Hammersmith Ironsides - a study in mediocrity

[Archelirion]

12th July 1901


“So, Mr. Roberts – what was it you wished to talk to me about?”

Alexander Napier, a slender, gaunt sort of fellow with a finely-kept moustache, looked inquisitively at his visitor. Robin Roberts had requested a meeting between the two the previous week; luckily for Napier, Roberts decided it would be fairer to come down to London, rather than insist on a journey up to Manchester. After all, he rationalised, it was his idea he wanted to discuss. The weather outside was extraordinarily wet – meteorologists said it was the wettest they’d ever seen – and so the pair settled in a tea shop along Piccadilly.

“Well.” This exclamation seemed somewhat dramatic, although that may have been helped by Roberts’ giant hands coming down in front of him while he started. “I was wondering whether you would be interested in a merger, of sorts.”


Left: Alexander Napier, photographed in 1898.
Right: Robin Roberts, photographed in 1893, wearing a Sheffield High School baseball jersey and ballcap

The small man’s gaze became more curious still, and he dropped the business-like veneer he had started with; although it had been a while, he once knew the larger gentleman quite well. They had both played together in a baseball game against some New Yorkers back in 1881 (the English visitors lost 16-6) and had played valuable roles in bringing baseball to the United Kingdom – Roberts establishing the Sheffield Grey Stockings in 1884, and Napier the Greenwich Swallows in the following year. However, since establishing their respective leagues in 1891, the two men had seen each other less and less. At least opening talks in a professional manner seemed appropriate.

“A merger, Robin?”

“Well, not quite a merging – I was more thinking increased relations between our two leagues. We already play our yearly friendly between each other-“

At the mention of this friendly, a sociologist would have had a field day comparing the smiles worn on the two men’s faces; Roberts’ Northern Baseball League had beaten Napier’s Mercian League for three years running now, and what Napier’s mouth lacked in smug contentment, it more than made up for in wry displeasure.

Roberts continued, “-but I feel a short series between our two respective winners at the end of each year will be beneficial for bringing the national baseball interest together. Don’t you agree?”

Alexander Napier thought about it for a moment, idly twirling his moustache while doing so. Finally, he replied “Yes, I think you could be right. A few games before our seasons start can’t hurt either, surely?”

Roberts beamed, his unfortunately intimidating features giving way to something peculiarly sweet. “My dear Alexander, what a wonderful idea! I’m so glad that you’re on board with this!”

Napier’s expression nearly matched that of his opposite’s, were it not for a slight concern he knew all-too-well would prove a stumbling block. “I believe this could be a new dawn for baseball in England, I really do,” he said, bringing an ornate cup of tea to his lips. After drawing a sip, he sighed heavily. “I shall have to convince Mr. Locke down in Plymouth that a potential trip up to Newcastle is in his interests, however. I’m sure if you lent that man £1 he’d try and charge you interest.”

“And I shall have to do the same with Newcastle’s Mr. Goodridge, although he’s a lovely old fellow. I’m sure he’ll be more accommodating.” The two men smiled at each other and, ordering another pot of tea and some fruit bread, talked for hours about their lives over the past 10 years. After all, the rain showed no signs of slowing.

[Archelirion]

29th August 1901

Alexander Napier hated train travel. He hated the noise and the carriages for sure, but most of all he hated the sitting around – 54 years old he may have been, but he’d never been much good at not doing much and it wasn’t something that came to him with age. As the commissioner of a fledgling, regional baseball league this was (one would correctly assume) a little bit of a problem, but most of the time a pleasant chat or (sometimes and) a baseball game awaited him at the end, making it all worthwhile.

Today however, Alexander Napier was meeting the owner of the Plymouth Athletics, a mutton-chopped 67-year-old named Graham Locke. Napier detested Locke’s ‘fiscally conservative’ nature (he would frequently preface a mention of him in his diary with ‘that stingy git’), and Locke didn’t think much of Napier either – an opinion that hardly improved upon receiving a letter suggesting more long-distance journeys for the Athletics. Indeed, while their letters discussing the proposed changes remained cordial, Napier knew this was to be an uncomfortable visit; the location was not a cosy tea room, but Graham Locke’s office. In his house. Five minutes away from Ford Park, the Athletics’ ground.


Graham Locke, Plymouth Athletics manager. Photographed 1901, colourised.

As such, on arrival Alexander took a few moments to collect his thoughts before knocking on the green lacquered door. “Not a bad little garden,” he muttered to himself, particularly noting the clematis making its way up the trellis. The door opened, and a small, ageing woman with silver hair and a polite but bright smile appeared.

“Good evening. Mr. Napier, I assume?”

