The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1933-08-29

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IN some. The first time had come
10 Ebbets Field with no feeling Of
1e-porsihility to anyone bit to my
self to hare a good time. But Sun
d2y I came down with my Daily
Worker reporters card,
1t didn't get me in free. I felt all
through tae game that I should BE-
upstairs behind the net with tAe
fish-faced gentlemen OF the press."
Or better out on the field as a
player correspondent for cur paper.
All this will come in time The
fish-faces will be swallowed up for
ever in sea which will never rro-
duce their like again. And we shall
have here in America baseball torn
from the greedy fists OF the Nc
ISeevers, the Stonsilan5, and the
Rupperts, played for the pure fun of
it, the wy sport5 are being played
IN Russia, and all this in the hands
of the workers.
Much has been said about good
craftsmanship and fair play in
America. Nest Of it is bluff. How
lean you expect it when the big thing
is to win, no matter how it is done?
Follow closely the sports sections in
the boss papers. Didn't old McGcaw
|say once, "You take the good pitch
ers, and let me have the breaks"
And the breaks may mean anything
from an umpire's bad decision to the
sriking of the star slugger or the
blowing up Of the pitcher because
the jockeys in the dugouts have sud-
denly found his soft spot
Babe Herman bats for Demaree of
the Cubs and strikes out. "Oh, you
lemon pip yells one fan. "The big
stiff is still playing for Brooklyn"
shouts another. A third fan gives
Leslie, Dodser first baseman, the
Bronx cheer. Where's the pinch
hitter? Get a bottle bat and hit
bubbles" lie whoop5. Though Guy
Bush is pitching fine ball for the
Cubs, many of the Dodger fans bco
him.
Are these bad elements?" No.
Many are workers who have so iden-
titled themselves with their team
that they cannot sleep or eat when
the team loses. The leanness of
American life under capitalism drives
them to this fever. Woe to the
player who makes "bonehead" play.
They are ready to rip his hide off
and hang it dripping on the nearest
fence. II all this energy and en-
thusiasrn and concern were properly
harnessed, the dynamos Of revolution
would be hunlming more fiercely in
this country.
Is 1t any wonder that they are poi
soned? The bleachers are like great
open crates with thousands of boys
and men packed like dressed dolls.
And beyond the bleachers you get
the glimpse Of an apartment house,
the roof full Of fans. For almost five
hours they fry in the sun like bacon
strips. Yet less than half the choice
seats in the ball grounds are taken.
Why aren't the doors flung open
and these thousands admitted? Why
are there fences segregating the
bleacher fans from the others?
The ushers scurry about for tips.
The sweating sodapop boys get in
the way OF a business man in the
reserved section? He damns them
If the boys break a bottle, they get
no credit for 1t. Hot dogs, looking
as If they were made of India rubber,
stuck into burnt rolls. A bunch OF
Italian boys are bleeding white q
bottle Of wine. Two men discuss last
nights poker game. A crowd hangs
about the dressing room between the
two games to see the great men. And
in the mems room dozens are lined
up like horses before a trough. A
Negro rushes about with whisk-
broom currying you down. He's got
to earn his few cents. He chants
l"Anything at all. Nothing Is toe