In a reversal of the earlier meeting between the Grizzlies and the Blues, the Grizzlies put on a sterling performance, managing to keep the Blues to just a few runs. Gopher Piddington proved to be the star of the outfield when the starting left fielder injured himself trying to run down a slicing line drive. Gopher was moved to left field to replace the injured man and a bench player was inserted into right.
A half dozen times, Gopher’s accurate arm threw out runner after runner, saving the day and allowing the Grizzlies to remain in the game.
When it was all over, the Blues had once again defeated the Grizzlies, but only by the narrowest of margins. The final score was 11 to 10, a hard-fought but rewarding loss for the Grizzlies. They had played well against the best team in the league and kept up with some of major league’s best players imported from the big cities in the east.
The trip back down to Denver was joyful, even in defeat.
WINTERING OVER
With the base ball season over and the chill of winter blowing through Denver, Gopher contented himself with the daily chores of working at the Nielsen house. When Mister Oliveri promised to pass the word around that the Nielsen house had good food, he proved to be a man of integrity.
Traveler after traveler came to Denver with the statement, “Oliveri sent me.” There were so many boarders in Ellen’s big house that Gopher found himself working long, hard hours most of the time.
When the first snows blew in, the Nielsen house was full to capacity with no less than eight full-time boarders. Ellen’s ten-room house was filled and so was her purse. But even though she had sufficient reserve funds and a handsome weekly income, she failed to offer any of it to Gopher. At first, this arrangement didn’t bother him, as he was content with the situation. But when the house remained full of boarders and he was working himself to the bone, he decided to bring it up for discussion.
“Why, I simply had not given it much mind. What do you think your services are worth?”
Now Gopher was in an uncomfortable position. He had not thought far enough ahead to find out what cooks and bottle washers got for daily wages. But he did know what he was worth to the Denver Grizzlies. He blurted out, “A dollar a day, seems about right.”
Ellen Nielsen nearly fainted at that exorbitant amount. “Oh dear me, I cannot manage a salary like that, not unless I raised my rooming fees substantially. Surely we can come to some reasonable rate?”
Now the negotiations fell upon Gopher’s shoulders, yet he was unclear of what his counter offer should be. He reasoned, if the average factory worker was worth $1.50 per day, or .15 per hour, he should be worth something near that amount.
Ellen disagreed, claiming he did not put in a full day’s work. “Those laborers are putting in a full ten hour day and you are not.
He countered by saying he is often called upon to rise early and stoke the fires and to stay late to clean up after the evening’s repast.
In the end, she allowed him room and board plus twenty-five cents per day, but not on the days he practiced base ball. That meant that by the end of each month he would be able to pocket five dollars. When Base Ball season rolled around again, he figured he should have saved all of $30.00. It was not an Earth-rattling sum, but it was not to be sneezed at.
During the agreement stage, Gopher asked for one last concession: to be left alone during bathing. He claimed her presence caused him some discomfort. She agreed and apologized by saying she had never meant to intrude on his privacy. “I just wanted to make sure you had clean towels and plenty of hot water.”
He claimed he was capable of providing those things for himself, but thanked her for her concern.
Throughout the long, cold winter, the snows piled up in thick drifts and blew in under loosely fitting doors. If the snow wasn’t swept up right away, it melted and refroze, sometimes making it nearly impossible to pull the door open. The same thing happened around loose-fitting windows, but they weren’t going to be opened until spring, so a little ice buildup didn’t matter that much; they actually helped seal off the countless drafts, dampening the whistling and howling of the wind.
Nothing changed until spring finally arrived and Gopher began thinking about the coming year and what thrills and excitement base ball might offer.
When the spring thaw came, Gopher Piddington had put on considerable muscle for such a young man. Anyone meeting him for the first time was convinced he was all eighteen or nineteen years old. He never bothered to set the record straight.
Most of what he saved over the winter went to replace his too-small or too-tight clothing. In the end, he was left with very little money and was eager to begin playing once again.
Ellen’s home remained full to capacity. Eventually she agreed to his demands for an assistant; someone to help with the more mundane chores like taking the trash and garbage out and helping with cleaning the rooms and making the beds. As for helping with kitchen duties, none of the applicants wanted anything to do with working in such a hot and hectic environment.
Thus, Gopher Piddington remained the sole kitchen worker, something that both pleased him and irritated him at the same time. He was pleased with his steadily improving abilities but disappointed he couldn’t get anyone to help. Now he began to understand the value his father placed on his long-time kitchen worker, Guadalupe.
Ellen became less and less willing to step in during hectic times. She fancied herself one of the Denver “Elite Ladies” and eagerly spent time in the parlor with her boarders chatting about recent events, local and otherwise.
Saturdays were spent on the ball field honing old skills and learning new ones. On one occasion Gopher was asked to take the hurler’s box and see what he could do with striking out batters with his powerful arm.