Napier was slightly taken off guard but was able to respond with a courteous “yes, that’s right. You must be Mr. Locke’s wife? I must say, you have a beautiful garden out here.”

This made Mrs. Locke turn a little bashful. She ambled around her words for a moment, before taking Alexander through a small corridor, into a sage-green room, lit by naphtha lamps and decorated with all kinds of Plymouth Athletics paraphernalia. Graham Locke’s financial brain may have been one thing, but it was hard to deny his passion for the team, even for Napier. Locke greeted Napier with a solid handshake, and then set to business.

“I’m not a monster, Mr. Napier, but I’m sure you understand my concerns about conjoining the Mercian League with the Northern Baseball League. It’s a day’s journey up to Newcastle from here at least, and more than a significant journey to Leeds, Bradford, Liverpool, Manchester, Sheffield and Hull as well. How do you propose we afford this? I’m trying to keep the club’s expenses down, not push them up further!” This last point was expressed with particular fervour, like an exasperated parent trying to tell a child that they can’t get a new bicycle for their birthday.

“Mr. Locke,” Napier started, trying to take a deep breath as secretly as he could. “It is both mine and my colleague’s earnest belief that the financial benefits from giving baseball a truly national scope will outweigh any travel costs which you may incur. Furthermore, as things stand the only games that your team will play against northern sides will be two weeks of friendlies before the season, and – performance depending – a national series should you win the Mercian League.”

Locke seemed unconvinced, drawing from his pipe while fixing Napier with an unsure stare. “That’s all very well you saying so, but right now I only have sentences to go on. I need some numbers and I need them first, Napier, otherwise I will not hesitate to pull the Athletics out and enter them into an independent league – there are more than enough of them about.”

Alexander took another deep breath, this time taking less care to disguise it than he had before. “Mr. Locke. You have a team right now on the cusp of your best finish since 1893 – you’re on, what, 35-32? We are forecasting a possible 60% growth in your attendance figures, and you have a support far more earnest than many other teams in the league, which begging your pardon I will not care to name but have made much less of a fuss than yourself.” Realising he was starting to lose his temper, he paused a moment, and continued in much softer tones, “if you wish to terminate Plymouth’s position in the Mercian League at the end of the season, I won’t hold a grudge against you. But, I sincerely reiterate that this is the biggest jump in English baseball in over ten years, and missing out on that would be an act of sheer folly.”

Just then, Mrs. Locke entered with a tray of tea and assorted biscuits. Graham Locke seemed to soften instantly.

“I understand you’ve already met my wife, Genevieve. With no surviving children, she’s the only thing in this world I love more than my baseball team.” They took each other’s hands, and smiled at each other in the way that only an old, wizened couple can. Alexander poured himself a tea, considering that he’d rather dehumanised Plymouth’s owner over the years.

“I’m terribly sorry for disturbing,” the elderly woman said, only just relinquishing ownership of her husband’s hand. “Would you like me to leave?”

Alexander was about to respond, but Mr. Locke beat him to it. “No, no my dear, stay. I was just about to tell Mr. Napier here that I look forward to working with him over the next year. He has an ambitious plan, but I’d like to see if he can make it work.”

The three of them enjoyed tea together, and Napier had even had a bed set up for him to stay the night, for which he was tremendously grateful. Perhaps he’d misjudged the old codger after all. Or maybe he just caught him on a good day.

[tobin834]

I love that this is set in the early 1900's. I love that the writing (what the characters are saying) seem to be consistent with that. Story is good! Keep it up!

[Archelirion]

Letter, dated 28 December 1901. Transcribed from original in 2018, archivist reserves right on anything which may be incorrect.

To Mr. Napier,

I hope you are well. I received your Christmas card – hopefully mine reached your family in one piece. A happy new year to you too. I am writing to ask you about the possibility of an eighth team joining the Northern Baseball League next season. The team, who call themselves the Glasgow Clydesiders, have been a dominant force in the Scottish Amateur League for six years now, and believe that they have what it takes to join our little excursion… what are we to call that, by the way? It’s occurred to me that we still don’t have a name for it.

I wonder whether the introduction of those trams to their city has spurred them on to make this move. As I understand it, a few have appeared in London recently too. Have you encountered them?

Anyway, my primary concern in writing to you lies with the fact that, without a team joining the Mercian League too, our divisions will be unbalanced. Have you, by any chance, received any interest from independents lately that you could incorporate?

By the way, did you hear about what that clever man, Mr. Marconi did? If they can get a radio signal over to America, then maybe one day telephones will be an affordable, better way for us to converse. I believe that’s how they work, anyway.

Please reply swiftly.

Yours sincerely,

Robin Rodgers.

Letter, dated 8 January 1902. Disclaimer ditto.

To Mr. Rodgers,

A very happy new year to you too Robin.

