Love Conquers All

by Robert Benchley

  Not knowing anything about the game, you will perhaps find it difficult at first to keep your attention on the board. This can be accomplished by means of several little optical tricks. For instance, if you look at the black and white squares on the board very hard and for a very long time, they will appear to jump about and change places. The black squares will rise from the board about a quarter of an inch and slightly overlap the white ones. Then, if you change focus suddenly, the white squares will do the same thing to the black ones. And finally, after doing this until someone asks you what you are looking cross-eyed for, if you will shut your eyes tight you will see an exact reproduction of the chess-board, done in pink and green, in your mind’s eye. By this time, the players will be almost ready for another move.

  This will make two moves that you have watched. It is now time to get a little fancy work into your game. About an hour will have already gone by and you should be so thoroughly grounded in the fundamentals of chess watching that you can proceed to the next step.

  Have some one of your friends bring you a chair, a table and an old pyrography outfit, together with some book-ends on which to burn a design.

  Seat yourself at the table in the chair and (if I remember the process correctly) squeeze the bulb attached to the needle until the latter becomes red hot. Then, grasping the book-ends in the left hand, carefully trace around the pencilled design with the point of the needle. It probably will be a picture of the Lion of Lucerne, and you will let the needle slip on the way round the face, giving it the appearance of having shaved in a Pullman that morning. But that really won’t make any difference, for the whole thing is not so much to do a nice pair of book-ends as to help you along in watching the chess-match.

  If you have any scruples against burning wood, you may knit something, or paste stamps in an album.

  And before you know it, the game will be over and you can put on your things and go home.

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  Watching Baseball

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  Eighteen men play a game of baseball and eighteen thousand watch them, and yet those who play are the only ones who have any official direction in the matter of rules and regulations. The eighteen thousand are allowed to run wild. They don’t have even a Spalding’s Guide containing group photographs of model organizations of fans in Fall River, Mass., or the Junior Rooters of Lyons, Nebraska. Whatever course of behavior a fan follows at a game he makes up for himself. This is, of course, ridiculous.

  The first set of official rulings for spectators at baseball games has been formulated and is herewith reproduced. It is to be hoped that in the general cleanup which the game is undergoing, the grandstand and bleachers will not resent a little dictation from the authorities.

  In the first place, there is the question of shouting encouragement, or otherwise, at the players. There must be no more random screaming. It is of course understood that the players are entirely dependent on the advice offered them from the stands for their actions in the game, and how is a batter to know what to do if, for instance, he hears a little man in the bleachers shouting, “Wait for ’em, Wally! Wait for ’em,” and another little man in the south stand shouting “Take a crack at the first one, Wally!”? What would you do? What would Lincoln have done?

  The official advisers in the stands must work together. They must remember that as the batter advances toward the plate he is listening for them to give him his instructions, and if he hears conflicting advice there is no telling what he may do. He may even have to decide for himself.

  Therefore, before each player goes to bat, there should be a conference among the fans who have ideas on what his course of action should be, and as soon as a majority have come to a decision, the advice should be shouted to the player in unison under the direction of a cheer-leader. If there are any dissenting opinions, they may be expressed in a minority report.

  In the matter of hostile remarks addressed at an unpopular player on the visiting team, it would probably be better to leave the wording entirely to the individual fans. Each man has his own talents in this sort of thing and should be allowed to develop them along natural lines. In such crises as these in which it becomes necessary to rattle the opposing pitcher or prevent the visiting catcher from getting a difficult foul, all considerations of good sportsmanship should be discarded. As a matter of fact, it is doubtful if good sportsmanship should ever be allowed to interfere with the fan’s participation in a contest. The game must be kept free from all softening influences.

  One of the chief duties of the fan is to engage in arguments with the man behind him. This department of the game has been allowed to run down fearfully. A great many men go to a ball game today and never speak a word to anyone other than the members of their own party or an occasional word of cheer to a player. This is nothing short of craven.

  An ardent supporter of the home-team should go to a game prepared to take offense, no matter what happens. He should be equipped with a stock of ready sallies which can be used regardless of what the argument is about or what has gone before in the exchange of words. Among the more popular nuggets of repartee, effective on all occasions, are the following:

  “Oh, is that so?”

  “Eah?”

  “How do you get that way?”

  “Oh, is that so?”

  “So are you.”

  “Aw, go have your hair bobbed.”

  “Oh, is that so?”

  “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

  “Who says so?”

  “Eah? Well, I’ll Cincinnati you.”

  “Oh, is that so?”

  Any one of these, if hurled with sufficient venom, is good for ten points. And it should always be borne in mind that there is no danger of physical harm resulting from even the most ferocious-sounding argument. Statistics gathered by the War Department show that the percentage of actual blows struck in grandstand arguments is one in every 43,000,000.

