Revisiting a Historic Baseball Game

Something happened. It was a comedy. Some say it was a tragedy. It was not, only a comedy. There have been ball games and ball games, but this was not one of them. It was all comedy, farce comedy. It is with great reluctance and caution that we write the story this dizzy exhibition, but the newspaper veracity compels us to take our pen in hand to tell the story as it really happened, so here goes.

To begin with, the Watonga bunch of allstars did not reach the ground until after the time appointed for the ivory exhibit. They had doubtless heard how Heinie Zimmerman had a habit of arriving late in order to attract attention to himself, which lateness is always spiced by umpire baiting, and all of our gladiators no doubt wanted to imitate the "Flying Dutchman" of the Cub menagerie.

After the arrival of the Watonga gladiators, an elongated gentleman commenced to warm up by throwing the pellet to one Peter Hauser, the football artist. Now who the elongated was, no one knew. Who invited him here to twirl, no one knew. Why he was brought here, no one knows even to this day. But the "mysterious stranger" continued to warm up, so much that the atmosphere around the ballpark became exceedingly torrid. We do not know where it started , but a rumor went around the bleachers to the effect that the stranger we none other than the redoubted Walter Johnson, the "Terrible Swede" of the Washington Americans. Others said that it might be "Matty" of the Giants. But the speculation was quieted by the observation that the "mysterious stranger" was too long and not wide enough to measure up to the outlines of "Mattie", consequently the bleachers settled down into the silent impression that the stranger might be Swede Johnson, the mighty.

After much delay, sweating anxiety, the show at last commenced. The "mysterious stranger" took his place on the mound, looking fierce, swinging aloft his wings and sighed for worlds to conquer. The bleachers were more than ever convinced that he was the mighty Johnson, incognito. The mysterious one took a ball from the umpire, fondled it loving as if bidding it farewell, doubled himself up in various shapes unwound, and let the sphere fly away on its mission of entertainment. A young gentleman by the name of Shelby was the first up for Geary. He brought the wagon tongue into play. There was a swish, and a whack. Mr. Shelby hand landed squarely on the nose of the offering of the mysterious one, and the sphere went sailing out into the crowd in center and when the dust had cleared away and the roar of the bleachers had subsided, Mr. Shelby was perched high and dry upon second. We think that Mr. Shelby committed an unfriendly act when he treated our "mysterious stranger" in that manner, especially after the same Mr. Shelby had once upon a time come to Watonga and married of of her fairest daughters. It was alright to hit the first ball, but he should have not hit it so hard. The next man up hit the next ball thrown by the "mysterious one", hit for two bases while Watonga commenced a series of boneheads during which the ivory fairly rattled, bases overthrown, balls were muffed, etc., and when the dust again cleared away, two Geary batsmen had crossed home plate, and only two balls had left the pitcher's hand, two scores on two thrown balls. The inning ended with eleven scores to Geary's credit.

WATONGA AT BAT

After the agony, Watonga went to bat. Young Lookabaugh approached the plate swinging his bat, and a look on his face as if he was determined to die for his country to pull out the sting of eleven scores. Be he had evidently been reading Woodrow's waiting policy, for he let three delicate little twisters come meandering over the plate, and it was "one strike", "two strikes", and "three strikes, you're out" without the atmosphere around home plate being disturbed by the slight action of the bat.

It is useless to tell more. The "mysterious stranger" remained on the mound for several sessions, during which time it was hit and run until the Geary players were "fagged". The "mysterious stranger " was sent to the bench after the game had been hopelessly lost, and Howard Masters went into the box, and Stewart Craven relieved big Pete Hauser behind the bat. For a time, young Masters did pretty well and stopped the wild onslaught of the Geary sluggers for three innings holding them without a score. Later in the game, however, they revived the trouble.

GEARY ASCENDS

But Watonga did not do all the ballooning. In several innings, the Geary players hung up great clusters of boneheads and almost paved the diamond with ivory, allowing Watonga to run in four scores in one inning and cross the plate in droves in one other session. It appears that Geary had anticipated the failure of the balloon ascension in the evening and was not willing to allow Watonga to make the flight alone. The trouble with both aggregations was they went up in the balloon and forgot to take their parachutes along, and could not get down again.

THE SCORE

We do not know what it was. Perhaps no one will ever know. Some say it was 21 to 6. Others claim it was 16 to 7. One fan declared that he kept the score and that it was 19 to 10. Another citizen, who appears to be conservative, declared that it was 75 to 42 in seven innings. We do not pretend to say what it was, but Geary won.

THE MYSTERIOUS ONE But going back to

But going back to Watonga's star pitcher, there was one rumor that he came from the jungles of the state university, but when he escaped or how he came to be at Watonga, no one even hinted. There was one thing, however, which was finally made clear to the bleachers and that was that the mysterious one was not Walter Johnson. He might have been a resurrected cave man who had once played ball in a prehistoric age.