It is interesting that you should ask me this, for I have received word from a lovely gentleman in Cardiff who wishes to do the same in our division. I had been meaning to write to you asking a similar question for a few weeks now, but it is clear that you are more organised than I.

The ‘Bleiddiau Caerdydd’ (which I understand from their owner, Joe Smith, means ‘Cardiff Wolves’ in English) have won the South Wales League every single year since its inception, back in 1897. Mr. Smith is prepared to make substantial financial investments to his team to ensure that his team is up to our standards, although I have assured him that a man as so obviously thorough as himself probably has a team more than up to it already.

Regarding the electric trams, yes, I’ve encountered them a few times. I’d seen the one down in Brighton before, but it still strikes me as odd that we have them. All in the name of progress I suppose.

If inviting a Welsh team to our league and a Scottish team to yours is an arrangement you are happy with, then I shall go ahead and contact Mr. Smith. I shall undoubtedly have to write to Graham Locke in Plymouth again, but we’ve been on better terms since my visit in July.

Finally, as for a name – how does The Britannia League sound?

Yours sincerely,

Alexander Napier.

[Archelirion]

Hey all! On the off chance that anyone is, or will be following this - I'm very grateful that you're choosing to spend some of your free time reading this.

The past three posts have been inserted, I'd like to say, as a precursor to the bulk of this dynasty report, which will be a managerial story with some additional bits and pieces thrown in... probably. I wrote them with the initial view to doing a league report, but writing it in a slightly more fictional style seemed more fun.

I hope it's an interesting read for you folks. Thanks for dropping by once more!

[Archelirion]

20th March 1902

Frank Chandler stared at the piece of paper in front of him. He hoped he wasn’t making a bad impression, reading it for as long as he did; despite the light-blue and white colouration of the room, it was getting late, but not so late as to warrant turning on the naphtha lamps dotted around the walls. As a result, there wasn't a whole lot of light available to assist reading.
He was a young man – at twenty-nine he was younger than many baseball players – but here, with a contract for the Hammersmith Ironsides needing only his signature, his wizened features came out on full display. His face was ageing fast, and he’d be the first to admit it. £200 was a lot of money for a year’s work! He knew it to be about £80 more than his father, a skilled carpenter, made over the same period and the way he saw it, that seemed a little unfair given his work would give him far fewer splinters.

'Why don’t you go to Bristol', his father mentioned to him when Frank voiced his want to work in baseball. This was on the basis that the manager of the Swans, Gerard Bell, reputedly earned more than £375 a year, and could probably retire by 55 if he so wanted. What Frank knew, and his father didn’t, however, was that Mr. Bell was one of the most well-regarded men in British baseball, while the son of an admittedly successful Camden woodworker with no baseball coaching experience was never going to earn near that. Looking at things that way, £200 seemed like a dream come true. There must be a catch.

The man offering him the contract was a businessman called Finley Gilbert, who had made his money in the 1870s and the 1880s through textile manufacturing. Typically regarded as finance-first in his commercial matters, he nevertheless garnered a reputation as a genial man, ensuring his workers were looked after far better than many others in his field. He was sixty-eight now, his grey beard sticking out from his top-hat like traveller’s joy and his face beginning to contort like leather.
He cleared his throat. “Mr. Chandler – I’d like to make you aware that this isn’t a typical managerial contract, as I’m sure you’re starting to realise.”
The catch. Here it is.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, the Hammersmith Ironsides have a proud history, but not a successful one. This, over time, has a negative affect on the money available for signing staff, players; once people don’t come to see us as much, it puts us in a tricky situation. This isn’t America, Frank – cricket and football have a foothold here, and we have to work for our attendances.

“With that in mind,” he continued, focusing his gaze on Frank a little, “your job is actually that of both the general manager and the field manager. If you are successful, I may start to expand your job into administrative fields too.

“I am getting old, Frank.” He shuffled slightly in his chair saying this. “I’ve built this team up like my own flesh and blood, and I still haven’t seen them succeed. Every year that passes, I fear I may never see it that little bit more.”

Finley Gilbert recollected himself, straightening himself out and giving Frank Chandler a chance to respond. “Well, thank you sir, for entrusting me with such an obviously important task to you. I will gladly accept your proposal.” He found himself quite moved by his now-boss’ soliloquy.

This seemed to brighten up the old man. “I do have, two, initial goals for you Frank.” Mr. Gilbert lingered on the word ‘two’ for a fraction longer than was necessary, leaving no doubt in Frank’s mind that these goals, whatever they might be, were imperative to fulfil if he was to keep his job. “The first is, by 1905, that I’d like us to be able to represent the Mercian League in these end-of-season series that the commissioners have been proposing.”

