The '51 Rocks



  The ’51 Rocks

  Batboy on the Worst Team Ever!

  by

  Matt Musson

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  PUBLISHED BY:

  The ’51 Rocks

  Batboy on the Worst Team Ever!

  Based on the incredible true story of the losingest team in Baseball History and the first Southern ballclub to break the color barrier!

  Copyright © 2009, 2011 by Matt Musson

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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  Prologue – A Long Forgotten Dream

  When the heavy wooden door to Peggy Funderburk's Language Arts class opened unexpectedly, the background buzz of middle schoolers leaked its way out into the hall. But, the noise died abruptly as authority illuminated the classroom like a bright flash of Carolina sunshine. As Principal Tyler Browning crossed the threshold, slouching school children snapped to attention and transformed into dedicated academics intensely focused upon their lessons.

  The more curious students darted their eyes to nibble furtive glances at their leader but most of the inmates avoided their principal's gaze as if it contained the stone turning power of Medusa.

  Tyler Browning had a presence honed by two decades as a Marine Corp Drill Instructor. And, make no mistake; he could still summon the cold stare and black bead of a gunfighter, if the wrong student was caught in the wrong location, without a hall pass.

  However, twenty years in the classroom had softened the principal. Small laugh lines now etched their way across Browning's milk chocolate skin. A distinguished gray mustache softened the harder angles of his face, while his large brown eyes twinkled on those increasingly frequent occasions when he smiled.

  But, Browning was not smiling this morning. So, Ms. Funderburk deferred to her commander and surrendered her classroom without a word.

  The Leader stepped up to a waiting podium and employed his dramatic baritone to address the children.

  Principal Browning cleared his throat.

  “Students,” he said with demanding firmness. “I have some unfortunate news. Mrs. Lydia Teague, who was scheduled to address you on ‘The History of Female Suffrage in the Catawba Valley' will not be joining us today.”

  The principal went on to explain, “shortly after sun up this morning, her elderly Persian cat, Mr. Wiggles, was ferociously attacked by a vicious pair of mockingbirds. Following this unprovoked assault, Mr. Wiggles was rushed to the Granite Falls Veterinary Hospital where doctors believe, with luck, his ear may be reattached.”

  The children's eyes widened.

  “Regrettably, due to the trauma of this incident, Mrs. Teague is no shape to proceed with her lecture.”

  Principal Browning paused, allowing the assembled children to experience their grief and loss.

  “However”, he continued with hope rising in his voice. “Mr. Robert McRainey has graciously agreed to fill in at the last moment. In keeping with the significance of the 110th Anniversary of the founding of Granite Falls, Mr. McRainey has selected a special topic that I believe you will find every bit as fascinating as that enthralling history of those early suffragettes. Mr. McRainey is waiting in the hallway. So, without further ado, let us make welcome our substitute speaker with a generous round of applause.”

  Principal Browning clapped his hands together as he moved to the open door. The ovation swelled halfheartedly as the students joined in, accompanied by a more enthusiastic Ms. Funderburk.

  The principal reached through the opening to shake hands with an elderly gentleman and usher him into the spotlight, as the students got their first glimpse of the replacement orator.

  This newcomer wore a three piece brown suit with a gold watch chain and an initialed Fob hanging from his vest pocket. A starched white shirt, a dark tie and brown wingtip shoes completed a look that was simultaneously out-of-date and fashionable.

  Mr. McRainey followed the principal to the front of the room and the class observed an elderly gentleman who was what most of the students would describe simply as an ‘old man'. He was bald in front with straw-like white hair pulled straight back in the rear, which made his age stained forehead seem larger and more rounded than normal. A pair of wire rimmed glasses rested on a prominent nose and a small mustache topped an undersized but mischievous mouth. His appearance suggested a prominent businessman and pillar in the community who probably retired a decade earlier to work on his memoirs and ‘putter'.

  The slim applause died out as Mr. McRainey approached the podium.

  “Good Morning Ladies and Gentlemen,” the newcomer said with a strong thoughtful voice. “My name is Robert McRainey and I appreciate the opportunity to speak with you today, even if it is under these unfortunate circumstances. I am sure that we all send our prayers and best wishes out to Mr. Wiggles in his hour of need.”

  He paused.

  “When Principal Browning telephoned me this morning and asked me to fill in for Mrs. Teague, he gave me full reign to choose any topic in keeping with the historic significance of our anniversary celebration. And, so, I have chosen to address this class on a topic near and dear to my own heart: ‘The History of Professional Baseball in Granite Falls, North Carolina'.”

  McRainey paused again and let his words sink through the skulls of his seventh grade audience. In the interim, he reached into his pants pocket and removed a weathered baseball from a bygone era. Like a pearl of great price, he placed the ball gently upon the podium and waited.

  He did not have to wait long before eleven year old Andrew Starnes rose to take the bait.

  “But Sir, we don't have a professional baseball team in Granite Falls,” said the bewildered seventh grader.

  “That's exactly correct young man,” Mr. McRainey replied with a smile. “We do not now have a professional baseball team in our fair city.”

  McRainey picked up the old baseball and held it out to the class.

