Batboy on the Worst Team Ever! Page 8

  The thirteenth came and went with a single and a walk a piece but no runs were scored.

  Finally, after Max Deal turned on the lights, we went into the 14th inning still tied at 4-4.

  Bob Pugh came back in to start out the fourteenth and give Boney another breather. The first Morganton batter, Hal Harris got on base with a walk. Bob struck out the next batter. Then, Buck McAnulty singled for the Aggies and moved Harris to second.

  So, there we were in the top of the 14th inning. Morganton had a man at first and a man at second. That is when everyone present learned something special.

  That is when we learned about Official Rule 7.05 (h) paragraph three.

  Bob Pugh was on the mound and watching Morganton's Buck McAnulty out of the corner of his eye. Buck had a suicide lead off of first, so Bob wiped some dirt on his left leg signaling a pickoff play to Rock's first baseman, Toby Fellar.

  Bob appeared deep in thought. Apparently, he was concentrating exclusively on the next batter. Suddenly, he turned and whipped the ball to Fellar at first.

  The Morganton runner dived back to the base just as Fellar slid his glove down to tag him.

  Unfortunately, there was no ball in Fellar's glove.

  The first baseman never got a firm grip on the sphere. It hit the top of his glove's webbing, but slid out and rolled about five feet beyond the base.

  Meanwhile, right fielder Newton Rafer came running up to short stop the play. He was tearing in at full speed just as Fellar realized the ball was behind him. Fellar turned and dived for the ball, just as Rafer arrived.

  It was the worst hustle crash I have ever seen.

  Each player was so focused and trying so hard, they forgot about the other. Rafer was strait up and Fellar hit him low. As they smashed together, the outfielder went flying over the first baseman. He somersaulted and came down flat on his back, out cold!

  Feller, the first baseman, took a wicked shot. From across the field I could see his head snap back, as if he had caught a haymaker to the chin. Fellar staggered for a second, but he never went down. Instead, he shook his head and turned to find the ball. But, the baseball was not there on the ground where it had been. When they collided, the outfielder accidentally kicked the white sphere up the foul line towards the backstop. Now it was rolling slowly toward the Aggies' dugout.

  The next two seconds seemed to last forever. It was as if we were seeing it in slow motion.

  Fellar took off like a shot towards the dugout. He was doing his damndest to intercept that ball. I thought he was going to make it, until he ran over a black practice bat that lay almost hidden in the shadowed grass.

  Fellar's right foot hit that slick wooden surface, and he fell forward towards the dugout. He stretched his gloved out as he tumbled but that baseball was just beyond his reach.

  That little white pellet continued rolling slowly over the top cement step of the dugout where it hung for a second…

  And then dropped down inside.

  Umpire Tommy Lantana immediately threw up his hands and stopped play.

  ****************

  Of course there was plenty of confusion as Morganton base runners were running back and forth trying to figure out where they should be. Both managers came running over to Lantana for a ruling. For the Rocks that ruling came down as swift and painful as an executioner's sword.

  Naturally the crowd booed and yelled and fussed at the Ump. Bob Pugh argued until he was red in the face and came near to being ejected.

  But, what can you do? Lantana was right. It was all there in black and white.

  Official Rule 7.05(h) (Paragraph 3):

  If, however, the pitched or thrown ball goes through or by the catcher or through the fielder, and remains on the playing field, and is subsequently kicked or deflected into the dugout, stands or other area where the ball is dead, the awarding of bases shall be two bases from position of runners at the time of the pitch or throw.

  Umpire Lantana awarded two bases to the batter and two to each base runner. So, the batter went to second. The man at first went to third, and the man on second trotted home to score.

  Official Rule 7.05(h) (Paragraph 3) gave Morganton a go ahead run tied up with a bow on top. The Rocks were now trailing 5-4.

  Bob Pugh was too angry to pitch. He took himself out of the game and put Boney back in.

  Somehow Boney managed to focus and put the next two batters down. But, the damage was done. We were behind 5-4 which left just three outs for a miracle.

  ***************

  Gene Abernathy came up to start the 14th for Granite Falls, and even though he swatted at more imaginary flies, there was no free trip to first base this time. Gene was forced to swing. And although he is a fair hitter, he was no match for Cuervo on this night. Gene struck out on three pitches.

  Max Deal was next in the order. Max was batting well over .300 at the time. And he was patient and ready. He watched the first two go by. Then, Max swung, almost ahead of the pitch, and he got hold of a sinker and popped it up to right center field.

  I swear, if the wind had been blowing out, Max would have homered. Unfortunately, the breeze was coming in and stopped the ball short. The center fielder caught that would be dinger right at the fence.

  So, with two away, Chopper Gaines stepped up with that same short piece of MLB Grade Ash. The last game of the 1951 season would come down to a man with no toes and more heart than anyone I ever knew.

  The crowd was on its feet now. Fingers were crossed. We held our collective breath. And, most of all, we hoped and prayed for a miracle.

