# America's National Game/Chapter 26

CHAPTER XXVI.
1894-1910
THAT Base Ball follows the flag is abundantly proven by facts set forth in these pages. It has been played by our soldiers and sailors wherever they have carried the stars and stripes. But no one seems ever to have conceived the idea of taking teams of "All-America" pennant winners to give exhibitions to polar bears and seals on arctic ice during the short days that prevail in December in the land of the "midnight sun." And yet no less a personage than Brigadier General Frederick Funston, the famous hero of the Philippine War, writing in Harper's Round Table, in 1894—three years before he won his fame and his high commission—describes a league season of Base Ball in Alaska under most remarkable conditions. Here is the story:
"On the 29th day of March, 1894, a party of eleven Tinneh Indians and myself, after a twenty days' snowshoe journey across the bleak tundras and mountain ranges of Northeastern Alaska, reached Herschel Island, in the Arctic Ocean, sixty miles west of the mouth of the Mackenzie River. Here, in a little cove, locked fast in the ice, were the steam whalers Balasna, Grampus, Mary D. Hume, Newport, Narwhal, Jeanette and Karluck, all of San Francisco. Some of these vessels had been out from their home port three years. The preceding October, after one of the most successful seasons in the history of Arctic whaling, all had sought shelter in the only harbor afforded by this defiolate coast to lie up for the winter. The ice-packs coming down from the North had frozen in all about ​Herschel Island, so that as far as the eye could reach was a jumble of bergs and solid floe, but behind the island where the ships lay the salt water had frozen as level as a floor. The nine months that the whalemen were compelled to lie in idleness, while not enlivened by social gayeties, were far from monotonous. With lumber brought up from San Francisco there had been built on shore a commodious one-room house, whose most conspicuous articles of furniture were a big stove that roared day and night, a billiard table and a number of benches and chairs. This was the clubroom of the sixty or seventy officers of the fleet, and here they congregated to play billiards and whist or sit about through the long Arctic evenings, while the wind howled outside, smoking and spinning yarns of many seas, or of boyhood days at New Bedford, New London and Martha's Vineyard. There were veterans who had whaled on every ocean, and had been in nearly every port on the globe; men who recollected well the raid of the cruiser Shenandoah when she burned the fleet on the coast of Siberia thirty years before, and who had been in the Point Barrow disaster, when nearly a score of ships were crushed in the ice floe. The sailors and firemen of the fleet did not have the privileges of this house, but contented themselves with games and amusements of their own. They had an orchestra that played long and vociferously, and there was an amateur dramatic troupe that gave entertainments during the winter. But it was on the great national game of Base Ball that officers and men most depended to break the tedium of their long imprisonment and furnish needed exercise.
"A large number of bats and balls had been brought up from San Francisco by one of last summer's arrivals, and as soon as the ships had gone into quarters seven clubs were organized and formed into a league to play for the 'Arctic Whalemen's Pennant,' which was a strip of drilling nailed to a broomhandle. One nine was composed entirely of officers, another of seamen, a third of firemen, a fourth of cooks and waiters, and so on—the seven nines constituting the 'Herschel Island League.' A set of written rules provided that the series of games should begin after a month's practice and continue throughout the winter, and that all must be played on schedule time regardless of weather. Another provision was that on the diamond all ship rank was obliterated, and a sailor could 'boss' even venerable Capt. Murray without fear of reproof. No sooner had the harbor frozen over than the diamond was laid out and practice begun. Salt water ice is not quite so slippery as that from fresh water, but great care had to be used by the players.
"After a season of practice, during which there was much speculation as to the merits of the various nines and no end of chaff and banter, the first game of the series was played, and in the brief twilight of an arctic December day, with the mercury 38° below zero, the 'Roaring Gimlets' vanquished the 'Pig-Stickers' by a score of ​62 to 49. All winter, regardless of blizzards and of bitter cold, the games went on, three or four each week, until the schedule was exhausted, and by this time the rivalry was so intense that playing was continued, the clubs challenging each other indiscriminately. The provision in the by-laws that a club refusing to play on account of weather forfeited its position caused one game to be played at 47° below zero, and often during blizzards the air was so full of flying snow that the outfielders could not be seen from the home-plate. Even after the sun had disappeared for the last time and the long arctic night had begun,' games were played in the few hours of twilight at midday, but were usually limited to four innings, as by 2 o'clock it would be too dark to see the ball.
"All the whalemen were dressed in the Esquimau fur costume, only the face being exposed, and on their hands wore heavy fur mittens. These clumsy mittens, together with the fact that one was apt to fall on the ice unless he gave a large part of his attention to keeping his feet underneath him, made good catching practically impossible. 'Muffs' were the rule, and the man who caught and held the ball received an ovation, not only from the whalers, but from the hundreds of Esquimaux who were always crowded about the rope. With the ball frozen as hard as a rock, no one was apt to repeat an experiment of catching with bare hands. One of the center fielders was a corpulent Orkney Islander, whose favorite method of stopping a hot grounder was to lie down in front of it. The Esquimaux considered him the star player of the fleet. Sliding was the only thing done to perfection, the ice offering excellent facilities for distinction in that line; and there was always a wild cheer when a runner, getting too much headway, knocked the baseman off his feet and both came down together. The scores were ridiculously large, seldom less than fifty on a side, and sometimes twice that. On the smooth ice a good hit meant a home run.
