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THE JOURNAL OF THE BOBBY THOMSON CHAPTER OF THE SOCIETY FOR AMERICAN BASEBALL RESEARCH (UK)

www.sabr.org.uk

July 1999

Number 11

ExaminerThe SABR UK

by Martin Hoerchner

It amazes me sometimes howlife dishes up treats and surprises,how things unexpectedly fall in place,how coincidences solve riddles, andhow, as Ray Kinsella quotes TerenceMann “There comes a time when allthe cosmic tumblershave clicked intoplace, and the uni-verse opens itselfup…”

So it happenedlast June when I re-ceived a letter fromJapan. It was from aSABR membernamed KazuoSayama, saying hewas researching theorigins of baseball. Heasked if the games ofrounders andstoolball were stillplayed in Britain. It struck a specialchord with me, because I’ve alwaysconsidered the genealogy of baseballto be my speciality. So I composed aletter on my computer and stated thatrounders was very common all overthis island, but that stoolball, firstmentioned in the middle ages, hasbeen long extinct.

Both sports have a long historyin Britain. Rounders is the sport thatRobert W. Henderson, the prime ge-nealogist of baseball, points to as thedirect precedent of baseball, in his1947 book “Bat, Ball, and Bishop: AHistory of Ball Games”. Hendersoncompares the “The Boy’s Own Book”

by William Clarke, published in Lon-don in 1829, with “The Book of Sports”by Robin Carver, published in Bostonin 1834, where the rules of an Englishgame called “rounders” and an Ameri-can game called “base ball” are al-most exactly the same. I’ve alwaysquestioned Henderson’s conclusionthat it means baseball was descended

from rounders; to me it only provesthat rounders and baseball were oncedifferent names for the same sport.That’s a very big distinction.

Rounders is still a very populargame in Britain. In fact, if anythinghas dampened British enthusiasmtowards baseball, it’s that a similarbut lightweight game exists over here.Mention baseball to a native and theysay “it’s just a girl’s game”, or a “it’sjust a school game”. I presume noneof them has ever faced Randy Johnsonin the batter’s box.

As for stoolball, it’s the gamethat Henderson defines as the com-

mon ancestor to baseball and cricket.The common lore is that milk maidsused their milking stools as bothwicket (i.e. a target to throw at) andbat (with the legs removed). The firstreference to the game by name is in1450, but Henderson thinks it coulddate from at least 1330. There’s apage for “stool-ball” in the “Little Pretty

Pocket Book” from1744, a few pages overfrom the first illustra-tion of a game namedbase-ball. In its earli-est incarnation, thegame was played bytwo people; one wouldthrow a ball at a stooland the other wouldstand in front of it andtry to hit the ball awayfrom it with their openpalm. The winnerwould be the one thathit the stool the mosttimes. Modifications

like using a piece of wood to hit theball, running between two or morestools, and having fielders to retrievethe batted ball, came later. It was thefirst game recorded as being played inthe English colonies in America, inMassachusetts in 1621. And finally,in 1801, Joseph Strutt in his “Gamesand Pastimes of the People of Eng-land”, writes of a variation where run-ners, after they have hit the ball, racearound a course of stools set out in acircle. It is not difficult to see that thetwo-stool variety could be the pro-genitor of cricket while the multi-stool

STOOLBALL IS ALIVE

AND WELL IN SUSSEX

continued on page 8

Or, how a letter from Japan helped us discover an ancient English game

2

Each time another AGM isfinished I feel a great weight easeoff my mind. There have been eightAGM’s and they don’t get anyeasier. There is not as much prepa-ration now because many moremembers are participating. In thebeginning SABR UK was like a dogand pony act. Now organising onthe day is the hard part. Standingup before you, I am more like acircus ringmaster then a SABRdrenched fan. When SABR UKmembers gather as we do, for manythe journey and the subsequentevent is like a twoweek holiday. Sel-dom if ever duringthe year do UKmembers get thechance to sit downand rap on and onabout baseball.(There are few if any“baseball wives”here - write in if youhear of one - in Brit-ain; indeed baseballcan be grounds fordivorce).

Even thosewho live in central London cannotnip to the 7-eleven for some milkand talk last nights game. TheAGM intermissions take on theatmosphere of Wall Street nearclosing bell time. At our meetingsI clock-watch, I cut short, speedalong, sit you down, beg for si-lence. As a result, one time - wasit last year? - we had a walkout.So, it is no fun having to direct; forI would much rather stop playingMr. “A Man and His Dog”, and letthings flow naturally. This year Igot an idea. I looked around theroom and decided who I wouldpick for a Sergeant-of-Arms to helpkeep order. Naturally I chose thebiggest guy and came uponStephen Laski, who may be bigbut is more on the soft spokenside and served me not at all.Stephen you’re fired! Volunteersare welcome. Yes, at the meetingswe have business to attend to,reports to be made, presentationspresented, all-in-all mostlyamusements to amuse. I still bearthe shame of letting one meeting

wander for a bit, resulting in theloss of a Brian Williams worldclass trivia quiz.

All of which brings me to apoint: more informal gatherings.We have a system in place wherebywe can start to subsidise gather-ings that constitute a local SABRmeeting. I urge members to be theone to pick up the telephone, sendan email and touch base. I meanstretch it to a triple! Meetings willbecome a lot easier for me. Yes,and we got everything in this year,but with less audio visual than

usualMeanwhile it was good to see

so many familiar faces, and ofcourse the new ones such as mynew neighbour, an unapologeticYankee fan, Alan Weinstein whohappens to be a weather expert.SABR UK didn’t have a weatherexpert. And good to get our triviamaster, Brian Williams, back af-ter a long absence, although TonyDarkin filled in most admirablyout of the bullpen. Details of themeeting will follow in The SABRUK Newsletter.

Next issue I hope to explorethe Bernard Day story, and hisvisit to the realms of SABR UK. Alltoo brief I fear. Members who at-tended SABR AGM VI and VII willremember his whirlwind arrivaland presentations in which heregaled us with stories of extraor-dinary adventures into researchwith discoveries of many baseballtreasures. We have only seen aphoto or two and some Xerox cop-ies of the items, but hopefully bynext issue we will have concrete

proof that these many items doindeed exist in the flesh. The starof Day’s collection centers arounda trophy he was given, allegedlyone of the original ones presentedby Albert Spalding during the lastdecade of the nineteenth century.An enormous thing, sadly strippedof its baseball details, standingalmost as high as a table.

Lastly we were honoured bya visit from Larry Gerlach, presi-dent of SABR (worldwide). He’sthe one in the photo with me. Itook him to Lord’s Cricket Ground

where he was al-lowed a seat in thesanctified “LongRoom”. Accompa-nied by StephenGreen, Curator atMCC Lord’s, welunched upstairsand downed somerighteous ale, whileoverlooking thewicket during acounty match. LaterMartin Hoerchner,Graham Winterboneand Jim Combs sat

around with him and talked base-ball.

Larry must have the hardestjob in all of baseball, that of look-ing after a vastly widespread or-ganization of 7000 members withdiversified interests and agendas.It must be thankless task withonly two years to get everythingdone, and keep everyone happy.Nice going Larry; we will miss you.

The King is dead, long livethe King. Congrats to new PrezJim Riley.Note: Mike’s new book, Fenway Saved,containing gorgeous photos of the clas-sic ballpark, is now available atSportspages London and Manchester,and at Dillon’s Piccadilly. - ed.