  The entire 1951 season had come down to this duel between the finest pitcher I have ever seen and the greatest hitter in Granite Falls history. It had come down to the best verses the best. It had come down to this very moment.

  Cuervo took his position on the mound and Chopper stepped into the box. And, it was on.

  *************

  Once more, Cuervo tried to pitch Chopper outside. But, this time Chopper watched three balls go by. Chop stood like a statue and let Cuervo dig that deep hole. He realized that with a three and oh count, Jimmy would be forced to throw one down the center.

  Everyone who attended the game knew it was coming. The fans all knew it. The players all knew it. And of course, Cuervo and Chopper both knew what it would be.

  It was the Heat.

  It was the blazing fast machine gun bullet right across the center of the plate. And, that pitch was exactly what Chopper Gaines was banking on.

  Chopper swung with all the pain and fear and determination a man with wounded feet could muster. And, he nailed that next pitch as it rocketed high across the middle.

  The bat cracked and my heart stopped. And I saw that horse hide sphere fly deep into left, just over the fielder's outstretched glove!

  It was not a home run. It was a solid hit. But, did that ash limb strike hard enough to get a toeless man on base?

  Chopper threw down his weapon and raced off like a three legged mule. He clomped and crashed his way toward first. And, it seemed like he was running in slow motion. Though, the crowd was roaring, I could not hear a sound. And I did not see the fans or the other players. Or, even the left fielder. All I could focus on was Chopper willing his way down the baseline. Running on the balls of toeless feet, each step like a paddle digging into the dirt. It was painful just to watch, but, slowly the distance closed between runner and base. Four paces became two paces became one. And, finally after breathless eons, Chopper Gaines stretched out and tagged that white cotton prize.

  Chopper did it! He made it safely to first base. Against the odds... Against the pain… Against the best pitcher I have ever seen.

  Then, Chopper and I both realized at the same time, that he had beaten the throw – because there was no through at all. Somehow, the left fielder was still hunting the ball.

  It was an extra base hit. So, Chopper Gaines took off for
second!

  Clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp.

  I cringed as he dug those bloodied feet into the base path. But, there was no hesitation in his stride. He just kept pushing with all he had.

  By now the fielder found the ball and hurled it from deep left all the way to second base but it was too late. Chopper slid in headfirst to beat the throw.

  But, the throw went wild! The adrenalin packed pitch passed way over the second baseman's glove.

  Suddenly, Chopper Gaines realized it was a missed ball. So, he pulled himself up and damned if he did not take off for third base!

  Once more, Chopper was clomping and digging with edges of his feet. He powered forward like a bulldozer plowing through the dirt. Meanwhile the Aggies’s first baseman and right fielder streaked toward the ball that rolled dead in shallow right.

  Chopper never even looked back. He just chugged and clomped. I winced as once more he threw himself into the dust and the ball came flying in above him.

  The Aggie third baseman reached up and plucked that orb out of midair. He was like fluid in motion, when he brought it down to tag the runner. But, he was a fraction of a second too late.

  Chopper Gaines was safe at third!

  It was the gutsiest thing I have ever seen before or since. I knew every step was tearing flesh from his toeless feet, and that he was now wearing a second pair of ‘two toned' socks. I had tears in my eyes when he stood up on third base and brushed the dirt off his shirt and pants.

  And, that was the third immortal moment of the 1951 Granite Falls season.

  Every fan in the stadium was on his feet. Men were hugging. Women were crying. Fans were chanting ‘Chopper', ‘Chopper', ‘Chopper'. It was pandemonium!

  Bob Pugh came out of the dugout and waved his arms and encouraged the fans to yell even louder.

  Finally, Chopper Gaines took off his cap and waved it to the crowd. At that point I knew we were the best bad baseball team in the whole wide world!

  **************

  Bill Smith came up to bat following Chopper once again. I felt sorry for him as he fought Jimenez Cuervo for the last time that evening.

  Bubba fought the good fight. And, he had a good eye. He watched balls go by, and he only swung at the strikes.

  He took the count to 3-2 and then fouled off a couple but; he was forced to swing at one of those blurring Cuervo fast balls right down the center. And, Bubba was a fraction of a second too late.

  Bubba Smith struck out to end the inning, the game, and the season.

  It was all over.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty – Wrap Up

  The Granite Falls professional baseball team, the Granite Falls Graniteers/Granite Rocks finished up 14-96. We lost 33 straight games and 59 of our last 60. But, we did finish the season and we were competitive to the very last pitch and, that counted more than our dismal record.

  And, mostly it was a season of ifs.

  If the National Guard had not called up so many good players…

  If we could have held on to our top talent…

  If we had more time to prepare for the start of the season…

  If Bubba Smith had gotten one last hit…

  If. If. If.

  If we had won our last game, the 1899 Cleveland Spiders would have the worst record in baseball, instead of us. But that loss earned us a permanent corner in the cellar of baseball history.

  However, we did what we started out to do.

  We brought professional baseball to our little town and in spite of long odds and countless setbacks, we never quit. We did finish our one and only season in the Western Carolina League.

