett thought it was up to him to do something, and lammed out a terrific liner to left for three bases, sliding into third just a fraction of a second before the return of the ball. Wheeler tried to sacrifice, but Tonsten held Burkett at third by a threatening gesture before putting out Wheeler at first. With the infield pulled in for a play at the plate, Jackwell double-crossed them by a single over short that scored Burkett with the fourth run for the Giants. Barrett went out on a grounder to Mornier, Jackwell taking second. Bowen made a determined effort to bring him in, but his long fly to center was gathered in by Maley. The “lucky seventh” was misnamed as far as the Brooklyns were concerned, for their luck was conspicuous by its absence. Although the heavy end of their batting order was up, they failed to get the
ball out of the infield. Leete, their chief slugger, was utterly bewildered by Joe’s offerings and struck out among the jeers of the Giant fans. Mornier popped up a fly that Joe gobbled up, and Larry had no trouble in getting Tonsten’s grounder into the waiting hands of Burkett. The Giants did a little better, and yet were unable to add to their score. Joe started off with a ripping single to left. Mylert tried to advance him by sacrificing, but after sending up two fouls was struck out by Rance. Curry sent a liner to the box that was too hot to handle, but Rance deflected it to Tonsten who got Curry at first, Joe in the meantime getting to second. Iredell was an easy victim, driving the ball straight into the hands of Mornier at first. “Well, Joe,” chuckled Jim, as the eighth inning began, “we haven’t given you your present yet, but we’re in a fair way to put it over. Not to say that you’re not earning most of the present yourself.” “I don’t care how it comes as long as we get it,” laughed Joe, as he slipped on his glove. The time was now growing fearfully short in which the men from the other side of the bridge could make their final bid for the game. Those four runs that the Giants had scored were like so many mountains to be scaled, and with the airtight pitching that Joe was handing out, it seemed like an impossible task. Still, they had pulled many a game out of the fire with even greater odds against them, and they came up to the plate determined to do it again, if it were at all possible. Trench got a ball just where he liked it, and sent it whistling to left field for a single. Naylor followed with a fierce grasser that Iredell knocked down, but could not field in time to catch the runner. It looked like the beginning of a rally, and the Brooklyn bench was in commotion. Their coaches on the base lines jumped up and down, alternately shouting encouragement to their men and hurling gibes at Joe in the attempt to rattle him. “We’ve got him going now,” yelled one.
“We’ve just been kidding him along so far,” shouted another. “All together now, boys! Send him to the showers!” Maley came next, with orders to strike at the first ball pitched. He followed orders and missed. Again he swung several inches under Joe’s throw, which took a most tantalizing hop just before it reached the plate. He set himself for the third and caught it fairly. The ball started as a screaming liner, going straight for the box. Joe leaped in the air and caught it in his gloved hand. Like a flash he turned and hurled it to Larry at second. Trench, who had started for third at the crack of the ball, tried frantically to scramble back to second, but was too late. Larry wheeled and shot down the ball to first, beating Naylor to the bag by an eyelash. Three men had been put out in the twinkling of an eye! It was the first triple play that had been made that season, and the third that had been made on the Polo Grounds since that famous park had been opened. It had all occurred so quickly that half the spectators did not for the moment realize what had occurred. But they woke up, and roar after roar rose from the stands as the spectators saw the Giants running in gleefully, while the discomfited Brooklyns, with their rally nipped in the bud, went out gloomily to their positions. “You’ll send him to the showers, will you?” yelled Larry to the Brooklyn coaches, as he threw his cap hilariously into the air. Rance’s face was a study as he took his place in the box. He saw his winning streak going glimmering. It was a hard game for him to lose, for he had pitched in a way that would have won most games. But he had drawn a hard assignment in having to face pitching against which his teammates, fence breakers as they usually were, could make no headway. Still, he was game, and there was still another inning, and nothing was impossible in baseball. If the Giants had expected him to crack, they were quickly undeceived. Burkett grounded out to Trench, who
made a rattling stop and got him at first with feet to spare. Wheeler fouled out to Tighe. Jackwell went out on three successive strikes. It was a plucky exhibition of pitching under discouraging conditions, and Rance well deserved the hand that he received as he went in to the bench. “I say, Joe,” remarked Jim, as his chum was preparing to go out for the ninth Brooklyn inning. “Celebrate your birthday by showing those birds the three-men-to-a-game stunt. It will be a glorious wind-up.” “I’ll see,” replied Joe, with a grin that was half a promise. Thompson, the manager of the Brooklyns, who had been having a little run-in with the umpire, and was standing in a disgruntled mood near the batter’s box, overheard the dialogue and stared in wonderment at Jim. “What’s that three-men-to-a-game stunt you’re talking about?” he asked. “Haven’t you ever heard of it?” asked Jim. “I never have,” replied Thompson. “And I was in the game before you were born.” “Then you’ve got a treat in store for you,” Jim assured him. “Just you watch this inning, and you’ll see that only three men will be needed to turn your men back without a run, or even the smell of a hit. They’ll be the pitcher, the catcher and the first baseman. The rest of the Giants will have nothing to do and might as well be off the field. In fact, if it wasn’t against the regulations of the game, we would call them into the bench just now.” Thompson looked at Jim as though he were crazy. “Trying to kid me?” the Brooklyn manager asked, with a savage inflection in his voice. “Not at all,” replied Jim, grinning cheerfully. “Just keep your eye on that pitcher of ours.”
Programming Cultures Architecture Art And Science In The Age Of Software Development Architectural Design 07082006 Vol 76 N 4 1st Edition Mike Silver
CHAPTER XII AN AMAZING FEAT Thompson, still believing that Jim was trying to get a rise out of him, walked back to his own bench, growling to himself. Reis was the first to face Joe in the last half of the ninth. Joe measured him carefully, took his time in winding up, and then, with all the signs of delivering a fast high one, sent over a floater that Reis reached for and hit into the dirt in front of the plate. Joe ran on it, picked it up and tossed it to Burkett for an easy out. Rance, the Brooklyn pitcher, came to the plate. Joe sent over a hop that Rance caught on the under side for a foul high up back of the rubber that Mylert caught without moving from his position. With two out, Tighe missed the first one that came over so fast that it had settled in Mylert’s glove before the batter had completed his swing. The next he fouled off for strike two. Then Joe whizzed over his old reliable fadeaway. “You’re out!” cried the umpire. The game was over and the Giants had beaten their redoubtable foes by a score of four to none. They had whitewashed their opponents and broken their winning streak. And what was sweeter to Jim at the moment was that Joe had fulfilled his prediction. Only the pitcher, catcher and first baseman had been necessary to turn the Brooklyns back. The other six men of the Giant team had had nothing to do and might as well have been off the field. It was almost magical pitching, the climax of the art.
Joe and Jim grinned at each other in a knowing way as the former came into the bench. “You pulled it off that time all right, Joe!” exclaimed Jim gleefully, as he threw his arm around his chum’s shoulder. “I piped off Thompson to what you were going to do and he thought I had gone nutty. He’d have given me an awful razz if it had failed to go through.” “You were taking awful chances,” laughed Joe. “Of course, I might do that once in a while, but only a superman could do it all the time. But in this inning, luck was with us.” Thompson at this moment came strolling over toward them. He was evidently consumed with curiosity. “I’ll take the wind out of your sails at the start by admitting that you put one over on me,” he said, addressing himself to Jim. “Though how you knew what was about to happen is beyond me. How did you do it?” he asked, turning to Joe. “Have you got a horseshoe or rabbit’s foot concealed about you?” “I assure you that I have nothing up my sleeve to deceive you,” Joe said, rolling up his sleeves in the best manner of the professional conjurer. “It simply means that the hand is quicker than the eye.” “Cut out the funny stuff and tell me just how you did it,” persisted Thompson. “I’ll tell you,” said McRae, who had been an amused listener to the conversation. “That’s an old trick of Joe’s that he’s tried out when we’ve been playing exhibition games in the spring training practice. More than once, we’ve called in the whole team, except Joe, the catcher, and the first baseman. Then Joe’s done just what he did this afternoon. Of course, it doesn’t always go through, but in many cases he has put it over.” “There isn’t another pitcher in the League who would dare try it!” exclaimed Thompson.
“There’s only one Matson in the world,” said McRae simply. “On the level, Thompson, what would you give to have him on your team?” “A quarter of a million dollars,” blurted out Thompson. “You couldn’t have him for half a million,” said McRae, with a grin, as he turned away. It was a jubilant crowd of Giants that gathered in the clubhouse after the game. “How was that for your birthday present, Joe?” sang out Larry. “It wasn’t quite what you asked for, but it was the best we could do.” “It was plenty,” laughed Joe. “I’d rather have those runs you gave me than a diamond ring. Keep it up, boys, and we’ll soon be up at the top of the League. We’ve been a long time in getting started, but now just watch our smoke. This game pulls us out of the second division. We’re right on the heels of the Brooklyns. Let’s give those fellows to-morrow the same dose they got to-day. Then we’ll get after the Pittsburghs and the Chicagos.” “That’s the stuff!” cried Larry. “We’ll show ’em where they get off. They’ve been hogging the best seats in this show. Now we’ll send ’em back to the gallery.” Joe smiled happily at the enthusiasm of the boys. It was what he had been trying to instill ever since he had been made the captain of the team. He knew that the material was there—the batting, the fielding, and the pitching. But all this counted for nothing as long as the spirit was lacking, the will to victory, the confidence that they could win. There was just one piece of the machinery, however, that was not working smoothly, and that was Iredell. He had been sulky and mutinous ever since he had been displaced by Joe in the captaincy of the team. Joe had been most considerate and had gone out of his way to be kind to him, but all his advances had been rebuffed.
“You’re certainly getting the team into fine shape, Joe,” said Jim, as they made their way out of the grounds. “They played championship ball behind you this afternoon.” “They sure did,” agreed Joe. “Those plays by Larry, especially, were sparklers. I never saw the old boy in better form. He’s one of the veterans of the game, and you might expect him to be slipping, but to-day he played like a youngster with all a veteran’s skill. If everybody had the same spirit, I’d have nothing more to ask.” “Meaning Iredell, I suppose,” said Jim. “Just him,” replied Joe. “It isn’t that there’s anything especially I can lay my hands on. He plays good mechanical ball. His fielding is good and he’s keeping up fairly well with the stick. But the mischief of it is, it’s all mechanical. He’s like a galvanized dead man going through the motions, but a dead man just the same. I wish I could put some life into him. After a while, that dulness of his will begin to affect the rest of the team. It takes only one drop of ink to darken a whole glass of water.” “I noticed that in the clubhouse this afternoon,” said Jim thoughtfully, “all the rest of the fellows were bubbling over, while he sat apart with a frown on his face as though we’d lost the game instead of having won it.” “Well, he’ll have to get over that and get over it quickly,” said Joe with decision. “We can’t have him casting a wet blanket over the rest of the team. The trouble is, we haven’t any one available to put in his place just now, and it’s hard to get one at this stage of the season. Renton’s a likely youngster, but he needs a little more seasoning before I could trust him in such a responsible position as that of shortstop.” “If that Mornsby deal had only gone through, we’d have had a crackerjack,” said Jim regretfully. “We sure would!” replied Joe. “But I felt from the beginning that we didn’t have much chance of getting him. If the St. Louis management had let him go, they might as well have shut up shop.
The fans would have hooted them out of town. Anyway, I’d rather develop a player than buy him. I’m going to coach young Renton with a possible view to taking Iredell’s place, if it becomes necessary.” The next day Brooklyn again came to the Polo Grounds, determined to regain their lost laurels of the day before. This time they relied on Reuter, while McRae sent Jim into the box. That Reuter was good, became evident before the game had gone very far. He had a world of speed and his curves were breaking well. Up to the seventh inning, only two hits had been made off of him, one of which was a homer by Joe and another a two-base hit by Burkett. His support was superb, and more than one apparent hit was turned into an out by clever fielding. Jim, in the early innings, was not up to his usual mark. He had most of the stuff that had given him such high repute as a pitcher, except that he could not handle his wide-breaking curve with his usual skill. The failure of that curve to break over the plate got him several times in the hole. He relied too much also on his slow ball when, with the dull, cloudy weather that prevailed, speed would have been more effective. But, although he was not in his best form, his courage never faltered. He was game in the pinches. Leete, for instance, in the fifth inning, laced the first ball pitched into leftfield for a clean homer. There was no one out when the mighty clout was made, but Jim refused to be disconcerted. He struck out Mornier, the heavy hitting first baseman of the Dodgers, made Tonsten hit a slow roller to the box that went for an easy out, and fanned Trench, after the latter had sent up two fouls in his unavailing attempt to hit the ball squarely. Again in the sixth, after a triple and a single in succession had scored another run, he settled down and mowed the next three down in order.