Examiner StaffEditor:Martin Hoerchner

Executive Editor:Mike Ross

Circulation Manager:Graham Winterbone

Research Submissions:Jim Combs

VIEW FROM THE CHAIR by Mike Ross

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ILLUSTRIOUS TURNOUT FOR BASEBALL

IN BRITAIN: 1918by Stephen Green,

Curator,

Marylebone Cricket

Club

This is the first of hopefully many

stories to come out of the Wilson

Cross scrapbook, which was gra-

ciously loaned to SABR UK by Jim

Montgomery, a baseball collector

living in Miami. The scrapbook

covers baseball in Britain during

the First World War and the follow-

ing decade, and

contains a wealth

of information.

We are greatly in-

debted to Stephen

Green, who is the

Curator for the

M a r y l e b o n e

Cricket Club at

Lord’s, for his

analysis of arti-

cles and photo-

graphs relating to

a match held on

U.S. Independ-

ence Day in 1918.

- ed.

The WeeklyDispatch for 7July 1918 madethe confident assertion that arecent event ‘was the mostmomentous day in Anglo-Ameri-can history’. In similar vein thepaper said that by going on 4July to the playing fields ofChelsea in South West London‘George V wiped out the blunderof George III.’

This may be pitching it a bithigh but it is clear that tremen-dous efforts were made that day topromote the wartime alliance. Thisculminated in a baseball match atStamford Bridge in which the USNavy defeated the US Army infront of 38,000 people.

King George V was there aswith his wife (Queen Mary), hismother (Queen Alexandra), hisdaughter (Princess Mary, later thePrincess Royal) and his aunt (Prin-cess Louise, Duchess of Argyll).

The Prime Minister attended

- he was the ‘Welsh Wizard’, DavidLloyd George. In addition to hiswife, two of his predecessors werethere. They were AJ Balfour andHH Asquith. The latter was alsoaccompanied by his wife.

Equally important was thepresence of two future Prime Min-isters, Arthur Bonar Law andWinston Churchill. The latter wasto lead his country in an evenmore significant wartime alliancewith the United States, his moth-er’s native land.

Many of the Cabinet attended

including Sir Eric Geddes (theFirst Lord of the Admiralty), ESMontagu (the Secretary of Statefor India), Walter Long (the Colo-nial Secretary) and the prominentpolitician, Austen Chamberlain.GN Barnes, a leading Labour Mem-ber of Parliament, was also in theRoyal Box.

Two former Viceroys of India(Lord Curzon and Lord Hardinge)were present as well as that coun-try’s leading statesman, the HonSir SP Sinha. They were accompa-nied by the cricketer, the Maha-raja of Patiala.

Leading figures from the Do-minions included Sir RobertBorden and WF Lloyd fromCanada, WM Hughes of Australiaand WF Massey, the New Zealandleader. South Africa was repre-sented by their great statesman,General Smuts, in addition to Lord

Milner, the former British HighCommissioner in that country.

One of the most famouspresent was Lord Grey of Falloden.He was the Foreign Secretary in1914 who said ‘the lights are go-ing out all over Europe. We shallnot see them lit again in our life-time.’

Possibly the most knowledge-able British spectator would havebeen Lord Desborough, the greatsportsman and public figure.

Three high ranking militaryfigures were present. Sir William

R o b e r t s o nwas the onlyField Marshalin the BritishArmy to havestarted his ca-reer as a pri-vate. SirHenry Wilsonwas later to bemurdered byIrish extrem-ists. MajorGeneral SirFrancis andLady Lloydalso were inthe Royal Box.

Cricketwas repre-

sented by Lord Hawke, the fa-mous former Yorkshire captain.He is said to have prayed that noprofessional would ever captainEngland. One wonders what hethought of the match.

The present writer is not com-petent to judge whether it was agreat baseball game. In one re-spect, however, it was possiblythe most distinguished sportingevent ever held in England. TheRoyal Box was full of the mosteminent representatives of the al-lied nations - the great and thegood in fact.

One hopes that the VIPs wereenlightened and entertained. Fora few moments the leaders of theallied nations could forget the con-flict. Thanks to the new Anglo-American alliance, the war merci-fully had only four months moreto run.

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by Mike Ross,

as told byWill Chance

©1999

Baseball has provided Ameri-can literature with several clas-sics, none more enduring andpopular than Who’s on First. Thisis best known to the public asperformed by the comic team ofAbbott & Costello. The routinewas first heard by a mass audi-ence in the film The Naughty Nine-

ties in 1945. Visitors to the base-ball Hall of Fame at Cooperstown,New York may find the routineshown on video in the public gal-lery.

Now it has emerged that whatwas thought to be purely a prod-uct of a fecund comic imaginationis in fact based on reality. Here isa taste of the fabled jest that hascome down to us through the yearscompliments of the zany comicduo:Costello: Hey Abbott tell me the

names of the players on our base-

ball team so I can say hello to

them.

Abbott: Sure. Who’s on first; What’s

on second; I Don’t Know’s on third.

C: Wait a minute.

A: What’s the matter?

C: I want to know the names of the

players

A: I’m telling you. Who’s on first;

What’s on Second, I Don’t Know’s

on third.

C: Now wait a minute. What’s the

name of the first baseman?

A: No. What’s the name of the

second baseman.

C: I don’t know.

A: He’s the third baseman.

C: Let’s start over.

A: Okay. Who’s on first…

C: I’m asking YOU what’s the name

of the first baseman!

The full roster of the Abbott& Costello squad reads as: Who,What, I Don’t Know, Why, Yester-day, Tomorrow, Today, Because,and I Don’t Give A Darn. Onemight contend that these are un-likely names even in late 19thcentury USA, with its burgeoning

immigrant population. That is,unless you spell the names cor-rectly. The legendary fictitious“Who” of the text is, dear readers,none other than one Honus J.Hooehe, born in Rotterdam, Hol-land, nicknamed “The Dutch-man”. “Hooehe’s on first?” That’sright.

An impetuous researcherfrom the north of England, a Timo-thy (“call me Timmy”) Watt, wasresearching his family tree andfound a baseball player amongthe close knit Watt clan. Mr Watt

journeyed to the United States insearch of one Archie Watt, hisgreat grandfather, who emigratedsoon after the birth of his firstchild, unable to take the strain offamily life.

As a result, Watt inadvert-ently discovered the original boxscore from whence the origins ofthe Abbott & Costello routine ema-nated. Yes, the Today’s, Who’sand What’s that sent fans andregular people alike into fits ofmirth were real players with bat-ting averages, wives and children,hobbies, fetishes, drinking prob-lems and comic book addictions.In short: real life fiction turns toreal life fact when characters’names exist as something other

than icons for an unlikely comicscript - a rather elaborate form ofprofessional assassination.

Armed with a Watt familyscrapbook, Timmy Watt combedlibraries and perused the smalltown newspaper archives acrossAmerica, following the smallestclue. Fruitless journeys to Oregon,Texas and Louisiana maybe, butnot fruitless when he landed in atown beginning with “P” in a statestarting with “I”. At last baseballfans can touch base with the likesHonus Hooehe, Tom Morrow andIsaiah Donough and the rest ofthis real life squad.Costello: Tell me the names of the

players on our team.

Abbott: Sure. Hooehe’s on first;

Watt's on second; I.Donough’s on

third.

C: Wait a minute.

A: What’s the matter?

C: I want to know the names of the

players.

A: I’m telling you. Hooehe’s on

first; Watt's on second; I. Donough’s

on

third. [Not to be confused with hisbrother U. Donough.]

So now picture if you will acub reporter back in 1919 inter-viewing the manager of the townteam. That reporter’s inability tocomprehend the manager - whowas playing it up for the assem-bled mass - has allowed for aprecise albeit innocent renderingby the precious talent of dear LouCostello; not to deny Bud Abbotthis due as an equally believablemanager.