That meant, Frank realised, winning the league in four seasons. Difficult, but with the right investments certainly not impossible. “What else?” Frank asked, in the same way a child asks a parent what to clean next when helping with errands.

“The second- “. Another linger, this one even longer than the first. Frank stiffened slightly. “I am a lenient man, and I have no intention of letting you go after a season if I can help it, so try not to worry about this too much. But, finishing close to a 0.500 this year would be splendid.”

Frank nodded sincerely. He suddenly realised why he was being paid so much, and it wasn’t the fact that he was to be a joint general manager and team manager; it was simply that the Hammersmith Ironsides, in 11 years of professional baseball, had never had a winning season. Not once. They came close in 1895, their 34-38 result meaning they were only three victories off – but that was seven years ago, and they’d not touched it since.

Gilbert’s strong voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “You didn’t happen to read the Daily Mail this morning, did you?”

This was a sudden question, and one that Frank couldn’t see an avenue for it to go down. This made him more nervous. “Erm, no sir, I didn’t. Why do you ask?”

“They published a little section with their predictions for the season. They’ve got us pegged for a 44-54 season, or about 45%. I suppose that would be a realistic minimum to aim for, wouldn’t you?”

Frank nodded. 45% was doable – he knew that their 33-39 from last year was enough for just over 0.450, which by the sounds of things would be enough. He just had to ensure 33 wins were in sight.

He caught a glimpse of the reddish-brown glow of sunset coming through the window onto the fireplace. “Sir, I’d best be leaving. I’d like to be back home before it gets dark, and I don’t fancy the walk.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Where is it you live, again?”

“Westbourne Green, sir. If I can catch the tube now then it’ll be okay, but otherwise it’s an hour’s walk, and I really don’t trus—”

Mr. Gilbert cut him off. “Frank. Go. Here’s six shillings, it’ll get you home. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Frank was gobsmacked. “Th-thank you sir.” On leaving the office, he realised what a large sum that six shillings was. He knew it’d get him to-and-from work for at least a week. And, he suspected, Mr. Gilbert knew that too.

[Archelirion]

21st March 1902

Frank left for work bright and early the following morning. He knew of the magnitude of the task that lay ahead of him, and therefore lying around all day just wasn’t going to cut it. It was 7:45 a.m., and time to do some work.

The journey took only about fifteen minutes, but it gave him more than enough time to think about all the things he’d need to do. Would he have to negotiate some signings? He’d undoubtedly need to establish a regular team, so he knew what areas needed investment in the first place.

Reaching Hammersmith station, he vacated the train and, passing through the station gates, began his walk to the ground. In truth, the Hammersmith Ironsides were actually some distance from the centre of Hammersmith, sitting somewhere between Fulham and West Kensington; this meant that it was about a 20-minute amble, or 15 minutes if he was in a hurry he imagined. He passed parks, regal estates, and the dark slums of the poor on his way – ‘if you ever want a snapshot of London’s demographic,’ he thought to himself, ‘you could do far worse than walk from Hammersmith tube station to Normand Park.’

He reached the walls of the ground… and swore to himself. He hadn’t gotten a key! As he understood it, general work practice started at 9:00 a.m. for the Ironsides, but here he was, eager as a gamekeeper’s ratter at 8:20 a.m., unable to enter because he didn’t have a key. “This is a great start,” he muttered quietly – but tried the gate, just in case.

To his surprise (and mild concern, come to think of it), the gate yielded, opening him up to the beautiful diamond of Victoria Park. Seas of light-blue and white seemed to ripple in the sparkling morning sun, as the smell of dewy grass filled his head with thoughts of baseball. It was then he heard a voice. And it was calling his name.

“Frank? Frank is that you?” The gravelly tones belonged to Mr. Finley Gilbert, who it seemed started work even earlier than Frank did.
“Erm, yes sir, it is. What a beautiful morning.”

Gilbert took a deep breath. “Yes, yes it is. It’s one of the things that keeps me going, mornings like this.” The two remained in silence for a moment, before the elderly man said “we need a new left-fielder and an improved starting pitcher. Also, you have two letters waiting to be opened in your office. This way!”

This abrupt request rather took Frank by surprise, but he felt that any information in these early stages was greatly appreciated. Directed into a reasonable-sized office – naturally, decked out in the Ironsides’ signature light-blue and white – he noticed the two letters in question, addressed to a ‘Mr. Shane Mathers.’

Gilbert obviously caught Frank eyeing the name. “Shane Mathers was the last general manager we had here. Lovely enough fellow, but didn’t seem right for the job.” He paused for a moment, before saying quite firmly, “well – if you need me I’ll be in my office. I look forward to working with you. Oh, and there's a key in the drawer on your right.” He winked while saying this, eliciting a wry laugh.