But though his nerve was with him, the Brooklyn batsmen kept getting to him, picking up one run after the other until at the end of the seventh inning they had four runs to their credit while only one lone score had been made by the Giants. The Brooklyn rooters were jubilant, for it looked as though their pets had just about sewed up the game. But in the Giants’ half of the eighth Reuter began to crack. He started well enough by making Curry pop to Mornier. Iredell came next and shot a single to left, his first hit of the game and the third that had been made off Reuter up to that time. Then Burkett followed suit with a beauty to right that sent Iredell to third, though a good return throw by Reis held Burkett to the initial bag. The two hits in succession seemed to affect Reuter’s control, and he gave Wheeler a base on balls. Now the bags were full, with only one man out, and the Giant rooters, who had hitherto been glum, were standing up in their places and shouting like mad. McRae sent Ledwith, a much faster man than Wheeler, to take the latter’s place on first, while he himself ran out on the coaching line and Robbie scurried in the direction of third. Jackwell was next at bat, and the chances were good for a double play by Brooklyn. But Reuter’s tired arm had lost its cunning and, try as he would, he could not get the ball over the plate. Amid a pandemonium of yells from the excited fans he passed Jackwell to first, forcing a run over the plate. And still the bases were full. It was evident that Reuter was “through,” and Thompson signaled him to come in. He took off his glove and walked into the bench to a chorus of sympathetic cheers from the partisans of both sides in recognition of the superb work he had done up to that fateful inning. Grimm took his place and tossed a few balls to the catcher in order to warm up. It was a hard assignment to take up the pitcher’s burden with the bases full. The first ball he put over came so near to “beaning” Larry that the latter only saved himself by dropping to the ground. McRae signaled
to him to wait the pitcher out. He did so, with the result that he, too, trotted to first on four bad balls, forcing another run home and making the score four to three in favor of the Brooklyns. Grimm braced for the next man, Bowen, and struck him out, as Bowen let even good balls go by, hoping to profit by the pitcher’s wildness. But this time he reckoned without his host and retired discomfited to the bench. Joe came next and received a mighty hand as he went to the plate. His three comrades on the bases implored him to bring them home. Grimm was in a dilemma. Under ordinary circumstances he would have passed Joe and taken a chance on Mylert. But to pass him now meant the forcing home of another run, which would have tied the score. On the other hand, a clean hit would bring at least two men home and put the Giants ahead. There was still, however, the third chance—that Joe might not make a hit. In that case there would be three men out, leaving the Brooklyns ahead. He took the third alternative and pitched to Joe, putting all the stuff he had on the ball. Joe swung at it and missed. Two balls followed in succession. Then he whizzed over a high, fast one that Joe caught fairly and sent out on a line between left and center for a sizzling triple, clearing the bases and himself coming into third standing up. The Giants and their partisans went wild with joy as the three men followed each over the plate, making the score six to four in favor of the home team. And at that figure the score remained, for Jim pitched like a man possessed in the Brooklyn’s half of the ninth and set them down as fast as they came to the bat. “That’s what you call pulling the game out of the fire,” exulted Larry, as the Giants were holding a jubilee in the clubhouse after the game.
“Yes,” agreed Jim. “But it was a hard game for Reuter to lose. He outpitched me up to that fatal eighth inning. He had a world of stuff on the ball.” “He’s a crackerjack, all right,” agreed Joe. “And it certainly looked as though he had us going.” “Didn’t have you going much that I could notice, except going around the bases,” declared Larry, with a wide grin. “That was a corking homer of yours, and the triple was almost as good.” “Better, as far as the results were concerned,” put in Jim. “For it brought home three men and settled the game. It was a life saver, and no mistake. Talk about Johnny on the spot. Joe on the spot is the salvation of the Giants!”
CHAPTER XIII CLEVER STRATEGY “Quit your kidding,” laughed Joe. “Let’s just say that the breaks of the game were with us and let it go at that. The main thing is that we’ve put another game on the right side of the ledger. We’ve turned the Brooklyns back, and now it’s up to us to give the same dose to the Bostons and the Phillies.” “They’ll be easy,” prophesied Curry, as he finished fastening his shoe laces. “Don’t fool yourself,” cautioned Joe. “They’re playing better now than they were earlier in the season, and they won’t be such cinches as they were in the last series. We’ll have to step lively to beat them, and keep trying every minute. Ginger’s the word from now on.” “Ginger” had been his watchword ever since he had been made captain of the team. He had tried to inspire them with his own indomitable energy and vim, and was gratified to see that with the exception of Iredell he was succeeding. It was doubly necessary in the case of the Giants, for most of the team was composed of veterans. They were superb players, but some of them were letting up on their speed and needed prodding to keep them at the top of their form. Still there had been an infusion of new blood, and McRae was constantly on the lookout for more. The Giants’ roster contained a number of promising rookies, such as Renton, Ledwith, Merton and others, and Joe was constantly coaching them in the fine points of the game.
In Merton, especially, he thought he had all the material of a promising pitcher. The youngster had been obtained from the Oakland Seals, and had won a high reputation in the Pacific Coast League. He had speed, a good assortment of curves, and a fair measure of control. But pitching against big leaguers was a very different matter from trying to outguess minor league batters, and Joe had not thought it advisable as yet to send him in for a full game. One of his chief faults was that opponents could steal bases on him with comparative impunity. It was almost uncanny to note the ease with which a runner on the bases could detect whether Merton was going to pitch to the batter or throw the ball to first. Joe was not long in discovering the reason. “Here’s your trouble, Merton,” he said. “You invariably lift your right heel from the ground when you are about to throw to the plate. You keep it on the ground when you’re planning to throw to first. So, by watching you, those fellows can get a long lead off first and easily make second. Just try now, and see.” “You’re right,” admitted Merton, after practising a few minutes. “Funny that I never noticed that before. But none of the fellows in the Pacific Coast League noticed it, either. They didn’t steal much on me there.” “That’s just because they were minor leaguers,” returned Joe. “But you’re in big-league company now, and the wise birds on the other teams get on to you at once.” Merton was grateful for the tip, and practised assiduously until he had got rid of the mannerism. He was docile and willing to learn, and Joe could see his pitching ability increase from day to day. Not only in pitching, but in batting, Joe was able to be of incalculable value to the younger members of the team. How to outguess the pitcher, when to wait him out, how to walk into the ball instead of drawing away from it, the best way of laying down bunts —these and a host of other things in which he was a past master
were freely imparted to his charges and illustrated by object lessons that were even more effective than the spoken word. McRae and Robbie were delighted with the results of the change of captains, and more and more they gave him a free hand, knowing that Joe would get out of the Giants all that was in them. And, knowing the power of the Giant machine when going at full speed, that was all that they asked. The next series on the Giants’ schedule was with the Boston Braves on the latter’s grounds. As Joe had anticipated, the Braves put up a much stiffer fight than they had earlier in the season. They were going well, had already passed the Phillies and the Cardinals and were making a desperate attempt to get into the first division. Markwith pitched the first game, and did very well until the last two frames. Then a veritable torrent of hits broke from the Bostons’ bats and drove the southpaw from the mound. Joe took his place, and the hitting suddenly ceased. But the damage had already been done, and the game was placed in the Boston column. Jim pitched in the second game and chalked up a victory. Young Merton was given his chance in the third, and justified Joe’s confidence by also winning, although the score was close. Joe himself went in for the fourth and won, thus getting three out of four in the series, which, for a team on the road, was not to be complained of. With the Phillies, on the latter’s grounds, the Giants cleaned up the first three games right off the reel. In the fourth, the Phillies woke up and played like champions. They fielded and batted like demons, so well indeed that when the ninth inning began, the Phillies were ahead by a score of three to two. In the Giants’ half, with one man on base, Joe cut loose with a homer that put his team a run to the good. Not daunted, however, the Phillies came in for their half. Two men were out, and a couple of Giant fumbles had permitted two to get on the bases.
Mallinson, the heaviest batter of the Phillies, was up. He shook his bat menacingly and glared at Joe. With the team behind him the least bit shaky on account of the fumbles, Joe tried a new stunt on Mallinson. “I’m going to tell you exactly the kind of a ball I’m going to throw to you,” he remarked, with a disarming grin. “Yes, you are,” sneered Mallinson, unbelievingly, while even Mylert, the Giant catcher, looked bewildered. “Honest Injun,” declared Joe. “This first one is going to be a high fast one right over the plate and just below the shoulder.” “G’wan and stop your kidding,” growled the burly Philadelphia batter. He set himself for a curve, not believing for a moment that Joe would be crazy enough to tell him in advance what he was going to pitch. It was just on that disbelief that Joe had counted. Joe wound up and hurled one over exactly as he had promised. Mallinson, all set for a curve, was so flustered that he struck at it hurriedly and missed. Joe grinned tantalizingly, while Mallinson glowered at him. “Didn’t believe me, did you?” Joe asked. “Why don’t you have more faith in your fellow men? I ought to be real peeved at you for your lack of confidence. But I’m of a forgiving nature and I’ll overlook it this time.” “Cut it out,” snapped Mallinson savagely. “Go ahead and play the game.” “No pleasing some fellows,” mourned Joe plaintively. “Now this time, I’m going to pitch an outcurve. Ready? Let’s go.” Mallinson, sure that this time he was going to be double-crossed, got ready for a high fast one, and the outcurve that Joe pitched cut the corner of the plate and settled in Mylert’s glove for the second strike.
“You see!” complained Joe. “There you are again. What’s the use of my tipping you off if you don’t take advantage? Don’t you believe me? Doesn’t anybody ever tell the truth in Philadelphia?” Mallinson tried to say something, but he was so mad that he could only stutter, while his face looked as though he were going to have a fit of apoplexy. “Now,” said Joe, “this is your last chance. I’m going to give you my hop ball this time, and that’s just because it’s you. I wouldn’t do it for everybody. It’ll take a jump just as it comes to the plate.” By this time Mallinson was in an almost pitiable state of bewilderment. Would the pitcher again keep his word? Or would Joe figure that now that he had twice tipped him off correctly, Mallinson would really get set for the hop ball and that now was the time to fool him with something else? He was so up in the air by this time that he could not have hit a balloon, and he struck six inches below the hop ball that Joe sent whistling over the plate for an out. The game was over and the Giants had won. “What was all that chatter that was going on between you and Mallinson?” asked McRae, as he and Robbie, with their faces all smiles, came up to Joe. “I couldn’t quite get what it was from the bench. But you seemed to get his goat for fair.” Joe told them, and the pair went into paroxysms of laughter, Robbie choking until they had to pound him on the back. “For the love of Pete, Mac!” he gurgled, as soon as he could speak, “you’ll have to do something with this fellow or he’ll be the death of me yet. To win a ball game just by telling the batsman what he was going to pitch to him! Did you ever hear anything like it before in your life?” “I never did,” replied the grinning McRae. At the clubhouse later, there were guffaws of laughter as Mylert described the way that Joe had stood Mallinson on his head.