His fastball came whistling in with no problems but each batter soon adjusted his swing to the speed and knocked Gopher’s best pitches all over the field. Striking out anyone became a matter of pure luck or poor judgment on the batter’s part. For some reason, his grip on the ball failed to yield any curving—just straight, fast deliveries. No one on the local team had the skills to teach him the proper grips needed to make the ball dip, curve or twitch as it neared the batter.
With nothing gained and nothing lost, Gopher resumed his outfield positions and concentrated on throwing accurately each and every time.
The summer was much like the preceding one. The Denver Grizzlies played their share of home games and their share of away games. The win-loss record remained about the same, with the Leadville Blues beating them every time.
When the playoffs came around, it was the same two teams as last year: Leadville against Denver. Again, because of a superior win record the final game of the season was scheduled on Leadville’s home field.
This time, the Denver manager arranged for his team to arrive a couple of days early in order to become accustomed to the higher altitude. Leadville was situated at an altitude nearly twice that of Denver. With two additional days to get used to the thin air, it was hoped the Grizzlies would fare better this year.
Ellen reluctantly agreed to allow Gopher to take an extended trip. “I hope you and your team emerge victorious this year.”
LEADVILLE, COLORADO
During the final game between the Leadville Blues and the Denver Grizzlies in the year of 1891, Gopher and his teammates arrived on a Thursday, two days before the big game. The new travel schedule was designed to acclimate the players to the higher altitude. It also gave Gopher a chance to hunt for the elusive Fairlie steam locomotive he had been seeking since he was a youngster. Between scheduled practices, he took every opportunity to inquire as to the possible whereabouts of the engine.
A couple of railroad workers thought it might be used on a new section of track, while most others claimed they never heard of it. In the end, Gopher had no more information than he did before he left Denver.
Without scouring the many different spur lines in person, there was really no way to find out where the
unique engine was—only where it wasn’t.
Considering his current employment obligations, his commitment to the team and his unfortunate financial status, there seemed no way to hunt down the whereabouts of the Fairlie engine.
Suffering from a slight bout of dejection, he returned to the field and donned his uniform. It was time to workout with the team.
When Saturday came around, the atmosphere on the field of play was one of excitement and anticipation. The Denver Grizzlies felt like this just might be the year they had the opportunity to best the Leadville team.
The game ended in much the same manner as the previous year: in defeat. The Leadville Blues proved much too talented, with too many professional major league players. The Grizzlies never had a chance, although there were examples of sterling performances turned in by a few Grizzly players.
Among those exhibiting standout play was none other than Gopher Piddington. While the rest of his team retired to their changing room to lick their collective wounds, one of the top managers of the Leadville Blues sought him out.
“Son, I’ve been keeping an eye on you these past couple of seasons and I like what I see. What would it take for you to join up with the Leadville organization?”
Gopher was stunned. He knew he had played his best but it wasn’t enough to wrest a victory. “Golly, I don’t know. Why do you want me?”
“You’ve got one of the Almighty’s gifts in that there arm of yours. Ain’t seen a better arm in many a moon. Ever thought about becomin’ a hurler?”
“Yeah, I tried it once but being so close to the batter bothers me and it didn’t take long for them to get their timing down and beat me up with hit after hit.”
“Well a fastball ain’t the only utensil in the drawer. There’s other pitches that can easily confuse a batter. You saw some of that this afternoon, didn’t you?”
Gopher had to admit; it was nearly impossible to hit a pitch when you have no idea which direction the ball was going to go. It seemed downright unfair—and he told the man so.
“It is downright unfair, but it wins ball games.
“Look, the season’s over and some of our players are leaving to go back east and pick up where they left off with their regular teams. One of them is the pitcher you faced today. How would you like it if he took some time and showed you how to throw those curve balls?”
“I think that would be great. But how do you know I can throw like that? It hasn’t worked before.”
“Tell me, do any Grizzly hurlers have such a good curve ball?
“The answer is no! And that’s why you guys always lose to us. That’s why no one has been able to show you the ropes, because no one on your team has that knowledge.”
“Look son, I’m offering you a position here in Leadville. We already know you can play the outfield and you wield a decent bat. But what I want is to get you in the hurling box and see if we can’t make a star hurler out of you. Would that interest you?”
When Gopher didn’t answer right away the manager said the club would make a financial arrangement that would surely be much more attractive than anything the Grizzlies could offer.
“Does such an offer include the off season? I mean, how is one supposed to live when base ball’s over?”
“Good Question. Do you have any other skills or experience?”
Gopher told him of his position in the Nielsen house.
“Well, it looks like food is something you might be good at. Look, I’ve got a friend; he’s in charge of the new fish hatchery. He might be able to find something for you to do—maybe feeding the fish.”
“Gee, I don’t know. Ellen Nielsen pays pretty well and she gives me Saturdays off to play ball.”
“Let me talk with my friend. Can you stick around for another day?”
Gopher was now straddling another fence. If he said yes, and didn’t get the job, would he still have one with Ellen? She was depending upon him to get right back. On the other hand, if he said no and kept the Nielsen job, would he be passing up the chance of a lifetime?