And with that, he disappeared through the door. Frank scrunched his eyebrows slightly at the letters, unsure whether or not they should be opened by him. After a good minute of consideration, he reconciled with himself that, whatever the contents of a letter addressed to the (former) GM of a baseball team, they were unlikely to put his life in mortal danger simply through their reading. So, he picked up the letter opener – a rather stylish green-handled blade, he noted – and slid it along the joins.

Contract negotiations. The first arrived a couple of days ago, but hopefully wasn’t too late to act on. It was a letter of rejection, but one that invited another offer, from Lenny Perkins. Lenny Perkins! The man that won the 1900 Pitcher of the Year award, with the Liverpool Cormorants, no less – the man that has represented both leagues in the NM Friendly a whopping nine times, was in talks with the Hammersmith Ironsides! Would you credit it? He had to stop himself from calling Perkins the ‘pocket wonder’, despite his 5’5’’ height – apparently he got quite tetchy about that.

Then, Frank stopped himself. Sure, Perkins was a legend of the British game, but he was 38 years old. And, according to the scouting papers he found in the cabinet beneath his desk, he was starting to experience the decline that comes with it. The new manager felt a pang of regret, before penning a short letter noting ceasing of discussions. He was going to find someone younger for the job.

He turned to the second letter, which had a large ink blot towards its bottom right corner. Slitting it open too, the name ‘Brendan Smith’ came out. This was a name very familiar to Frank – Smith was a reliever for the Ironsides in 1895 and 1896, with some saying that those were the best years of his career. However, Smith was now even older than Perkins, at 39. He couldn’t bring him into the team at that age.

Frank leaned back in his chair for a moment. By this point he could see from his window the coaches out with the players – ‘they’ll undoubtedly have a better idea of who was worth playing in these early stages’ he thought, making a note to consult them later about a possible line-up. As he watched the men go about their business, his mind drifted to what Gilbert said outside:

“we need a new left-fielder and an improved starting pitcher.”

Ah. Yeah. Fortunately for him, the scouting staff had left a set of papers towards the left of the table, entitled ‘free agent list’. That, Frank thought, seemed as good a place as any to start, and began rifling through the available players.

Most of the players were either ageing relievers, or 25-year-old upstarts that seemed to have their heart set on playing shortstop when, really, secretarial work might be more their thing. He was about ready to take a tea break when the name ‘Riley Jewell’ caught his eye. “Riley Jewell,” he muttered to himself, trying to remember why he knew that name.

After a few moments, it came to him. “He’s that fellow from Lancashire County Cricket Club isn’t he - recently surpassed 5,000 runs I think I read. Why on Earth is he filing interest in baseball?”

Unbeknownst to Frank, Jewell was seeking to distance himself from the cricketing world altogether, following a familial dispute regarding him and the Marylebone Cricket Club. However, all he saw was:

- World class cricketer
- Stupendously pacey
- A firm hitter
- Superb outfield range

It seemed perfect. HE seemed perfect. And, as the young manager well knew, a player of his ability wouldn’t be hanging around for long, so he set about penning a deal for him:



Would that work? Frank had to wait and see. But he’d just performed his first set of duties as the overall manager of the Hammersmith Ironsides, and it felt great.

[Archelirion]

25th March 1902

Finding an improvement at starting pitcher, Frank began to realise, was something of a challenge. Cancelling talks with Lenny Perkins felt like the right thing to do a few days ago, but now, he was wondering if it would be possible to backtrack on his decision.

The problem was, finding a player that was on a low enough wage and a low enough value to make a trade work was proving very difficult. Signing the true stars, the Declan Kings (Greenwich) and the Noah Wateridge (Portsmouth), was out of the question.

But then, he saw one name that might be possible – Riley March, from Birmingham. High enough in quality that he’d make a real difference to Hammersmith, low enough in performance (a 5.08 major-league ERA) that Birmingham didn’t seem too fussed to see him go. Throwing in first-base Theo Edgar and £280 to sweeten the deal, the transaction was sorted. Congratulations, Frank Chandler!

It was this day, however, that taught Frank the harsh reality of fast-travelling news – and the teacher? His boss, Finley Gilbert.

About 2 hours after the deal went through, Frank got a knock at his door. A stern one, telling him immediately that he might be in a bit of trouble. Gingerly, he got up and opened it, to a sour-looking Gilbert.

“What on Earth do you think you’re doing trading Theo Edgar?!” he blustered, gesticulating in a kind-of backhand slap to the apparently misbehaving air around him.

“I… I thought it was the right thing to do. We needed a starter and someone had to give.” Frank looked like he might be about to collapse in on himself.