“And me thinking Joe had simply gone nutty!” Mylert said. “When he pitched that first ball just as he said, I didn’t know where I was at. Then the second one got me going still more. But I saw that it had Mallinson going, too, and then I began to catch on. How on earth did you ever come to think of that, Joe?” “Just a matter of psychology,” Jim answered for him. “And mighty good psychology, if you ask me. Baseball Joe’s a dabster at that.” “Sike-sike what?” asked Larry, whose vocabulary was not very extensive. “Psychology,” repeated Jim, with a grin. “No, it isn’t a new kind of breakfast food. Joe simply knew how Mallinson’s mind would work and he took advantage of it. Mallinson coppered everything Joe said to him. He figured that Joe was there to deceive him. He couldn’t conceive that Joe would tell him the truth. And so it was just by telling the truth that Joe got him.” “It just got by because it was new,” laughed Joe. “I couldn’t do it often, for if I did they’d begin to take me at my word, and then they’d bat me all over the lot.” By the time the Eastern inter-city games were over, the Giants had considerably bettered their team standing. They had passed the Brooklyns, who had let down a good deal and were now playing in- and-out ball. The Chicagos were still in the lead, with Pittsburgh three games behind them, but pressing them closely. Then came the Giants, two games in the rear of the men from the Smoky City. The Cincinnati Reds brought up the rear of the first division, but the conviction was strong in the minds of the Giants that it was either the Pirates or the Cubs they had to beat in order to win the pennant. On the eve of the invasion of the East by the Western teams, McRae called his men together for a heart-to-heart talk in the clubhouse. “You boys know that I can give you the rough edge of my tongue when you lay down on me,” he said, as he looked around on the group of earnest young athletes, who listened to him with respectful
attention. “But you know, too, that I’m always ready to give a man credit when he deserves it. I’m glad to say that just now I’m proud of the men who wear the Giant uniform. You’ve done good work in cleaning up the Eastern teams. You’ve played ball right up to the end of the ninth inning, and many a game that looked lost you’ve pulled out of the fire. “Now, that’s all right as far as it goes. But the Western clubs are coming, and they’re out for scalps. You remember what they did to us on our first trip out there. They gave us one of the most disgraceful beatings we’ve had for years. They took everything but our shirts, and they nearly got those. Are you going to let them do it again?” There was a yell of dissent that warmed McRae’s heart. “That’s the right spirit,” he declared approvingly. “Now, go in and show the same spirit on the field that you’re showing in the clubhouse. Beat them to a frazzle. Show them that you’re yet the class of the League. Don’t be satisfied with an even break. That won’t get us anywhere. Take three out of four from every one of them. Make a clean sweep if you can. Keep on your toes every minute. You’ve got the pitching, you’ve got the fielding, you’ve got the batting, and you’ve got the best captain that ever wore baseball shoes. What more does any club want?” “Nothing!” shouted Larry. “We’ll wipe up the earth with them!” “That’s the stuff,” replied McRae. “Now go out and say it with your bats. I want another championship this year, and I want it so bad that it hurts. You’re the boys that can give it to me, and I’m counting on you to do it. Show them that you’re Giants not only in name, but in fact. That’s about all.” “What’s the matter with McRae?” cried Curry, as the manager, having said his say, turned to leave. “He’s all right!” came in a thundering chorus from all except Iredell, who maintained a moody silence.
McRae waved his hand and vanished through the door. The Cincinnati Reds were the first of the invaders to make their appearance at the Polo Grounds. They always drew large crowds, not only because they usually played good ball against the Giants, but especially because of the popularity of Hughson, their manager, who for many years had been a mainstay of the Giants and the idol of New York fans. Hughson was one of the straight, clean, upstanding men who are a credit to the national game. McRae had taken him when he was a raw rookie and given him his chance with the Giants to show what he could do. The result had been a sensation. In less than a year Hughson had leaped into fame as the greatest pitcher in the country. He had everything—courage, speed, curves and control—and with them all a baseball head that enabled him to outguess the craftiest of his opponents. For a dozen years he had been the chief reliance of the Giants and one of the greatest drawing cards in the game. At the time that Joe had joined the Giants, however, Hughson’s arm was beginning to fail. The latter was quick to discover Joe’s phenomenal ability and, instead of showing any mean jealousy, had done his best to develop it. Between him and Joe a friendship had sprung up that had never diminished. Hughson’s services were in demand as a manager and he was snapped up by the Cincinnati club to take charge of the Reds. With rather indifferent material to start with, he had built up a strong team that had several times given the Giants a hot race for the championship. On the afternoon of the first game, Hughson, big and genial as ever, shook Joe’s hand warmly when the latter met him near the plate. “We’re going to give you the same dose that we did when you were on our stamping ground the last time, Joe,” he remarked, with
a laugh, after they had interchanged greetings. “I love the Giants, but, oh, you Reds!” “If you’re so sure of it, why go through the trouble of playing the game?” retorted Joe. “Oh, we’ll have to do that as a matter of form and to give the crowd their money’s worth,” joked Hughson. “But honestly, Joe, we’re going to put up the stiffest kind of a battle. My men have their fighting clothes on, and they’re going good just now.” “I’ve noticed that,” replied Joe. “You took the Pirates neatly into camp in that last series. The return of Haskins has plugged up a weak point in your outfield. I see he didn’t lose his batting eye while he was a hold-out.” “No,” said Hughson, “he’s as good as ever. I began to think we’d never come to terms on the question of salary. You see, after his phenomenal season last year he got a swelled head and demanded a salary that was out of all reason. Said he wouldn’t play this year unless he got it. But we got together on a compromise at last, and now he’s in uniform again and cavorting around like a two-year-old. Wait until you see him knock the ball out of the lot this afternoon.” “I’ll wait,” retorted Joe with a grin, “and I’ll bet I’ll wait a good long while.”
CHAPTER XIV DEEPENING MYSTERY After a little more chaffing, Joe left Hughson and walked over towards the Giants’ dugout. He felt a touch on his shoulder and, turning around, saw Jackwell. “What is it, Dan?” he asked, noting at the same time that the player was pale. “I don’t feel quite in shape, Captain,” said Jackwell in a voice that was far from steady. “I was wondering whether you couldn’t put someone in my place to-day.” “What’s the matter?” asked Joe. “Look here, Jackwell,” he went on sharply, “are you trying to pull some of that ptomaine poisoning stuff again? Because, if you are, I tell you right now, you’re wasting your time.” “It—it isn’t that,” stammered Jackwell, nervously fingering his cap. “I just feel kind of unstrung, shaky-like. I’m afraid I can’t play the bag as it ought to be played, that’s all.” “Jackwell,” commanded Joe sternly, “come right out like a man and tell me what’s the matter with you. Lay your cards on the table. Are you playing for your release? Do you want to go to some other team?” “No, no! Nothing like that!” ejaculated Jackwell, in alarm. “I’d rather play for the Giants than for any other team in the country.” “Well, I’ll tell you straight that you won’t be playing for the Giants or any other team very long if this sort of thing keeps on,” said Joe sharply. “What do you think this is, a sanitarium for invalids? Here, McRae’s taken you from the bush league and given you the chance
of your lives with the best team in the country. Do you want to go back to the sticks?” “Nothing like that,” muttered Jackwell, twisting about uneasily. “Then go out and play the game,” commanded Joe. “I’m getting fed up with all this mystery stuff. There’ll have to be a show-down before long, unless you get back your nerve.” Jackwell said no more and went back to the bench, where he had a whispered colloquy with Bowen, who seemed equally nervous. When they went out to their positions, Joe noticed that both had their caps drawn down over their faces much more than usual. It could not have been to keep the sun out of their eyes, for clouds obscured the sky and rain threatened. Fortunately, that is, for the Giants, for despite Hughson’s prediction, it was not the Reds’ winning day. Jim pitched for the Giants, and though he was nicked for seven hits, he was never in danger and held his opponents all the way. He did not have to extend himself, as his teammates, by free batting, gave him a commanding lead as early as the third inning, and after that the Giants simply breezed in. Allison was the first of the Cincinnati pitchers to fall a victim to the fury of the Giants’ bats. In the third inning, with the Giants one run to the good, Barrett, the first man up, sent a sharp single to left. Iredell followed with another in almost identically the same place, and an error by the Red shortstop filled the bases. Then Jackwell singled sharply over second, bringing in two runs. It was clear that Allison’s usefulness for that day was at an end, and Hughson replaced him by Elkins. Bowen lifted a sacrifice to Gerry in center and another run came over the plate. Mylert doubled and Jackwell scampered home. Curry hit to third and Mylert was tagged on the base line. Burkett was passed, as was also Wheeler. Then Joe, who, in the new shake-up of the batting order, occupied the position of “clean-up” man, justified the name by coming to the plate and hammering out a mighty triple that cleared the bases.
There he was left, however, for Larry, up for the second time in the same inning, popped an easy fly that was gathered in by the second baseman. Seven runs had been the fruit of that avalanche of hits in that fateful inning. From that time on it seemed only a question of how big would be the score. Two other pitchers were called into service by Hughson before the game was over, and although the torrent of Giant hits had almost spent its force, they came often enough to keep the Red outfielders on the jump. In the eighth the Reds made a rally and succeeded in getting three men on bases with only one man out. But the rally ended suddenly when Jim made Haskins, the star batter of the Reds, hit to short for a snappy double play that ended the inning. No further runs were made by either side, and the first game of the Western invasion went into the Giants’ column by a score of ten to two. In the clubhouse, after the game, Joe asked Jackwell and Bowen to stay after the others had gone, in order that he might have a word with them. “I don’t want to pry into your personal affairs, boys,” he said to them kindly, when they were at last left alone. “I’d be the last one to do that. But I’m captain of this team, and I’ve got to see that my men are in fit condition to play. And if there’s anything that prevents you showing your best form, it’s up to me to find just what it is.” They made no answer, and Joe went on: “I notice that whatever it is that’s bothering you seems to affect you both. You both were sick, or said you were, at the same time the other day. You, Jackwell, told me that you were not feeling fit to- day, and although Bowen didn’t say anything, I suppose it was because you told him it was of no use. I noticed that right after your talk with me, you went back to Bowen and held a whispered conversation with him. And when you went out on the field, you both pulled your caps over your faces more than usual.
“Then, too, neither of you played your usual game to-day. Luckily, we had such a big lead that the errors didn’t lose the game, but in a close game any one of them might have been fatal. That was a ridiculously easy grounder, Jackwell, that you fumbled in the fourth, and in the sixth you failed to back up Iredell on that throw-in by Curry. And that was a bad muff you, Bowen, made of Haskins’ fly to center, to say nothing of the wild throw you made to second right afterwards. “Now, what’s the trouble? Let’s have a showdown. Speak up.”