  For those fans who are occasionally obliged to take inexperienced lady-friends to a game, a special set of rules has been drawn up. These include the compulsory purchase of tickets in what is called the “Explaining Section,” a block of seats set aside by the management for the purpose. The view of the diamond from this section is not very good, but it doesn’t matter, as the men wouldn’t see anything of the game anyway and the women can see just enough to give them material for questions and to whet their curiosity. As everyone around you is answering questions and trying to explain score-keeping, there is not the embarrassment which is usually attendant on being overheard by unattached fans in the vicinity. There is also not the distracting sound of breaking pencils and modified cursing to interfere with unattached fans’ enjoyment of the game.

  Absolutely no gentlemen with uninformed ladies will be admitted to the main stand. In order to enforce this regulation, a short examination on the rudiments of the game will take place at the gate, in which ladies will be expected to answer briefly the following questions: (Women examiners will be in attendance.)

  1. What game is it that is being played on this field?

  2. How many games have you seen before?

  3. What is (a) a pitcher; (b) a base; (c) a bat?

  4. What color uniform does the home-team wear?

  5. What is the name of the home-team?

  6. In the following sentence, cross out the incorrect statements, leaving the correct one: The catcher stands (1) directly behind the pitcher in the pitcher’s box; (2) at the gate taking tickets; (3) behind the batter; (4) at the bottom of the main aisle, selling ginger-ale.

  7. What again is the name of the game you expect to see played?

  8. Do you cry easily?

  9. Is there anything else you would rather be doing this afternoon?

  10. If so, please go and do it.

  It has been decided that the American baseball fan should have a distinctive dress. A choice has been made from among the more popular styles and the follo
wing has been designated as regulation, embodying, as it does, the spirit and tone of the great national pastime.

  Straw hat, worn well back on the head; one cigar, unlighted, held between teeth; coat held across knees; vest worn but unbuttoned and open, displaying both a belt and suspenders, with gold watch-chain connecting the bottom pockets.

  The vest may be an added expense to certain fans who do not wear vests during the summer months, but it has been decided that it is absolutely essential to the complete costume, and no true baseball enthusiast will hesitate in complying.

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  How to Be a Spectator

  at Spring Planting

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  The danger in watching gardening, as in watching many other sports, is that you may be drawn into it yourself. This you must fight against. Your sinecure standing depends on a rigid abstinence from any of the work itself. Once you stoop over to hold one end of a string for a groaning planter, once you lift one shovelful of earth or toss out one stone, you become a worker and a worker is an abomination in the eyes of the true garden watcher.

  A fence is, therefore, a great help. You may take up your position on the other side of the fence from the garden and lean heavily against it smoking a pipe, or you may even sit on it. Anything so long as you are out of helping distance and yet near enough so that the worker will be within easy range of your voice. You ought to be able to point a great deal, also.

  There is much to be watched during the early stages of garden-preparation. Nothing is so satisfying as to lean ruminatingly against a fence and observe the slow, rhythmic swing of the digger’s back or hear the repeated scraping of the shovel-edge against some buried rock. It sometimes is a help to the digger to sing a chanty, just to give him the beat. And then sometimes it is not. He will tell you in case he doesn’t need it.

  There is always a great deal for the watcher to do in the nature of comment on the soil. This is especially true if it is a new garden or has never been cultivated before by the present owner. The idea is to keep the owner from becoming too sanguine over the prospects.

  “That soil looks pretty clayey,” is a good thing to say. (It is hard to say, clearly, too. You had better practise it before trying it out on the gardener).

  “I don’t think that you’ll have much luck with potatoes in that kind of earth,” is another helpful approach. It is even better to go at it the other way, finding out first what the owner expects to plant. It may be that he isn’t going to plant any potatoes, and then there you are, stuck with a perfectly dandy prediction which has no bearing on the case. It is time enough to pull it after he has told you that he expects to plant peas, beans, beets, corn. Then you can interrupt him and say: “Corn?” incredulously. “You don’t expect to get any corn in that soil do you? Don’t you know that corn requires a large percentage of bi-carbonate of soda in the soil, and I don’t think, from the looks, that there is an ounce of soda bi-carb. in your whole plot. Even if the corn does come up, it will be so tough you can’t eat it.”

  Then you can laugh, and call out to a neighbor, or even to the man’s wife: “Hey, what do you know? Steve here thinks he’s going to get some corn up in this soil!”

  The watcher will find plenty to do when the time comes to pick the stones out of the freshly turned-over earth. It is his work to get upon a high place where he can survey the whole garden and detect the more obvious rocks.

  “Here is a big fella over here, Steve,” he may say. Or: “Just run your rake a little over in that corner. I’ll bet you’ll find a nest of them there.”

  “Plymouth Rock” is a funny thing to call any particularly offensive boulder, and is sure to get a laugh, especially if you kid the digger good-naturedly about being a Pilgrim and landing on it. He may even give it to you to keep.

