Batboy on the Worst Team Ever!

by Matt Musson

  I always figured that if it had not been so dang cold at Valley Forge, we would have sent those Redcoats packing way before the 4th of July. I bet we could have cleared them out by early spring, at least by Opening Day. Then we could have honored Tom Paine properly. He could have thrown out the first pitch. That would have been a great way to start the baseball season!

  Now, as far as I know, Thomas Paine never did get to throw out the first pitch. That is pretty sad when it comes right down to it. What is even sadder is that Ben Franklin and George Washington never got to throw out a first pitch either.

  I mean, come on. If I owned the Washington Senators I would certainly have let the ‘Father of Our Country' throw out the first pitch anytime he felt like coming out to the park. And, I would have at least asked Ben Franklin to coach third base or something. After all, if you can discover electricity you are bound to be able to wave a runner home.

  But, then you know what they say about Washington: “First in war, first in peace, and last in the American League."

  Anyway, today, we honor Thomas Paine, Ben Franklin, and George Washington because they had staying power. They were not sunshine patriots. They went the distance. In fact, I am pretty sure that Ben Franklin is the one who made up the saying, “Quitters never win, and winners never quit.” (Although, I guess it could have been Mark Twain.)

  Anyway, what all this boils down to is that the ‘51 Rocks had a Sunshine Patriot in our midst: Mr. P. F. Wilson. After the Rocks nosedived through late Summer and lost 44 of 45 games, Mr. Wilson showed his Sunshine Patriot rear end and just quit coming out to the park.

  Well, that was okay by me, because I figured we were better off without him and anyone else who did not want to be there.

  Unfortunately, Mr. Wilson did serve a purpose for the Granite Falls Rocks. He was the official record scorer for the team. And, because he quit coming to the stadium, the statistics for last sixteen games of our season were never compiled and forwarded to the Howe News Bureau in Atlanta, Ga. So, the Western Carolina League will forever have a blind spot covering those final games of the Rocks season. 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.”

  On account of P. F. Wilson, the Western Carolina League has no detailed written records of the five black men that played for the 1951 Granite Falls Rocks. There are no batting averages, no ERA's, no nothing.

  Some years later a fire at the Chrysler Dealership destroyed the contracts and agreements and paperwork for the entire team.

  Today, aside from a few surviving columns in the Hickory Daily Record, there is no documentation at all of those amazing events of August and September 1951.

  So, when it came to that very last game of the 1951 Granite Falls Granite Rocks – there was no other option. You just had to be there!

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Chapter Nineteen – Finale

  It was the last game of the 1951 season. We were 14-95. We had lost 32 games straight and 58 of our last 59.

  We had been close many times. We'd lost half a dozen in extra innings and though a lot of people gave up on us, we never gave up on ourselves.

  We lost money. We lost fans. We lost players. But the dream of Professional Baseball in Granite Falls never died.

  On September 3rd, 1951, we met the Morganton Aggies on Saturday Night in the Granite Falls Stadium. It was our chance to go out a winner.

  Russell Shuford was out with a broken finger, but we had three colored players going into that final game. As luck would have it, Morganton was starting their ‘Cuban' right-hander, ‘Jimmy' Cuervo.

  It was certainly the first Western Carolina League game with colored players on both teams!

  We got to the stadium early that morning and Shine and I shared our last Hygomia of the season. Grandma Tooley threw a couple of moon pies into my lunchbox, so we could go out in style.

  After Hygomia, we went straight to work getting the stadium and our equipment into tip top shape. I wiped down all the bats and filled the rosin bags and painted the pine tar grips. Shine cleaned up the players shoes and put an extra layer of polish on the leather. Chopper and Big Bubba were diligently sweeping and trimming and sprucing up the place and putting down fresh chalk lines on the field and the Granite Falls Stadium looked better than it had in years.

  President Roosevelt would have been proud.

  The game started at five, but the entire team was on hand two hours early. Bob Pugh got us together before the pregame warm-up.

