Okolona messenger. (Okolona, Miss.) 1900-current, 1907-09-04
EXPLAINING
BASEBALL

1t was al 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 70 cents
and don't care who knows it, sat rank
and fashion, indicated by the presence
here and there of fowery hats. That
the wearers of the hats were familiars
of the place would have impressed
even detective, for when a stray ball
hot from the bat shot straight In
among them, striking the boards with
a fearsome crash, not shrek, not
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 a 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, twill you have
it college or professional? The dit
ference is that college teams some
times play real ball, while profession
ais play it always"
Nov, don't try to explain things,
said the woman virtuously as they
settled into their places II know
what a nuisance it would Oe Just
watch the game and enjoy Yourself
and let me look
And yet she asked question s. Cues
tions like: "They don't run very we'll
do they? What makes them fall
down so often when they stop? o.
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; 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 query Of the womans with
Il don't know" this young man sup
piled. the facts from an evident spe
cialist's depth of information. He did
1t shyly, knuckling 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 a lady in charge.
Again and again it happened. A
less genial one would have CONCEALED.
But the red-headed one too truly
abounded in good fellowship easily to
believe in an intention to rebuff
Nevertheless, he felt 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
motionless with the ball held close
before his face.
Seconds flew, and still he stood
with never a shift 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 can't guess answered
the friend.
The red-headed youth stirred I'M
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 ball!"
Feminine Privilege or Tears.