  Just as a matter of convenience for the worker, watchers have sometimes gone to the trouble of keeping count of the number of stones thrown out. This is done by shouting out the count after each stone has been tossed. It makes a sort of game of the thing, and in this spirit the digger may be urged on to make a record.

  “That’s forty-eight, old man! Come on now, make her fifty. Attaboy, forty-nine! Only one more to go. We-want-fifty-we-want-fifty-we-want fifty.”

  And not only stones will be found, but queer objects which have got themselves buried in the ground during the winter-months and have become metamorphosed, so they are half way between one thing and another. As the digger holds one of these objets dirt gingerly between his thumb and forefinger the watcher has plenty of opportunity to shout out:

  “You’d better save that. It may come in handy someday. What is it, Eddie? Your old beard?”

  And funny cracks like that.

  Here is where it is going to be difficult to keep to your resolution about not helping. After the digging, and stoning, and turning-over has been done, and the ground is all nice and soft and loamy, the idea of running a rake softly over the susceptible surface and leaving a beautiful even design in its wake, is almost too tempting to be withstood.

  The worker himself will do all that he can to make it hard for you. He will rake with evident delight, much longer than is necessary, back and forth, across and back, cocking his head and surveying the pattern and fixing it up along the edges with a care which is nothing short of insulting considering the fact that the whole thing has got to be mussed up again when the planting begins.

  If you feel that you can no longer stand it without offering to assist, get down from the fence and go into your own house and up to your own room. There pray for strength. By the time you come down, the owner of the garden ought to have stopped raking and got started on the planting.

  Here the watcher’s task is almost entirely advisory. And, for the first part of the planting, he should lie low and say nothing. Wait until the planter has got his rows marked out and has wobbled along on his knees pressing the seeds into perhaps half the length of his first row. Then say:

  “Hey there, Charlie! You’ve got those rows going the wrong way.”

  Charlie will say no he hasn’t. Then he will ask what you mean the wrong way.

  “Why, you poor cod, you’ve got them running north and south. They ought to go east and west. The sun rises over there, doesn’t it?” (Charlie will attempt to deny this, but you must go right on.) “And it comes on up behind that tree and over my roof and sets over there, doesn’t it?” (By this time, Charlie will be crying with rage.) “Well, just as soon as your beans get up an inch or two they are going to cast a shadow right down the whole row and only those in front will ever get any sun. You can’t grow things without sun, you know.”

  If Charlie takes you seriously and starts in to rearrange his rows in the other direction, you might perhaps get down off the fence and go in the house. You have done enough. If he doesn’t take you seriously, you surely had better go in.

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  The Manhattador

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  Announcements have been made of a bull-fight to be held in Madison Square Garden, New York, in which only the more humane features of the Spanish institution are to be retained. The bull will not be killed, or even hurt, and horses will not be used as bait.

  If a bull-fight must be held, this is of course the way to hold it, but what features are to be substituted for the playful gorings and stabbings of the Madrid system? Something must be done to enrage the bull, otherwise he will just sulk in a corner or walk out on the whole affair. Following is a suggestion for the program of events:

  1. Grand parade around the ring, headed by a brass-band and the mayor in matador’s costume. Invitations to march in this parade will be issued to everyone in the bull-fighting set with the exception of the bull, who will be ignored. This will make him pretty sore to start with.

  2. After the marchers have been seated, the bull will be led into the ring. An organized cheering section among the spectators will immediately start jeering him, wh
istling, and calling “Take off those horns, we know you!”

  3. The picadors will now enter, bearing pikes with ticklers on the ends. These will be brushed across the bull’s nose as the picadors rush past him on noisy motor-cycles. The noise of the motor-cycles is counted on to irritate the bull quite as much as the ticklers, as he will probably be trying to sleep at the time.

  4. Enter the bandilleros, carrying various ornate articles of girls’ clothing (daisy-hat with blue ribbons, pink sash, lace jabot, etc.) which will, one by one, be hung on the bull when he isn’t looking. In order to accomplish this, one of the bandilleros will engage the animal in conversation while another sneaks up behind him with the frippery. When he is quite trimmed, the bandilleros will withdraw to behind a shelter and call him: “Lizzie!”

  5. By this time, the bull will be almost crying he will be so sore. This is the moment for the entrance of the intrepid matador. The matador will wear an outing cap with a cutaway and Jaeger vest, and the animal will become so infuriated by this inexcusable mésalliance of garments that he will charge madly at his antagonist. The matador, who will be equipped with boxing-gloves, will feint with his left and pull the daisy-hat down over the bull’s eyes with his right, immediately afterward stepping quickly to one side. The bull, blinded by the daisies, will not know where to go next and soon will laughingly admit that the joke has been on him. He will then allow the matador to jump on his back and ride around the ring, making good-natured attempts to unseat his rider.