2/18/04
Softball: Fact and Fantasy (The Delicate Craft of Athletic History)
Dear People,
Congratz to all on last week’s taut 10-7 jubilee of thoroughly copacetic recreational release, and I’m not saying that just because I hit my first magnificent multi-RBI homerun since the fall of the Berlin Wall. True, that single wondrous orb turned out to be my own team’s margin of triumph, and thus there’s no point in denying that I was a hero in every sense of the word. Yet ultimately, it was Peter who lead us to the promised land, with his utterly sublime 30-hit performance at the mound (Indeed, he pitched with an understated grace that reminded me of Michael Tilson Thomas when conducting some really sassy Schoenberg, and I’m not saying that just because I like to flout the limits of really stupid analogies).
In any case, and as most of you know, this week will mark the 48th anniversary of the death of the great Fred "Bonehead" Merkle, the legendary New York Giant’s first baseman whose name is forever associated with "the incident," that calamitous denouement at the end of the ferociously fought match between the underdog Giants and sinister Chicago Cubs, on September 23rd, 1908. As you’ll recall, these dominant teams were in a bitter struggle for the National League pennant, and as dusk settled on that most surreal of days, Umpire Hank ’O Day declared that critical game an unfinished tie. Yet nearly a century later, I remain more convinced then ever that this decision was a tragic miscarriage of aerobic justice. Allow me to explicate:
The basic facts are not in dispute, no matter what those slime balls at Fox News would have you believe. As a capacity crowd of 30,000 raucous New Yorkers rocked the Polo Grounds, Art "The Tooth" Delin singled to left with none on, one out and the score tied at one in the bottom of the 9th ! Todd McCormick then grounded to 2nd, forcing Delin back to the dugout, and suddenly, the game was one out from extra innings. It was at this point that good ’ol Bonehead slammed a blazing hit toward right, but McCormick stopped at 3rd, thus bringing the incomparable Al "Turtle Toes" Bidwell to the plate.
It was a moment of near ethereal tension—so much so that the Corpulent Vice President of the United States, Howard Taft, was reported to have yelled out an impolitic Yiddish obscenity toward Cubs manager Frank Chance. Time itself seemed to bend, and then, Bidwell, facing an ominous 0-2 count, ripped a perfectly hit ground ball past Evers and on to center field, bringing McCormick home and clinching the win for the righteous and cherished home town! Or so it seemed, my friends, or so it seemed.
As McCormick crossed home plate, thousands of joyous fans poured onto the field like a crazed platoon of Brazilian army ants, and thus the young 19-year-old Merklemeister, frightened, pimply and undoubtedly still a virgin, turned back half way to second and darted frantically toward the locker room. This was a perfectly reasonable decision given that this was the common custom of the day, and regardless, by the time center fielder Joey Hoffman had even touched the ball, McCormick HAD ALREADY SCORED. Thus by any plausible standard of athletic jurisprudence (except perhaps that used in Bush League v. Gore), the game was over and the Giants had won. Or so it seemed.
As partying erupted on the field, Johnny "The Crab" Evers signaled for Hoffman to throw him the ball at second, but Hoffman, perhaps overly excited by the devious nature of Evers’ shameless plot, threw it well over his outstretched glove and into the waiting arms of Giant’s 3rd base coach Joe McGinnity, who promptly turned around and hurled the ball deep into the left field bleachers. I repeat, the ball was irretrievably hurled into the teeming humanity of the left field bleachers, and for all I know, it lies to this very day in the dusty armoire of some lucky Giant fan who went on to a perfectly respectable life in retail, insurance or veal.
Regardless, about 10 seconds later, Evers suddenly "produced" a ball in his greasy little palm, ignored the mob around him, stepped on 2nd base, and demanded that umpire ’O Day call Merkle out and the game still on! Incredibly, this craven-ass ump adhered to Evers’ wishes, although fearing the onslaught of dusk, he called Merkle out and the game a tie! Even more outrageous, National League President Harry Pullman upheld the decision later that night, forcing a make-up match at season’s end—a tie-breaking game which the embittered Giants lost, thus giving the contemptible Cubs both the pennant, and later that month, the World Series!
My spleen still simmers when I think of the travesty of it all, and while you may be thinking that after 96 years, I should just "get over it," the fact is that I now have new and irrefutable evidence showing that the ball which Evers used to force Merkle out was NOT the one that Bidwell had smashed just 15 seconds earlier. For after months of intensive research, two weeks ago I received a call from a certain Marylou Evers-Figg, aged 98 and the daughter of Johnny Evers, who summoned me to her modest and icky bungalow in rural Sonoma County.
Soon after I entered her sparsely furnished bedroom, she gingerly pulled out an old but nearly pristine Wilson Brand baseball, and then she regaled me with her story. "Just before Papa passed on to the Lord" she whispered to me, "he gave me this, and as he was lying there on his deathbed, he told me it was that dang Merkle ball, and that he had pulled it from his groining cup just when all that yellin’ and chaos done happen. He, he, uh…felt shame all his life…." Suddenly, tears welled up in her baby blue corneas, and I then realized that she too had slogged through the decades with all that guilt.
Well, it’s now almost 50 years since both Merkle and Evers have gone on to their aerobic makers, but I for one will not let the cover-up persist for yet another generation. No, the fact is that Mrs. Ever-Figg’s sweat-covered orb was simply her son’s illegal scrotal stash, not the official game ball, and soon advanced DNA testing will prove this once and for all. In the meantime, we as Bonebrain’s rightful heirs can move forward with ever greater clarity, for we finally know the truth about this towering symbol of premature evictoration. And therefore, there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11:00, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning…Raymond
2/20/04
Softball: Nuptials
Dear People,
Barring a despicable confluence of rain and field closures, there will be a game at Codornices or elsewhere this Sunday at 11:00, and as of now, there are still THREE slots left. You will probably need to check email around 10:00 that morning.
Assuming we play at Codornices, please bring $2 for the field, which for this week only includes a special post-game wedding license for you to use with whomever you wish, so long as your chosen partner will really freak out the President and his base…Ray
2/8/04
Softball: Sunday 9:50 AM: KLEEBERGER/Peer Pressure
Codornices is soaked and offically closed, so we’ll meet at Kleeberger, which was empty as of a few minutes ago. If Cal teams show up, we’re screwed, but I have a good felling about this (I think the LaCrosse players would be there by now if they’re going to use the field). Courage.
Parking is nearly impossible on the streets, which means we should start at 11:00 AT THE LATEST to avoid the 1:00 parking deadline for the lot. That means people should really get to Kleeberger by 10:50. And while I’m certainly not going to name any names, it gets a bit annoying when people like FRANK show up every week at 11:15, and I imagine if you all could speak your minds right now, you’d probably say something like "Yeah that is annoying, I really wish FRANK would get his ass there on time." No, I don’t name names, but I think you get my point.
See ya at Kleeberger at 10:50…Raymond
Softball 10AM Coda…
I think the LaCrosse players would be there by now if they WERE going to use the field.
Apolgies for such an egregious previous omission of the subjunctive.
Also, as of now, TWO slots left...
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