Watt’s dig was strictly familyresearch and, at first, utterly un-concerned with the crack of batand baseball, and moreover, curtlyif not rudely dismissive of thefamed routine. Yet such naive ef-forts have led to the most signifi-cant baseball research discoverysince the unearthing of HonusWagner’s lost plate appearance.

Watt, while relating his taleto Will Chance, tended toward ef-fusive verbosity, often vacuous andstrangely reticent, albeit darn-right evasive. Persistence, how-

WHO EXACTLY WAS ON FIRST?The story behind the creation of the Abbott & Costello routine “Who’s On First”

5

ever, based on unbearable excite-ment, paid off.

Watt, despite his scantknowledge and little interest inbaseball, suddenly became - oncehe knew he had struck gold - averitable Mr. Baseball. And mostpainfully, he held firm to a jour-nalistic credo previously foreignto him. “Sorry Will, but I cannotdivulge my sources”. He refusedto name the town from whencecame his sources, only that it be-gan with a ‘P’ in a midwesternstate starting with the letter ‘I’. Hesaid he would tell me more oncehis book was published. A seriousresearcher could come to hate thisman.

Chance spent three longyears gathering the informationnow in his possession. Chancespoke of how this Timmy charac-ter chipped off bits of his sanity,but satisfied his lifelong urge tounderstand carving in flint. Watthad spoken guardedly of how thestory first spread, starting in 1919in a tavern where a “beaver-likecub reporter” [Watt’s mixed meta-phor] was interviewing the man-ager. Among those watching theproceedings in the tavern in whatwas described as “the waning af-ternoon sun”, were your arche-typal booze hounds: a salesmanon a good day, a woman practisingthe oldest profession, and notleast, the actual town drunk him-self, a raconteur who, with anobvious theatrical background,which suggests that he spreadthe story in the colourful telling ofit.

As Chance relates, this flot-sam and jetsam of local society,creased with suppressed laugh-ter, spread the tale far and wide. Itgathered momentum as it crossedstate lines, much in the mannerthat folk tales do. The commercialpotential soon became obvious.

What transpires is not fullyknown. That which is known canbe questioned; and that which isquestionable somehow makessense. But, for all of Watt’s mad-dening reticence, he was no meanresearcher. Get this: Timmy Wattwas apprehended on several oc-casions for various unlawful in-cursions into the Mutual Net-

work’s basement archives andother secluded locations wherehe unearthed early radio scripts,learning of such facts as NatTurley’s early inclusion as “Natu-rally” - subsequently dropped fromthe version folks have come toknow and love.

Here is the lineup in moredetail:

Honus Hooehe was indeed aDutchman. Likewise Frank ArchieWatt, the man without whose pres-ence on the roster Timmy Wattwould have been rendered pur-poseless, was also European bornand indeed did play second base.Archie Watt made the big leaguesas a late season callup with Wash-ington in 1920. Watt is reckonedto be the only second basemanwith a career batting average of1.000 in the majors. His namedoes not appear in some referencebooks because he had only oneturn at bat in which - legend hasit - he doubled, giving him aslugging percentage of 2.000. Thehighest in major league history fora second baseman.

Isaiah (Ike) Donough, anIrishman and former railroadworker, Donough was the brotherof Ulysses Donough. Both wereborn in county Wicklow, near Dub-lin, Ireland. The team manager inthe original ‘folk’ version used theinitial before the surname, recit-ing the name as it appeared in thebox score. No artistic contrivanceshere. Simply more confusion forthe already besotted Costello.When the name U. Donough cameup in early versions of the skit,Costello exclaimed “I know I don’tknow, Abbott!” To which Abbottwould have replied “What?” Towhich Costello, acquiescing to theinevitable, resignedly prompted“Yeah, I know. He’s on second.”

Herman (Donkey) Farr-Darneat shortstop was a tragic figure. Aheavy drinker, the doomed Don-key was targeted for the majorleagues, but died before realisinghis destiny (“unless,” as Watt hadboorishly prompted, “death washis destiny”). Donkey, as the storygoes, downed a fifth of Kill-Devilon a bet and fell into the OhioRiver while attempting to cross atrestle railroad bridge on foot.

The radio writers certainlyindulged themselves, creating thefamous “I Don’t Give A Darn” fromFarr-Darne. In the early versionsNat Turley was the shortstop. Wattunearthed records relating toHerman Donald Farr-Darne,whose parents were born in York-shire, England. Watt was so meanwith his sources, he would onlysay “A place beginning with a W”.There Joseph Farr met and mar-ried the winsome Marie Darne.They assumed for the good of theirheirs, the double-barrelled Farr-Darne, as was, and is, quite thecommon practice in the Britain oftoday, especially among those ofhigher station, thus preservingcollateral wealth.

This wealth was far greaterthen would ever be achieved bythe fleet-footed Donkey. The poorchap was disinherited very earlyin his career for disgracing thenames of Darne and Farr with hisadmittedly quaint monicker.Moose Skowron, former Yankeeslugging first sacker, in later yearsacknowledged Farr-Darne’s con-tribution. “Donkey was a greatinfluence on me; he had the gutsto support the animal kingdomwhich too few players do nowa-days. I did the same because ofhim. He would have made it to themajor leagues, I can tell you thatmuch.” Rabbit Maranville was alsohighly respectful of Donkey andsaid before his death: “Donkeyhad plenty of guts. And he couldturn the double play too”.

“Why” was the show busi-ness center fielder, who was basedon the real Wee Willie (Wild Bill)Wye, who changed his name fromWyrostek. He was uncle to BarneyWyrostek who played 11 seasonsin the National League.

Blitz “Baby Doll” Kauz be-came “Because” and was brotherof Kiki Kauz who never made theA&C script. The Kauz brotherswere from a town in Bavaria be-ginning with a ‘V’.

Right field was the Swede,Jess Turdae, whose name wastranslated to the phoneticallypractical “Yesterday”. Jess notsurprisingly insisted on the origi-nal pronunciation, “out of respectfor Papa” was his repeated expla-

WHO EXACTLY WAS ON FIRST? (con’t)

6

nation, hence the “J” spoken as“Y”. The name Turdae (Sometimes“Turrhdae” or “Turrhdai”) can stillbe found in Minnesota andAroostok County phone books.Fairly common around Duluth,Minnesota and Caribou, Maine.

Tom Morrow, or “Tomorrow”,the ace pitcher on the squad (stillkept secret by our Timmy!), was in1895 christened Custer Udo Tho-mas Morrow. He was known for ahighly sophisticated sense of theabsurd. “And he enjoyed a goodjoke as much as the next man.Often he signed himself C.U. TomMorrow… He was a funny fella,”said Watt who was obviously let-ting on less than he knew and washighly pretentious as to what hethought he knew: “Morrow threwa wicked curve taught to him byCandy Cummings when he wassix years old.” Watt spoke parrot-like in his recitation, ignorant ofthe true exploits of the greatCummings. “Oh how opposing hit-ters sucked for that sweet lookingsugar-coated candied pitch tossedto them by the brilliantCandyman.”

“Today” was none other thanLeon Touhy (“Two”) Day, a super-stitious character. He came to theball park suggesting to all withinearshot, “Let’s play two,” indicat-ing and immortalising his love forthe game and his willingness toplay double-headers, virtually he-roic for a backstop in the days ofwool flannel. The legend of Day’slove of the game resulted in the

nickname “Two”. A formerteammate had - according to Watt- said: “You know how supersti-tious ballplayers can be. Well, onetime ol’ ‘Two’, he come out to thepark and darn if he didn’t forgot tosay it, you know, ‘Let’s play two’.And would you believe it! He struckout four times, not even a loudfoul ball; dropped an easy tag atthe plate, then broke his thumbon a passed ball. Two Day neveragain forgot his P’s and two’s, Ican tell you that.”