  “But, that has not always been the case,” he explained.

  “Once upon a time, back before your parents were even born…”

  “Back before watching television became America's national pastime… “

  “Before basketball stole the hearts of the tar heel nation…”

  “Granite Falls, North Carolina had its very own professional baseball team.”

  McRainey continued, “Fifty-eight years ago, our Granite Falls squad competed in the hallowed Western Carolina League for one single season. And, during that season our boys rewrote baseball history, twice. And, that Granite Falls Team set a standard that may never again be equaled.”

  Without warning he flicked his wrist and flipped the baseball high into the air where the heirloom horsehide bounced off a stained ceiling tile. And, quicker than a chameleon's tongue, the gray haired lecturer reached out and snatched the tumbling sphere as it fell to earth.

  The old man held the horsehide covered globe out to the class full of surprised faces, like an offering, and his voice raised in crescendo.

  “Our extraordinary group of hometown heroes amassed what was – without question - the worst record in the Annals of Professional Baseball!”

  Robert McRainey leaned forward and dropped the ball onto the podium. Then, he trapped it before it could bounce away.

  He peered across the top of his wire rimmed spectacles.

  “They were officially called the 1951 Granite Falls Graniteers but, to the avid baseball fans of my youth, they were known simply as: The ‘51 Rocks.”

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  Chapter One: The Signs and Wonders of 1951

  Even before the season started, we should have realized that something amazing was going to happen. I mean we were practically showering in signs and wonders. There were omens everywhere.

  Like every other ten year old mountain boy, I grew up knowing all about omens. Why just by reading omens and studying moon phases, a fellow could find true love, improve his fortune, and even prognosticate the weather.

  So, I already knew that truly powerful omens came in groups of three. And, sure enough, three omens was exactly what we received - special delivery.

  It all started when a white redbird came to a birdbath at Mrs. Halifax's home on Falls Avenue. The local paper even interviewed Mrs. Halifax. And, there it was in black and white on the very front page below the fold: Local Woman Spots Albino Cardinal.

  Now a white redbird obviously omened something special!

  Then two days later Jimmy Speer was fishing in Town Lake, at the cove just off Pearl Street, and he caught two fish on one hook.

  Yep. You heard me right. He pulled a shell cracker and a red ear out of the water on the very same hook!

  Now that's right out of ‘Believe It or Don’t.’ I mean I had never even heard of such before. I'd a not believed it if Taylor Keech hadn't been along to back up Jimmy's story.

  (To be fair, Jimmy Speer is the one who once told me that if I held my breath my pores would close and then bees could not sting me. I found out the hard way that was pure baloney.)

  So, we had two fish on one hook and a white redbird. But, then came the clearest most amazing omen of them all.

  Irish Gillhooley and Martha Seldomridge were sitting with me on the swings at the old park off Lake Street. Suddenly, flying along bathed in the sunlight of a bright March afternoon, we all three of us beheld the most holy grail of omens.

  Fluttering along in the big ole middle of the day just as if it was his business to be out and about, was a furry haired black winged Big Eared Bat.

  I'm serious. Right in the middle of the day!

  Now mountain folk do tend to be a superstitious lot. Sometimes we see Omens everywhere. Why you might even think omens were 3 for a quarter down at Rayfield's Grocery.

  But, this was not superstition. This was fact. When you boil it all down in one pot, a white redbird, two fish on one hook and bats in the daytime, why it was biblical.

  And, sure enough, just four weeks later, it came to pass and it was the biggest thing to hit Granite Falls since Moses was a pup.

  Mr. Finley German who owns the Chrysler dealership out towards Hudson, and some other local businessmen, announced that they were starting a genuine professional baseball team right here in our very town. And, we are not talking about Mill League. We are talking about world renowned Western Carolina League Baseball.

  Heckfire, that's real baseball!

  We weren't going to be playing Rhodhiss or Whitnel anymore. We would be going head to head with the big cities like Shelby, Lenoir, and even Gastonia!

  Yessiree. We were big league, big time and Granite Falls was finally on the map.

  Baseball fever gushed up like a fountain in a parched desert. And, the citizens of our little community were buzzing like honeybees on a busted melon.

  Professional baseball was coming to Granite Falls, and it was welcomer than an outhouse breeze!

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  In 1951, in rural North Carolina, baseball was IT. Baseball was the be all and end all.

  Besides, except for vacation bible school and the odd tent meeting, there was nothing else to do all Summer long but eat, sleep and breathe baseball.

  Even Carolina Basketball was just something you played till the spring thaw, and it was warm enough for batting practice.

  With seven textile mills running three shifts a day, Granite Falls had long been a powerhouse in the Mill Leagues. So, I guess it just seemed that with the post war boom and all, a professional baseball team was a ‘patriotic investment in America's future'.

  I know you are wondering how, with every kid in town wanting the job, I ended up as batboy for the Graniteers.

  The simple answer is because Captain Ricky has not come home from The War.

  You see, in 1940 Mama was away at school in Chapel Hill and while she was there she fell in love with Captain Ricky. Of course, back then he was not Captain Ricky yet. He was plain old Richard McRainey, from Greenville, NC.