  “Fellas,” he said. “This is going to be tough game to win. The Aggies are leading the league, and they have a bigger roster and a lot more experience playing together than we do. So, I don't see how we are going to win this game tonight, without some help.”

  (So far it was not much of a pep talk.)

  “For that reason I have made arrangements to add two more professional baseball players to our team for this last game.”

  All right! I thought. We sure can use some fresh blood. I looked around and did not see any new faces.

  “So, let me introduce the two newest members of the Granite Falls Rocks.”

  Bob reached down and picked up a brown paper bag that was lying beside him on the grass. I wondered if he was planning to pull a ballplayer out of the shopping bag like a magician pulls a rabbit out of a hat.

  Instead of ball players, Coach Pugh reached inside and pulled out a jersey and a cap. Then, he walked over and handed them to Chopper Gaines.

  “Chopper,” he said. “You are starting at third base.”

  Then, he pulled out another shirt and cap. Coach handed them over to Big Bubba Smith.

  “Bubba, you're catching.”

  We were stunned, which was good because it kept me from crying in front of the guys.

  Bubba and Chopper were going to play baseball! I could not believe it. In the back of my mind, I could hear Finley German's words once more, “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.”

  Bob put down the sack and began clapping. We all joined in and the guys all starting slapping our two newest Rocks on the back.

  “Okay, gentlemen,” Bob said. “Let's get out there and warm up. Stretch out. Get that blood pumping and get yourselves ready!”

  He added enthusiastically, “tonight, we are going to play some ‘Good Baseball'.”

  Most of the guys grabbed a ball, a glove, or a bat and headed out onto the field. Chopper and Bubba headed for the clubhouse to change.

  “I can't believe it! I can't believe it!” Bubba said grinning like the lead jockey in a one horse race.

  “I've cut the grass and raked the dirt and treated this field like I owned it. I never ever thought I would get to play on it.”

  Bubba kept shaking his head, “I'm really playing for the team! I can't believe it.”

  He explained, “I got Momma a ticket for the game. I wanted her to see the colored players. Now she's gonna see her very own baby boy playing White Baseball!”

  “Hot Damn! Thank you, Jesus!”

  Chopper could not find his voice at all. He just walked over to the clubhouse shaking his head back and forth, back and forth.

  When he got inside, he turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face as if he needed to wake up or something. Then he put on his shirt and changed his pants and he took off his street shoes. He was so rattled he forgot to put his cleats on. He walked out of the building in his stocking feet. He had to come back inside to get shod.

  It was great!

  * * * * * * * * * *

  At five o'clock sharp the Umpire yelled, “Play Ball” and the final game of the 1951 Granite Falls Graniteers / Granite Rocks got underway.

  Now we all know there are seven ways to get on base safely in baseball: a hit, a walk, an error, being hit
by the pitch, a dropped third strike, catcher interference, and fielder's choice. Heck, I was just a kid, and I knew that.

  But, before the final game of the 1951 season was over, we were all going to learn that Official Rule 7.05(h) (Paragraph 3) provided an eighth way for a runner to get onboard. And, that stupid rule would be forever seared into the memories of anyone who played, watched, or worked at Granite Falls Stadium on that fateful September evening.

  The match started off slow and tight. It was a pitcher’s duel for the first four innings. There were no hits. There were no walks. No one got anywhere near the bases.

  Boney Fleming took the mound for the Rocks. Though his fast ball was not exactly burning up the plate, tonight he had pin point control.

  He was like a mechanic out there. Boney did not throw pitches he assembled them. With speed changes and curves and placements, it was hard to tell if he was pitching baseballs or playing chess with the batters. He just took them apart, one by one.

  Of course Jimmy Cuervo started for the Aggies. When he pitched, he brought everything he had. It seemed like he was throwing rockets instead of baseballs. It was not a baseball game. It was a trial. And, Jimmy Cuervo was judge, jury, and executioner.

