Ring Lardner
Los Angeles Evening Express/October 8, 1919
CINCINNATI, Oct. 8.—Gents: Instead of going over to Latonia yesterday, I sent my jack over by a messenger and told him to throw it through the gate, and in the meantime I went out to the so-called national pastime. My first experience was trying to get into the park without showing a ticket, and the guy stopped me and says, “Where is your ticket, brother?” Well I never seen this bird before in all my born days, but I have got 3 perfectly good brothers so I gave him a keen glance to see maybe he was 1 of them, but if he was he had changed a whole lot, so I said “Which of my brothers is you?” and he kind of fumbled and stalled and couldn’t answer nothing back, so I simply passed it up by showing him my ticket and going into the ball park.
Up on the runway I met a lady from Philadelphia, who says, “Well, the serious will be all over with this game,” and I asked her how did she know and she said because Cincinnati is a one-night stand as all they have got to see here is Fountain Square and the Ohio river and Garfield’s statue, so I quit talking to her, as I have seen more an that, and I know for a fact that theys a whole lot more to be seen here that is visible to the nude eye, if you stick around here a while, which it looks like we would do so now
After Leaving Her
After leaving the lady from Philadelphia, much to her regrets, I went in the banquet hall, and who should I run into but the president of the other league. “Well Ban,” I said, “are you going to suspend Cracker Schalk for what he done Monday?” I call Schalk Cracker because he calls me Biscuit. “What did he do?” says Ban. “Why,” says I, “he hit an umpire and didn’t kill him.” “I didn’t see it,” says Ban, and I asked him if he was out to the game and he said he was, so that makes 2 people that can go to the game and not watch them, not including the umpires.
Great many of you gents may wonder why I keep ragging the umpire like this. Well, I don’t really mean it, and the real purpose is kind of subtle, but I would just as leaf tell you birds what it is. The other day I met Bill Evans and he said. “Keep putting my name in the paper.” So I have to sort of pan them, or how could I do it.
But at that I was kind of wandering around amidst the bugs in the 9th inning yesterday p.m. and Bill called a strike on who ever was up to the bat, and a lot of maudlins around me begin to pan Bill, so I stepped up and asked, “Do you know why they have the umpires down there on the field?” And one bird said no, so I said, “It’s because they can see the plays much better than if they was up in the grandstand.” That silenced them.
But to get back to Ban. I said, “If you aren’t going to suspend Cracker why don’t you suspend Carl Mays, as you ought to live up to your reputation as a suspender?” It’s a wonder he didn’t give me a belt In the jaw.
Up in Press Coop
After banqueting on a special brand of ham recommended by Garry Herrmann, but I won’t mention its name in pure reading matter, why I went up in the press coop and looked down on the field, and some birds from Texas was just presenting Dickie Kerr with a bunch of oil stock.
The difference between a bunch of oil stock and a bunch of flowers which they usually wish on a pitcher is that a bunch of oil stock waits 3 days instead of one before it withers and dies. Well, in the 5th they was a man on third and second and first and very few out and Cocky Collins hit one of his line drives, which don’t never seem to go safe, and somebody caught it, and who ever was on third base scored and Waffles Schalk stuck on second base, but Dickie was still thinking about this here oil stock yet and he run down to second and found that somebody else had a lease on that property, and along come Sheriff Groh and tagged him and said you are it. You can’t expect a left-hander with oil stock to respect other people’s lease on second base.
Other Ring Member
Between that inning and the subsequent inning Dickie took off his shoe to rest his dogs, and it took him such a long while that I was going to walk out and leave the ball game flat, as I thought the serious was over any way, and I got down on the next floor and first thing you know Dutch Ruether wasn’t in there pitching no more, as Happy Go Lucky Felsch had finally got one and Pat said to himself if a man is unlucky enough to let Felsch get a base hit he is better in the club house than here, and anyway I looked out there to see who was pitching and it was the other member of the Ring family, so that is why I stayed through the ball game.
Well, along come the tenth inning and the Sox got a couple birds on the bases and a fellow bye me said goodbye, as I don’t want to see this, whatever happens, as I can’t stand no more strain, so he left me and I promised to tell him how the game came out, and I will as soon as I see him. They tell me that the Reds went out on 3 pitched balls in their half of the tenth, and that is all I would pitch in any inning if I was doing it, but any way I didn’t see the Red part of the tenth, as I was looking up at a sign on the fence which says, “Vote your protest wet November 4th.” So it looks like we would be here a long while, and even then I will protest by voting dry.
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