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  • 6. Individual backlist issues of 4 are available for purchase at £22.99. To order and subscribe for 2006 see page 136. Volume 76 No. 2 ISBN 0470015292 Volume 76 No. 3 ISBN 0470018399 Volume 75 No. 1 ISBN 0470090928 Volume 75 No. 2 ISBN 047001136X Volume 75 No. 3 ISBN 0470093285 Volume 75 No. 4 ISBN 0470090936 Volume 75 No. 5 ISBN 0470014679 Volume 75 No. 6 ISBN 0470024186 4Architectural Design Backlist Titles Volume 76 No. 1 ISBN 047001623X
  • 7. 4Architectural Design Forthcoming Titles 2006 January/February 2007, Profile No 185 Elegance Guest-edited by Ali Rahim and Hina Jamelle Elegance represents an important watershed in architectural design. Since the onset of computer-driven technologies, innovative designers have, almost exclusively, been preoccupied with the pursuit of digital techniques. This issue of 3 extrapolates current design tendencies and brings them together to present a new type of architecture, one that is seamlessly tying processes, space, structure and material together with a self-assured beauty. For this title, Ali Rahim, the editor of the seminal Contemporary Processes in Architecture and Contemporary Techniques in Architecture issues of 3, teams up with Hina Jamelle, also of the Contemporary Architecture Practice in New York. The issue includes an extensive new essay by Manuel Delanda on ele- gant digital algorithms, as well as contributions from Irene Cheng, David Goldblatt, Joseph Rosa and Patrik Schumacher. Featured architects include: Asymptote, Hernan Diaz Alonso, Mark Goulthorpe of DECOI, Zaha Hadid Architects, Greg Lynn and Preston Scott Cohen. September/October 2006, Profile No 183 Collective Intelligence in Design Guest-edited by Christopher Hight and Chris Perry Exploring how today’s most compelling design is emerging from new forms of collaborative practice and modes of collective intelligence, this title of 3 engages two predominant phenomena: design’s relation- ship with new information and telecommunications technologies and new economies of globalisation. With the shift from the second machine age to the age of information, the network has replaced the assembly line as a pre-eminent model of organisation. With this shift has come the introduction of numerous alternative modes of social, economic and political organisation in the form of peer-to-peer networks and open-source communities. This has radically altered conventional models of collective invention, and has challenged received notions of individual authorship and agency, questioning the way in which traditional disciplines organise themselves. Such reorganisation is apparent within archi- tectural practice, as well as within its participation in a greater cultural context of increasing interdisci- plinarity. For the design disciplines, this includes the emergence of new forms of collective intelligence in a number of different fields including architecture, software and interaction design, fashion, typogra- phy and product design. Collective Intelligence in Design includes contributions from: Servo, EAR Studio, the Radical Software Group, United Architects, biothing, Continuum (working with the Smart Geometry Group and Bentley Systems), Hernan Diaz-Alonso and Benjamin Bratton, Gehry Technologies (working with the AA/DRL) and MIT’s Media Lab. Additionally, the issue features essays from a diverse pool of academics and designers, including Brett Steele, Branden Hookway, Alexander Galloway and Eugene Thacker, and Michael Hensel, as well as an extensive interview with Michael Hardt, co-author of two important and influential books on contemporary issues of globalisation, Empire and Multitude: War and Democracy in the Age of Empire. November/December 2006, Profile No 184 Architextiles Guest-edited by Mark Garcia This issue of 3 explores the intersections between architectural and textile design. Focusing on the possi- bilities for contemporary architectural and urban design, it examines the generative set of concepts, forms, patterns, materials, processes, technologies and practices that are driving the proliferation of this multidisciplinary design hybrid. Architextiles represents a transition stage in the reorientation of spatial design towards a more networked, dynamic, interactive, multifunctional and communicative state. The paradigms of fashion and textile design, with their unique, accelerated aesthetics and ability to embody a burgeoning, composite and complex range of properties such as lightness, flow, flexibility, surface com- plexity and movement, have a natural affinity with architecture's shifts towards a more liquid state. The preoccupation with textiles in architecture challenges traditional perceptions and practices in interior, architectural, urban, landscape, and fashion design. Interweaving new designs and speculative projects of the future, Architextiles brings together architects, designers, engineers, technologists, theorists and mate- rials researchers to unravel these new methodologies of fabricating space. This title features the work of Will Alsop, Nigel Coates, Robert Kronenburg, Dominique Perrault, Lars Spuybroek and Ushida Findlay. As well as contributions from Bradley Quinn, Dagmar Richter, Peter Testa and Matilda McQuaid, it encompass- es new projects and writings from young and emerging designers and theorists. 4 Collective Intelligence in Design
  • 8. 4 Programming Cultures: Art and Architecture in the Age of Software Guest-edited by Mike Silver Architectural Design July/August 2006
  • 9. Editorial Offices International House Ealing Broadway Centre London W5 5DB T: +44 (0)20 8326 3800 F: +44 (0)20 8326 3801 E: architecturaldesign@wiley.co.uk Editor Helen Castle Design and Editorial Management Mariangela Palazzi-Williams Project Coordinator and Picture Editor Caroline Ellerby Design and Prepress Artmedia Press London Printed in Italy by Conti Tipicolor Advertisement Sales Faith Pidduck/Wayne Frost T +44 (0)1243 770254 E fpidduck@wiley.co.uk Editorial Board Will Alsop, Denise Bratton, Adriaan Beukers, André Chaszar, Peter Cook, Teddy Cruz, Max Fordham, Massimiliano Fuksas, Edwin Heathcote, Anthony Hunt, Charles Jencks, Jan Kaplicky, Robert Maxwell, Jayne Merkel, Monica Pidgeon, Antoine Predock, Michael Rotondi, Leon van Schaik, Ken Yeang Contributing Editors André Chaszar Jeremy Melvin Jayne Merkel Abbreviated positions b = bottom, c = centre, l = left, r = right Front cover: Process 6 (Image 4), 28” x 28” inkjet print, 2005. Print derived from Process 6 (see ‘Process/Drawing’, pp 26–33). A dense surface of circles emanate from fixed points. The forms emerge as lines are drawn between their centre points as they expand outwards. Each circular element is the same software run with a different configuration. Each grows differently in response to its sim- ulated environment. © CEB Reas. 4 p 4 courtesy Greg Lynn FORM; pp 5-11, 13 & 46-51 © Mike Silver; pp 16-17, 19 & 23-5 © Ingeborg Rocker; p 18 © Stephen Wolfram LLC; p 20(t) © From Alan Turing, The Enigma, by Andrew Hodges, published by Hutchinson. Reprinted by permission of The Random House Group Ltd; p 20(b) courtesy Arthur W Burks, from John von Neumann, Essays on Cellular Automata; p 21 © Kevin Lindsey www.kevlindev.com; p 22(t) © Reprinted from Aristid Lindenmayer, ‘Mathematical models of cellular interactions in development: I. Filaments with one-sided inputs’, Journal for Theoretical Biology, Vol 18, 1968, figs 1 &2 (p 286), figs 4 & 5 (p 310) & figs 6 & 7 (p 312); p 22(b) © Allen Bernholtz, FRAIC; pp 26-33 © CEB Reas, courtesy of bitforms gallery, New York; pp 34-37 © Stephen Wolfram LLC; pp 38 & 43-44 © Karl Chu; p 41 courtesy Karl Chu; pp 52, 56(bl), 57 & 59-60 © Lalvani Studio; p 53 © Milgo/Bufkin; pp 54-55 & 56(br) © Milgo-Lalvani; pp 62-71 © Evan Douglis; pp 72-81 © Alisa Andrasek; pp 82-87 © Gehry Technologies; pp 88-95 courtesy Greg Lynn FORM. 4+ pp 98, 99 & 100 © Arup Associates; p 101 © Christian Richters; pp 102-103 © Arup Associates/Oaker; p 104(t) © Peter Cook; p 104(b) © Arup Associates/Roland Reinardy; pp 106–109 © Dine Murphy Wood; p 110 © David Clifton; pp 113, 115(b) & 117(t) © Jordan Mozer and Associates; p 114 © Kingmond Young; pp 115 (tl, tr & c), 116 & 117(b) © Doug Snower Photography; pp 118- 119, 120(c&b), 121 © Philip Ruault; p 120(t) © Lacaton Vassal; pp 122 & 128 © FAT; pp 123- 24 &126-127 © Len Grant; p 129 © NASA; pp 130-131 © Will McLean; pp 132-134 © Helen Peyton. Published in Great Britain in 2006 by Wiley-Academy, a division of John Wiley & Sons Ltd Copyright © 2006, John Wiley & Sons Ltd, The Atrium, Southern Gate, Chichester, West Sussex PO19 8SQ, England, Telephone +44 (0)1243 779777 Email (for orders and customer service enquiries): cs-books@wiley.co.uk Visit our Home Page on wileyeurope.com or wiley.com pp 34-7 © Stephen Wolfram LLC All Rights Reserved. No part of this publica- tion may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise, except under the terms of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 or under the terms of a licence issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency Ltd, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1T 4LP, UK, without the permission in writing of the Publisher. Requests to the Publisher should be addressed to: Permissions Department, John Wiley & Sons Ltd, The Atrium Southern Gate Chichester, West Sussex PO19 8SQ England F: +44 (0)1243 770571 E: permreq@wiley.co.uk Subscription Offices UK John Wiley & Sons Ltd Journals Administration Department 1 Oldlands Way, Bognor Regis West Sussex, PO22 9SA T: +44 (0)1243 843272 F: +44 (0)1243 843232 E: cs-journals@wiley.co.uk [ISSN: 0003-8504] 4 is published bimonthly and is available to purchase on both a subscription basis and as individual volumes at the following prices. Single Issues Single issues UK: £22.99 Single issues outside UK: US$45.00 Details of postage and packing charges avail- able on request. Annual Subscription Rates 2006 Institutional Rate Print only or Online only: UK£175/US$290 Combined Print and Online: UK£193/US$320 Personal Rate Print only: UK£99/US$155 Student Rate Print only: UK£70/US$110 Prices are for six issues and include postage and handling charges. Periodicals postage paid at Jamaica, NY 11431. Air freight and mailing in the USA by Publications Expediting Services Inc, 200 Meacham Avenue, Elmont, NY 11003 Individual rate subscriptions must be paid by personal cheque or credit card. Individual rate subscriptions may not be resold or used as library copies. All prices are subject to change without notice. Postmaster Send address changes to 3 Publications Expediting Services, 200 Meacham Avenue, Elmont, NY 11003 26 ISBN-13 9780470025857 ISBN-10 0470025859 Profile No 182 Vol 76 No 4 4
  • 10. Contents 52 62 + 4 Editorial Helen Castle 4 Introduction Towards a Programming Culture in the Design Arts Mike Silver 5 20 Years of Scripted Space Malcolm McCullough 12 When Code Matters Ingeborg M Rocker 16 Process/Drawing CEB Reas 26 How Do Simple Programs Behave? Stephen Wolfram 34 Metaphysics of Genetic Architecture and Computation Karl Chu 38 Building Without Drawings: Automason Ver 1.0 Mike Silver 46 The Milgo Experiment: An Interview with Haresh Lalvani John Lobell 52 Codes, Eros and Craft: An Interview with Evan Douglis Mike Silver 62 All-Over, Over-All: biothing and Emergent Composition Pia Ednie-Brown 72 Tectonics, Economics and the Reconfiguration of Practice: The Case for Process Change by Digital Means Dennis R Shelden 82 Calculus-Based Form: An Interview with Greg Lynn Ingeborg M Rocker 88 Unified Design: Collaborative Working at Arup Associates Helen Castle 98+ Interior Eye Colors Restaurant Jayne Merkel 106+ Practice Profile Jordan Mozer & Associates: New American Narratives Howard Watson 110+ Building Profile House in Keremma Jeremy Melvin 118+ Home Run Islington Square, Manchester Bruce Stewart 122+ McLean’s Nuggets Will McLean 129+ Site Lines The Crown Liquor Saloon, Belfast Jane Peyton 132+
  • 11. Editorial Despite 4’s long-standing association with the digital in design, this is the first issue with any reference to programming or software in the title. This says much about architecture’s previous relationship with the computer. At the end of the 1990s when I first started editing 4, I was often confounded by the gap between design process and text. Why was everyone generating amorphous Maya-inspired blobs, but talking about Derrida? Programming Cultures hails the way for a new generation of work that comes out of a pure, unadulterated passion for software. For a young designer like CEB Reas, who has been playing with script since childhood, it is an entirely natural creative impulse. For experienced designers like Malcolm McCullough and Greg Lynn, it has come out of decades of pioneering work on computer-aided design. McCullough, one of the first architecture managers for Autodesk, exhorts us that ‘all you need is the will to improvise’; Lynn enthuses ‘I love the moment when I discover some new potential in software.’ This is all constructive play which, as described by Ingeborg M Rocker in her interview with Lynn, adds up to ‘exhaustive exploration’. It is a not insignificant shift, which moves architects away from being mere consumers of software towards becoming knowledgeable adapters, crafters and, ultimately, producers. So much more than a development of architects’ technical skill bases, it is set to have a huge impact on the culture of architecture. Could the deftness with scripting that educators and designers like Mike Silver, the guest-editor of this issue, is encouraging in his students at New York’s Pratt Institute of Architecture become commonplace? Could scripting become the new drawing? The potential aesthetic impact of this way of working is anticipated by Pia Ednie-Brown’s discussion of the new compositional principles spearheaded in the work of Alisa Andrasek of biothing. For, as Ednie-Brown points out: ‘Working with computational algorithms as primary generative material offers a different bent to, for example, the mathematical ratios of the Renaissance or the flow diagrams of Modernism.’ At such a nascent stage, the ultimate cultural repercussions of a new programming era are only to be guessed at. The implications are that we could be at the brink of an entirely new period of culture and knowledge; if so, could Stephen Wolfram be set to become the next Isaac Newton, and Gehry Technologies’ software be about to eclipse the pattern-books of Palladio? Helen Castle 4 Greg Lynn, Slavin House, Venice, California, due for completion 2007 In this project, Lynn is testing the limits of Gehry Technologies’ software. As Lynn states in his interview with Ingeborg M Rocker (page 88), the use of the software is ‘provocative at many levels and is having a pretty significant effect on my work’.
  • 12. 5 Introduction Towards a Programming Culture in the Design Arts Pratt Institute School of Architecture, Carbon-fibre chandelier studio project, autumn 2006 In this studio led by Professor Mike Silver, students’ bent for scripting was applied in a project that developed new software to coordinate the movement of a CNC machine’s rotating bed with the controlled trajectory of its servo-controlled hotwire. Here, foam shapes cut on a CNC hotwire foam-cutter were used as moulds for hand- laid carbon-fibre panels. In his introduction to this issue of 4, guest-editor Mike Silver celebrates ‘the flexible language of commands and logical procedures’ of computers whose creative potential has until now been undervalued in architecture. He explains how the ‘happy accident’ of late 1990s blob architecture is now giving way to a focus on programming and composing new code, which promises ‘to generate new and unprecedented modes of expression’.
  • 13. 6 Chandelier fabrication process using epoxy resin, carbon-fibre and Nomex drapes over a CNC foam- cut mandrel.
