William Frederick Kirk

“ The Yeggmen lead the league just now—that team is full of tricks;
They beat the Con Men yesterday by seventeen to six.
The Lifers have an outside chance to win the prison flag;
The Counterfeiters still have hopes, although they seldom brag.
The pitcher for the Grafters, namely, Alderman McGee,
Has bet his good behavior that they’ll finish one, two, three.
Yes, the finest “inside” baseball I have seen in many a day
Is inside the dear old prison, where they like to have me stay.
The game we had last Saturday was sure a corking sight ”

“ Were quite the whole equipment in the famous Laddies’ League.
[Pg 66]
“It’s funny,” said the Grown-up Fan, his vagrant vision o’er,
“But baseball of this high-class type is something of a bore.
Maybe it’s all too flawless as they run the game to-day—
It doesn’t grip me, somehow, like the games we used to play.”
The Grown-up Fan, a worn old man, began his homeward climb
With memories of the Laddies’ League that bars us all in time.
[Pg 67]
THE $11,000 BEAUTY Of course, McGraw is always wrong—he never picks a winner.
That’s why the Giant’s backers never have the price for dinner. ”

“ Baseball is better because you are there.
[Pg 63]
POLO IN ARIZONA “How are you, pal?” said Phoenix Phil, when he saw me late last night;
“I’m back from the polo game,” said I, “let’s go and get a bite.”
“These polo games are funny enough,” said my Arizona friend,
“With all their swell society folks and style without no end;
But a polo game worth hiking sixty thousand miles to see
Was a game we played on the desert once,” said Phoenix Phil to me.
“An English guy with an extra eye,” said my Arizona friend,
“Had taught us the game of polo, from beginning clean to end. ”

“ The Kid does this, the Kid does that, the Kid is on the job.”
And so I’m sitting on the bench, my spirits sort o’ low,
And playing memory ball games in the League of Long Ago.
I’m pulling for Kid Casey, and I hope he makes a mint,
I help him every way I can, from cussword down to hint;
[Pg 34] He knows that I am for him, too—’twas only yesterday
He says to me, “Old leaguer, you’ve got ten more years to play.”
But I know that he knows better, and I know just what I’m worth—
A man can’t last forever in the swiftest game on earth. ”

“ But always kept that baseball hit so hard by Dan O’Shay.
If you ever go to Sing Sing, which I hope you never will,
You’ll find O’Connor in a cell with that same horsehide pill.
* * *
Yes, the longest hit on record was a hit by Dan O’Shay,
When the Bankers played the Brokers, just five years ago to-day.
[Pg 37]
THE UMPIRE’S HOME Where does an umpire live? You ask me that?
Come, I will take you to an umpire’s flat.
Ah! Here we are! ’Tis five flights up, behind;
Umpires are used to hiding—they don’t mind. ”

“ I’ve found, in my baseball excursions,
From Maine to the parks way out West,
That the players who win and draw down the tin,
Are the players who throw out the chest.
But courage is courage, I reckon;
It’s hard to explain, but it’s true;
[Pg 40] And sometimes a fellow that people call yellow
Turns out to be brave and true blue.
One day when a hit meant a pennant
Our “Yellow” came up to the bat ”

“ Who can guzzle more than the most of men.
But sooner or later he has to go
The way I was chased from the big league show.
“The difference, kid,” said Danny O’Shay,
“Between the hard and the easy way,
As far as ball players goes, at least,
Is a difference big as the West and East. ”

“ Rich merchants criticised McGraw in terms that were unkind—
Merchants with lazy shipping clerks and men that robbed them blind.
But Mac just smiled and held his peace. He should have said: “Don’t whine!
Mismanage your own business, boys, and let me manage mine!”
When Matty’s cunning goes at last—all arms in time must tire—
He’ll leave a great successor in the boy Mac wouldn’t fire.
[Pg 69]
THE LAY OF THE NEW YORK FAN Yes, the baseball season’s over and the geese are flying South;
Giants count their winnings gaily, Yanks are frothing at the mouth. ”

“ Not till then will I get busy”—but the contract never came.
Life is but a game of baseball, with its players everywhere;
Some are sulking in their wigwams, some are out to do and dare.
Some are working, working, working, turning labor into fun ”

“ Them English was game as pebbles, but they broke and then they hid,
Which wouldn’t surprise you much, pal, if you saw Old Katydid.
* * *
“Polo here in the East is fine, where hosses has pedigree,
But Old Katydid was the break-up Kid,” said Phoenix Phil to me.
[Pg 65]
THE LADDIES’ LEAGUE The Grown-up Fan, a wealthy man, sat in his grandstand seat,
Gray hair and worry for his head, gout for his puffy feet.
Watching the New York Giants beat the Cincinnati team,
He closed his eyes an instant and he dreamed a lightning dream. ”

“ On any kind of single.
He played the sun-field like a master,
You never saw a fielder faster,
And oh, how he could bingle!
Horatio Hilo played out West,
Where man develops to his best,
And Eastern scouts all watched him;
They trailed him through the month of June,
They said, “Him for the big league soon,”
And finally they cotched him.
Horatio joined a big league team,
Thus gratifying boyhood’s dream,
And got the rooters rooting ”

“ None was stronger and none was gayer—
God help you along your way.
[Pg 13]
THE BALLAD OF THE MINOR LEAGUER He came here in the early Spring with all the tryout mob,
Striving to bat like Wagner and to slide (spikes first) like Cobb.
Some of the vets cried, “Bonehead!” Others remarked, “Poor zob!”
Modest as Spring’s arbutus, calm as an April dawn,
He asked for no advances though his ticker was in pawn;
He learned the law from Jawn McGraw but never called him “Jawn.”
He graced the bench until July, leading the simple life—
He wouldn’t touch a cocktail once to please a schoolmate’s wife ”

“ And a man can’t always lose.”
The baseball game was over and the home team had been skinned,
[Pg 32] The players slunk across the field while sundry knockers grinned;
They hurried to the clubhouse for a bath and change of garb,
When up spake Manager McDuff, and each word was a barb:
“Fine lot of high-priced athletes! ”

“ By EDWARD MARSHALL and CHARLES T. DAZEY. The story, in competition with nearly 2,000 others, awarded the first prize at the Actors’ Fund Fair. Cloth bound. Illustrated. $1.50.
THE HOUSE ON STILTS
A novel. By R. H. HAZARD. 12mo, Cloth. Illustrated. $1.50.
BUCKY O’CONNOR
A novel. By WM. M. RAINE, author of “Wyoming,” etc. 12mo, Cloth. Illustrated. $1.50. ”