  Personally, I am partial to offense. I love to hear the bat crack and watch runners beat out the throw. So, usually I find no hitters kind of boring but, with these two hurlers going at it I was glued to my seat so tight I couldn't sit down. Each pitch was a nail biter. There was nothing boring about this match up.

  Of course it could not go on forever. And, in the top of the fifth, the Aggies’s leadoff man hit a bloop single into right field. Boney got the next batter to ground into a double play and confounded the third. So, even with a hit, there was no harm done.

  Now it was our turn.

  Chopper Gaines led off in the bottom of the fifth and I don't know if I ever saw a batter more determined to get on base. He was actually slapping his own face and shouting, “What the hell you doing out there, Chop? You finally get a chance to bat, and you strike out? This is it buddy. You are on the Last Chance Express. You have got to make this count!”

  Going out to the plate, I handed Chopper his favorite bat but he waved me off. Instead, he reached down and picked up the smallest, lightest bat of the bunch. And, when he stepped into the batter's box, Chopper choked way up on the hard wood. And, he gritted his teeth.

  Of course, Cuervo was not stupid. He saw all this going on. So, he started Chopper off with a couple that were at a perfect height but just outside the strike zone.

  Chopper did not fall for it. He watched both go by and took the two balls like an early Christmas present.

  On his third pitch, I guess Cuervo felt he had to throw a strike. So he wound up and uncorked a scorcher but Chopper was waiting for him.

  Crack!

  Chopper put the ball just outside the first baseman's reach and right down the line. The right fielder was nowhere close to where he needed to be.

  Now a faster runner could have stretched that hit into a double. But, Chopper ran without toes. His legs were churning but his gate was clunky. The balls of the feet sort of chopped into the base paths, and he ran on the front edges of his shoes. But, Chopper made it all the way to first base and it was Jimmy Cuervo's turn to yell at himself.

  In a small town, everyone knows everyone. And, every fan in the bleachers that night knew the sacrifice that Chopper made for his country. We also knew what kind of courage it took for a toeless man to run the bases.

  That crowd got up on its feet and roared!

  The crowd was still cheering when Bubba followed Chopper to the plate.

  Bubba was a tough situation. He would have to hit a least a double, just to move Chopper on to second safely. A sacrifice fly or a bunt was not going to do the job.

  Bubba looked over the bats we had and reached down for 34 inch stick of natural ash that was white and unblemished. Then he stepped into the batter’s box and, for the first time all day Bill ‘Bubba' Smith was not smiling.

  Bubba knew a walk was better than a hit in this situation, so he crowded the strike zone until it almost disappeared.

  It made me wonder if Bubba was trying get hit by the ball.

  That's when Cuervo made his second mistake of the inning. And, he really paid for this one.

  He tossed a first ball fast ball that was low and outside but, Bubba with his long arms had no problem stepping into it with his unblemished branch.

  Crack!

  Bubba hit a line drive. It was a line drive unlike any line drive I had ever seen.

  That ball just would not fall. It was a power shot that kept going and going. It slid just over the outfield fence by no more than a gnat's whisker and, some freeloader out past center field got a complimentary souvenir.

  It was a home run. Bubba and Chopper took their time rounding the bases. And just like that, the Rocks were up 2-0.

  Oh boy! Jimmie Cuervo was hopping mad after getting burned for that home run. He threw his glove down and stomped on it. After that, if he could have shot bullets instead of baseballs, I think he would have.

  Cuervo started tossing fire like a man possessed. Those next nine pitches were so fast that they actually blurred my vision. With nine strikes in a row, Cuervo put down the next three batters: pop, pop, pop. Then, Cuervo's poor catcher went into the dugout and put his hand into a bucket of ice.

  Boney started out in the top of the sixth inning by walking the first Morganton batter. But, he came back and struck out the next two. It looked like he had everything under control.