"A most amusing feature of the games was the interest shown by the Esquimaux. With the fleet there were nearly a hundred of these people from Behring Strait and Point Barrow, and there were several villages in the vicinity of Herschel Island. These latter were Kogmulliks, the largest Esquimaux in existence, and the presence of the fleet had drawn them from all along the coast. Men, women and children became typical Base Ball cranks, and there was never a game without a large attendance of Esquimaux, who stood about, eyes and mouths wide open, and yelled frantically whenever there was a brilliant catch or a successful slide. At first dozens of them would break over the line and try to hold a runner until the baseman could get the ball, and it was only by vigorous cuffings that they were taught that the spectators' duties are limited to cheering and betting. They borrowed the paraphernalia and tried a few games of their own, but rarely got beyond the first inning, usually winding ​up in a general mêlée and hair-pulling. One of their umpires, who insisted on allowing a nine to bat after it had three men out in order to even up the score, was dragged off the diamond by his heels. They are naturally great gamblers and bet among themselves on the results of the whalers' games.
"A fact that impressed me very much at one of the games that I saw was that the crowd of several hundred people watching our national sport at this faraway corner of the earth, only twenty degrees from the pole, and thousands of miles from railroads or steamship lines, was more widely cosmopolitan than could have been found at any other place on the globe. From the ships were Americans, a hundred or more, men from every seafaring nationality of Europe—Chinese, Japanese and Malays from Tahiti and Hawaii. The colored brother, too, was there, a dozen of him, and several of the players were negroes. Esquimaux of all ages were everywhere, while the red men were represented by the eleven wiry fellows who had snowshoed with me from their home in the valley of the Yukon. One day I noticed that in a little group of eleven, sitting on an overturned sled watching a game, there were representatives of all the five great divisions of the human race.
"There are no men on earth who are more hospitable and more thoroughly good fellows than these whalers of the Arctic Ocean, and it was hard to leave them; but we finally got away and started on the long tramp over the snowy wastes toward the Yukon. Just before we left a notice was posted in the clubhouse which, with many 'whereases,' 'aforesaids,' and other legal formula, recited that the 'Auroras' thought they knew something about ball, and hereby challenged the 'Herschels' to meet them on the diamond within three days."
The New York Sun, in an article published over ten years ago, tells how the game even then had made its way to our colonies, only a few years after the insurrection in Hawaii and the Spanish War had given us our island possessions. Here is the article:
"Westward and eastward the national game is taking its way. Cuba has already talcen up Base Ball, and has gone so far as to send a team of players to this country. In Porto Rico the American soldiers gave a few exhibitions of the national pastime, and on the Fourth of July our men in khaki were running around the bases, and incidentally abusing the umpire. The returns from Guam are not yet in, but Governor-General Leary is a typical American and may be depended upon to do the proper thing by the game. It is in Hawaii, however, that Base Ball has become most quickly ​acclimatized, and if the Kanakas persist in their pursuit of the game, we may soon expect to see a team of Hawaiian players traveling through the United States, somewhat after the fashion of the Australian Cricketers in Great Britain. Indeed, why may we not look forward to a succession of visits from 'colonial' players, from Cuba and Porto Rico, from Hawaii and the Philippines? Someone has said that in the British military expeditions to the four corners of the earth, the Cricket bat goes with the cannon, and while the United States has no lands or tribes to conquer, it is only to be expected that Base Ball, along with Boston beans and beefsteaks, will invade our new possessions.
"That Base Ball is popular in Hawaii is evident from the amount of space devoted to the accounts of the game in Honolulu and elsewhere. The Pacific Commercial Advertiser of Honolulu contains, in its issue of July 24, an interesting account of a match game for the '99 Base Ball pennant. Three teams were contending for the mastery—the Stars, a name which recalls our famous teams of two decades ago, the Artillery team and the Kamehamehas, a, fine, resounding title, abbreviated for convenience's sake to Kams. The Artillery team dropped out of the contest early, discouraged by fairly lost games and no victories. On July 23 the Stars and the Kams met. If the Stars had won, the pennant of '99 and the acclaim of the populace would have been theirs, but the Kams played brilliantly, won the game and tied the series. All Honolulu was looking forward to the following Saturday, when the deciding game would be played.
"That the players in Hawaii have a good knowledge of the game is clear from the Advertiser's account. 'The Stars were first up,' says the Base Ball reporter, 'and before three men were out two had crossed the rubber. But the Kams more than evened things up when they came in. An error was made. Jackson lost control of the ball for a moment, the collegians slugged it, and the small boy at the scoreboard hung out the figure 4. The Stars came back with 2 in the fourth, the Kams were put out and the score was again even. In the fifth the Stars flew out in one, two, three order, and the Kams made 2. In the seventh both pulled in two runs, leaving the Kams two ahead. In the final inning the Stars tried for one of their old-time finishes. With but one man out and two on bases their chances seemed bright. A double play by Mahuka, however, did the trick and the game was over.' A very creditable game, creditably reported, with just enough of the familiar Base Ball slang to give verisimilitude and to show that the Hawaiians have 'caught on.'