  • 14. 7
  • 15. 8 Proprietary script for generating ruled surfaces. Ruled Surface Foam Block Ruled surface. ‘You write a few lines of code and suddenly life is better for a hundred million people.’ Charles Simonyi, inventor of Microsoft Word1 The first architects to use computers were interested primarily in maximising the efficiency of conventional modes of production. Designers working on the World’s Fair in 1964 used a primitive calculating machine to build the Unisphere, and around the same time Eero Saarinen engineered the complex reinforced-concrete shells of his TWA terminal using early structural-analysis software. During the 1980s many architectural practices employed the first automated systems for drafting construction documents, as computers became cheaper and more readily available. In the 1990s the buzz surrounding blob architecture embodied design’s obsession with digital media at the brink of a new millennium. This trend has now given way to the more urgent problem of process and code. Many of the contributors to this issue have expanded on a programming paradigm originally explored at MIT by the artist and graphic designer John Maeda, whose protégé, CEB Reas is featured in this issue. Not surprisingly, architecture has lagged far behind these pioneers with creativity and experimentation taking a back seat to the priorities of disciplinary continuity, history and function. At MIT, architecture’s foray into programming was mostly restricted to the computer replication of known forms and building types exemplified in the work of William Mitchell and Richard Freeman, and the shape grammars of George Stiny. As Greg Lynn has pointed out, these systems were ‘merely an extension of a previously delineated and closed set of potential Ruled surface generated from proprietary script by Japhy Bartlett.
  • 16. 9 forms whose characteristics can be stated in advance by an ideal mathematics’.2 Today, programming in architecture has become a much more open process, one that is inspired by the capacity to generate new and unprecedented modes of expression (see Malcolm McCullough’s essay on scripted space). For many architects coding has become the formal and operative focus of building itself. Universality = Difference In the 1990s, the association between computers and architecture was marked by the proliferation of amorphous, curvilinear forms. But this link is far from necessary or inevitable. It is, in fact, a happy accident precipitated by pre- computational experiments based on ‘folding’ and the subsequent appropriation of operationally specific modelling software. How, then, do we determine the relationship between computing and architecture? What forms, practices and techniques will seem most relevant if the internal structure of software and the theories that drive its development are changed at the same time? Can we even define computational architecture? The answer to this last question is that we cannot. As Ingeborg M Rocker’s essay on page 16 shows, computers are universal machines. Unlike classical machines (clocks, steam engines and tin-openers) they can perform a wide variety of tasks without significant changes to their physical design. Through the writing of new programs, very different operations can be executed on a single device. Where the information theorist defines universality through the production of difference, for architects it holds exactly the opposite meaning. The stripped-down and monolithic style of international Modernism was thought to be universal for all places and times. Miesian ‘universal space’ was constrained by a homogeneous and infinitely extended grid, very much unlike the complex, convoluted matrix of interconnected microcircuitry that constitutes today’s digital networks. The universality of a programmable computer is therefore measured by its degrees of freedom. What makes it unique, as a device, is the flexible language of commands and logical procedures that can instantly transform it from one function to another. With existing software, designers are often forced to conduct experimental work using fixed protocols originally developed to solve the visualisation problems faced by aircraft designers and Hollywood film- makers. Even in these disciplines, staff programmers are busy creating new codes for challenges that are beyond the scope of a particular product. Not surprisingly, this has also become true for the early advocates of software appropriation in architecture. Faced with increasingly complex commissions and a growing practice, many designers have turned to the in- house creation of proprietary code. Here, one immediately thinks of Dennis Shelden’s redevelopment of CATIA at Gehry Systems, and Greg Lynn’s collaboration with Microstation. Both examples suggest the possibility of freeing computer- aided design (CAD) from any one particular concept of form rooted in any one particular software. If indeed codes can be changed to fit specific needs or developed from scratch, then there can be no such thing as a ‘computational architecture’; only possible architectures actualised by new programs. These programs can be both simple, generative codes that Finished panels for the Carbon-fibre chandelier project.
  • 17. Carbon-fibre chandelier project showing the movable light-reflecting ceiling shroud and retractable downlights. 10
  • 18. produce complexity (see, for example, the articles by Stephen Wolfram and Karl Chu),3 or complex programs that help make difficult tasks easy. Programs have become pervasive mainly because their instructions can be applied to so many diverse problems (for example, one piece of software in the stealth bomber actually counteracts the plane’s poor aerodynamics and prevents it falling from the sky even when the pilot deliberately initiates a stall). New systems of feedback and control, database-management protocols, genetic design algorithms and a whole universe of scripting systems now drive everything from a simple electric toothbrush to the Internet. Building Programs and Programs for Building The ability to craft tools that address both the practical challenges of building design and the human capacity to imagine new forms is a fairly recent development. As specific programming languages become less mysterious and easier to master, ‘home-made’ software will most likely become a familiar part of design culture. This move by the design community to take an active role in the production of code transcends the limitations of prefabricated software tools. To a great extent this shift is becoming a necessity. Large, unanticipated gaps in the computer-aided design and construction process can only be bridged by the creation of special software. Many of these tools cannot be anticipated in advance by outside developers since the most imaginative projects begin with ideas that exceed ordinary expectations. In order to connect different production processes, materials and fabrication devices, new tools are required. In fact, as architect Haresh Lalvani has demonstrated in his collaboration with Milgo/Bufkin (see his interview with John Lobell), unexpected functions for standard digital-fabrication equipment can be created simply by writing code. In academia, students and teachers have been increasingly drawn to the possibilities of proprietary software development. For many architects programming has become the new drawing. In the carbon-fibre chandelier project designed for the lobby of Pratt Institute’s new School of Architecture,4 complex EPS moulds for hand-laid composites were produced using a large-scale computer-numerically controlled (CNC) foam-cutter. In order to precisely construct the necessary 3-D shapes, new software was developed to coordinate the movement of the machine’s rotating bed with the controlled trajectory of its servo-controlled hotwire. The ability to link disparate material practices (foam-cutting and advanced composite construction) would not have been possible without the new scripts. With these examples in mind, Programming Cultures explores the power of code by encouraging artists and architects to become more involved in the creation of home- made, task-specific tools. Through individual labour or by collaborating with skilled developers, designers can harness the power of universality. In this way universality supports difference in opposition to the sterile homogeneity commonly associated with rigid protocols and fixed procedures. What computation must now serve (as the work of Evan Douglis aptly demonstrates) are the founding concepts, intuitions and desires that can only emerge from a varied and creative practice. Rather than working through algorithms imposed on the architect by an external agent or product philosophy, intuition and desire motivate artistic production while encouraging the spread of individual creativity. As the projects in this book suggest, it is only a question of time before software development becomes an integral part of the building design process. Certainly, this will be an unprecedented moment in the history of architecture. 4 Mike Silver Thank you to Evan Douglis and Dean Thomas Hanrahan at the Pratt Institute School of Architecture for their support of the Universal Machines symposium held during the spring of 2005, which provided the original impetus for this issue. Malcolm McCullough, John Lobell and Yee Peng Chia were especially instrumental in provoking questions and inspiring discussion. Programming Cultures: Architecture, Art and Science in the Age of Software Development would not have been possible if it were not for the support provided by Helen Castle, the staff of John Wiley & Sons and a generous grant from the Graham Foundation. Notes 1 Steve Lohr, Go To, Perseus Books (New York), 2001, p 2. 2 Greg Lynn, ‘Variations on the Rowe Complex’, from Folds, Bodies and Blobs: Collected Essays, Books-by Architects Series, Bibliotheque de Belgique, 1998, p 212. 3 Where Wolfram defines ‘code’ as a generative abstraction that emulates pattern formation at a multitude of spatial dimensions within the universe (analytic) for Chu ‘codes’ are used for the construction of possible worlds (synthetic). 4 Carbon-fibre chandelier. Critic: Professor Mike Silver. Advisers: Mark Parsons, Evan Douglis, Rob Langoni. Programming: Japhy Bartlett. Design and Construction: Patrick Weise, Hanna Meeran, Felice Basti, Jakie Nguyen, Milton Hernandez, Genoveva Alvarez, Jonathan Lee, Julie Camfrancq, Michael Chase, Jean Keesler, Eddy Adu, Jong Kim, Tomoko Miyazaki. Research: Mel Sakor, Arta Yazdansets, Hasti Valipour, Kenneth Chong, Caitlin Duffy. The Universal Machines Symposium This issue of 4 developed out of the Universal Machines symposium held at the School of Architecture at the Pratt Institute in February 2005. The symposium continued a long tradition at Pratt of combining interests in theory and practice, thereby allowing students, teachers and practitioners to address emerging technological and social issues in architecture. It is therefore satisfying to see that while several of the articles here address highly theoretical issues on computation and architecture, just as many bring that interest into new forms of material practice. The faculty and programmes at Pratt are diverse and address a wide range of interests, all of which combine to create Pratt’s unique strength. With the Universal Machines symposium and this issue of 4 we are continuing a long-standing commitment to design excellence. Thomas Hanrahan, Dean, School of Architecture, Pratt Institute 11
  • 19. Random documents with unrelated content Scribd suggests to you:
  • 20. you could hit a coin. They can’t touch you. They’ll be rolling over and playing dead.” “That listens good,” laughed Joe. “At that, I’ll need all I’ve got to make those fellows be good.” The preliminary practice gave evidence that the game would be for blood. Both teams were on their toes, and the dazzling plays that featured their work brought frequent roars of applause from the Giant and Brooklyn rooters. Then the bell rang, the umpire dusted off the plate and the vast throng settled down with delighted anticipation to watch the game. The Brooklyns, as the visiting team, went first to bat. A roar went up from the stands as Joe walked out to the mound. The Giant rooters promptly put the game down as won. But the Brooklyns pinned their faith to their phenomenal pitcher, Dizzy Rance, and had different ideas about the outcome of the game. The first inning was short and sweet. Leete, the leftfielder of the Dodgers, who, year in and year out, had a batting average of .300 or better, swung savagely at the first ball pitched and raised a skyscraping fly that Jackwell at third promptly gathered in. Mornier, with the count at three balls and two strikes, sent up a foul that Mylert caught close to the stands after a long run. Tonsten lunged at the first ball and missed. The second was a beauty that cut the outer corner of the plate at which he did not offer and which went for a strike. Then Joe shot over a high fast one and struck him out. “Atta boy, Joe!” and similar shouts of encouragement came from stands and bleachers, as Joe pulled off his glove and went in to the bench. Rance, the Brooklyn pitcher, did not lack a generous round of applause as he took up his position in the box. He had already pitched two games against the Giants and won them both. But he had never happened to be pitted against Joe, and despite his air of confidence he knew he had his work cut out for him.
  • 21. Curry made a good try on the second ball pitched and sent a long fly to center that was caught by Maley after a long run. Iredell sent a sharp single to left. Burkett slammed one off Rance’s shins, and the ball rolled between short and second. Before it could be recovered, Burkett had reached first and Iredell was safe at second. Wheeler tried to wait Rance out, but when the count had reached three and two he sent a single to center that scored Iredell from second and carried Burkett to third. A moment later the latter was caught napping by a snap throw from catcher to third and came in sheepishly to the bench. Rance then put on steam and set Jackwell down on three successive strikes. “There’s one of the runs we promised you, Joe,” sang out Larry, as the Giants took the field. “That’s good as far as it goes,” laughed Joe. “But don’t forget I’m looking for more.” For the Brooklyns, Trench was an easy out on a roller to Joe, who ran over and tagged him on the base line. Naylor dribbled one to Jackwell that rolled so slowly that the batter reached first. But no damage was done, for Joe pitched an outcurve to Maley and made him hit into a fast double play, Iredell to Barrett to Burkett. It was snappy pitching, backed up by good support, and that it was appreciated was shown by the shouts that came from the Giant rooters, who cheered until Joe had to remove his cap. But Rance, although the Giants had got to him for three hits in the first inning, showed strength in the second that delighted his supporters. He mowed the Giants down as fast as they came to the bat. The best that Larry could do was to lift a towering fly to center that was taken care of by Maley. Bowen lifted a twisting foul that the Brooklyn catcher did not have to stir out of his tracks to get. Joe hit a smoking liner that was superbly caught by Tonsten, who had to go up in the air for it, but held on.
  • 22. In the Brooklyns’ third, Joe made a great play on a well-placed bunt by Reis that rolled between the box and third base. Joe slipped and fell as he grasped it, but while in a sitting position he shot it over to first in time to nail the runner. Rance hit a sharp bounder to the box that Joe fielded in plenty of time. Tighe went out on a Texas leaguer that was gathered in by Larry. “That boy’s got ’em eating out of his hand,” exulted Robbie, his red face beaming with satisfaction. “Yes, now,” agreed the more cautious McRae. “But at any time they may turn and bite the hand that’s feeding them. They’re an ungrateful lot.” In their half of the inning, the Giants failed to score. Rance was pitching like a house afire. Mylert went back to the bench after three futile offers at the elusive sphere. Curry popped a weak fly to Trench, and, Iredell, after fouling the ball off half a dozen times, grounded to Mornier at first, who only had to step on the bag to register an out. It was Larry’s turn to be in the limelight in the Brooklyns’ half of the fourth. Leete raised a fly that seemed destined to fall between second and left. It was certain that Wheeler at left could not get to it in time, though he came in racing like an express train. But Larry had started at the crack of the bat, running in the direction of the ball. He reached it just as it was going over his head, and with a wild leap grasped it with one hand and held on to it. It was one of the finest catches ever made on the Polo Grounds. For a moment the crowd sat stupefied. Then, when they realized that a baseball “miracle” had occurred, they raised a din that could have been heard a mile away. “Great stuff, Larry, old boy!” congratulated Joe, as the second baseman resumed his position. “No pitcher could ask for any better support than that.” “Let that go for my share of your birthday present,” returned the grinning Larry.
