Batboy on the Worst Team Ever!

by Matt Musson

  Anyway, Coach Bowels was watching one of our players trying to beat the throw to first. And, when the Umpire calls him out, the Coach was so disgusted he did not know what to do. So, he reached down, grabbed that Coke bottle, and took a big ole swig.

  After that, Coach Bowels did not stand for empty coke bottles lying around the dugout no more.

  Cokecola aside, we continued the start of the season losing every game and really missing our genuine Cuban baseball player.

  Our second game was against Lenoir at Lenoir. They pounded us 16 – 0, scoring four runs in the first inning and twelve in the second.

  The third game of the season we were back at home against the Rutherford Owls and we jumped out to a 7-0 lead. But, Rutherford came back to make it 7-6. By the eighth inning, we were still squeaking by 10-7 when our pitcher Tim Holt started losing his stuff.

  That's when Coach Bowels shocked us all and put himself in to pitch. But, even Coach Bowels could not slow down those pesky Owls. So, finally the Coach switched places with Wally Carpenter the first baseman!

  Poor Wally had to finish pitching the whole game.

  Unfortunately, Wally walked seven batters in the Ninth, and Granite Falls lost 14-12.

  Then we played at Shelby - and lost 7-1.

  Then we played at Newton - and lost 5 -1.

  Then we play at Newton again two days later - and lost 6-1.

  Finally, we came back home to face the Marion Marauders - and lost 4-1.

  So, there we were, we had lost seven games in a row to start the season. We were tired of losing and tired of being called ‘losers’.

  Every day we went out on that field and gave it our very best shot. And, every day the bottom fell out, and we lost.

  It was damn sure time for our luck to change. Lucky for us, our business manager, Mr. Killian had a surefire plan to uncross our stars!

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  Chapter Four – Black Cats and Bats

  Now I've said it before that Mountain Folk are a superstitious lot. But, let me tell you what. They don't hold a candle to ball players.

  Throughout that whole entire season, I never saw a single Graniteer ever step on the foul line walking on or off the field. Plus, no one ever lent a bat to a fellow player since all the hits would leak out. You always had to spit in your hands before you got up to the plate just to get the luck flowing.

  Why, I believe every single one of those baseball players had a good luck charm or a luck bringing ritual they practiced before each game.

  Cherry bomb Smith, our switch hitting center fielder, always wore a wad of chewing gum on the bill of his cap. Corey Bumpstead always tapped the Umpire's shin guard with his Louisville Slugger. And, Sal ‘the barber' Tranconi never shaved on the days he was scheduled to pitch.

  But, when Bryan ‘the Beast’ Henderson decided to quit showering during his nine game hitting streak in the middle of July, I wondered if some of the guys weren't taking things a pinch too far. (Especially when I was sitting down wind.)

  We all realized that losing the first seven ball games in a row meant we were under a powerful bad hex, and for our luck to change it was going to take a mighty potent jinx cleanser. I don't know if any of us was ready when Mr. Killian unveiled his ultimate solution: Black Cat Night at Granite Falls Stadium.

  As sure as I'm sitting here, Mr. Killian decided that any fan that came to our home game against Marion could get in free if he brought along a black cat.

  His theory was that our luck could not get any worse, and a couple hundred black cats might just jam things up and rewire our circuits.

  “If we don't win the game,” Mr. Killian told a reporter from the Daily Record, “we will certainly have a meowing good time!”

  At game time our fans showed up in force with dozens of cats in every possible shade of black. Kittens, Moms and Toms came pouring into Granite Falls Stadium. The pinnacle of the feline assembly was reached when Jimmy Speer and Joey Layer showed up with huge black Chow Chow claiming it was the biggest black cat in the entire Catawba Valley.

  Well, as Momma always says “It's only funny until somebody gets hurt!”

  That Chow got those black cats hissin' and fussin' and scratching everything in sight. The more the fans tried to hold on to their kitties, they wilder and sassier they got and the more scratchings they gave out.