Mr. H. G. Merrill, writing on Base Ball as played in Porto Rico, says:
"Base Ball has gained quite a strong hold on the natives in many of the towns of Porto Rico. A letter from Mr. Spinosa, a prominent player and sportsman, tells of a recent game in which the winning run was made amid great excitement. The score was 5 to 4 in the ninth inning with three men on bases and two out, the batsman having two strikes called on him. The catcher thought to catch the base-runner napping at first base and threw the ball wild, so that the winning run came in. It was a Sunday game witnessed by a large crowd, and Mr. Spinosa wrote: 'Some of us desecrated the Sabbath in our expressions of the play. The San Juanites were so highly elated that they challenged the regular Santurce team to a game and I intend to give them the worst drubbing they ever dreamed of—25 to 0 or something like it.' The Americans on the island are making Base Ball highly popular with the intelligent class of natives and have coached them so well that many of them play the game in surprisingly good style."
Up to date information from our island possessions is to the effect that in all the colonies acquired in recent years Base Ball teams are rapidly multiplying in numbers, the players everywhere are swiftly gaining proficiency, while the game itself is advancing with giant strides in public favor.
Throughout Cuba, Porto Rico and Hawaii regularly scheduled league games are played, exciting deep interest and attracting great throngs of spectators. The same is true of the Philippines. Wherever our soldiers and sailors go the game is immediately introduced, the natives ​accruing it with avidity. As a result of the introduction of Base Ball into our island colonies, many American professionals are finding winter employment, both as coaches and players, while here and there the appearance of a Spanish name on the published score card of games played at home shows that first-class professionals are being developed in the islands.
A correspondent, writing from Havana to a New York paper not long ago, gives the following account of a game he witnessed:
"I have seen some notable games of Base Ball, but never anything that approached a contest in Havana about three years ago for the championship of the Island of Cuba. For two years the Matanzas and Havana Clubs had struggled for the mastery, and this was to be the decisive game. There were 20,000 people on the ball grounds, and when I drove out the clubs had been playing three hours and a half, and had not yet reached the third inning. They had had four umpires and the grounds were lined with police. The excitement of the people was beyond description. Everybody on the grandstand was hoarse from violent screaming, and when the third inning came to a close with a home run on the part of the shortstop of the Havanas, the populace crowded over the balustrade and almost smothered the player with caresses. They began all over again the following day under rigid police rules and the curbing of the excitement wherever it was possible, and the game was brought to a satisfactory close. The Havanese have picked up the slang of the American ball field. It was very odd to hear the incessant jabbering of Spanish interrupted by such phrases as 'home run,' 'foul tip,' 'fair ball,' 'take your base,' etc. The excitement of the players was no less intense than that of the spectators, but despite all the frenzy which characterized the game it was noticeable that the Cubans played mighty good ball."
Ever since the occupation of Cuba, at the beginning of the war with Spain, the natives have exhibited an ever-increasing interest in the sport. At Havana league games frequently attract crowds of ten thousand spectators. The players in the big Cuban league are very skillful, ​ranking with our first-class players except in the art of batting. The games are conducted with systematic regard for the maintenance of good order, much more deference being paid to the umpire and his rulings than is true in our own major league contests. No liquors are sold writing Cuban league grounds, the man with a "thirst" being compelled to go a long distance for relief. Betting, however, is a habit so ingrained in the Cuban character that it will be a long time before that evil is eradicated from the game. Professional players do not receive salaries there as here, but seventy-five per cent. of the gross receipts of each game goes to the competing teams, of which the winners receive 50 per cent. and the losers 25 per cent. Under this system professional players in the strongest teams get about $100 a week.
For the following I am indebted to a recent number of Van Norden's Magazine. It is taken from an article written by Wadsworth Haynes:
"'Active operations' are going on in the Philippines. Mr. George W. Moore, writing from Luzon some time ago, said: 'When I went over to Masbete the game was not known to the Filipinos, but after I had explained its possibilities they took to it with great enthusiasm. Before long we had many students who were able to play as well as the average American youths. Soon they began to organize teams in the various towns in the provinces, and now we have a regular Base Ball season in Masbete.
"'As for fans, the Filipinos have the Americans backed off the ​boards. (Mr. Moore may be forgiven. He did not see the National League post-season games last year.) It is nothing for the spectators to swarm on the diamond to express their appreciation of some brilliant play. At one game 5,000 persons were on the field congratulating a player, and it was nearly an hour before the game could be resumed. Everybody in town turns out for the games, and there is a spirit of rivalry that reminds one of the league games in the United States.
"'An American umpire would have an easy time of it in Luzon, for the players never treat the arbiter of the game to the criticism and sarcasm that he receives in America. The umpire's decisions are always received without kicking, and the official is accorded a respect that would seem impossible to the men who decide the games in the United States.' O, happy umpires in Luzon! Probably if Merkle had failed to touch second base there the fact would have been thought unworthy of comment."