As with the Kauz family,(Ulysses) U. Donough, brother ofIke Donough, had to be satisfiedwith a utility role. Nathan (Nat)Turley, scratched totally from im-mortality, was born in Troy, Illi-nois, and was great uncle of formerbig league pitching star BobTurley, a 20-game winner for theYankees.

So when Costello asks “Haveyou got a pitcher on this team?Abbot’s reply should read on pa-per “Tom Morrow” and Costellosays “You don’t want to tell menow? “ “I said I‘d tell you: TomMorrow.” “What’s wrong with to-day?” “Nothing; he [‘Two’ Day] is apretty good catcher.” “Who’s thecatcher?” “No. Hooehe’s the firstbaseman.” “All right, what’s thefirst baseman’s name?” “No, Watt'sthe second baseman’s name.” So,a far fetched joke this is not. Wefans have forever been in the darkand down a garden path. Costello’scontention that “players have suchstrange names these days” is in-

supportable. The names are notthat strange. Certainly not as ex-amples of first generation Ameri-can immigrants. Not bad for whatis allegedly a semi-pro outfit.

A: Look It’s very simple:

C: I know it’s simple. You got

a pitcher Tomorrow. He throws the

ball to Today. Today throws the

ball to Who, he throws the ball to

What. What throws the ball to I-

Don’t-Know, he’s on third... and

what’s more, I Don’t Give A Darn!

A: What’s that?

C: I said I Don’t Give A Darn.

A: Oh, he’s our shortstop.

So where do we go from hereto find out the rest of the facts?Batting averages, on base per-centages, earned run averages,and outfield assists; all these mat-ters are of compelling interest. I,for my curiosity, am left with thelast clue from Watt before hejumped off the Talahatchee Bridge(made famous in song years ear-lier by Bobbie Gentry) taking withhim the last word; this comingafter Chance grabbed him by thescruff of his maroon silk foulardscarfed neck and wrestled him tothe ground. He agreed to elimi-nate Iowa and Indiana, for whichhe was greatly thanked. Chancespoke how he had been to Iowa,and managed to pass through In-diana unscathed. I personally amheading for Pocatello, Idaho nextmonth, my first stop in my questfor verification. I got a good feelingabout Pocatello.

WHO EXACTLY WAS ON FIRST? (con’t)

Chairman: Mike Ross, 2B Maida Avenue, London W2 1TF (Tel: 0171 723 9848 Fax: 0171 724 0929; E-mail:

Mike@theplate.demon.co.uk) Secretary: Graham Winterbone, 14 Springfield Crescent, Harpenden, Herts

AL5 4LF (Tel: 01582 622 180; E-mail:100761.3045@compuserve.com) Treasurer: Andy Parkes, 84

Hillingdon Road, Stretford, Manchester M32 8PJ (Tel and Fax: 0161 865 2952) Chair of British BaseballHistorical Committee: Jim Combs, 58 Duncan Terrace, London N1 8AG (Tel: 01895 628205) PublicationsEditor and Webmaster: Martin Hoerchner, Madalla, Chelsfield Lane, Orpington, Kent BR6 7RS (Tel and fax:

01689 815 595; E-Mail: Martin@mhoerch.demon.co.uk) Archivist: Barry Winetrobe, 53 Woodside Road, New

Malden, Surrey KT3 3AW (Tel: 0181 949 1035; E-mail: Barry@seatrobe.demon.co.uk) Assistant Chair ofHistorical Committee: Harvey Sahker, 9 Byrne Road, Flat B, Balham, London SW12 9HZ (Tel: 0171 630

0271) Procedural Advisor: Hugh Robinson, 567 Kings Road, Stretford, Manchester M32 8JQ (Tel: 0161 286

7012) Honourary President: Norman Macht Honourary Vice-President: Monte Irvin

CHAPTER OFFICERS

7

by Mike Ross

Mike got this story from the

horse’s mouth - from Wilf himself.

We are currently trying to confirm

the exact date of the Babe’s visit to

Britain - ed.

A short time before his finalillness, probably in late 1947 orearly 1948, during a visit to Brit-ain, Babe Ruth was responsiblefor instigating a mini player in-surrection which may at the timehave led to a transformation oflabour relations in British sport.There was no doubt as to theuniversality of Ruth’s popularityand influence; as with MuhammadAli today, Ruth’s appeal knew noborders or boundaries. Former star

BABE RUTH MAKES WAVES AT ARSENAL

THAT REACH PARLIAMENT

Jim Combs has been namedthe new Chair of the British Base-ball History Committee. Jim, whocaptained the “Federal Storage”team of the Clark Griffith League,is shown receiving the trophy forthe All-American Amateur Base-ball Association Championshipheld at Johnstown PA August1960. Welcome aboard, Jim.

footballer for Middlesbrough (TheBoro) Wilf Mannion was greatlyinfluenced by the words andthoughts of Ruth, so much so thathe went on strike for higher wages.As a result he was close to beingpurchased by Oldham Athletic ina deal that fell through because ofthe high price tag on Mannion.

Wherever the Babe visitedhe was renown. “Even the kids inthe seats knew him”, soccer greatWilf Mannion recalled. “Everyonehere talked about him for yearsand years and years.” Ruth strolleddown through the tunnel at theArsenal Football Grounds in Lon-don to take a bow to the assem-bled crowd of 50,000 supporters,there for their Saturday soccertreat. On the way he was intro-duced to the great striker for Mid-dlesbrough F.C., Wilf Mannion,who by the end of an illustriouscareer had earned a prodigious 26international caps for England. Inbaseball terms a bit like havingperformed in 26 World Seriesgames. In those days and up untilthe 1970s such stars as Mannionwere earning £8-£10 per week.Not a bad whack for a workingman. Meanwhile Ruth was onnearly £1000 per during his ear-lier heyday, a period well beforeMannion’s revolt took place. Manyof Ruth’s fellow big leaguers couldhave easily taken home ten timesthat of a top British soccer star atany time during Ruth’s career.

When Ruth asked and wastold what the wages were for thelikes of such stars as Mannion,“He could not believe it”, recalledWilf, now in his early 80’s. “Helooked at the stadium and saw50,000 fans at the Arsenal andsaid, ‘I don’t know any profes-sional players hanging out for thatkind of money. Why don’t youguys get together?’ What Babemeant by get together was for theplayers to ‘hold out’. He couldn’tunderstand why we didn’t fightfor our rights.” So the pair talked.“He put a bit of something in me,”

Wilf admitted. So there was BabeRuth at the head of what turnedout to be a one-man insurrection.“I went out for nine months. No-one would do it. Only me. Not oneof the others came out with me.”

“[Judge] Shawcross took mycase to Parliament. I went down toLondon but everything got spoiled.Of all the things to happen, I hadto go back home because my sonwas being born while I was away.That killed it.” And so Wilf wasbeaten, out of money and all atonce with a child to support. Hewent back to work for the same£10 and was lucky to get it whilesaving Middlesbrough from im-pending relegation. But the Babecame close to possibly altering thecourse of labour relations in Brit-ain.

Jim Combs

Dear Martin:A very quick note (I’m being

overawed by a gigantic stack ofcorrespondence that piled upwhile I was away for a few weeks)to tell you how much I enjoyed theJuly issue of The SABR UK Exam-iner. I found Allan Synge’s articleon baseball and cricket fascinat-ing, and I thought the whole pro-duction was terrific. Please passon my compliments to Mike Ross,Graham Winterbone, PatrickMorley and everyone else involved,as well as to the whole member-ship for their enthusiasm and fre-quently fine research. Keep upthe good work!