  Luckily, Miss Fremont, the school nurse had an inkling that things might get out of hand. She set up a card table by the snack bar, where she dispensed band aids, mercurochrome (we called it Monkey Blood) and bismuth violet to wounded spectators.

  Yessiree Bob, that Black Cat night was a real whoopty doo! But, roll me in cornmeal and call me a hush puppy, if Mr. Killian's black cats did not bring us all kinds of good luck!

  I think every player on the team got a hit that night. Buck Rogers, Jack Clark, and Pete Fox got three a piece, while felines caterwauled and spat from the stands. We ended up trouncing on those Marauders 14-4.

  The next day the Daily Record quoted Mr. Killian saying he was happier than, “a dead pig in the sunshine!”

  Our faithful fans brought some more of those good luck felines two nights later and with some good strong pitching, we whipped up on Lincolnton 4-1

  So, the curse was broken and Graniteers were 2–7. And, you couldn't walk down the street without someone shaking your hand or slapping you on the back. The Rocks were hotter than a three dollar pistol.

  Thankfully, there was no sudden outbreak or plague of cat scratch fever.

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  Chapter Five – Joking, Laughing, and Carrying On

  When the ballplayers weren't calling luck or breaking jinxes, you could sure bet they were joking, laughing, and carrying on. It made me think that professional baseball was played by big tall boys instead of full grown men.

  I already mentioned how they liked to send the new fellow out for a bat stretcher or some knuckle balls. I’d also been sent to fetch a pail of steam, a left hander monkey wrench, and 30 feet of second base line.

  But, don't think they picked on me special. Anyone in the club was fair game. Our club house was pretty near ‘hotfoot central.' If you got caught even resting your eyes you ended up with roasted little piggies!

  Cherry Bomb Smith picked up that nickname ‘cause he liked to wait around after the game, and when the guys were showering he'd toss in a few lit cherry bombs. He would always be sure and have some female fans lined up outside to greet his teammates as they dashed naked out the backdoor.

  ‘Cup Check’ Charlie Alford, a short stop from Pennsylvania, earned himself an infamous label that season. He would sit on the wall outside the dugout and wait for some poor unsuspecting teammate to come walking by. Then, Charlie would launch a fast ball straight at the fellow's privates and yell “Cup Check!”

  One day John Hollar was caught without protection, and he went down hard! I thought we were going to have to carry the boy over to the hospital in Lenoir. But in the end, an ice pack and some smelling salts brought John back to life. Though, for some reason after that the team called him ‘Squeaky' John Hollar.

  But, the biggest pair of practical jokers I saw all season had to be Stretch Johnson and Lefty Levine.

  One day in June, Stretch came early to practice and filled Lefty's baseball glove all the way up with sand. We yucked it up something fierce watching that stubborn Lefty trying to force his fingers inside his sand filled leather Rawlings.

  But, Lefty did have the last laugh. The next day Stretch showed up and found his mitt packed solid with fresh manure. And, I can vouch for the fact that old Stretch discovered that horse dung the hard way!

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  Chapter Six – Cuba Libre

  According to my fifth grade history teacher, Mr. Norvin McKenny, once upon a time President Teddy Roosevelt took a bunch of cowboys over to Cuba to free the Cubanese from Spain. There was a giant ruckus at a place called San Juan Hill. And, Teddy Ro
osevelt picked up this big stick and he and the Rough Riders just charged right up and punched those Spanish bullies right in the nose.

  Before you know it those Spaniards were high tailing it down the other side of San Juan Hill, faster than a flock of sheep on dip day.

  From that day forward, the Cubanese people did not have to worry about those hateful Spaniard bullies no more. And, to celebrate, all the men in the entire country started playing baseball. And, all the women started sewing those little furry bears they called ‘Teddy Bears', as a tribute to Colonel Roosevelt.

  With the Spaniards gone, the people of Cuba were now free to play baseball, whenever they wanted. They must have played all the time, because that little island raised some of the finest young baseball players in the whole wide world.

  So, thanks to Teddy Roosevelt and his Rough Riders, the Graniteers were able to sign their very own Cuban ballplayer named: Rogerio Morales.

