Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1905-06-07

the calendar, but America renews its
youth, il is ever young, in its love for
the national game America of Sat
urday afternoon, when they play
"double-headers. might be taken for
nation of Office boys, the only old
thing about it being its deceased grand
mothers. Hobble out to the game
on crutches though we may, We be-
come vigorous and rattle and pound
on the boards of the bleachers when
our home pitcher saws out the migAty
Casey Of the Midwife team, or our
chief slugger gets one about right and
lams 'er out TO deep center for, say.
four bases. Outgrow baseball? What 5
the use?
We remember when We played our
selves! Who does not thrill with the
splendid recollection of how he saved
the day for his little old nine. May
be it was THE Little Nicols" or The
COmisky Junior or The Compton Av-
enue Ansons." Do you remember how.
in the last half of the ninth. you stood
at the plate with your staunch hickory
in your hands and the score stood p
were two outs. Bill Higgins had died
at first and Henry Wilson-in those
days the boys called him "Old Hank
had sawed out But on second was
old Jimmie Davis and your brother
Tom was on third; they were looking
scared and hung close TO the bags.
Then you waited for good one about
waist-high. They didn't call balls in
those days against the pitcher or
strikes against the batter. Do you
call to mind how your every fiber
strained, how your arms thrilled as
you clenched the bat. how you swung
for the good one when at last il came
over the plate and with what ecstacy
you smashed it, what joy filled your
whole existence as you saw il sail
far out over the left fielder's head and
heard the grandest, sweetest music in
the wOTld-the joyous pandemonium of
your playmates, while your young legs
traversed the bases and brought you
home with the winning run? That old
vacant lot was paradise, wasn't it?
If you don't recall something like
that and haven't some such tale to tell
your son and later your grandson. you
haven't really lived and you are not a
very good American. But you prob
ably do recall il, and il was almost the
happiest day of all your darling depart
ed bOyhood That day revives every
time you see a ball game. and your old
pulse runs warm again. No, the Amer
lean people will not outgrow baseball.
Some of US on those old lots learned
to love baseball SO well that we could
not forsake it, and We kept on playing
it, for living, after We were men.
Men, good men. the very best of souls.
preserving their boy hearts ever, have
lived and died for the cause. Who
shall say that they haven't lived well
and died well? Last week Mr.. w. H.
GOodenough, the old baseball player,
who had been i'll in one of the city in
stitutions. died at the City Hospital. He
played on the lots of this old town
many, many years ago, and afterwards
in semiprofessiOnal circles and at last
in the Southern league. He lived the
game and he played it well. Many a
man who loved the game and still
loves the dreams of youth will recall
GoodenOugh. The faithful will shed a
tear for him. GoodenOugh is gone, but
the game he played will last forever
at least as long as his descendants and
ours survive as good Americans; at
least as long as the Constitution and
patriotism and our other meritOriOus
and time hallowed institutions last.
Let's make the most of it while we are
young and while we are old