East Oregonian : E.O. (Pendleton, OR) 1888-current, 1910-07-28
HOW GOD DUNGARA
HOOKED BILLIKIN

The sporting editor of the Evening
Telegram belches forth with the fol-
lowing effusion in Fridays sheet.
List, ye merry men who swarm the
emerald globe in the Valley of Swat
of the hey-day Summer afternoons, to
the tale of ye Hungry Fan and how
JOY at last came into his heart, for.
God wot, It is peach of a yarn.
1t took To-day flood a while back
10 start the human race off on the
right foot again. See Noah's memoirs.
1t took Nellie Bly, so days to belt
the globe.
1t took the Little Corporal 100 days
to "come back" from Elba to Water
loo.
It took Haley's comet 227 days to
reach perihelion from the time the
sky-tramp was sighted.
1t took Peary Is months to dis
cover the north pole.
But what Of these trifles, for
It has taken Ye Hungry Fan four
long years to see the home team win.
And, what long trail Of teams It has
been, but now, at last, he has found
his fetish, his charm, his scarab, his
graveyard rabbit; he has tasted nee
tar, frankincense ambrosia and other
sweets Of triumph
He has at last seen Winged Vic
tory perched serenely upon Mercedes
manly bean. But not without sorrow,
travail and much bug-madness.
Yea, many times and often has he
sailed forth with SIS worth of hope
tucked away in his patient breast and
seen his favorite ballplayer braves
hunt their holes as the cleaning gath
cred around Vaughn street.
Full frequently in the long quadren-
nial has he seen ambitious youths
with a big "P" on their shirtwaists
climb into eastern halls of fame
smeared with glory and $4,000 a year
but he has never until yesterday seen
these guys carve their initials on the
right line Of the score board. He has
seen these same heroes pushed back
into the western brush and amiably
get it in the neck at the hands Of
coarse barbarians and strangers.
He has done a wardance in front
of the little God Bllikin, the God OF
Things as they ought to Be, but all
that he got. out Of it was the echo
ing mock of the Great God Dungara,
the God Of Things as They Are, but
not until yesterday did Bilikin and
Dungara drive double and let Things
as They Are be like the Things a.
They Ought to Be.
Ye Hungry Fan has munched pea
nuts with "Bill" Pangle. He has lis
tened to the cheerful rawlings Of Doc"
Anderson and mild mvectives of
Buck" Keith. He has lolled with
Charlie Shanks amid the soft red
cushions of Charles big joy cart and
laid kopecs with him on rough bench
es of the grandstand. He has sucked
sarsaparilla through wheat straws at
the side of Johnny McCue and George
Bills. He has listened to the blarney
of Hooligan Hogan and heard Truck
Eagan curse the lofty sky. He has
done all these. but not until yester-
cen could Ye Hungry Fan romp home
in glee and hear the soft cooling of the
pleasant winds singing through the
mulberry trees or sip the juleps of vic
tory.
1t was a glorious thing that he took
the hunch and hammered on the
gates that lead to the realm of Swat
and sat down to see Gene Knapp claw
glory out of the crawfish vitals of
Crabby Mohler's piratical band. And
here's the secret, If you want to see
Portland win, grab Ed Estes away
from the pill foundry and the mortar
and pestle, take him to the home of
the handstitched horse-hide and in
the seventh inning, when things look
bad with two men on the paths and
the heavy hitter of the league at bat
let Ed insidiously introduce you to
Coney Island Red Hot dampant on a
field of mustard and a warm bun
and you're safe. You can
feel sure that the next time you go
out with your kick full of rupees and
with clean collar you can see the tin
squares in the field spell victory for
the home team. 1t cost Ye Hungry
Fan two round bones TO find ii out
but he isn't charging a bean for the
tip.