  There would never be another.

  Along the way, something special happened. We became the first professional sports team in the entire South to brake the color barrier. And, although we did not change the world, we did change some people and, that is always the first step.

  Sportswriter Grantland Rice once wrote, “It's not whether you win or lose. It's how you play the game.”

  For the 1951 Rocks it was not whether we won or lost. It was whether we got to play the game at all.

  There were lots of times we could have quit. But, the '51 Rocks kept playing, for one simple reason. We loved baseball. We flat out loved the game.

  And when you think about it, that is probably why those Negro League players signed on with us.

  Because when you really, really love something…

  You just have to share it.

 

  Some people might think that the 1951 Granite Falls Granite Rocks was a team full of losers. And, if you judge us by our record they could be right. But, that ball club from that little mountain town in North Carolina over came adversity and ignorance. And, instead of giving up and quitting, the 51 Rocks had the courage to try something that no other team had ever tried before. And that was back in 1951 – during the greatest summer of my life.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Historical Note: As far as we know, none of those African American players ever played profession baseball again.

  Boney Fleming moved to Morganton, NC where he spent 30 years driving a cab. Gene Abernathy married a teacher in Hickory, NC. Gene moved there and eventually became the Director of the Ridgeview Community Center. Russell Shuford went to work for the City of Hickory, where he was a little league Umpire for decades. Christopher Rankin, moved to Washington, DC. And, Bill ‘Big Bubba' Smith disappeared after the mill closed back in 1986. He may still alive but, there are a lot of Bubbas in the South.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  “You just can't beat the person who never gives up.”

  Babe Ruth

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  About the Author:

  Matt Musson was born in Austin, TX and grew up in San Antonio. He earned two degrees at the University of Texas and moved east to work for Ross Perot as a Systems Analyst. He has developed systems for Planters Peanuts, LifeSavers Candies, Sara Lee, and Bank of America.

  Matt is currently in North Carolina developing banking software and working part-time for the Charlotte Bobcats. He has four incredible children: Skye, McClain, Granath, and Chandler. Matt collects vintage rodeo belt buckles and Indian jewelry when he is not prospecting for Carolina gold and emeralds.

  ******************************

  Secret Alternative Chapter 18!!!

  Author’s Note:

  Below you will find the original Chapter 18. At the request of my editor at Baker Tritten Press, I rewrote the Chapter excluding the word “FART.” Because Baker Tritten Press catered to the Home School market he was afraid the word would offend, “some of our Dear Mothers.”

  However, if you are not offended by that word, feel free to read the original Chapter below.

  Matt Musson

  Alternate Chapter Nineteen – The King of Farts

  Peanut Fart Wilson quit coming to our games in August of 1951. I guess he just got tired of watching us lose.

  I am sure the fellas sitting in the press box were happy that he gave up on the Rocks. They could certainly breathe easier with Mr. Wilson only a memory, fragrant as it might be.

  You see whenever he came to the ball park; Mr. Wilson would stop by the concession stand and pick up three bags of roasted peanuts. Then he would wander up to his seat in the press box and attack those salty legumes like a black bear devours the first salmon of springtime, appeasing the gnawing hunger of a winter long fast.

  No beaver alive could crunch through aspen faster than Mr. Wilson could grind through those light brown peanut coverings. Nor could that beaver hope to amass a pile of shavings to rival the shell litter that accumulated at Mr. Wilson's feet.

  He usually finished all three bags before the first pitch of the game. So, if you timed things just right, you could arrive before the game started but after th
e peanut carnage was complete. Peanut Fart's overloaded digestive system was a ticking time bomb. No human body could ever contain that level of pressured peanut methane for long.

  Now, in baseball, we have a tradition called the seventh inning stretch. It's when fans rise to stretch the muscles that may have stiffened while they sat watching the game.

  Unfortunately, when Mr. Wilson rose up, it was not just the muscles in his legs that got stretched!

  The baseball reporters said that when Peanut Fart stood up it was like a ‘smelly symphony in the press box'. They claimed that when the fans sang ‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game', Mr. Wilson accompanied them on the Butt Trumpet!

  But, Peanut Fart Wilson did serve a purpose for the Granite Falls Rocks. He was the official record scorer for the team. Because he quit coming to the stadium, the statistics for last sixteen games of our season were never compiled or forwarded to the Howe News Bureau in Atlanta, Ga. So the Western Carolina League will forever have a blind spot covering those final Rocks games. The Official Baseball Guide and Record Book says:

  “Note – Sixteen games missing from averages due to failure of Granite Falls’ scorer to send box scores, but standing is complete.”

  Because of Peanut Fart Wilson, the Western Carolina League has no detailed written records of the five black men that played for the 1951 Granite Falls Rocks. Some years later a fire at the Chrysler Dealership destroyed the contracts and agreements and paperwork for the entire team.

  Aside from a few columns in the Hickory Daily Record, there is no written history of those amazing events of August and September 1951.

  So, when it came to the last game of the 1951 Granite Falls Granite Rocks – you just had to be there!