Batboy on the Worst Team Ever!

by Matt Musson

  In the distance I could see Bubba using clippers to trim the grass along the left field fence. Luckily he did not see me.

  I just sat there alone.

  As I said before, whenever you are feeling sorry for yourself life will give you something to be sorry for.

  So, now I was up here feeling sorry for real.

  I had my head in my hands, and I did not see anyone approaching but suddenly someone was there.

  I looked up.

  Shine was standing above, looking down.

  I did not know what to say. So, I did not say anything.

  “I am sorry about your Father,” Shine finally said.

  “Thanks,” I said. “So am I.”

  “I was going to bring you some Jell-O,” Shine said. “But, I did not know your favorite flavor. Plus we were out of ice. So, I couldn't make it anyway.“

  “That's okay, Shine. We've got enough Jell-O at my house to make a wiggly snowman.”

  He smiled. “That would be something to see, a Jell-O snowman.”

  I smiled back at him and nodded.

  That's when he reached into his pocket. He had to put his hand in way down deep in those loose fitting hand-me-down pants but, eventually he pulled an out an old weathered hard ball and he offered it to me.

  “I got this for you,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I replied. “But you didn't have to. I have plenty of baseballs.”

  Shine grinned as if he knew a secret.

  “But, this is that immortal homerun ball that you are always talking about. This is the baseball that Wally Carpenter hit on opening day.”

  “Holy cow!” I jumped to my feet. I took it in my hands as if it was made of glass. “You found it?”

  “Yep,” he said. “It was way out there. I found five others while I was looking for this one, but this immortal ball was way far out. It was way beyond all the others, half buried in red clay and covered in weeds.”

  “Wow!” was all I could say.

  And, for the next hour we sat there in the bleachers admiring that immortal baseball and being friends.

  After a while, we got up and left the ballpark. We went on back to my house, where we ate seven different colors of Jell-O and they all tasted the same. Finally, Grandma Tooley made us go outside after she caught us playing baseball in the kitchen with those wiggly little squares

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Chapter Sixteen – Crises Time

  Mr. Finley German, majority owner of the Granite Falls Rocks, had to be the richest man I knew. He owned the local Chrysler dealership, and I am pretty sure he had more money than anyone else in Granite Falls. He might well have been the wealthiest person in the entire Catawba Valley.

  You could tell he was rich because he drove a brand new Chrysler Imperial Convertible with Auto Fluid Drive Transmission - that shifted all by itself!

  They called it ‘America's Smartest Car', and you did not even have to hit the clutch. As a matter of fact, it did not even have a clutch!

  Gosh! What will they think of next?

  I just loved to stand close to that shiny black convertible and listen to the big V8 purr. I would pretend I was sitting in the front seat driving it down to Hickory, to the brand new outside movie theatre.

  Boy, it must be nice to be rich!

  Even though Mr. German had money, he behaved like a regular Joe. He talked to everyone. He loved to tell the worst stories and jokes that you have ever heard in your life.

  Whenever he would come into the clubhouse, he would seek me out to share his latest groaner.

  “Hey, Bobby,” he would say. “What's the Mexican Food weather report?”

  “I don't know, Mr. German.”

  “Chili today – Hot tamale!”

  Or,

  “Hey, Bobby, did you hear about the two silkworms that decided to race?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “They ended up in a tie!”

  And, one joke hit a little close to home.

  “Hey, Bobby, how do you make a small fortune in baseball?”

  “I don't know, Mr. German.”

  “You start with a large fortune!”

  Now we all knew that Mr. German was losing a lot of money on our team, and even though he was rich I was not sure how long he could keep watching his fortune dwindle.

  In spite of his loses, Mr. German was always positive and upbeat and he always seemed so determined to keep the team going and finish out the season.

  Once he stopped by the clubhouse, and it was just him and me. So, I asked Mr. German why he kept the ball club going even though he was losing money.

  “Bobby,” he said. “I made promises to the players and the fans and the community. Just because I am losing money, I still have to live up to my promises. They don't just go away. Besides, if it was always easy to keep your promises then what good would a promise be?”

  I began to wonder if I should be writing this stuff down. Mr. German just kept on making sense.

  “It does not take much of a business man to shut down a place and fire people. Anyone can do that but, it takes a real man to live up to his obligations.”

  “Don't worry, Bobby,” said Mr. German as he slapped me on the back. “We are doing something special here. We will finish this season, no matter what it takes!”

  But, in spite of Mr. German's optimism, things were clearly touch and go. Players kept leaving and eventually the team’s core shrank down to mostly local Mill League veterans. Most of them had good day jobs, and they did not want to leave the area to join other teams. So, we could count on the Mill Leaguers to stay to the end of the season.

  At least that's what we thought.

  Then, in late August the Catawba Valley contingent of the National Guard was called up for the Korean War. When those boys went off to fight, we lost more of our core players. That left us with just eight players for a nine man game!

  For three days, Coach Pugh was on the phone, begging and pleading for someone to come to Granite Falls to help us finish off the season but no one wanted to sign on for a small town and a losing team.