Gilbert took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sounded a little calmer. “Yes, but… it’s worth trying to canvass for supporter opinion before trading away someone like Edgar. There’s going to be some disappointed people when news gets to them. It might… it might be worth trying to sign another first base as quickly as possible, whether you intend to play them regularly or not.”

Frank nodded solemnly, looking something like a schoolboy being told off for throwing spitballs (which were deeply frowned upon in British baseball even in its formative years). “Yes sir.”

He spent the rest of the day sorting out a deal for Craig Church – a centre-fielder by trade, but with plenty of experience in first base. Frank figured that, at 31, as a former Hull and Portsmouth regular, this was the best he could do under the circumstances.


THE HAMMERSMITH IRONSIDES – A PROVISIONAL LINE-UP

LF – Frank Read
CF – Gerard Watson
C – Benjamin Stoddart
2B – Frank Gilbranch
1B – Craig Church
SS – Theo Haddock
RF – Steven Francis
3B – Dwayne Vale

LHP – Chris Lind (1901 NM Friendly)
LHP – Riley March
LHP – Alexander Maddocks

CL – Isaac Hitchcock (8-time NM friendly – 1894 reliever of the year)
SU – Paul Corker (2-time NM friendly – ’98, ’99)
MR – Emil Andersen

[Archelirion]

As Britain’s first ever national baseball league approaches its inaugural preseason, our mail room has been inundated with letters from Britons all over the country, wishing to know more about this unusual sport that threatens cricket’s hegemony over our glorious isle. As a supporter of this game since before it came to this country, I feel it my duty to exalt unto our readership baseball’s virtues, and why it is perfectly in keeping with traditional British values, strengthening our moral cores and improving our physical stock.

As the Boer War has shown, Britain is not as strong as she once was. Degeneracy has taken a hold, and without a firm shake, she will see her empire fold and her people crumble to nothing. Baseball could prove to be the answer – it favours the strong, the quick, and the alert, but also the team player, the noble victor and the gracious loser. Britain needs to reclaim its qualities that ascended her to her position in the world in the first place, and this game becoming popular may do just that. Hopefully the prominence of the Britannia League will help achieve this restoration.

I am of the firm belief that cricket, as an English institution, will live on for many years to come in the hearts of us all, but we should all learn to embrace this new activity, as thousands of our countryfolk already have.

For the perusal of the reader, this featurette contains, exclusive to the Daily Mail, introductions to all sixteen teams participating in this year’s Britannia League competition. I strongly urge readers to go and watch a game this year if they have not done so already – it really is thrilling.

Your faithful servant,

Stanley Duggan.

Coming today - notes on all eight Northern Baseball League sides. Buy tomorrow's paper for our notes on all eight Mercian League sides too!

[Archelirion]

NORTHERN BASEBALL LEAGUE

Bradford Bulls



Number of championships: 2 (1898, 1901)
Overall record: 398-395 (0.502)
3-year-record: 117-100 (0.542)

Ground: Trinity Green (2,200 capacity, 1.035 overall AVG, 0.945 overall HR)

Players to watch

LF Ryan Docherty - a newcomer to baseball from cricket, 28-year-old Docherty has a reputation for being able to hit any ball coming towards him. Coming from Worcestershire Country Cricket Club, he has already announced that he has no intention of giving up cricket - although it will be interesting to see how he fits it all in!

3B Steven Pine - still only 25, this young man from Norwich has the potential to have a phenomenal career in the Britannia League. With power, speed and infield prowess he really does have all the right qualities - last season he finished with a 0.327 batting average, and hit 45 RBIs despite only playing in 54 of 72 games. He received a fielding prize in the NBL last year aged only 24, and represented his league in the mid-season friendly back in 1900. Watch those numbers go up and up!

SP Dominic Fitzpatrick - 33-year-old Pudsey native Dominic Fitzpatrick ranks #5 on our official pitcher's listings, and for good reason: while he may not pitch as fast as others, the movement on a Fitzpatrick pitch is almost unparalleled in Britain. Famously stingy against hitters - in 10 seasons of regular first-team action, only 28 home runs have been recorded against him - he is also well-known for his impressive strike count.


From left: Ryan Docherty, Steven Pine, Dominic Fitzpatrick

Trivia: At 16ft tall, the central wall of Trinity Green is sized as it is to accommodate a 7ft diameter clock, made by local clockmaker Arthur Bullock for the ground in 1892. Ever since 1894, there has been a dent in the middle of its face – right-fielder Lyndon Palmer struck a pitch with such force that the ball hit the clock and made a ‘clang’ that rang around the entire ground. This went down so well with the Bulls fans that, rather than get it repaired, it was decided to leave the dent be – and in Bradford nowadays, it’s common practice to call a home run a ‘bonger’ (even though Palmer’s hit only managed a triple).

