Raymond is riding a greater ride.[1]
FOUR CONVERSATIONS
“I used to have ’em buffaloed when I was with Duluth,
Out in that dinky pine tree league, and here’s the honest truth:
This Mathewson ain’t better. Say, the benders that I slung
Had all the sluggers swinging till they’d almost bust a lung.
I’ll get ’em just the same right here—McGraw knows I can’t lose.”
Said the Pitcher to the Barboy up at Paddy Donahue’s.
“I lost a tough game yesterday, but that don’t make me sad;
Believe me, I had everything—they walloped all I had.
I didn’t get no swell support; my catcher crossed me twice
And all the infield acted like a wagon full of ice.
They all support this Mathewson. When I go in we lose!”
Said the Pitcher to the Barboy up at Paddy Donahue’s.
“I’ve been here just two months to-day, and things are looking black;
I lost a tough one yesterday, and now I’ve got the sack.
Say, everyone’s against me, kid. My curve is breaking great,
But four guys slammed it yesterday clear to the left field gate.
Now I’m released—you hear me? Released with run-down shoes!”
Said the Pitcher to the Barboy up at Paddy Donahue’s.
* * *
“Get out of here, you rummy! I can’t hand you no more booze!”
Said the Barboy to the Pitcher up at Paddy Donahue’s. |
“INSIDE” BASEBALL
(The warden of one of the State penitentiaries has begun a system of Saturday half holidays for the convicts, a baseball game on the prison grounds being the main feature.)
You talk of “inside” baseball and of managerial plans,
Of signs and mental flashes that are Greek to all the fans;
You tell of wondrous brainwork, such as Evers used to use
When he wasn’t in his shoe store, selling patent leather shoes.
I’ve seen some “inside” baseball in the various big league towns,
And seen some “inside” pitching by the Mathewsons and Browns,
But the finest “inside” baseball I have seen in many a day
Is inside the dear old prison, where they like to have me stay.
The Yeggmen lead the league just now—that team is full of tricks;
They beat the Con Men yesterday by seventeen to six.
The Lifers have an outside chance to win the prison flag;
The Counterfeiters still have hopes, although they seldom brag.
The pitcher for the Grafters, namely, Alderman McGee,
Has bet his good behavior that they’ll finish one, two, three.
Yes, the finest “inside” baseball I have seen in many a day
Is inside the dear old prison, where they like to have me stay.
The game we had last Saturday was sure a corking sight;
The Yeggmen beat the Grafters, but the Grafters made them fight.
McGee, the Grafters’ pitcher, had to hide his head in shame—
He tried to bribe the warden, who was umpiring the game.
If Saturday’s a pleasant day for outside games like ball
The Con Men play the Lifers, and we’ll be there, one and all.
For the finest “inside” baseball I have seen in many a day
Is inside the dear old prison, where they like to have me stay. |
THE DIFFERENCE
“It’s just this way,” said Danny O’Shay,
As he whittled a stick and the hours away,
“A player can booze for a year or two,
The same as me or the same as you.
You meet a ball-gamer now and then
Who can guzzle more than the most of men.
But sooner or later he has to go
The way I was chased from the big league show.
“The difference, kid,” said Danny O’Shay,
“Between the hard and the easy way,
As far as ball players goes, at least,
Is a difference big as the West and East.
I played ten years before I was spurned,
And this is the lesson your uncle learned:
The boozer THINKS he is splitting the wood,
The man that is sober KNOWS he’s good.
“You see,” continued Danny O’Shay,
“A dog and a man must have his day.
I played like a demon for seven years,
’Till I switched to whiskey and quit my beers.
I laughed at the friends that steered me right,
But here’s the difference, black and white:
The boozer THINKS he is splitting the wood,
The man that is sober KNOWS he’s good.” |
CRICKET AND BASEBALL
The cricket game was over and the sun was sinking low,
The players in their blazers plodded homeward in a row.
They stopped within the clubhouse for a final cup of tea,
When up spake Captain Edgerton to Bowler Basil Fee:
“Jolly well tried, old chap!
You lost as the greatest can;
But whether you win or whether you lose
You’re always a gentleman.
Have a Scotch and soda, old fellow—
It will drive off the blooming blues;
Keep up your stride, you jolly well tried,
And a man can’t always lose.”
The baseball game was over and the home team had been skinned,
The players slunk across the field while sundry knockers grinned;
They hurried to the clubhouse for a bath and change of garb,
When up spake Manager McDuff, and each word was a barb:
“Fine lot of high-priced athletes!
Most of you ain’t alive!
I could pick a team from the Soldiers’ Home
And beat you four out of five.
Be out here at ten to-morrow—
That goes the way that it lays;
Any mixed-ale sport that doesn’t report
Will squat on the bench ten days!” |