  It looked like the dream of professional baseball in Granite Falls was coming to an end.

  On August 27th, we were supposed to play double header on the road against the Newton-Conover twins. Coach Pugh was in his little clubhouse office bright and early calling anyone he could think of trying to pick up just one more player. But, when Mr. German came in around 10:30, Coach Pugh stepped out of his office. He was shaking his head and looking down at his feet.

  “I am sorry, Sir,” Bob said dejectedly. “I have called everybody I know of, everybody I can think of, and everybody I ever heard of, just trying to get one more player for today's games. If there's a ballplayer to be had in all the Carolinas, I don't know where he's hiding.”

  Mr. German walked over and put a comforting arm on Coach Pugh's shoulder.

  “Bob,” he said. “You have done a great job for this team and for this town. You have kept us going and you've kept us competitive in one of the toughest baseball leagues in America. Son, you hold your head up high. You don't have anything to feel sorry about. You should be proud of the job you have done here against some mighty long odds.”

  Mr. German slapped Coach Pugh on the back and then turned to address the room. Of course, Shine and Chopper and I were the only ones in the room besides the Coach, but Mr. German acted as if he was addressing a crowd.

  “Gentlemen,” he announced. “We have reached a crisis point. We have four more games to play but we cannot play with an eight man roster. We cannot field a team for this afternoon's games against the Twins, and it would seem that our season is over. Bob has tried everything in his power, and he assures me there are no players available. I believe that he is absolutely right. So, it appears that we have no option but to give up and fold the team.”

  “But…” He paused. Then his eyes twinkled, and he began to smile!
<
br />   “Maybe this crisis is just an opportunity in disguise.”

  Huh?

  “Maybe, this is our chance to do something that is going to wake up our sleepy little town.”

  What is he talking about?

  “Maybe this is our opportunity to shake up Carolina Baseball – and do something that nobody's ever done before.”

  Now I was completely confused. Was he talking about forfeiting the game? Or, folding the club? That was not real original. Lots of other teams were going bust. I doubted if anyone would notice if we disappeared.

  “Boys,” he said. “There is something I have been thinking about doing for the last two months. Now the time has come. When there is nothing to lose, you might as well do the right thing.”

  Mr. German turned and started heading for the door. There was a smile on his face and a purpose in his stride. As he reached to exit, he yelled over his shoulder.

  “I am going to get us some ballplayers. I'll be back as soon as I can. If I'm not here in time, you take the bus on over. I'll catch up with you along the way!”

  Mr. German tore off like a bat out of you know where. We had no idea what he had up his sleeve but we did what he told us and kept hoping for a miracle. I finished cleaning and packing the equipment and Shine scraped and polished the shoes. Then, we helped Chopper and Big Bubba load up the bus.

  When all seven players assembled around 11:30, Coach Pugh (who was the eighth) had everyone board up. After a couple of tries he started up the stubborn old bus engine, closed the door, and we drove off down the highway.

  We had no idea what lay ahead.

  **************

  About 45 minutes later we passed through Hickory and turned on to Highway 70 going east. That's when we found our answer in the backseat of a 1951 Chrysler Imperial.

  The big Convertible came flying up behind us with the top down, and the horn was honking and honking. Everyone but our driver, rushed down the aisle to the rear of the bus, and what we saw amazed us all.

  Mr. German was behind the wheel, smiling and laughing. Beside him in the passenger seat was one of the Rock's co-owners, John Warwick and in the Chrysler's big back seat were three ball players in uniform.

  And, all three of them were black!

  ******************

  So, we were going to play baseball that day after all. And, we were going to do something no Southern professional sports team had ever done. We were integrating an all white league.

  If I live to be a hundred, I'll never forget the pep talk Mr. German gave us before we took the field.

  “Gentlemen,” he said. “It's time for the baseball community to realize that God only put one race on this green Earth: the human race. I believe the Good Lord put us here to do the right thing. So, that is exactly what we are going to do no matter what.”

  Mr. German went on to explain, "It’s the right thing for the Rocks, and it's the right thing for baseball.”

  Then, in his mellow baritone voice he began singing quietly.

  “Jesus loves the little children.”

  “All the children of the world.”

  Then, the whole team joined in and the music swelled.

  “Red and yellow, black and white. “

  “They are precious in his sight. “

  “Jesus loves the little children of the world.”

  It was game time.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Chapter Seventeen – The Final Stretch

  We found out later that when Mr. German left us that morning, he drove over to the Falls Cotton Mill run by Rock's co-owner John Warlick. Mr. German knew that Falls Mill sponsored a baseball team for the colored employees. In the fewest words possible, Mr. German explained the situation and proposed a radical solution. In no time the two conspirators were hurrying downstairs, where they pulled two players out of the spinning room and one from the weaving room.

  Our new teammates grabbed uniforms from their lockers and changed in the back seat of the Imperial, on the road to Conover. They signed their brand new baseball contracts along the way.