The deciding factor was the elusive little train engine. He was convinced it was somewhere in the greater Leadville area. Without a second thought, he readily agreed to stay over and meet with the hatchery fellow the next day.
“You won’t regret this decision, I promise you. You can bunk with Big Bill Withers tonight; he’s the pitcher you fellas couldn’t hit today.”
Gopher asked the Grizzlies manager for a favor. “Would you kindly inform the Widow Nielsen that I’m staying over and will talk with her later?”
“Son, I seen you chattin’ with the Blues top brass. They offer you a position on the team?”
“To be truthful, I won’t know until tomorrow, but it was discussed.”
“Well, if’n you don’t land a spot, there’s always room for you in the Grizzly organization. I’ll get word to Ellen Nielsen.” And with that, Gopher was left alone. After his teammates left for the station and the trip back to Denver, he made his way to where the Blues players were disbanding.
He sought out the pitcher, informing him that he would be his roommate for the night.
“Yeah, I figured it would be you they put their finger on next. You’ve got one helluva an arm. Maybe I can show you a few tricks before I head back to Boston.”
“You’re a Boston Red Stockings player?”
“Used to be until someone better and younger came along. But that young pup threw his arm out and they asked if I could come back. Gotta take the money when it’s offered, you know. This game ain’t no lifetime job.”
The next day the pitcher everyone called Big Bob showed Gopher how to wrap certain fingers around certain parts of the ball to make it spin a certain way. “Back in the day, we all had to throw underhand and a fellow could manage to be a pretty good hurler for years and years. Nowadays, with the overhand rule, it takes its toll on the body, especially one’s throwin’ arm. So, pay attention, less’n you ruin that there wing of yours.”
By gripping the stitched seams or not, the ball could be coerced into rotating in several different configurations. When coupled with changes in speed, that ball might appear to leap out of the hurler’s hand, only to mosey up to the plate in a most confusing fashion.
Other grips allowed the natural wind currents to make the ball appear to bounce and shift direction. Big Bill called it his junkyard ball. “The trick with the junkyard ball is to completely eliminate any spin. That way, the ball flops all over the place. Drives the batter and the catcher crazy. . .umpires don’t much like it either.”
Gopher was warned not to throw too many pitches requiring odd grips because of the tendency of developing blisters. “If you get blisters you can’t throw no more and the only way to get rid of them is to pee on ‘em.”
Gopher decided to quit before he needed that kind of treatment.
A meeting was arranged between a Mister Herschel Liddy, the man in charge of the fish hatchery, the Blues’ top manager and Gopher Piddington.
“I am told you have some kitchen experience?”
Gopher told Mister Liddy that he had done pretty much all the cooking for the Nielsen boarding house.
“Well, at the hatchery, the only cooking you will be doing is for yourself. But the fish need feeding, all the same. Does that interest you?”
“But I don’t understand. What does my kitchen experience have to do with the hatchery?”
“Absolutely nothing but it tells me you aren’t afraid of work and you respect the value of being responsible enough to have a meal ready at a prescribed hour. That’s what feeding the fish is all about—that and keeping the eagles and hawks away from the ponds.”
The manager went on to tell all about the different levels of growth and the care and feeding of the fry, the fingerlings and the juvenile fish. His job oversaw the entire operation including gathering of eggs, the feeding of each level, as well as the mechanical end of things. Liddy’s staff during the second year of operation totaled four
employees, with three of them rotating in and out of the schedule as needed. The fourth man made sure everything ran according to plan.
Gopher’s job would be part of the group that cared for the fish but would also be used by the mechanic on an as needed basis. “In other words, Mister Piddington, you would be on call to go for whatever the facility needed at the time. It’s with all due respect that I notice your name happens to be Gopher—an appropriate name for your job description.
“I’m not at all offended. My given name is Gilbert but I’ve always answered to Gopher; it’s my middle name. I was named after a dog that saved my Mother’s life.”
“Fine, that’s all settled. Let me explain the working conditions you will be accepting, should you take this position.
“Housing is provided for all the employees. It isn’t much but it will keep you dry and warm. Meals can be cooked on the iron stove in the room or in the main dining hall—your choice. The dining hall’s kitchen is a community kitchen. All of the workers here must share the facilities and the cleanup duties, including the stoves, the storage areas and the iceboxes. Thievery of any kind; even the smallest of infractions will result in immediate termination.
“Do I make myself clear, Mister Piddington?”
Gopher nodded in the affirmative.
“Now, lets examine the working conditions. Every employee works on an ‘on-call’ basis. That means, when something goes awry, everyone is on duty. If one of you becomes sick or injured, the rest must pick up the pace. The fish come first.
“In your case, because you have proven yourself to be an accomplished ball player, your duties are waived during scheduled ball games, whether played here in Leadville or at an out of town facility.
“In essence, Mister Piddington, you will have weekends off during base ball season. The rest of the time you will be available to perform the duties you are assigned. Have you any questions?”
“Yes, I would ask when this position might become available?”
The Adventures of Gopher Piddington Page 15