The Chicago Colts (later know as the Cubs) of the National League established the record for most runs scored in a game by one team on June 29, 1897 when they destroyed the Louisville Colonels in a 36-7 rout. The modern NL record would be set by the Cardinals in 1929 when they beat the Phillies, 28-6, at Philadelphia’s Baker Bowl.
Just as fair warning: this poem is pretty depressing. Published in the Brooklyn Eagle in 1883, it describes a player who has passed away. But wow, whoever he was (real or imagined), he sounded like quite the ballplayer.
*
J. smith is dead. That fine young man
We ne’er shall see him more,
He was a member of our club
Since 1864.
His private virtues were immense,
His manner was free and bluff,
He wore a paper collar, and
Was never known to muff.
He rarely took a drink more strong
Then lemonade or pop ;
He hated drunkards, and was a
Magnificent shortstop.
His nose was Roman, and his eyes
Continually were peeled ;
He made a splended umpire, and
A beautiful left field.
His hair was red, and shingled close ;
Much sunburned was his face,
He never showered with more effect
Than on second base.
Being a man, he had his faults,
As likewise have we all ;
He felt a preference for the New
York regulation ball.
Though not a matrimonial man,
He dearly loved a match,
And, like his sisters, had but few
Superiors on the catch.
He had a noble mind, as eke
A very supple wrist ;
And when he pitched he gave the ball
His own peculiar twist.
Of politics and church affairs
He held restricted views ;
His feet were usually encased
In canvas, hob nailed shoes.
But he is gone. With ins and outs
Forever he is done ;
He broke his heart and hurt his spleen
In making a home run.
His body we have planted now,
His soul is in the sky ;
The angels reached from heaven down
And took him on the fly.
You may glory in a team triumphant, but you fall in love with a team in defeat. Losing after great striving is the story of a man, who was born to sorrow, whose sweetest songs tell of saddest thought, and who, if he is a hero, does nothing in life as becomingly as leaving it.
~Roger Kahn
Nationals catcher Eddie Ainsmith stole three bases in one inning on June 26, 1913 in a game against the Philadelphia Athletics at Griffith Stadium in Washington. After safely reaching base on a single in the bottom of the ninth, Ainsmith proceeded to steal second, third, and home. Unfortunately, Ainsmith’s efforts didn’t make much of a difference for his team as the A’s dominated the Nats, 10-3.
Might as well get in character, right?
This song is a doo-wop tune about baseball that really isn’t about baseball, but rather an analogy for something else entirely. I haven’t been able to find anything beyond this song about the Johnny Darling and Chorus group, but this is a catchy tune and a lot of fun to listen to.
The next time someone whines that baseball doesn’t have enough action, you can do two things: first, explain the planning, strategizing, calculating, and deception that place before every pitch. Then quote Hall-of-Fame announcer Red Barber: “Baseball is dull only to dull minds.”
~Zack Hample
The first ever no-hitter at Fenway Park was thrown by Red Sox pitcher George “Rube” Foster* on June 21, 1916. Foster no-hit the New York Yankees to win 2-0. The Red Sox had moved into Fenway in 1912.
*Not to be confused with Andrew “Rube” Foster, organizer of the Negro National League.
Over the years, I have seen and played with a number of umpires who were so timid with their calls, you could never be sure what the count was on the batter. This was not the case when Laurence “Dutch” Rennert was behind the plate.
Rennert passed away this past Sunday, June 17th at the age of 88.
Rest in peace.
There’s a coach for everything, these days.
