The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1907-08-31
EXPLAINING
BASEBALL

1t was at a professional baseball
game in Philadelphia On the great
TERED, half-moon benches 5000 people
made so slight showing that one
heard their number with surprise.
Only the bleachers were full. They,
with their solid alienation Of coats
and faces, looked like a dark blanket
thickly polka dotted with dingy
white.
Up In the second story Of the
grand stand, where you pay 20 cents
and don't care who knows it, sat rank
and fashion. indicated by the presence
here and there of flowery hats. That
the wearers of the hats we're familiars
Of the place would have impressed
even a detective. for when a stray ball
hot from the bat shot straight in
among them, striking the boards with
a fearsome crash, not a shrek, not a
squeal, SCARED the tense silence OF
the throng.
Down on the floor below, in the
very front row, and just beyond the
screen behind the bat, sat woman
who had never seen ball game be-
fore. Beside her sat friend.
You pay only so cents in the lesser
glory, but you really see better than
from anywhere else, and you really
feel that you are one of US. Flowery
hats count for nothing there. All dis
tinctions sink unnoticed under a
happy haze of ball.
The woman had been curious to see
the national game and the friend had
been obliging.
But" he had asked, will you have
it college or professional? The diff
ference is that college teams some
times play real ball. while profession
ais play 1t always"
Now, don't try to explain things"
said the woman virtuously as they
settled into their places. Il know
what a nuisance 1t world be. Just
watch the game and enjoy yourself,
and let me look"
And yet she asked questions Cues
tons like: They don't run very well,
do they? What makes them fall
down so often when they stop?" Or
: why does he make such angry faces
at that other man with the muzzle on
his head?"
Next her, on the other side from
the friend, sat a red-headed youth.
alone; a youth of The proletariat, lib
eral minded. gregarious- The fate
that gave him that day no mate had
been unkind. He suffered for some
one to talk to.
The first time that the friend an
swered a query of the woman's with
II don't know" this young man sup
piled the facts from an evident spe-
cialist's depth OF information. He did
it shyly, knuckiing his hat further
back from his freckled brow. shifting
his cigarette hard aport, and with his
eyes answering from the game.
But he might never have spoken.
might never have existed, for all the
recognition the friend vouchsafed.
The friend was no snob, but he con-
sidered that youth excessive in local
color when one had lady in charge.
Again and again 1t happened. A
less genial one would have CONCEALED.
But the red-headed one too truly
abounded in coed Fellowship easily to
believe in an intention to rebuff.
Nevertheless, he felt a certain
something, and his remarks grew
rarer and more rare The woman was
sorry. But this was the friends party,
and he knew best.
The game progressed. Innings
waxed and waned. Then came mo-
ment when the visiting pitcher, given
heretofore to pyrotechnic sweep and
velocity in his play, stood suddenly
motioniess with the bali held close
before his face.
Seconds few, and still he stood.
with never q shitr from that queer
attitude.
what is he doing? Whatever can
he be waiting for?" cried the woman,
now keen after the idea OF the game.
I'm sure l can't guess" answered
the friend.
The red-headed youth stirred un-
easily. Mental stress showed in the
very twist of his shoulders.
He had meant not to speak again.
But this was too much! His resolu-
ton shook and fell.
Ostensibly apostrophizing the pitch
er, toward whom his face was turned,
but with his mouth so wrenched awry
that it spoke straight into the wo-
mans ear. he jerked out, deep and
hoarse, this brief, enlightening truth:
"A-ah, you, Maggie! Stop spittin' on
dat BALI"
Feminine Privilege or Tears.
The new preference for the bright
side oft life is prOsably due--in wOu-