The Daily Missoulian. [volume] (Missoula, Mont.) 1904-1961, 1913-04-12
Notes
from
the
Anvil
Chorus

Said Charles Webb Murphy not
many days ago, Il want Incl who can
play the game; not men who sit in the
shade and tell others how to play it,
That was his parting tribute to Frank
Chance. whom he once called The
Peerless Leader" E. H. Davenport of
the Chicago Post recalls that state
ment. He says:
Tottering into the Brooklyn baseball
park Saturday, a broken old derelict
essayed to hold out an ace IN Father
Time. 1t vas a pitiful spectacle. This
wreck of the once great Frank Chance
ven into the box score with the fol-
lowing pathetic record:
ALB. r. H. Pc. A.. E.
Chance, lib .-...... 4 l 2 s OF
A batting average of only 800 and
a fielding per cent of only 1000. Why
don't the gatemen keep these has
beens out of the park? Why do
gamblers like. Frank Farrell persist in
littering up the national game with
S25,0 00-a-year false alarms who can
hit only 500 against such cripples as
Nap Rucker? What's the sport COM
ing to, anyway?
Cast-off Chance drew $4,000 paid
admissions to the Brooklyn park.
Tough, isn't it? That great baseball
general in the Corn Exchange. building
certainly should be congratulated on
sweeping such debris as Chance into
the ash can. A man who can draw
a crowd of only rs, 900 patrons has no
business in baseball. He ought to be
sitting in the shade somewhere in
some nice, comfortable Jail. And he
would be- too, if the Great Baseball
General had his way.
Death is the only thing in the level
ing business that can compete with
baseball. The national game is the
greatest democratic Influence in the.
W~ell-known United States. There
are class distinctions in all of our
other Institutions; the bleacher knows
hut one degree A glance at the
stands at Highlander park these warm
days will prove it to the skeptical
critic. Every afternoon while the
Highlanders are at practice a happy.
perspiring crowd of fans gathers in
the. bleachers. The laborer in over
alls, the college professor. the ~loafer,
the bank PRESIDENTIAL of these are
there. One may say, Lamp that boy,
he's a darb,' while the others COM
ment is extraordinary ability for so
young a man." but both are keen in
their appreciation of skill and their
denunciation of u~nfairness. We are
a democratic nation every time. there's
a ball game, at least. Unless one
looks upon the umpire as a despot.
His love for baseball n his ap-
pearance in person before congress
have, convinced a good many of us
that President Wilson is a true demo-
Crat.
From r. G. Leahy. once manager of
the Pantorium, now a telegraph oper-
atOr at Essex, Montana, Games a
spring poem. Mr.. Leahy wrote the
business office. of w. NJ. G.. n. in an
endeavor to exchange his verse for
The Missoulian, without which, he
says, life is not worth living. The
business office has relayed the poem
to is. If we are. the final tribune,
Daddy Wilbur will please place Mr..
Leahy's name upon our lists. Be-
fore we start it might be best to
~ a. -it' GO - ~ vi .
the bard, Il don't brag on this any,
for I wrote it in five Minis" The poem
is dedicated to
SPRING, 1919.
Thank God that dear old springs
most here.
Which brings these beautiful birds 50
dear; $685.
Their song and prattle give me new
life,
And make me feel most clear of strife
1t relieves us from that feeling sad,
Even the babbling brooks hop along
more glad.
How sweet the murmerings in the
trees,
Brot bou by springs soft breeze
| Hopping here and there, gathering
worm and seed,
The meadoWlark in beautiful feathers,
And dear sweet voice, ones attention
gathers.
Here and there, as you walk past,
Trot the little darlings thru the
bright green grass.
In every crevice and every nook,
One sees enough beauty to fill a book.
| ! ltlt , ii tlllpiilullh, just tloSoS' sotA
way,
Here on a limb sits a nice bluejay:
The gophers, gro~undsquirrel, dotted
round in herds,
Mixed in with the flowers, and the
dear little birds.
Their voices, gulping up the most
beautiful notes,
The sweat trickling down from their
dear glossy threats.
All dancing and hopping around in the
Isn't this enough to make n glad that
spring has begun?????
It's enough for me, by gum.
r. c. LEAHY.
II II =
A SONG OF BASEBALL.
philadelphia Ledger