  Now I expected old Rogerio to look kind of like Desi Arnaz and maybe carry around one those wooden bongo drums. But, he did not look like Desi Arnaz, or Fernando Llamas or even Caesar Romero for that matter. And, I am certain the female baseball fans of Granite Falls were mighty disappointed.

  Rogerio was a wiry little dark haired shortstop that jumped on ground balls like a duck on a June bug. And, he could turn and whip that ball into first base or make the quick pitch to second, for the old ‘Tinker to Evers to Chance' double play.

  He was quick as a whip and fast as the dickens! After hitching a ride on a banana boat to Miami and taking the train to Carolina, Rogerio Morales was finally here to play for the Graniteers.

  Of course, none of us could pronounce his name, so we just kind of Americanized it. We called him Roger. At least we did until we found out that Roger loved American cereal and started out every morning with ‘the Breakfast of Champions.' From then on we called Rogerio ‘Wheaties.’

  It was a good thing Wheaties got here when he did, because after our big two game winning streak, we sort of hit the skids again. We lost four games in a row and the number of fans coming out to the ballpark started to slide a bit. Even those fans that brought soap boxes and quilts and sat for free on the other side of the outfield fence were tailing off. But with Wheaties in the lineup, the Graniteers seemed to find their footing once again.

  Wheaties could run like the wind and he could steal second base while the pitcher was thinking on what to throw next. With Wheaties in the game, the whole team just seemed to perk right up and play ‘Good Baseball.’

  We clobbered Lenoir 11-5 and then put a whooping on Rutherford 13-9.

  The Graniteers were 4-11 and only four games out of first place! Fortune was finally smiling on Granite Falls.

  I just knew that we were going to make a run for the pennant. But, then we came back to earth with a thud.

  The Rutherford Owls tarred and feathered us 23-3. And, in Mid-May Granite Falls was 4-15.

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  Chapter Seven – War and Baseball

  If Ulysses S. Grant was alive today, he would say:

  “War is Hell - on Baseball”.

  We had just finished World War II, when for four long years big league ball players were yanked from their teams and sent off to fight in Europe and Japan. Those Damnkrauts and Damnjaps did not give a hoot who needed pitching, who was batting .350, or even who was three games out of first and making a late season charge.

  For half my life now the American people had been called upon to make sacrifices. We collected old tin cans and tire irons to make tanks. We saved our bacon drippings to make TNT. We even quit eating meat on Tuesday, so they could grind it up into SPAM and send it over to the boys.

  Americans were called to make an even greater sacrifice ‘upon the alter of freedom'. They had to give up the best players on their favorite baseball teams so those boys could go off and win the war.

  Of course, it makes sense in a painful way when you think about it. I mean if a fellow has a 90 mile an hour fastball, no telling what he could do on the battlefield with a bag full of hand grenades!

  As a matter of fact, I read in Grit or Boy's Life or somewhere, that with his incredible eyesight and Batter's reflexes, Ted Williams was a natural born fighter pilot. The article said that Ted Williams was the best hitter in the whole world and was also the best fighter pilot in the whole world.

  The writer also said Ted Williams might be the best fly fisherman in the whole wide world. But, as far as I know they don't make bubblegum cards with pictures of fly fishermen, so I don't guess that really makes no never mind.

  The point that I am trying to make is that some of the best ball players in America had to give up good years out of their short careers to go and fight. And, a lot of those boys did not come home at all, and the ones that did had surely lost a step (and maybe some toes and fingers.)

  So, here we are five years later. American baseball is finally recovering and the Commies go and start a war in Korea.

  Ain't that's just cold as a grave diggers knee?

  So, throughout the 1951 season, the Graniteers weren't just losing players to injury or to other teams, they were also getting called up to play for Uncle Sam. They had to go and fight at Moo Shu or Inchon or some other damn place.

  And, to tell the truth, I never did understand the whole Korean War.

  First we were losing. Then we were winning. Then we were losing. And, then we were sitting around some line called a parallel, talking and talking and talking. It's a hell of a way to run a railroad if you ask me. But, then nobody ever did.