Mark Alvarez

Letters

- Actually only one to begin with. Withthis issue we’re starting a “Letters”column, where we’ll print research-related and Examiner-related letters. Soget writing! In the meantime, we werevery gratified to receive thisacknowledgement from the SABRPublications Editor.

8

variety could be the ancestor of base-ball.

Yet as far as I knew, stoolballwas dead as the proverbial dodo. So Ihad my mouse pointer hovering overthe “print” button on my letter to Mr.Sayama…

But I had other chores to dealwith. I’m the editor the SABR UKExaminer, the research journal of theBobby Thomson Chapter, the UKbranch of SABR. I was working on theAGM report for the Examiner, and Ihad videotaped the meeting, and wasgoing over the tape for my meetingreport for the Examiner. This was anexcellent meeting, including AllenSynge, a cricket writer and member ofthe Marylebone Cricket Club (the gov-erning body of cricket), who presentedan excellent piece entitled“Cricket and Baseball - CrossCurrents”. We all know aboutthe proselytising missionsthat Albert Spalding sent toEngland in 1874 and via theworld in 1888/1889, but Allenspoke about cricket toursaimed at the American mar-ket in 1859 and 1872. As anaside he said “And thenthere’s stoolball. You shouldwatch it, if only for the comelymaidens who play it”.

My mouth dropped open. Allenwas talking about stoolball in thepresent tense. I was on the phone tohim immediately, first to ask if I couldpublish his piece in the Examiner, towhich he agreed, but then to ask himabout this stoolball remark. “Oh yes”,he said, “it’s still being played. I knowof a few matches coming up inWisborough Green, in Sussex.” Hesaid he would check and come back tome with some dates.

I was dumfounded. I asked mywife, who is from Yorkshire, if she everheard of a game called stoolball. Shesaid she hadn’t. I was very perplexed.

Allen got back to me with a fewgame dates, and July 1 seemed ideal.So we organised a road trip with Allen,me, and Mike Ross, the Chairman ofSABR UK and the one who’d originallycommissioned Allen to do the piece.Allen gave me the number of the headof the Wisborough Green StoolballClub, Mrs. Denman. I phoned her andtold her of our mission, and she wasvery helpful and gracious. She saidthe match started at 7.00 and we weremore than welcome to attend.

In the meantime I thought I’d hitthe internet and see if I could find anystoolball. I did - there’s lots of it! All ofit seemed to be in Sussex, except areference in Alresford, Hampshire,

from Mrs. Stanbrook. It turns out shewas originally from Sussex and im-ported the game. The web site alsooffered a booklet, published by theNational Stoolball Association, con-taining the rules and history ofstoolball. I contacted her, and eagerlyawaited my booklet.

We set out from my home inKent about an hour before the matchstarted at 7.00. The weather was fine,and it was a lovely summer’s eveningas we drove through the Sussex coun-tryside. This year had a generallyrainy summer, and we’d lucked outtoday.

When we got to WisboroughGreen the match had started. It was alovely setting, a huge open town greensurrounded by brick houses of vary-

ing age and design, most with gar-dens bursting with summer flowers.The obligatory pub was set off on onecorner of the green, and the townchurch rose up on a hill just behindthe green. A cricket sight screen waspushed off to the side of the green,and right behind it was a flag polewhere the Union Jack flutteredproudly. Towards the edge of the greenwas a club house; obviously it was theheadquarters for the local cricket club.It had a bar on the ground floor, andabove it was a balcony where thescore (runs, overs, and wickets) wasdisplayed.

We parked and made our waytowards the clubhouse. As we walked,our attention focused on the game.The two teams were indeed, as Allenmentioned, all female, although Mrs.Denman told us that mixed teamsalso exist. The home team was dressedin yellow and green, like the OaklandA’s of the 70’s, with a yellow top andgreen skirt. The away team fromSteadham was dressed in maroon,like that other Philadelphia team ofthe late 70’s and early 80’s. The basicuniform consisted of a pullover shirtwith a few buttons at the top, and apleated skirt, which was fairly short,over shorts, like ladies tennis players.Some team members, more sensitive

to the cold, wore a sweatshirt and/orsweat pants in the same colourscheme, over or instead of the basicuniform.

The main action of the gamewas in the middle of a large circledrawn near the perimeter of a green,which I later learned was 90 yards feetin diameter. Stoolball has no foulterritory. In the middle of the circlewere set up two wickets, though notwickets in the cricket sense. Theywere wooden targets, about a footsquare, set on a wooden pole aboutthe height of the players’ heads, sup-ported on the ground by four shortlegs. It was a bit like a stop sign, onlysquare and wooden. There were two ofthem, 16 yards apart. There were twobatters, though they are called bats-

men in stoolball, eventhough most of them arefemale. The stoolball batbore no resemblance to abaseball bat, or even acricket bat. It was more likean outsized ping pong pad-dle, though reinforced andwith a lot more whack, aswe later found out.

The pitcher, as wewould call her, or the bowler(as called in stoolball andcricket) would pitch the ball

underarm in the air from a distance of10 yards, towards the wicket abouthead-high to the batsman. The bats-man would try to hit the ball, and ifshe made contact, would run towardsthe other wicket. In the meantime thebatsman at the other wicket wouldrun towards her wicket. They wouldrun back and forth as many times aspossible before the ball was fieldedand returned to the running crease,which is a line drawn from either sideof the wicket. I immediately recog-nised it as a very similar game tocricket. The primary difference wasthat instead of bouncing the ball offthe ground try to hit a wicket about 2feet tall, as in cricket, the bowlerthrew the ball towards a wicket placedon a pole at about the same height asthe batsman’s head. Indeed, articles Ilater read called stoolball “cricket inthe air”.

We located Mrs. Denman, andshe made us feel welcome while sheexplained the game to us. First sheshowed us the game equipment. Thebat was a lot more substantial than aping pong paddle; it was made ofwillow (the same wood as cricket batsare made) and very hefty. It was com-pletely flat on one side (the hittingside) and rounded on the other (like acricket bat). And it was heavy; you

STOOLBALL IS ALIVE AND WELL (con’t)

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could really pack a wallop with thisthing! The handle was wedged in themiddle with a soft wood, for extraspring. But it was the ball that reallydelighted us. It was like a tiny base-ball, white leather with red cross-stitching, but only about 2¼ inches indiameter. By contrast, a cricket ball isred with two hemispheres joined bystitching around the equator. Thissimple connection to baseball, thesimilarity of the game balls, reallyintrigued us.

Mrs. Denman then explain to usthe rules of the game, which are verysimilar to cricket. There are elevenplayers on a team. It is organised intoovers, which are six legitimate bowledballs in cricket and eight in stoolball.The number of overs is flexible andagreed before the match, usually from15 to 20. There were many ways toscore. If the batsman hits a ball thatisn’t fielded immediately, they havethe option of running back and forthfrom wicket to wicket, scoring a runfor each time they make the traverse.A hit ball that rolls over the boundaryon the ground scores four runs, andone hit in the air that clears it scoressix runs. There are four ways for thebatsman to be out: 1) “caught”, i.e.flied out; 2) “run out”, having the ballget to the wicket the runner is head-ing towards before she reaches it, abit like the force play; 3) “bowled out”,in which the bowlers strikes the wicketwith the ball, throwing it past thebatsman untouched, and 4) “bodybefore wicket (BBW)”, similar to crick-et’s “leg before wicket”, and which theumpire decides that the batsmanwould have been bowled out if shehad not been standing directly infront of the wicket and deflected theball. There are no free bases for HBP’sin stoolball.