  • 23. The next two went out in jig time, one on a grounder and the other on strikes. The Giants added one more run in their half of the fourth by a clever combination of bunts and singles. Joe knew that Rance was weak on fielding bunts, and he directed his men to play on that weakness. The Brooklyn pitcher fell all over himself in trying to handle them, and this had a double advantage, for it not only let men get on bases but it shook for a moment the morale of the boxman and made it easier for the succeeding batsman. It was only by virtue of a lucky double play that Rance got by with only one run scored against him in that inning. With two runs to the good, the Giants went out on the field in a cheerful mood. They were getting onto the redoubtable Rance, not heavily, but still they were hitting him. Joe, on the other hand, seemed to be invincible. He was not trying for strike-outs except when necessary. But his curves were working perfectly, his control was marvelous, and when a third strike was in order he called upon his hop ball or his fadeaway and it did the trick. And the boys behind him were certainly backing him up in fine style. They were fairly “eating up” everything that came their way, digging them out of the dirt, spearing them out of the air, throwing with the precision of expert riflemen. None of them was playing that day for records. They were playing for the team. Already the new spirit that Joe had infused as captain was beginning to tell. In the Giant’s half of the fifth, Joe was the first man up. Rance tried him on an outcurve, but Joe refused to bite. The next was a fast, straight one, and Joe caught it fairly for a terrific smash over the centerfielder’s head. The outfield had gone back when he first came to the bat, but they had not gone back far enough. It was a whale of a hit, and Joe trotted home easily, even then reaching the plate before Maley had laid his hand on the ball. “Frozen hoptoads!” cried Robbie, fairly jumping up and down in exultation. “It’s a murderer he is. He isn’t satisfied with anything less
  • 24. than killing the ball.” “He’s some killer, all right,” assented McRae. “With one other man like him on the team, the race would be over. The Giants would simply walk in with the flag.” That mammoth hit should have been the beginning of a rally, but Rance tightened up and the next three went out in order, one on strikes and the other two on infield outs. Joe still had control of the situation, and he seemed to grow more unhittable as the game went on. He simply toyed with his opponents, and their vain attempts to land on the ball made them at times seem ludicrous. “Sure, Joe, ’tis a shame what you’re doin’ to those poor boobs,” chuckled Larry, as they came in to the bench together. “But don’t forget that they’re always dangerous,” cautioned Joe. “Do you remember the fourteen runs they made in one of their games against the Phillies? They may stage a comeback any minute.” “Not while you’re in the box, old boy,” declared Larry. “You’ll have to break a leg to lose this game.” Burkett thought it was up to him to do something, and lammed out a terrific liner to left for three bases, sliding into third just a fraction of a second before the return of the ball. Wheeler tried to sacrifice, but Tonsten held Burkett at third by a threatening gesture before putting out Wheeler at first. With the infield pulled in for a play at the plate, Jackwell double-crossed them by a single over short that scored Burkett with the fourth run for the Giants. Barrett went out on a grounder to Mornier, Jackwell taking second. Bowen made a determined effort to bring him in, but his long fly to center was gathered in by Maley. The “lucky seventh” was misnamed as far as the Brooklyns were concerned, for their luck was conspicuous by its absence. Although the heavy end of their batting order was up, they failed to get the
  • 25. ball out of the infield. Leete, their chief slugger, was utterly bewildered by Joe’s offerings and struck out among the jeers of the Giant fans. Mornier popped up a fly that Joe gobbled up, and Larry had no trouble in getting Tonsten’s grounder into the waiting hands of Burkett. The Giants did a little better, and yet were unable to add to their score. Joe started off with a ripping single to left. Mylert tried to advance him by sacrificing, but after sending up two fouls was struck out by Rance. Curry sent a liner to the box that was too hot to handle, but Rance deflected it to Tonsten who got Curry at first, Joe in the meantime getting to second. Iredell was an easy victim, driving the ball straight into the hands of Mornier at first. “Well, Joe,” chuckled Jim, as the eighth inning began, “we haven’t given you your present yet, but we’re in a fair way to put it over. Not to say that you’re not earning most of the present yourself.” “I don’t care how it comes as long as we get it,” laughed Joe, as he slipped on his glove. The time was now growing fearfully short in which the men from the other side of the bridge could make their final bid for the game. Those four runs that the Giants had scored were like so many mountains to be scaled, and with the airtight pitching that Joe was handing out, it seemed like an impossible task. Still, they had pulled many a game out of the fire with even greater odds against them, and they came up to the plate determined to do it again, if it were at all possible. Trench got a ball just where he liked it, and sent it whistling to left field for a single. Naylor followed with a fierce grasser that Iredell knocked down, but could not field in time to catch the runner. It looked like the beginning of a rally, and the Brooklyn bench was in commotion. Their coaches on the base lines jumped up and down, alternately shouting encouragement to their men and hurling gibes at Joe in the attempt to rattle him. “We’ve got him going now,” yelled one.
  • 26. “We’ve just been kidding him along so far,” shouted another. “All together now, boys! Send him to the showers!” Maley came next, with orders to strike at the first ball pitched. He followed orders and missed. Again he swung several inches under Joe’s throw, which took a most tantalizing hop just before it reached the plate. He set himself for the third and caught it fairly. The ball started as a screaming liner, going straight for the box. Joe leaped in the air and caught it in his gloved hand. Like a flash he turned and hurled it to Larry at second. Trench, who had started for third at the crack of the ball, tried frantically to scramble back to second, but was too late. Larry wheeled and shot down the ball to first, beating Naylor to the bag by an eyelash. Three men had been put out in the twinkling of an eye! It was the first triple play that had been made that season, and the third that had been made on the Polo Grounds since that famous park had been opened. It had all occurred so quickly that half the spectators did not for the moment realize what had occurred. But they woke up, and roar after roar rose from the stands as the spectators saw the Giants running in gleefully, while the discomfited Brooklyns, with their rally nipped in the bud, went out gloomily to their positions. “You’ll send him to the showers, will you?” yelled Larry to the Brooklyn coaches, as he threw his cap hilariously into the air. Rance’s face was a study as he took his place in the box. He saw his winning streak going glimmering. It was a hard game for him to lose, for he had pitched in a way that would have won most games. But he had drawn a hard assignment in having to face pitching against which his teammates, fence breakers as they usually were, could make no headway. Still, he was game, and there was still another inning, and nothing was impossible in baseball. If the Giants had expected him to crack, they were quickly undeceived. Burkett grounded out to Trench, who
  • 27. made a rattling stop and got him at first with feet to spare. Wheeler fouled out to Tighe. Jackwell went out on three successive strikes. It was a plucky exhibition of pitching under discouraging conditions, and Rance well deserved the hand that he received as he went in to the bench. “I say, Joe,” remarked Jim, as his chum was preparing to go out for the ninth Brooklyn inning. “Celebrate your birthday by showing those birds the three-men-to-a-game stunt. It will be a glorious wind-up.” “I’ll see,” replied Joe, with a grin that was half a promise. Thompson, the manager of the Brooklyns, who had been having a little run-in with the umpire, and was standing in a disgruntled mood near the batter’s box, overheard the dialogue and stared in wonderment at Jim. “What’s that three-men-to-a-game stunt you’re talking about?” he asked. “Haven’t you ever heard of it?” asked Jim. “I never have,” replied Thompson. “And I was in the game before you were born.” “Then you’ve got a treat in store for you,” Jim assured him. “Just you watch this inning, and you’ll see that only three men will be needed to turn your men back without a run, or even the smell of a hit. They’ll be the pitcher, the catcher and the first baseman. The rest of the Giants will have nothing to do and might as well be off the field. In fact, if it wasn’t against the regulations of the game, we would call them into the bench just now.” Thompson looked at Jim as though he were crazy. “Trying to kid me?” the Brooklyn manager asked, with a savage inflection in his voice. “Not at all,” replied Jim, grinning cheerfully. “Just keep your eye on that pitcher of ours.”
  • 29. CHAPTER XII AN AMAZING FEAT Thompson, still believing that Jim was trying to get a rise out of him, walked back to his own bench, growling to himself. Reis was the first to face Joe in the last half of the ninth. Joe measured him carefully, took his time in winding up, and then, with all the signs of delivering a fast high one, sent over a floater that Reis reached for and hit into the dirt in front of the plate. Joe ran on it, picked it up and tossed it to Burkett for an easy out. Rance, the Brooklyn pitcher, came to the plate. Joe sent over a hop that Rance caught on the under side for a foul high up back of the rubber that Mylert caught without moving from his position. With two out, Tighe missed the first one that came over so fast that it had settled in Mylert’s glove before the batter had completed his swing. The next he fouled off for strike two. Then Joe whizzed over his old reliable fadeaway. “You’re out!” cried the umpire. The game was over and the Giants had beaten their redoubtable foes by a score of four to none. They had whitewashed their opponents and broken their winning streak. And what was sweeter to Jim at the moment was that Joe had fulfilled his prediction. Only the pitcher, catcher and first baseman had been necessary to turn the Brooklyns back. The other six men of the Giant team had had nothing to do and might as well have been off the field. It was almost magical pitching, the climax of the art.
  • 30. Joe and Jim grinned at each other in a knowing way as the former came into the bench. “You pulled it off that time all right, Joe!” exclaimed Jim gleefully, as he threw his arm around his chum’s shoulder. “I piped off Thompson to what you were going to do and he thought I had gone nutty. He’d have given me an awful razz if it had failed to go through.” “You were taking awful chances,” laughed Joe. “Of course, I might do that once in a while, but only a superman could do it all the time. But in this inning, luck was with us.” Thompson at this moment came strolling over toward them. He was evidently consumed with curiosity. “I’ll take the wind out of your sails at the start by admitting that you put one over on me,” he said, addressing himself to Jim. “Though how you knew what was about to happen is beyond me. How did you do it?” he asked, turning to Joe. “Have you got a horseshoe or rabbit’s foot concealed about you?” “I assure you that I have nothing up my sleeve to deceive you,” Joe said, rolling up his sleeves in the best manner of the professional conjurer. “It simply means that the hand is quicker than the eye.” “Cut out the funny stuff and tell me just how you did it,” persisted Thompson. “I’ll tell you,” said McRae, who had been an amused listener to the conversation. “That’s an old trick of Joe’s that he’s tried out when we’ve been playing exhibition games in the spring training practice. More than once, we’ve called in the whole team, except Joe, the catcher, and the first baseman. Then Joe’s done just what he did this afternoon. Of course, it doesn’t always go through, but in many cases he has put it over.” “There isn’t another pitcher in the League who would dare try it!” exclaimed Thompson.
  • 31. “There’s only one Matson in the world,” said McRae simply. “On the level, Thompson, what would you give to have him on your team?” “A quarter of a million dollars,” blurted out Thompson. “You couldn’t have him for half a million,” said McRae, with a grin, as he turned away. It was a jubilant crowd of Giants that gathered in the clubhouse after the game. “How was that for your birthday present, Joe?” sang out Larry. “It wasn’t quite what you asked for, but it was the best we could do.” “It was plenty,” laughed Joe. “I’d rather have those runs you gave me than a diamond ring. Keep it up, boys, and we’ll soon be up at the top of the League. We’ve been a long time in getting started, but now just watch our smoke. This game pulls us out of the second division. We’re right on the heels of the Brooklyns. Let’s give those fellows to-morrow the same dose they got to-day. Then we’ll get after the Pittsburghs and the Chicagos.” “That’s the stuff!” cried Larry. “We’ll show ’em where they get off. They’ve been hogging the best seats in this show. Now we’ll send ’em back to the gallery.” Joe smiled happily at the enthusiasm of the boys. It was what he had been trying to instill ever since he had been made the captain of the team. He knew that the material was there—the batting, the fielding, and the pitching. But all this counted for nothing as long as the spirit was lacking, the will to victory, the confidence that they could win. There was just one piece of the machinery, however, that was not working smoothly, and that was Iredell. He had been sulky and mutinous ever since he had been displaced by Joe in the captaincy of the team. Joe had been most considerate and had gone out of his way to be kind to him, but all his advances had been rebuffed.