We predict: 3rd in the NBL. A strong team, but they will just about fall short of defending their Northern Baseball League title, 53-45 - although they will lead the entire competition on runs scored.

[WeagleWeagle]

Loving this report so far. Really engaging. Will be following along for sure!

[Archelirion]

Glasgow Clydesiders



Number of championships: N/A
Overall record: N/A
3-year record: N/A

Ground: Anderston Quay (4,400 capacity, 1.000 overall AVG, 0.993 overall HR)

Players to watch

CF Jon Davies - already having made a significant name for himself in Scotland at the tender age of 24, Davis has a reputation as a formidable baserunner, a sterling outfielder and a .300+ batsman. The Clydesiders will be looking to Davies to really lead their team in what is undoubtedly likely to be a tricky maiden year for them.

LF Kane Morris: The other prominent star in the Clydesiders' lineup, 34-year-old Llanelli-born Morris offers an intelligent attitude to batting along with substantial power and a solid outfield arm. While the Welshman is by no means a sprinter, we expect to see a good few doubles out of him this year.

SS Gabriel Thomas: Although not really of star quality, we place Thomas in the #3 man to watch position for Glasgow due to his spectacular versatility; while arguably best on second base, he is likely to play shortstop for the Clydesiders this time around. However, if needed he can also play at third and anywhere in the outfield, too.


From left: Jon Davies, Kane Morris, Gabriel Thomas

Trivia: One of the two new teams to professional baseball this season, there is little information available to us. However, the Glasgow side’s ground at Anderston Quay holds two records – one of which will be theirs forever. The first is that it is far-and-away the largest-capacity ground in the Britannia League at 4,400. The second is that it is the first ever stadium in the United Kingdom built specifically for baseball, as opposed to being a repurposed ground.

We predict: 8th in the NBL. A sub-0.300 season likely awaits the Glasgow Clydesiders first time around, as they will have to undergo a baptism of fire stepping into the professional leagues. With an expected ERA of 8.35, their admittedly solid offensive lineup will nevertheless be stretched to make an impact. 28-70 is our guess.

[Archelirion]

Hull Ravens



Number of championships: 3 (1892, 1894, 1897)
Overall record: 457-335 (0.577)
3-year-record: 104-112 (0.481)

Ground: East Park (1,800 capacity, 0.966 overall AVG, 0.916 overall HR)

Players to watch

SP Daryl Everton: No one really knows where Daryl Everton came from. A Londoner he most certainly is, but aside from that, we've been able to dig up very little - no sporting affiliations to be found. Where, then, did the 27-year-old learn to hurl a ball like he can? His pace is good, yes, but from what's been reported from the Hull camp, if he finds a spot, the ball goes there - almost guaranteed. Ravens manager Owen Eckersall says he's not seen talent like it since Darren Farrell. We shall see if he lives up.

SS Cedric Collin: Assuming last season wasn't just a one-off for Cedric, he's a dangerous fielder and an even more dangerous batter - 1901 saw him register a 0.352 batting average, with 21 doubles and 4 home runs hit across 72 games. A consummate all-rounder, and as versatile as he is clinical - and as 1901 Rookie of the Year, Great Glove and Golden Stick winner, a force to be reckoned with.

1B Alfie Addison: After a series of delayed concussion symptoms halting his season in 1900 and issues with his hip plaguing his season last year, Addison has only managed 30 from a possible 144 games in the last two years. However, given he managed 0.368 from 27 last year, the 31-year-old from Mansfield is a significant force when healthy. The Ravens will be praying for a long-spell of good health for the first-baseman, as will we - we are still yet to see what he can really do.


From left: Daryl Everton, Cedric Collin, Alfie Addison

Trivia: Dubbed the ‘Hull Hammers’, the Ravens’ 1893 team is widely regarded among baseball fans to have been the most defensively exceptional that England has ever seen. In a league known for its preference of attacking baseball (as opposed to the more conservative Mercian League) the ‘Hammers’ relinquished only 230 runs, leading to an ERA of 2.74. For reference, the second-lowest seasonal ERA of any team is the 2.83 from the 1891 Portsmouth Gunners, and the second-lowest Northern Baseball League seasonal ERA is Hull’s 1892 – 3.59, a whole 0.85 HIGHER. Darren Farrell, widely regarded as the best pitcher in the league’s nascent years, and Leo Saunders, who still plays for Hull at age 37 were the men responsible for such a scourge. Astoundingly, Hull still didn’t win the league, a single game separating the 49-win Ravens from the 50-win Sheffield Grey Stockings.