In studying the genealogy of ballgames, one quickly learns that it iseasy to find similarities, e.g. stoolballwith cricket, or baseball with round-ers, but proving ancestry is completelydifferent. Stoolball has a lot of rules incommon with cricket, for instance the4-run and 6-run rules. But whethercricket got them from stoolball orstoolball got them from cricket is opento debate. It was my gut feeling on firstviewing the game, and I can’t provethis, that there was a lot of back-influence from cricket to the game ofstoolball. In other words, cricket mayhave, and probably did, spring fromstoolball, but cricket was codifiedmuch earlier, while stoolball remaineda pastoral pastime with rules thatvaried from county to county, indeedvillage to village. When it was time toset down the official rules of stoolball,

which I later learned was 1881, I haveno doubt that gaps or inconsistenciesin the stoolball rules were filled in bycricket rules. A subject for furtherresearch.

We watched the game from along while, taking photographs andvideo, and then the clouds moved in,and the late evening sun moved to-wards evening twilight. Soon nightwould fall, and we felt it was the timeto move on. But we had one moreerrand to run. Allen asked if we couldstop by the church on the hill thatoverlooked the town green. It turnedout his parents were buried there;evidently Allen’s roots in this areawere deeper than I thought.

I gave him his privacy at hisparent’s resting places; my attentionhad been captured by a duck pondjust below the church. There was amother duck with a long string ofbaby ducks, paddling around thepond. As I watched them I reflectedupon the great circle of life and death,with a group of baby ducks below anda churchyard above, and an ancientgame with ancestors very much alive,still being played in the Sussex coun-tryside.

Of course I excitedly reported allthis back to Japan, to Mr. Sayama.We immediately wrote back and saidhe would be visiting England to watchthis ancient game! He also sent mehis c.v. He had written numerousbooks and articles on both Japaneseand American baseball, as well asJapanese translations of books suchas “The Boys of Summer” and SatchelPaige’s “Maybe I’ll Pitch Forever”. Italso seems he has been interested instoolball for many years, because healso sent me a copy of a photograph ofhim playing stoolball at Plimouth Plan-tation. Plimouth Plantation is a rec-reation of the original English colo-nial settlement of Plymouth, Massa-chusetts, complete with actors in pe-riod costume. The photo shows Kazuobowling toward a batsman stationedin front of a stool, with everyone buthim dressed as the original Pilgrimsettlers. Stoolball was the first gamereported to have been played in theAmericas, by the Massachusetts colo-nists in 1621.

About that time the NationalStoolball Association booklet arrived.The rules were pretty much what Ihad learned so far, in addition to suchfacts as the names of the fieldingpositions, e.g. the bowler, wicketkeeper, mid wicket on, slip on, slip off,mid wicket off, deep mid wicket off,deep over off, deep mid on/off, deepmid cover on/square leg area, anddeep mid wicket on. The booklet ad-

vised “The bowler should try severaldifferent deliveries to unsettle thebatsman”. I read about a certain de-livery called the “donkey drop”, whichis a high and slow ball that drops juston or behind the wicket. The booksays “This delivery fools many bats-men and they have difficulty makinga stroke”.

The booklet also contained acopy of a fascinating article from “TheSussex County Magazine” from July,1928. It gave an account of the historyof the game. The seminal character intwentieth-century stoolball historywas Major W. W. Grantham ofBalneath Manor, Sussex, who wasresponsible for the stoolball revival in1917. The article waggishly asks thequestion “Did Major Grantham revivethe Sussex round frock, or smock, asa suitable garment in which to disporthimself at stoolball, or did he revivestoolball in order to show off his finesmock?” The article then gives a fewreferences to stoolball going back to1450, in which the game was forbid-den to be played in churchyards.

One reference that particularlyinterested me was “About 1630 a Pu-ritan records that ‘Maidstone was for-merly a very profane town, wherestoolball and other games were prac-tised on the Lord’s Day’”. The firstreference to baseball yet uncoveredhas been dated 1700 in every bookI’ve read. It was written by the Rever-end Thomas Wilson of Maidstone,Kent, who wrote in dismay “I haveseen Morris-dancing, cudgel-playing,baseball and cricketts, and many othersports on the Lord’s Day.” If this is thesame reference, maybe a much ear-lier date is possible. A subject forfurther research. The article goes onto say that Major Grantham was con-vinced that “stoolball in some form orother was the progenitor of cricket,rounders, and baseball”. This waslong before Henderson wrote his wordsin agreement.

Stoolball never completely diedout. Indeed, Major Grantham playedthe game as a youth. There exists abeautiful illustration of a stoolballmatch in Horsham Park in Sussex,between Horsham Park and the For-esters, two female teams, in 1878.This match was played by cricketrules, except that the batsman had totap the wicket after every ball, andwas out if the wicket keeper touchedthe face of the wicket with the ballfirst. It was noted that “the match wasspoiled by one incident. Miss FlorrieLucas, of Horsham Park, managed toedge the ball so that it curled roundand lodged in her hair, of which shehad quite a lot. She asked the wicket

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keeper to take it out, which was done,but the Rev. C. Hodgson, one of theumpires, gave her out ‘caught’, with-out having been appealed to. Thisbroke their hearts and led to ‘remarks’,which nearly ended in play beingstopped for good.”

Major Grantham revived thesport in July 1917. At the time theFirst World War was raging, and Ma-jor Grantham was serving on the Mili-tary Tribunal. His eldest son had beenbadly wounded in France, and theMajor was moved to provide somesport for the “battered heroes of thewar in our military hospitals”. Cricketand tennis were deemed to strenuousfor those who had lost limbs or other-wise handicapped;stoolball seemed to bethe ideal game. A semi-nal match was playedthat year on the SussexCounty Cricket Ground,between soldiers fromthe Pavilion Hospital“damaged by wounds”and a team of ancientlawyers, including Ma-jor Grantham, “dam-aged by age”. The sol-diers won.

Major Grantham,besides being a tirelesschampion of stoolball,was also an excellent chronicler of thesport. He wrote two books on the sportand his copious scrapbooks, notes,and artefacts still reside in the Sus-sex County Archives in Lewes. Thegame grew and thrived, and startedbeing played in Japan, France,Canada, Africa, Australia, and othercountries. The 1917 revival led to theinstitution, in 1923, of the StoolballAssociation for Great Britain.

The Stoolball Association ceasedto exist in 1946, after the SecondWorld War and the death of MajorGrantham dampened enthusiasm.But the game still continued to beplayed, and in 1979 the present Na-tional Stoolball Association wasformed, and has been going strongever since.

The N.S.A. booklet had a note“For further information contact: Mrs.K.R. Price, Secretary”. I was inter-ested in finding out how widely playedthe game was, so I gave her a call. Shewas a gold mine of information.Stoolball is very popular not only inSussex, but also in nearby counties.For instance, Surrey has 25 teams ina league and Kent has 12-15 teams.Sussex, however, has 60 teams thatare part of a league. In the East-bourne area alone are 10 leagues.

Plus there are lots of non-leagueteams. In Sussex every village has ateam. I talked for quite a while to Kayand her husband John, the Vice-President of the N.S.A. They wereboth very aware of stoolball’s longhistory, and very keen to make surethat the history would continue. Johnmentioned to me some upcoming tour-naments, including the SussexCounty Championship in Seaford onAugust 9, which pitted the top fiveteams from each league against eachother. The “Rest of League Tourna-ment” was the weekend after inPlumpton Green, in which the nextfive teams from each league wouldsquare off against each other. In ad-

dition, there would be the “Day ofStoolball”, at Wivelsfield Green onSeptember 9, an informal event wherestoollballers from all over would meet,be arranged in pickup teams, andplay their sport all day long.