  Unfortunately, the next four batters hit safely. By the time the fifth one flew out to end the side, the Aggies had grabbed the lead 4-2.

  The Rocks came to bat in the bottom of the sixth down by two. For the first time Cuervo began to look like he was slowing down. Maybe finishing up the last inning with all those blurring fast balls took something out of him. Whatever it was, he was no longer unhittable.

  Max Deal started off our at bat with a nice ground ball single. Then, David Yount took Cuervo to a full count before he blooped a single to left.

  David went to first and Max advanced to second. That's when our rally ended. Cuervo threw two strike outs and the fifth batter popped up to the first baseman. We stranded two and got no runs. So, we returned to the field.

  The seventh and eighth innings followed with no scoring and no runners even got to second base. So, when the ninth inning came around, we were still trailing 4-2.

  The first Aggie up grounded out to the shortstop. The second went down swinging. The third popped out to shallow center field where Gene Abernathy was waiting.

  The Aggies went down: one, two, three.

  But, they did not have to score. We did.

  It was the bottom of the ninth, and we were just three outs away from the end of the season.

  Bob Pugh did not have to tell us. We all knew it was do or die time.

  Chris Rankin started the inning and when the count went to 3-2, he hit four foul balls in a row. Unfortunately, he popped the fifth one up to the catcher. And, it was one away.

  The next batter up was Gene Abernathy. Gene had also played with on the Asheville Blues and knew Shoofly Brown from the old days. So, when Gene got into the batter’s box he suddenly called time and stepped back out.

  For a second he danced about waving his hand around his head. I wondered what the heck he was doing. Then, it finally hit me that he was ‘shoeing away flies'.

  When Gene finally stepped back into the box, Cuervo sent him a message. Luckily, Gene turned away from that bean ball and took a glancing hit on his left shoulder but he still went down hard. After he got back to his feet, he rubbed that shoulder all the way to first base.

  Max Deal followed Gene. Max was the facility manager for the stadium, and I never met anyone who loved baseball more than Max.

  Max crowded the plate under the assumption that Cu
ervo would not bean two batters in a row. But, when an inside fastball almost took his head off; he had to rethink his strategy.

  Max stepped back and waited for one across the dish and two pitches later, he got it.

  Crack!

  The ball shot out from the bat, right down the first base line. We all held our breath. And, damn if that ball did not hit the foul pole and bounce right smack down onto the field.

  But, it was fair – and a home run.

  The hometown crowd went wild. And Gene and Max made a quick circle, touching them all.

  We were tied up once again 4-4.

  Cuervo struck out the next two Rock's batters in a row. I missed the first one because Chopper Gaines sent me into the clubhouse for an ace bandage and a fresh pair of socks.

  I missed the second one, because I was helping Chopper pull off his cleats.

  When they slid off I gasped.

  It looked like Chopper was wearing two tone socks. Except, they were not two tone, the feet of his socks were soaked red, with blood!

  When Chopper slipped off his sodden socks, I could see that he was bleeding heavily from the front of his feet where his toes used to be.

  Damn those Damnkrauts!

  Chopper took a towel and wiped them off. Then he found some gauze somewhere. With gauze and an ace bandage he wrapped up those stubby bleeding feet. He covered them up in a fresh pair of white socks and gingerly slid his cleats back on.

  “Good as new,” he said with a pained smile.

  I don't think the sweat on his forehead was a product of the September heat.

  Bob Pugh came out on the mound in the 10th inning just to spell Boney for a bit. That seemed like it might have been a bad decision when the first batter up singled and the second got a walk. The third batter hit a line drive to the short stop who tagged the runner at second for two quick outs. The next batter fouled out, and we got out of the side without any permanent damage.

  Unfortunately, the Rocks only got one walk and no hits in the tenth. So, we rolled on into the eleventh.

  No one got on base in the eleventh for either team. But, in the twelfth, Ted Yount hit a double. He moved to third on a sacrifice bunt, but that was as far as he got.