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Big Six · 04-20-2003, 06:01 PM

Monday, April 7, 1906
256 Leigh Street
Richmond, Virginia

Dear Mom and Dad,

I had some time before I need to walk to the park, so I thought I’d take the time to write to you. I’m sorry I haven’t written sooner, but I have been extremely busy, as you will soon see.

I’ve settled in at a boarding house not far from the park, only a walk of fifteen minutes or so. Three other ball players live here, and I am sharing a room with one of them, a fellow named Bill Carrigan. Bill is a catcher, and he’s a little older than I am. He’s a college man, who graduated from Holy Cross. Bill and I get on well.

The other fellows on the team are mostly Southerners, and for a few days I was receiving some ribbing for my accent. Bill gave one or two of them a look, and that was that, however. Bill’s nickname is “Rough,” and while he’s far from a hoodlum, the other boys decided that continuing their humor was not in their best interest.

Before you ask me, I’m attending Mass each morning. Again, Bill usually accompanies me. I believe he and I are the only Roman Catholics on the club. The priest, Father Callaghan, likes base ball, and has been out to the park a time or two.

Speaking of ball playing, things have gone well for me in that regard. The club has won five of the six games we’ve played, and I’ve had nine hits already, including a two-bagger. I’ve stolen three bases as well. Unfortunately, when I haven’t hit safely, I’ve almost always struck out. If I don’t start making contact more regularly, I’m afraid you might see me back home more quickly than I would like.

I must close now, as it’s time to start for the park.

Your loving son,
Patrick

04-20-2003, 06:01 PM	#3
Big Six Hall Of Famer Join Date: Apr 2003 Location: Virginia Posts: 3,145	A letter home Monday, April 7, 1906 256 Leigh Street Richmond, Virginia Dear Mom and Dad, I had some time before I need to walk to the park, so I thought I’d take the time to write to you. I’m sorry I haven’t written sooner, but I have been extremely busy, as you will soon see. I’ve settled in at a boarding house not far from the park, only a walk of fifteen minutes or so. Three other ball players live here, and I am sharing a room with one of them, a fellow named Bill Carrigan. Bill is a catcher, and he’s a little older than I am. He’s a college man, who graduated from Holy Cross. Bill and I get on well. The other fellows on the team are mostly Southerners, and for a few days I was receiving some ribbing for my accent. Bill gave one or two of them a look, and that was that, however. Bill’s nickname is “Rough,” and while he’s far from a hoodlum, the other boys decided that continuing their humor was not in their best interest. Before you ask me, I’m attending Mass each morning. Again, Bill usually accompanies me. I believe he and I are the only Roman Catholics on the club. The priest, Father Callaghan, likes base ball, and has been out to the park a time or two. Speaking of ball playing, things have gone well for me in that regard. The club has won five of the six games we’ve played, and I’ve had nine hits already, including a two-bagger. I’ve stolen three bases as well. Unfortunately, when I haven’t hit safely, I’ve almost always struck out. If I don’t start making contact more regularly, I’m afraid you might see me back home more quickly than I would like. I must close now, as it’s time to start for the park. Your loving son, Patrick