  Anyway, Captain Ricky came home with Mama for Christmas vacation to meet Grandpa and Grandma Tooley. They must have liked him, 'cause Mama and Captain Ricky got married before the New Year's bell rang.

  Miss Iola Pumpkin once told me that if a crow sings outside a bride's window – nine months later she will have a baby. Well, in Mama's case there must have been a whole flock of black birds singing cause; I came along the following spring.

  This might be another omen when you come to think about it. I mean spring being baseball season and all.

  Anyway, along came ‘The War.’

  Captain Ricky joined the Air Corp to fight the Damnjaps. According to Mama he just about beat old Hirohito single handed. But, one day she got a telegram from the War Department saying Captain Ricky did not come home from his bombing mission.

  I was only three or four at the time, but Mama told me not to worry because Captain Ricky had made her a promise that he would come home no matter what.

  Well, a promise is a promise and Mama has held onto that one for about six years now. Each year she puts another present under the Christmas tree for when Captain Ricky finally comes home. We keep our white flag with the blue star hanging in the parlor window. And, every Thursday night Mama still makes ketchup meatloaf because ketchup meatloaf is Captain Ricky's favorite.

  So, with Captain Ricky still away at The War, Grandpa Tooley decided I needed to be around some grown up baseball players on account of, he was afraid I was going to end up light in the loafers and wearing lace on my underwear.

  I know this because back when Mama made me start taking violin lessons, I heard Grandpa Tooley warn her in the kitchen one night that violin players were all light in the loafers.

  Then one day Grandpa Tooley came by the house and found me helping Mama bake cookies and wearing an apron. Grandpa got a real funny look on his face. And, when they sent me outside to play, I hid below the kitchen window and heard him say boys that wear aprons will end up wearing lace on their underwear.

  So, anyway, when Grandpa Tooley heard that Mr. German was starting a baseball team he asked his old friend if I could be the bat boy, so I did not end up light in the loafers and wearing lace on my underwear.

  And, Mr. German said yes. So, I was the first Graniteer hired by the club right after Coach Charlie Bowles.

  And, that was fine by me because I really love baseball lots more than playing the violin. And, I would rather wear baseball cleats any day of the week than wear loafers.

  And, besides, wearing lace on your underwear seems awful girlie when it comes right down to it.

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  Chapter Two - Birthin’ Pains

  Now way back before I was born there was some hard times around here called ‘the Depression'. From what the old folks say there weren't any jobs during the Depression so people had to eat dirt, and they ran around naked.

  Well, they did not actually say they ran around naked but they must have! Cause if they wore clothes, then we would have made them in the mills and people would have had jobs, and they would not have had to eat dirt.

  Anyway, back during the Depression, President Roosevelt decided people needed jobs. So, he set up this group called the WPA. And, the WPA came to Granite Falls and gave people jobs carving a baseball stadium out of the hillside right next to Granite Falls Junior High. And, that's how we got the Granite Falls Baseball Stadium.

  guess building the baseball stadium did not make enough jobs for everybody because Grandpa Tooley says that the WP
A spent most it's time and money down at the beach digging holes to let the tide go out.

  Well, that didn't make much sense to me, but I guess it was still better than eating dirt and going naked. Besides, Mr. Roosevelt was elected ‘President for Life’, so he must of knowed what he was doing.

  Anyway, Coach Charlie Bowles sure knowed what he was doing, too. When he was hired away from Hickory to coach the Graniteers he had just ten days to build us a team. He had to find players for every position. And, he needed to get them down to Granite Falls lickety split, so he could start teaching them ‘Good Baseball.'

  As you might could imagine, Coach Bowles picked off the best Mill League players we had around here and he hired some players away from other teams in the area. But, most of those players were either old and about ready to hang up their cleats, or they were wet behind the ears rookies trying to see if they had big league juice.

  But, believe or don't, Coach Bowles actually signed us a genuine Cuban baseball player, direct from Cuba and everything!

  Unfortunately, that Cuban player was in Cuba at the time, and he did not get here for the first couple of weeks of the season. And, we sure could have used his help right off the bat.

  From the very first day, Coach Bowles started calling me ‘Bobby Roy the Batboy.' And, to tell the truth, I kind of liked it. I probably would have gotten my friends at school to start calling me that except school was almost out for the summer anyway.

  The other thing that happened right away was Coach Bowles organized the ‘Clubhouse Crew'. The ‘Clubhouse Crew' was made up of a bat boy, an equipment manager, a groundskeeper and a gopher.

  I reckon you figured out already that I was the bat boy.

  The equipment manager was Leonard ‘Chopper' Gaines who was built like a barrel and strong as an ox. He was the shortest home run champion in the history of the Carolina Mill Leagues. It was as if his bat was tipped with fire, and it seemed like he knocked the ball out of the park, whenever he felt like it.

  During The War ‘Chopper' Gaines was in the army at some place called ‘the Bulge' over in Europe. He fought at this Bulge place right smack in the middle of winter. It was so cold that Chopper Gaines froze his toes right off. So, today the best baseball player in the history of the Catawba Valley can barely hobble from base to base.