  In a fairy tale world, we would have swept the Twins that day buoyed by the rightness of our cause. But, with eleven players playing together for the first time, on the road, we still got smacked.

  Leo Kantorski pitched both games for the Twins, and they walloped us 9-5 and 6-2. He gave up nine hits in the first game but held us to just three hits in the second. In the Daily Record the next day, Leo got top billing:

  “Leo Kantorski Pulls Iron Man Stunt with Two Wins” was the headline for the newspaper's report.

  Farther down in his piece the sportswriter did acknowledge our new colored team mates, making sure to point out they all played baseball at Ridgeview High School in Hickory.

  “The first Negro players to see action in the Class D Western Carolina league played for Granite Falls. All three of the colored men to play hail from Ridgeview at Hickory. Russell Shuford worked behind the plate the major portion of both games for the Rocks. Christopher Rankin pitched two innings of the first game and two and two-thirds innings in the second game. Gene Abernathy, one of Ridgeview's top all-around athletes, went in as a pinch-hitter in the first game and played center field in the second game. Neither of the trio got a hit and Shuford was charged with two errors.”

  Of course the Daily Record had to finish their story:

  “The second game marked Granite Falls' 27th straight loss, breaking their earlier record of twenty-six straight.”

  So, we did it. We integrated our baseball team and the amazing thing to me was, no one objected.

  No one even seemed to notice!

  There were no protests. There were no rallies. In fact, I did not hear any rude comments from the Conover fans at all.

  I guess this had been coming for a while. It had been going on up North and when it finally got to the Carolina League people were ready for it.

  The one thing that I did notice, however, was that the crowd at the second game was much larger than the crowd at the first. In fact, there was a whole section of colored fans that suddenly showed up and sat at the end of the bleachers over towards first base.

  Surprisingly, the colored fans sat quietly. It was as if the sight of black players on the same field with white players mesmerized them. They did not yell or cheer. They just sat stunned.

  All through the second game, the crowd kept swelling. Black and white fans heard that something extraordinary was taking place. They rushed to the ballpark in Conover to see history being made.

  The fans recognized the significance, even if the Daily Record only gave it second billing.

  Two days later we played the Marauders at their home in Marion. We went in feeling like maybe we had a chance to pull off the upset. The day before Bill Pugh picked up Boney Flemming, a former starting pitcher for the Asheville Blues. Pitching had always been the Rock’s downfall.

  Unfortunately, Boney was a little past his prime and rusty from not playing for a while. He just could not stand up to those Marion batters. He gave up five runs in the third inning. So, we ended up taking the loss 10-3.

  On top of losing, Russell Shuford our new catcher was hit by a tipped foul and it twisted his finger backwards. It was bent sideways and clearly broken, and Russell’s season was over, cut short after just three games.

  On a more positive note though, the Daily Record account of the game actually highlighted the Rocks.

  MARAUDERS 10, ROCKS 3

  With four Negroes in the lineup, the first to play on a white baseball team in North Carolina, the Granite Falls Rocks went down in favor of Marion’s Marauders, 10-3.

  Our losing streak continued but something unusual was happening. The crowds were swelling instead of shrinking. Fans were pouring into the games. In fact, I believe our game in Marion drew the biggest crowd since ‘Black Cat Night' in early June.

  It's funny how things work out. It required a lot of courage on
Mr. German's part to add black players to the roster (not to mention the bravery of the players themselves). None of was sure what was going to happen. We were all a little fearful that a riot might even break out during that first game, but Mr. German did the right thing anyway. He took a huge chance and signed colored players to contracts in the all-white Carolina league.

  Now his courageous decision was bringing fans into the stadium. It was actually helping the team.

  Who would have thought it?

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Chapter Eighteen – Sunshine Patriots and Quitters

  Thomas Paine once said, “These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country.”

  I know these words by heart because my fourth grade history teacher, Mrs. Saurbottom, made me memorize them. She told us that Tom Paine was an important person in the Revolutionary War and he served his country by helping kick out those dang Redcoats.

  Now the Redcoats are another group, I will never understand. According to Mrs. Saurbottom, they were all upset because a group of Boston Yankees called ‘the Sons of Liberty' dumped their tea out into Boston harbor. So, they went around closing newspapers and taking away people's rights.

  Now don't get me wrong. If someone knocked my tea into the harbor on purpose, I am sure that it would get me all riled up too. Especially, if it was a hot day, and I was thirsty. I am the kind of guy that would probably offer them a knuckle sandwich, unless they bought me a whole new glass. But, for some reason, when the redcoats lost all their tea, they did not want fresh tea. Instead, it made them want to shut down people's printing presses.

  Does that make sense to anybody?

  It sure does not make sense to me. Plus, I can't help thinking those Redcoats were a bit on the crazy side to begin with. I mean, standing up in the middle of a battlefield as if they were lined up for a fire drill, can't be the first page in anybody's playbook. Whoever thought that one up must have had an elevator that did not go all the way to the top, if you know what I mean?