  • 32. “You’re certainly getting the team into fine shape, Joe,” said Jim, as they made their way out of the grounds. “They played championship ball behind you this afternoon.” “They sure did,” agreed Joe. “Those plays by Larry, especially, were sparklers. I never saw the old boy in better form. He’s one of the veterans of the game, and you might expect him to be slipping, but to-day he played like a youngster with all a veteran’s skill. If everybody had the same spirit, I’d have nothing more to ask.” “Meaning Iredell, I suppose,” said Jim. “Just him,” replied Joe. “It isn’t that there’s anything especially I can lay my hands on. He plays good mechanical ball. His fielding is good and he’s keeping up fairly well with the stick. But the mischief of it is, it’s all mechanical. He’s like a galvanized dead man going through the motions, but a dead man just the same. I wish I could put some life into him. After a while, that dulness of his will begin to affect the rest of the team. It takes only one drop of ink to darken a whole glass of water.” “I noticed that in the clubhouse this afternoon,” said Jim thoughtfully, “all the rest of the fellows were bubbling over, while he sat apart with a frown on his face as though we’d lost the game instead of having won it.” “Well, he’ll have to get over that and get over it quickly,” said Joe with decision. “We can’t have him casting a wet blanket over the rest of the team. The trouble is, we haven’t any one available to put in his place just now, and it’s hard to get one at this stage of the season. Renton’s a likely youngster, but he needs a little more seasoning before I could trust him in such a responsible position as that of shortstop.” “If that Mornsby deal had only gone through, we’d have had a crackerjack,” said Jim regretfully. “We sure would!” replied Joe. “But I felt from the beginning that we didn’t have much chance of getting him. If the St. Louis management had let him go, they might as well have shut up shop.
  • 33. The fans would have hooted them out of town. Anyway, I’d rather develop a player than buy him. I’m going to coach young Renton with a possible view to taking Iredell’s place, if it becomes necessary.” The next day Brooklyn again came to the Polo Grounds, determined to regain their lost laurels of the day before. This time they relied on Reuter, while McRae sent Jim into the box. That Reuter was good, became evident before the game had gone very far. He had a world of speed and his curves were breaking well. Up to the seventh inning, only two hits had been made off of him, one of which was a homer by Joe and another a two-base hit by Burkett. His support was superb, and more than one apparent hit was turned into an out by clever fielding. Jim, in the early innings, was not up to his usual mark. He had most of the stuff that had given him such high repute as a pitcher, except that he could not handle his wide-breaking curve with his usual skill. The failure of that curve to break over the plate got him several times in the hole. He relied too much also on his slow ball when, with the dull, cloudy weather that prevailed, speed would have been more effective. But, although he was not in his best form, his courage never faltered. He was game in the pinches. Leete, for instance, in the fifth inning, laced the first ball pitched into leftfield for a clean homer. There was no one out when the mighty clout was made, but Jim refused to be disconcerted. He struck out Mornier, the heavy hitting first baseman of the Dodgers, made Tonsten hit a slow roller to the box that went for an easy out, and fanned Trench, after the latter had sent up two fouls in his unavailing attempt to hit the ball squarely. Again in the sixth, after a triple and a single in succession had scored another run, he settled down and mowed the next three down in order.
  • 34. But though his nerve was with him, the Brooklyn batsmen kept getting to him, picking up one run after the other until at the end of the seventh inning they had four runs to their credit while only one lone score had been made by the Giants. The Brooklyn rooters were jubilant, for it looked as though their pets had just about sewed up the game. But in the Giants’ half of the eighth Reuter began to crack. He started well enough by making Curry pop to Mornier. Iredell came next and shot a single to left, his first hit of the game and the third that had been made off Reuter up to that time. Then Burkett followed suit with a beauty to right that sent Iredell to third, though a good return throw by Reis held Burkett to the initial bag. The two hits in succession seemed to affect Reuter’s control, and he gave Wheeler a base on balls. Now the bags were full, with only one man out, and the Giant rooters, who had hitherto been glum, were standing up in their places and shouting like mad. McRae sent Ledwith, a much faster man than Wheeler, to take the latter’s place on first, while he himself ran out on the coaching line and Robbie scurried in the direction of third. Jackwell was next at bat, and the chances were good for a double play by Brooklyn. But Reuter’s tired arm had lost its cunning and, try as he would, he could not get the ball over the plate. Amid a pandemonium of yells from the excited fans he passed Jackwell to first, forcing a run over the plate. And still the bases were full. It was evident that Reuter was “through,” and Thompson signaled him to come in. He took off his glove and walked into the bench to a chorus of sympathetic cheers from the partisans of both sides in recognition of the superb work he had done up to that fateful inning. Grimm took his place and tossed a few balls to the catcher in order to warm up. It was a hard assignment to take up the pitcher’s burden with the bases full. The first ball he put over came so near to “beaning” Larry that the latter only saved himself by dropping to the ground. McRae signaled
  • 35. to him to wait the pitcher out. He did so, with the result that he, too, trotted to first on four bad balls, forcing another run home and making the score four to three in favor of the Brooklyns. Grimm braced for the next man, Bowen, and struck him out, as Bowen let even good balls go by, hoping to profit by the pitcher’s wildness. But this time he reckoned without his host and retired discomfited to the bench. Joe came next and received a mighty hand as he went to the plate. His three comrades on the bases implored him to bring them home. Grimm was in a dilemma. Under ordinary circumstances he would have passed Joe and taken a chance on Mylert. But to pass him now meant the forcing home of another run, which would have tied the score. On the other hand, a clean hit would bring at least two men home and put the Giants ahead. There was still, however, the third chance—that Joe might not make a hit. In that case there would be three men out, leaving the Brooklyns ahead. He took the third alternative and pitched to Joe, putting all the stuff he had on the ball. Joe swung at it and missed. Two balls followed in succession. Then he whizzed over a high, fast one that Joe caught fairly and sent out on a line between left and center for a sizzling triple, clearing the bases and himself coming into third standing up. The Giants and their partisans went wild with joy as the three men followed each over the plate, making the score six to four in favor of the home team. And at that figure the score remained, for Jim pitched like a man possessed in the Brooklyn’s half of the ninth and set them down as fast as they came to the bat. “That’s what you call pulling the game out of the fire,” exulted Larry, as the Giants were holding a jubilee in the clubhouse after the game.
  • 36. “Yes,” agreed Jim. “But it was a hard game for Reuter to lose. He outpitched me up to that fatal eighth inning. He had a world of stuff on the ball.” “He’s a crackerjack, all right,” agreed Joe. “And it certainly looked as though he had us going.” “Didn’t have you going much that I could notice, except going around the bases,” declared Larry, with a wide grin. “That was a corking homer of yours, and the triple was almost as good.” “Better, as far as the results were concerned,” put in Jim. “For it brought home three men and settled the game. It was a life saver, and no mistake. Talk about Johnny on the spot. Joe on the spot is the salvation of the Giants!”
  • 37. CHAPTER XIII CLEVER STRATEGY “Quit your kidding,” laughed Joe. “Let’s just say that the breaks of the game were with us and let it go at that. The main thing is that we’ve put another game on the right side of the ledger. We’ve turned the Brooklyns back, and now it’s up to us to give the same dose to the Bostons and the Phillies.” “They’ll be easy,” prophesied Curry, as he finished fastening his shoe laces. “Don’t fool yourself,” cautioned Joe. “They’re playing better now than they were earlier in the season, and they won’t be such cinches as they were in the last series. We’ll have to step lively to beat them, and keep trying every minute. Ginger’s the word from now on.” “Ginger” had been his watchword ever since he had been made captain of the team. He had tried to inspire them with his own indomitable energy and vim, and was gratified to see that with the exception of Iredell he was succeeding. It was doubly necessary in the case of the Giants, for most of the team was composed of veterans. They were superb players, but some of them were letting up on their speed and needed prodding to keep them at the top of their form. Still there had been an infusion of new blood, and McRae was constantly on the lookout for more. The Giants’ roster contained a number of promising rookies, such as Renton, Ledwith, Merton and others, and Joe was constantly coaching them in the fine points of the game.
  • 38. In Merton, especially, he thought he had all the material of a promising pitcher. The youngster had been obtained from the Oakland Seals, and had won a high reputation in the Pacific Coast League. He had speed, a good assortment of curves, and a fair measure of control. But pitching against big leaguers was a very different matter from trying to outguess minor league batters, and Joe had not thought it advisable as yet to send him in for a full game. One of his chief faults was that opponents could steal bases on him with comparative impunity. It was almost uncanny to note the ease with which a runner on the bases could detect whether Merton was going to pitch to the batter or throw the ball to first. Joe was not long in discovering the reason. “Here’s your trouble, Merton,” he said. “You invariably lift your right heel from the ground when you are about to throw to the plate. You keep it on the ground when you’re planning to throw to first. So, by watching you, those fellows can get a long lead off first and easily make second. Just try now, and see.” “You’re right,” admitted Merton, after practising a few minutes. “Funny that I never noticed that before. But none of the fellows in the Pacific Coast League noticed it, either. They didn’t steal much on me there.” “That’s just because they were minor leaguers,” returned Joe. “But you’re in big-league company now, and the wise birds on the other teams get on to you at once.” Merton was grateful for the tip, and practised assiduously until he had got rid of the mannerism. He was docile and willing to learn, and Joe could see his pitching ability increase from day to day. Not only in pitching, but in batting, Joe was able to be of incalculable value to the younger members of the team. How to outguess the pitcher, when to wait him out, how to walk into the ball instead of drawing away from it, the best way of laying down bunts —these and a host of other things in which he was a past master
  • 39. were freely imparted to his charges and illustrated by object lessons that were even more effective than the spoken word. McRae and Robbie were delighted with the results of the change of captains, and more and more they gave him a free hand, knowing that Joe would get out of the Giants all that was in them. And, knowing the power of the Giant machine when going at full speed, that was all that they asked. The next series on the Giants’ schedule was with the Boston Braves on the latter’s grounds. As Joe had anticipated, the Braves put up a much stiffer fight than they had earlier in the season. They were going well, had already passed the Phillies and the Cardinals and were making a desperate attempt to get into the first division. Markwith pitched the first game, and did very well until the last two frames. Then a veritable torrent of hits broke from the Bostons’ bats and drove the southpaw from the mound. Joe took his place, and the hitting suddenly ceased. But the damage had already been done, and the game was placed in the Boston column. Jim pitched in the second game and chalked up a victory. Young Merton was given his chance in the third, and justified Joe’s confidence by also winning, although the score was close. Joe himself went in for the fourth and won, thus getting three out of four in the series, which, for a team on the road, was not to be complained of. With the Phillies, on the latter’s grounds, the Giants cleaned up the first three games right off the reel. In the fourth, the Phillies woke up and played like champions. They fielded and batted like demons, so well indeed that when the ninth inning began, the Phillies were ahead by a score of three to two. In the Giants’ half, with one man on base, Joe cut loose with a homer that put his team a run to the good. Not daunted, however, the Phillies came in for their half. Two men were out, and a couple of Giant fumbles had permitted two to get on the bases.
  • 40. Mallinson, the heaviest batter of the Phillies, was up. He shook his bat menacingly and glared at Joe. With the team behind him the least bit shaky on account of the fumbles, Joe tried a new stunt on Mallinson. “I’m going to tell you exactly the kind of a ball I’m going to throw to you,” he remarked, with a disarming grin. “Yes, you are,” sneered Mallinson, unbelievingly, while even Mylert, the Giant catcher, looked bewildered. “Honest Injun,” declared Joe. “This first one is going to be a high fast one right over the plate and just below the shoulder.” “G’wan and stop your kidding,” growled the burly Philadelphia batter. He set himself for a curve, not believing for a moment that Joe would be crazy enough to tell him in advance what he was going to pitch. It was just on that disbelief that Joe had counted. Joe wound up and hurled one over exactly as he had promised. Mallinson, all set for a curve, was so flustered that he struck at it hurriedly and missed. Joe grinned tantalizingly, while Mallinson glowered at him. “Didn’t believe me, did you?” Joe asked. “Why don’t you have more faith in your fellow men? I ought to be real peeved at you for your lack of confidence. But I’m of a forgiving nature and I’ll overlook it this time.” “Cut it out,” snapped Mallinson savagely. “Go ahead and play the game.” “No pleasing some fellows,” mourned Joe plaintively. “Now this time, I’m going to pitch an outcurve. Ready? Let’s go.” Mallinson, sure that this time he was going to be double-crossed, got ready for a high fast one, and the outcurve that Joe pitched cut the corner of the plate and settled in Mylert’s glove for the second strike.