August 9 dawned semi-overcast,but as we got nearer to the EnglishChannel, the clouds broke and itturned into a gloriously sunny Sun-day. The quaint antique-print scenein Wisborough Green did nothing toprepare me for the spectacle atSeaford. The playing field was mon-strous, and it seemed like multitudesof stoolballers stretched to the hori-zon. At Wisborough Green I saw twoteams; here were 25 teams, and thiswas only the cream of the crop. Ifinally started to get an inkling of thegame’s popularity. I stood, open-mouthed, at the perimeter for a fewmoments, and then we made our waytoward the action. There was a total offour stoolball pitches (playing circles)laid out in close proximity, staggeredlike the Olympic rings, with four con-current matches taking place. In ad-dition there were throngs of relatives,friends and interested parties watch-ing the play from the edges. We ap-proached the small clubhouse andmy wife said “Martin, I’m going to the

bathroom”. Almost immediately a gen-ial-looking man in his 60’s walked upand said to me “Are you MartinHoerchner?”, even pronouncing mysurname correctly, which you nor-mally wouldn’t do from the spelling. Iwas flummoxed; had my fame pre-ceded me? It turned out to be JohnPrice of the N.S.A. He welcomed usheartily and introduced us to his wifeKay, who I had talked to on the phone.

John was acting as officiator ofthe tournament - I don’t know hisexact title, but he basically ran it. Hehad a desk set up where the scoreswere kept and results tabulated, andthe area around him was a beehive ofactivity. Players would come up to

him at regular intervalsreported scores - Burwashbeat Graffham 119-79;Ringmer beat Maresfield100-64. He would markthem on a chart and thewinner would proceed tothe next round. He wouldget on the P.A. and sum-mon Geebro and Adastrato pitch three in five min-utes. Kay seemed to bedisappearing and reap-pearing with lightningspeed, going here andthere on varying errands.They worked together like

a well-oiled machine.Despite his duties John was very

gracious and helpful in supplyingstoolball knowledge. He explained thelayout of the tournament, and pointedout some of the teams. They seemedto be generally not from larger towns,but from small villages with exoticnames like Sidley, Ditching,Mountfield, Newick, and Angmering.He also explained how the rules var-ied from regular stoolball, in that therewere only eight players on a teaminstead of eleven and the number ofovers is reduced. He said tournamentstoolball is a lot faster than townstoolball, and many runs are scored.In fact, he offered so much informa-tion I couldn’t keep up with him, beingwithout notebook or tape recorder.

Duty called him back to thedesk, so we took off and walked aroundthe pitches, taking photos and shoot-ing video. Here a tall blonde in blueand yellow bowls a wicked underarmball to a cowering girl in green andwhite. There a confident batsmanholds her place as the ball comes in,waiting a final moment, and givingthe ball an affirmative whack! On a farpitch fielders scramble after a ball hitfar, retrieving it just before it reachesthe perimeter and returning it as run-

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ners chase each other back and forthfrom wicket to wicket. It was like athree-ring circus, only there were fourrings. It was an incredible spectacle,under a very uncharacteristic Eng-lish bright sunny summer’s day. Andin the background, if you walked tothe far end of the playing field, rosehuge chalk cliffs, which the southcoast of England is famous for. Pic-ture postcard stuff - it’s on the coverof the Examiner.

The spectators clustered aroundthe edges of the four circular pitches.Some had lawn chairs, some haddeck chairs, some were spread out onblankets, and many brought ice chestsfull of food and drinks for picnicking.Some were engaged in mortal combatwith beach umbrellas in the wind. Isaw a small boy swinging a cricket baton the sidelines as his father bowledhim a ball. He hit it with authority andit went rolling down the well-mani-cured lawn. The father shouted “That’sa real daisy cutter!”. I was amazed tohear that term, which describes a fastground ball, because the only time Ihad ever came across it was in anexplanation of baseball terms fromthe 1880’s. What goes around comesaround, as they say. The great circleonce again.

We walked the whole circuit ofthe playing field and came back toJohn and Kay. Noting the incrediblyfine weather, I asked him if the tour-nament had ever been cancelled dueto poor weather. He said no; in 27years, it had always been completed.He said once in a while it had startedin a drizzle, and with the enthusiasmof the players been completed in adriving rain, but had never been can-celled.

John then gave me the chanceto hit a stoolball ball with a stoolballbat. He went into a duffle bag and dugout a few stoolball bats, of varyingweights. I chose one of the heavierones, and my wife pitched the ball,and I whacked it with the bat, whichnow felt a lot more substantial than aping pong paddle, and the ball soaredinto the air. I not only felt the thrill ofBarry Bonds hitting one over thefences, I also felt the thrill of a 15thcentury milk maid hitting one into thenext cow pasture! He gave me astoolball ball, which I’d come to ad-mire as a miniature baseball. Johnalso gave me a ball used in indoorstoolball, a derivation of the gameinvented for those long rainy Englishwinters. It’s also white with redstitches. This ball was actually anofficial rounders ball; it’s about half-way the size between a stoolball ball

and a baseball. From stoolball torounders to baseball, the ball growslarger as the game progresses. ThoughI would say that the rounders ballseemed to be the softest, with thestoolball next and the baseball thehardest.

In talking to John and Kay, itturned out that they had a keen knowl-edge and appreciation of the longhistory of stoolball, which I foundgratifying. I asked if they had everheld a match in old style costumes,and John said they had, in 1997, tocommemorate the 200th anniversaryof the first Sussex vs. Kent match, onRusthall Common. [Photo on page10.] In fact, the National StoolballAssociation is planning to recreatethe 1878 Horsham Park match previ-ously described for the Millenium cel-ebrations, in the original location andin full costume. John and Kay areactually from Horsham, and they saidthe setting exists pretty much as it didin the illustration.

John and Kay were once morecalled to duty, and we thanked themand moved on, as we had a long drivehome to make. Before we left we tooka short stroll along the shingle beach,and I walked along the pebbles still inawe of the scale of the support forstoolball in Sussex.

Of course I reported all this backto Mr. Sayama. He wrote back that hewas coming over to England with hiswife, but couldn’t make it until Sep-tember. He was concerned about com-ing too late for the stoolball season,but he was in luck. September 9 wouldbe the “Day of Stoolball”, an informaltournament which originally cel-ebrated the 25th anniversary of theQueen’s accession, which would beheld at Wivelsfield Green in Sussex.So we made plans to meet there.

In the flurry of letters exchangedbetween Japan and England, Mr.Sayama once enclosed a photocopyfrom a book entitled “The Man WhoInvented Baseball” by HaroldPetersen. It mentioned the ancientgame of trap ball, stating “Trap ball isstill played, usually by men and par-ticularly in Kent”. I live in Kent andMr. Sayama wondered if I knew any-thing about trap ball being playedcurrently. To make a long story short,it was John Price who discovered thegame had been played as a pub gamein the south of England fairly re-cently, and discovered at least onepub (in Gillingham, Kent) where thegame is still being played. The seasonstarts on May 18 this year and theyplay on Wednesday nights, on thegrass behind the pub. Someday soon

I expect to report on a livebrontosaurus lumbering around thesouthern English countryside.

September 9, the Day ofStoolball, dawned wet and blustery.The Seaford weather couldn’t be du-plicated. I took off in a driving rain,and once it became so intense Icouldn’t drive and had to pull overwhile it abated. It stopped raining bythe time I got to Wivelsfield Green, butthe sky was still angry and the windwas still strong.