We predict: 1st in the NBL. Expect a return to the Hull of 1892 this year - nothing close to amazing offensively, but frighteningly mean in defence, especially if Everton is all he's cracked up to be. In fact, with Everton, Leo Saunders, Finney Hill and Gavin Cresswell on a team, all four will be up there for honours by Game 98. It'll be close, but 56-42 is our guess.

[Archelirion]

Leeds Yorkies



Number of championships: 0 (highest finish 2nd, 1892, 1898, 1901)
Overall record: 374-418 (0.472)
3-year-record: 101-115 (0.468)

Ground: Burley Park (2,000 capacity, 1.075 overall AVG, 1.015 overall HR)

Players to watch

2B Guillermo Enriquez: Topping the 1901 batting average leaderboard with a spectacular 0.392, one only gets the impression that things are getting better and better for the Madrid-born second baseman. Hard-working, gracious and yet driven to win, Guillermo truly does do his country proud.

SP Isaac Moore: "Give him a pitch to try, and he'll learn it." Those were the words uttered by Leeds coach Gavin Walker last August, and they ring true - we at the Daily Mail counted at least six different pitches that Moore threw in the last two weeks. It's more than just tricks though - topping the league last year on strikeouts (94) is proof enough of that.

SP Isaac Stevens: A new face to British baseball, Stevens throws a most unusual pitch - over the head, at which point the ball seems to move almost of its own accord. Observers are calling it a 'fairy' due to the way it drifts in the air, although we don't think this name will catch on. He seems to hold it in his knuckles...


From left: Guillermo Enriquez, Isaac Moore, Isaac Stevens

Trivia: There are only two foreign players (that is, players from outside the United Kingdom) that have played in the midseason exhibition between the Mercian League and the Northern Baseball League; both are Spanish, and both have spent their entire professional careers in Leeds. Shortstop David Valdez, 30, played in the 1900 game after an unremarkable 1899 (marked by only a 0.266 and 19 runs from 51 starts), but is a popular figure around the Yorkshire city; Guillermo Enriquez, nicknamed ‘El Matador’ by fans, played in the 1901 game and, at 26 and only 3 years in the country, seems to be building quite the name for himself.

We predict: 7th in the NBL. Tough year for Yorkies we think. With Glasgow in the picture they may just about break even, 49-49, but with the exception of Enriquez and the strikeout baron Isaac Moore, the Leeds team this year just looks extremely middling - which just doesn't cut it.

[Izz]

Good stuff, Archelirion!

[Archelirion]

Liverpool Cormorants



Number of championships: 1 (1900)
Overall record: 338-456 (0.426)
3-year-record: 115-103 (0.528)

Ground: Harker Park (1,800 capacity, 0.962 overall AVG, 0.924 overall HR)

Players to watch

3B Dwayne Neale: A fixture in Liverpool for 5 seasons now, the native of Newcastle has traded the north-east for the north-west and apparently has not a regret for doing so. Having never hit below a 0.300 and finishing above 0.350 for the last two years shows Neale's ability with a bat in hand, but his real asset is his wonderful eye. Expect pitching errors to be punished.

RF Albert Embleton: Another Liverpool fixture (this time six years in the making), Embleton is a two-time Most Valuable Player winner in the Northern Baseball League, from 1898 and 1899. Despite a slight dip in 1900 he proved to be back on form last year, and we look forward to more extra-bases from the speedy right-flanker.

SP David Savage: Fresh from Greenwich, at the age of 33 Savage seems to be proving that baseball is by no means a young fellow's game - 1900 arguably being his first excellent year after seven spent either underperforming as a starter, or languishing in the bullpen. He's by no means a true star of the league, but if he can continue the form he's finally built up this past couple of years, then maybe this will be a shrewd acquisition for the Cormorants.


From left: Dwayne Neale, Albert Embleton, David Savage

Trivia: The Cormorants are the least-winningest team to have won a title. Their 338-456 record gives them an overall percentage of 0.426, and they have only ever managed to achieve a winning season twice – in 1900 when they won the title (winning a tiebreaker against the Bradford Bulls 6-3), and also the year before when, once more in a tiebreaker, they lost against the Sheffield Grey Stockings 7-2. Both seasons ended 43-30. Additionally, after winning the 1900 NBL and then coming last in 1901, they hold the dubious honour of being the only team to collect a trophy one year, and then the wooden spoon the next.

We predict: 5th in the NBL. Look out for Bernard Rolfe as a reliever by all means, but we believe that Liverpool are an offensive side this year with offensive ambitions. If they can stop the runs leaking out against them - and if so, Savage will likely have something to do with it - then Liverpool may have the return to form they've hoped for. 52-46.

[Archelirion]

Originally Posted by Izz

Good stuff, Archelirion!

Thank you very much! I need to start updating this at a rate a little faster than glacial, so I can get on with the actual story