  • 41. “You see!” complained Joe. “There you are again. What’s the use of my tipping you off if you don’t take advantage? Don’t you believe me? Doesn’t anybody ever tell the truth in Philadelphia?” Mallinson tried to say something, but he was so mad that he could only stutter, while his face looked as though he were going to have a fit of apoplexy. “Now,” said Joe, “this is your last chance. I’m going to give you my hop ball this time, and that’s just because it’s you. I wouldn’t do it for everybody. It’ll take a jump just as it comes to the plate.” By this time Mallinson was in an almost pitiable state of bewilderment. Would the pitcher again keep his word? Or would Joe figure that now that he had twice tipped him off correctly, Mallinson would really get set for the hop ball and that now was the time to fool him with something else? He was so up in the air by this time that he could not have hit a balloon, and he struck six inches below the hop ball that Joe sent whistling over the plate for an out. The game was over and the Giants had won. “What was all that chatter that was going on between you and Mallinson?” asked McRae, as he and Robbie, with their faces all smiles, came up to Joe. “I couldn’t quite get what it was from the bench. But you seemed to get his goat for fair.” Joe told them, and the pair went into paroxysms of laughter, Robbie choking until they had to pound him on the back. “For the love of Pete, Mac!” he gurgled, as soon as he could speak, “you’ll have to do something with this fellow or he’ll be the death of me yet. To win a ball game just by telling the batsman what he was going to pitch to him! Did you ever hear anything like it before in your life?” “I never did,” replied the grinning McRae. At the clubhouse later, there were guffaws of laughter as Mylert described the way that Joe had stood Mallinson on his head.
  • 42. “And me thinking Joe had simply gone nutty!” Mylert said. “When he pitched that first ball just as he said, I didn’t know where I was at. Then the second one got me going still more. But I saw that it had Mallinson going, too, and then I began to catch on. How on earth did you ever come to think of that, Joe?” “Just a matter of psychology,” Jim answered for him. “And mighty good psychology, if you ask me. Baseball Joe’s a dabster at that.” “Sike-sike what?” asked Larry, whose vocabulary was not very extensive. “Psychology,” repeated Jim, with a grin. “No, it isn’t a new kind of breakfast food. Joe simply knew how Mallinson’s mind would work and he took advantage of it. Mallinson coppered everything Joe said to him. He figured that Joe was there to deceive him. He couldn’t conceive that Joe would tell him the truth. And so it was just by telling the truth that Joe got him.” “It just got by because it was new,” laughed Joe. “I couldn’t do it often, for if I did they’d begin to take me at my word, and then they’d bat me all over the lot.” By the time the Eastern inter-city games were over, the Giants had considerably bettered their team standing. They had passed the Brooklyns, who had let down a good deal and were now playing in- and-out ball. The Chicagos were still in the lead, with Pittsburgh three games behind them, but pressing them closely. Then came the Giants, two games in the rear of the men from the Smoky City. The Cincinnati Reds brought up the rear of the first division, but the conviction was strong in the minds of the Giants that it was either the Pirates or the Cubs they had to beat in order to win the pennant. On the eve of the invasion of the East by the Western teams, McRae called his men together for a heart-to-heart talk in the clubhouse. “You boys know that I can give you the rough edge of my tongue when you lay down on me,” he said, as he looked around on the group of earnest young athletes, who listened to him with respectful
  • 43. attention. “But you know, too, that I’m always ready to give a man credit when he deserves it. I’m glad to say that just now I’m proud of the men who wear the Giant uniform. You’ve done good work in cleaning up the Eastern teams. You’ve played ball right up to the end of the ninth inning, and many a game that looked lost you’ve pulled out of the fire. “Now, that’s all right as far as it goes. But the Western clubs are coming, and they’re out for scalps. You remember what they did to us on our first trip out there. They gave us one of the most disgraceful beatings we’ve had for years. They took everything but our shirts, and they nearly got those. Are you going to let them do it again?” There was a yell of dissent that warmed McRae’s heart. “That’s the right spirit,” he declared approvingly. “Now, go in and show the same spirit on the field that you’re showing in the clubhouse. Beat them to a frazzle. Show them that you’re yet the class of the League. Don’t be satisfied with an even break. That won’t get us anywhere. Take three out of four from every one of them. Make a clean sweep if you can. Keep on your toes every minute. You’ve got the pitching, you’ve got the fielding, you’ve got the batting, and you’ve got the best captain that ever wore baseball shoes. What more does any club want?” “Nothing!” shouted Larry. “We’ll wipe up the earth with them!” “That’s the stuff,” replied McRae. “Now go out and say it with your bats. I want another championship this year, and I want it so bad that it hurts. You’re the boys that can give it to me, and I’m counting on you to do it. Show them that you’re Giants not only in name, but in fact. That’s about all.” “What’s the matter with McRae?” cried Curry, as the manager, having said his say, turned to leave. “He’s all right!” came in a thundering chorus from all except Iredell, who maintained a moody silence.
  • 44. McRae waved his hand and vanished through the door. The Cincinnati Reds were the first of the invaders to make their appearance at the Polo Grounds. They always drew large crowds, not only because they usually played good ball against the Giants, but especially because of the popularity of Hughson, their manager, who for many years had been a mainstay of the Giants and the idol of New York fans. Hughson was one of the straight, clean, upstanding men who are a credit to the national game. McRae had taken him when he was a raw rookie and given him his chance with the Giants to show what he could do. The result had been a sensation. In less than a year Hughson had leaped into fame as the greatest pitcher in the country. He had everything—courage, speed, curves and control—and with them all a baseball head that enabled him to outguess the craftiest of his opponents. For a dozen years he had been the chief reliance of the Giants and one of the greatest drawing cards in the game. At the time that Joe had joined the Giants, however, Hughson’s arm was beginning to fail. The latter was quick to discover Joe’s phenomenal ability and, instead of showing any mean jealousy, had done his best to develop it. Between him and Joe a friendship had sprung up that had never diminished. Hughson’s services were in demand as a manager and he was snapped up by the Cincinnati club to take charge of the Reds. With rather indifferent material to start with, he had built up a strong team that had several times given the Giants a hot race for the championship. On the afternoon of the first game, Hughson, big and genial as ever, shook Joe’s hand warmly when the latter met him near the plate. “We’re going to give you the same dose that we did when you were on our stamping ground the last time, Joe,” he remarked, with
  • 45. a laugh, after they had interchanged greetings. “I love the Giants, but, oh, you Reds!” “If you’re so sure of it, why go through the trouble of playing the game?” retorted Joe. “Oh, we’ll have to do that as a matter of form and to give the crowd their money’s worth,” joked Hughson. “But honestly, Joe, we’re going to put up the stiffest kind of a battle. My men have their fighting clothes on, and they’re going good just now.” “I’ve noticed that,” replied Joe. “You took the Pirates neatly into camp in that last series. The return of Haskins has plugged up a weak point in your outfield. I see he didn’t lose his batting eye while he was a hold-out.” “No,” said Hughson, “he’s as good as ever. I began to think we’d never come to terms on the question of salary. You see, after his phenomenal season last year he got a swelled head and demanded a salary that was out of all reason. Said he wouldn’t play this year unless he got it. But we got together on a compromise at last, and now he’s in uniform again and cavorting around like a two-year-old. Wait until you see him knock the ball out of the lot this afternoon.” “I’ll wait,” retorted Joe with a grin, “and I’ll bet I’ll wait a good long while.”
  • 46. CHAPTER XIV DEEPENING MYSTERY After a little more chaffing, Joe left Hughson and walked over towards the Giants’ dugout. He felt a touch on his shoulder and, turning around, saw Jackwell. “What is it, Dan?” he asked, noting at the same time that the player was pale. “I don’t feel quite in shape, Captain,” said Jackwell in a voice that was far from steady. “I was wondering whether you couldn’t put someone in my place to-day.” “What’s the matter?” asked Joe. “Look here, Jackwell,” he went on sharply, “are you trying to pull some of that ptomaine poisoning stuff again? Because, if you are, I tell you right now, you’re wasting your time.” “It—it isn’t that,” stammered Jackwell, nervously fingering his cap. “I just feel kind of unstrung, shaky-like. I’m afraid I can’t play the bag as it ought to be played, that’s all.” “Jackwell,” commanded Joe sternly, “come right out like a man and tell me what’s the matter with you. Lay your cards on the table. Are you playing for your release? Do you want to go to some other team?” “No, no! Nothing like that!” ejaculated Jackwell, in alarm. “I’d rather play for the Giants than for any other team in the country.” “Well, I’ll tell you straight that you won’t be playing for the Giants or any other team very long if this sort of thing keeps on,” said Joe sharply. “What do you think this is, a sanitarium for invalids? Here, McRae’s taken you from the bush league and given you the chance
  • 47. of your lives with the best team in the country. Do you want to go back to the sticks?” “Nothing like that,” muttered Jackwell, twisting about uneasily. “Then go out and play the game,” commanded Joe. “I’m getting fed up with all this mystery stuff. There’ll have to be a show-down before long, unless you get back your nerve.” Jackwell said no more and went back to the bench, where he had a whispered colloquy with Bowen, who seemed equally nervous. When they went out to their positions, Joe noticed that both had their caps drawn down over their faces much more than usual. It could not have been to keep the sun out of their eyes, for clouds obscured the sky and rain threatened. Fortunately, that is, for the Giants, for despite Hughson’s prediction, it was not the Reds’ winning day. Jim pitched for the Giants, and though he was nicked for seven hits, he was never in danger and held his opponents all the way. He did not have to extend himself, as his teammates, by free batting, gave him a commanding lead as early as the third inning, and after that the Giants simply breezed in. Allison was the first of the Cincinnati pitchers to fall a victim to the fury of the Giants’ bats. In the third inning, with the Giants one run to the good, Barrett, the first man up, sent a sharp single to left. Iredell followed with another in almost identically the same place, and an error by the Red shortstop filled the bases. Then Jackwell singled sharply over second, bringing in two runs. It was clear that Allison’s usefulness for that day was at an end, and Hughson replaced him by Elkins. Bowen lifted a sacrifice to Gerry in center and another run came over the plate. Mylert doubled and Jackwell scampered home. Curry hit to third and Mylert was tagged on the base line. Burkett was passed, as was also Wheeler. Then Joe, who, in the new shake-up of the batting order, occupied the position of “clean-up” man, justified the name by coming to the plate and hammering out a mighty triple that cleared the bases.
  • 48. There he was left, however, for Larry, up for the second time in the same inning, popped an easy fly that was gathered in by the second baseman. Seven runs had been the fruit of that avalanche of hits in that fateful inning. From that time on it seemed only a question of how big would be the score. Two other pitchers were called into service by Hughson before the game was over, and although the torrent of Giant hits had almost spent its force, they came often enough to keep the Red outfielders on the jump. In the eighth the Reds made a rally and succeeded in getting three men on bases with only one man out. But the rally ended suddenly when Jim made Haskins, the star batter of the Reds, hit to short for a snappy double play that ended the inning. No further runs were made by either side, and the first game of the Western invasion went into the Giants’ column by a score of ten to two. In the clubhouse, after the game, Joe asked Jackwell and Bowen to stay after the others had gone, in order that he might have a word with them. “I don’t want to pry into your personal affairs, boys,” he said to them kindly, when they were at last left alone. “I’d be the last one to do that. But I’m captain of this team, and I’ve got to see that my men are in fit condition to play. And if there’s anything that prevents you showing your best form, it’s up to me to find just what it is.” They made no answer, and Joe went on: “I notice that whatever it is that’s bothering you seems to affect you both. You both were sick, or said you were, at the same time the other day. You, Jackwell, told me that you were not feeling fit to- day, and although Bowen didn’t say anything, I suppose it was because you told him it was of no use. I noticed that right after your talk with me, you went back to Bowen and held a whispered conversation with him. And when you went out on the field, you both pulled your caps over your faces more than usual.
  • 49. “Then, too, neither of you played your usual game to-day. Luckily, we had such a big lead that the errors didn’t lose the game, but in a close game any one of them might have been fatal. That was a ridiculously easy grounder, Jackwell, that you fumbled in the fourth, and in the sixth you failed to back up Iredell on that throw-in by Curry. And that was a bad muff you, Bowen, made of Haskins’ fly to center, to say nothing of the wild throw you made to second right afterwards. “Now, what’s the trouble? Let’s have a showdown. Speak up.”
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