The signs lead me to town, butbefore I got there this playing fieldappeared. This must be the place! Itwas just on the outskirts. I pulled intothe parking lot on the edge of the field;just to the left were some brick build-ings, including a meeting hall and asmall club house. The scene beforeme was very different from eitherWisborough Green or Seaford. Therewere three pitches. And the atmos-phere was very subdued, most likelydue to the perilous nature of theweather. The stoolballers were notdressed in uniform, like I’d seen be-fore.

I’d come on my own, so I parkedthe car and set out to find Mr. Sayama,John and Kay Price, Mike Ross, AllenSynge, or any combination of theabove. When I made it to the clubhouse I came across both Prices andMr. Sayama. It turned out that he hadmade contract with the Prices on hisarrival in Britain; they were alreadyon a first-name basis. Mr. Sayama, Ilearned, was referred to as “Kaz”, andhis wife Sedtz was referred to as“Setts”. We exchanged hearty greet-ings after having had such a livelycorrespondence. Almost as soon aswe made contact, Mike and Allenshowed up, and we soon were en-gaged in lively conversation. Kaz, whois in his 60’s, talked about watchingSatchel Paige pitch in San Francisco.He told how he would load the basesand then strike out the side, confirm-ing a story that had been only legendto me. I asked Kaz if Satchel wouldalso call in the outfield and theneither strike out the side or makethem ground out, and he said he sawthat too. It was baseball history com-ing alive to me.

I had my own bombshell that setthe baseball people buzzing. I checkedthe internet that morning, which wasSeptember 9, and the previous nightin the States, which would have beenearly morning U.K. time, MarkMcGwire hit his 62rd home run of theseason, breaking one of baseball’smost cherished records. Kaz wasdumbfounded, and drew a circle in

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the air. We all knew what he meant. Itwas the great circle again. On a daythat we viewed a game at least half amillennium old, a milestone wasreached in a game that was the child,or grandchild, or great-grandchild ofthat same game. The past and presentcame together in one moment. It wasan auspicious day indeed to watchstoolball.

The tournament consisted ofstoolballers organised into six pickupteams. In previous years they weregiven the letters “A” through “F”, butthis year they thought to make thingsa bit more human by giving the teamsnames, conveniently starting with theletters from A to F - the Amazons,Braves, Cobras, Dragons, Elks andFalcons. John made me laugh whenhe said the “E” was at first going to bethe Elephants, but then someonementioned the fact that very fewwoman would want to be known as an“elephant”. Good point, but I can’timage many women wanting to be adragon, either. They would play aknockout tournament and the finaltwo teams would play for the champi-onship.

Soon after we arrived there wasa break for lunch. The players andfriends retired to the meeting hall,where a light meal was presented.John Price made a brief speech, wherehe described the meaning of the “Dayof Stoolball”. Besides the official rea-son, he said that this day was onewhere stoolballers from all over couldplay and meet each other, and comein contact with stoolball legends asBarbie Jenner or Barbie Weir. Thestoolball community seems to be verytightknit, and successful players overthe years attain legendary status with-out recourse to mass media, but onlythrough their reputations spread byword of mouth.

John then introduced us, Kazand Allen and Mike and myself, as the“International Sporting Press”. Kazspoke and told us that after the warhad ended in 1945 - he was 9 - thatthree things came together: peace,democracy, and baseball, and hewould always associate those themtogether. Baseball had been popularin Japan since 1874, but had beensuppressed during World War II as aforeign influence. But after the warbaseball was allowed to blossom again,and Japan soon became only the sec-ond country to support professionalbaseball.

Chapter Chairman Mike Rossthen spoke a few words of greeting,and posed two research questions tothe crowd: has anyone heard of thegame of trap ball being played in

recent memory, and has anyone heardof “tansy cakes”? Tansy cakes werementioned by Joseph Strutt and laterRobert Henderson as being the prizeoffering to victorious ball teams inEaster festivities, and traced back toBiblical times. This question laterbrought forth a response - a recipe inan old English book “The CompleatHousewife (or Accomplished Gentle-women’s Companion)” by Eliza Smith,first published in 1758. After Mike’sspeech Setts Sayama was presentedwith a lovely basket of flowers, andKaz was presented with, as if bringing“coals to Newcastle”, John Price said,a bottle of sake. Both gifts were heart-ily appreciated.

Afterwards the food was servedand the cooks were thanked with around of applause. Play resumed af-ter the meal; unfortunately theweather hadn’t improved in the least.At one point players and spectatorswere scattered by a particularly fierceshower, but it was short and thestoolballers were back to their gamein no time. As we watched the game,John had time to explain to me someof the finer points of the game. Earlierhe showed me coloured practice conesthat were used to help batsmen placetheir hits between fielders. He pointedout that bowling is always underarm,with no allowed wrist snap, but it stillcan get very fast. The game has the flyrule, and balls have to be caught onthe fly for the batsman/runner to beout. In fact batsmen are encouragedto hit the ball down, so it won’t becaught and they at least have a chanceof making it to the other wicket. As inall bat and ball games, the fielders getto know the batters and where theyhit and position themselves accord-ingly. Also, the bowlers know how thebatsman hits and they try to crossthem up. We watched one womanwho had a very unorthodox stroke -she hit the ball directly behind her!John said such a tactic would be veryeffective, usually making a definitefour runs, until the fielders got wind ofit, and positioned themselves corre-spondingly. He used two terms thathad always confused me in cricket,hitting toward the “on” or the “off”. Iasked and the answer was simple -the “on” was what in baseball wouldbe called “pull hitting”, and the “off”would be called “hitting to the oppo-site side”. Actually, the cricket/stoolball terms seemed to make moresense! That explains terms like “mid-off”, but I’ll never understand whycricket has a fielding position called“silly mid-off”. Later on I saw an ex-ample of a runner being “run out”.

STOOLBALL IS ALIVE AND WELL (con’t)The fielders were hurrying a ball to-wards a wicket to get there in front ofa runner; it was a close contest. Theythrew the ball at the wicket, the squarewooden bit, before the runner touchedher bat to it, and she was out. I askedwhy the fielder didn’t hold the ball inher hand when she touched andwicket, and John said it was for tworeasons: 1), if the fingers got betweenthe bat and the wicket it could getquite painful, and 2), if the fielder washolding the ball you couldn’t tell if theball had actually touched the wicketahead of the bat. Fair enough, Ithought, if it was crucial that the balland not just the hand holding the balltouches the wicket first.

The final match was played be-tween the Elks and the Falcons. Thesun broke through as they took thefield, and that lovely late afternoonlight broke through the clouds to bathethe players. In the end the Elks tri-umphed, and almost immediately fol-lowed a presentation, in which thevictorious stoolballers queued up whileJohn Price presented them with prizes.The queue stretched as the otherplayers joined in, and it seemed thateveryone got something. This eventwas about fellowship, not competi-tion. Towards the end of the presenta-tions I moved further back to take inthe scene of lines of stoolballers queu-ing up to received recognition for theirefforts in keeping an ancient ball gamealive. I finally realised I was watchingthe last hurrah of maybe the 549th

season that stoolball has been playedin England. The National League at123 years is a mere child in compari-son.

I finally found myself at the edgeof the parking lot, and thought I’dmake a discreet exit. But before I gotinto my car, I turned around oncemore to take in the scene. The darkclouds were turning day into dusk asthe stoolball crowd started breakingup; the great circle was once again inforce. I turned for one last look andsaw summer turning into autumn,and another stoolball season goinginto the record books and into his-tory.

That’s okay, because springcomes soon, and within months onvillage greens all over Sussex andKent and Surrey we’ll hear the thwackof bat against ball and the activity offielders scurrying to return a ball tothe next wicket. So will another sea-son start in the sixth or seventh cen-tury that stoolball has been played inthis fair isle.

As for me, I can hardly wait foropening day.