  What was even more confusing is that they divided Korea up into the North and the South. And, in this war, we were fighting with the Southerners and against the damn Koreans Yankees. Miss Monahan our Social Studies teacher explained that the South had the right to secede from their Union and make their own choices without interference from them Northerners.

  Now I may be just ten years old, but I am pretty sure that we have been down this road once before, going in the opposite direction!

  So, I never did appreciate the Korean War. I often wondered if old U.S. Grant would have understood it any better than I did.

  Poor old Coach Charlie Bowels could not take it any longer. Not only did he have to face powerhouse teams like Morganton, Shelby, and Lenoir but now the Army was snatching up players he was bringing to Granite Falls.

  When our outfielder Billy Church got his draft notice, he was batting over 400! That was the straw that broke Charlie Bowels' back.

  On May 9th, 1951, Coach Bowels threw in the towel. He gave up coaching forever after his 3-10 season with Granite Falls. His last game was our 11-5 win over Lenoir, so Coach Bowels went out a winner. You have to hand it to the man. We started up poor as Job's turkey, but when he left us, he did leave some meat on the bone.

  For five days our Catcher, Ralph ‘Barny' Barnardini took over to skipper the ball club. And, his first game was that 13-9 win over Rutherford. For one brief shining moment, we had an undefeated coach. But, then Rutherford came back the next day and hammered us 23-3.

  Ralph lasted for five days, which was four games plus a double header. He gave up the reins on May 14th and his record was 1-5.

  On May 15th, Fred Dale who had coached the local mill team to the Piedmont League Championship in 1950, agreed to take over at the helm. I guess this really made sense because most of the players at that point were from that same Mill League team. And, our genuine Cuban short stop was out on the DL.

  Coach Dale had a simple strategy: get a man on base. He felt it was easier to get a walk than to get a hit. Why he hardly let the boys swing when the pitcher got behind the batter. If the count was two balls and no strikes or three and one, our boys just watched it go by.

  Coach Dale started out slow as the Graniteers lost both games of a double header to the Shelby Farmers.

  Then on May 17th, the Newton - Conover Twins came to town. The twins whipped us 12-5, even thought Jack Cla
rk hit three home runs on four trips to the plate.

  Coach Dale got his first professional win on Friday May 18th, with an 8-2 romp over Marion at home.

  The next day we played Marion at Marion. And, when pitcher Bill Harbour allowed just seven hits and two runs, the Graniteers got their third set of back to back victories for the season.

  Lawrence Smith of the Daily Record wrote, “Under the very capable management of Fred Dale of Hickory, the Granite Falls team continues to make a strong bid for a first division berth.”

  But, then we lost 9-5 and 9-6. Both games were against Lincolnton. On May 22nd, the Graniteers record stood at 7-19.

  On Wednesday night May 23rd, we took the bus up to play the Morganton Aggies. It was the best road game we played all year.

  Jack Clark did something I never thought I ever would live to see.

  Jack got three hits on five trips to the plate and scored all three times. But, the remarkable thing is that Jack Clark stole home twice in one game!

  After that game, I was pretty sure that Jack Clark could sneak sun up past a rooster.

  When Jack stole home that second time, it was the second of three immortal moments in the Graniteers 1951 season. I thought the Morganton catcher Fred Parnell was just going to lay down and cry.

  The next night, Fred Parnell did hit an 11th inning single that drove in a run, and Morganton beat us 8-7. So, I guess Fred got a share of redemption. In a hundred game season the ball is going to take some bad hops, and you just have to let it go by.

  But, I've always wondered if Fred Parnell would sit beside the fire in his old age, feeling those two steals like a painful catch in the ribs or a broken arm that never did heal quite right.

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  Chapter Eight – The Names Change but Nothing Else Does

  On May 28, 1951, Mr. Killian announced that we were changing our name. The Daily Record reported that M.B. Killian had, “notified various officials and sports writers that the Granite Falls team will henceforth be officially known as the ‘Granite Rocks' and not the ‘Graniteers.'”