Kenilworth: A Town and Its Team

[Big Six]

Hi, everyone.

It's a cool, breezy Sunday evening, and as things are calming down at my house, I decided to begin the process of bringing an idea I've been pondering for a while to life.

I've been playing OOTP for quite a while, and through the years I've written, or attempted to write, more dynasty stories than I'd like to admit. A few of them have drawn me in enough to stick around a while, but most have not. I'd really enjoy the feeling of having a story I can't stop thinking about again.

With that in mind, I decided to take a look at what kinds of stories I've enjoyed the most. Those tend to be the ones I've done the best. I have fun writing about baseball itself; the rise and fall of teams and players, exciting pennant races, the story of a season as it plays out day by day. But I also love telling the stories that intersect with the baseball worlds I create in OOTP, the plot twists that grow out of the action of the field and give some shape to the characters to which the game gives life.

That's the kind of story I want to write now, and I'm ready to give it a try.

I'm using the Keystone League setup that I've had fun with before. That's largely because I love the logos and uniforms knuckler and txranger created for it. You'll see their work throughout the story.

But, rather than writing about a single player or the entire league, I'm going to focus on one team and the town it calls home.

There's not a city called Kenilworth in Pennsylvania. (There's a portion of a township in Chester County by that name, but it's not even really a village.) I'm creating the city for the purposes of my story. It's somewhere in the eastern part of the state, but that's as much as I've figured out about its location.

Kenilworth has a team in the Keystone League, called the Oaks. They have a sharp-looking logo, which looks like this.



The Keystone League will begin play in 1905, and that's when our story will begin, too. I'll be introducing you to some of the players and their manager, and you'll be able to follow their accomplishments on the field. I'm guessing some of the Oaks' opponents will also make their way into the story. After all, what's a good story without a few antagonists?

You'll also get to know other residents of Kenilworth, too. Most of them will, naturally, be fans of the team, but there might be a few who don't seem to understand what all the fuss is about.

I'll tell the story in a variety of ways: newspaper articles, conversations, box scores, tables of stats, etc. If, along the way, there's something you're interested in knowing more about, just tell me so, and I'll see what I can do.

I hope this turns out to be something we can have some fun with. I always welcome comments from anyone who is reading along, so feel free to stop by and let me know.

Once I finish setting up the league, the story will begin...

[Big Six]

The Kenilworth Gazette
November 16, 1904


WE ARE IN!
Kenilworth Club Will Join Keystone League

Today in Harrisburg, the directors of the Keystone League announced the names of the twelve clubs that will be members of the league for its inaugural season next spring, and Kenilworth is on the list.

Kenilworth Carriage Works magnate David Herndon is the leader of the group of local business leaders who made an application to the League on Kenilworth's behalf. He is said to be delighted at the thought of having first-rate base ball played in the city. Herndon has also on many occasions declared his support for the development of wholesome recreational activities for the families of Kenilworth, and a base ball club should certainly provide such a diversion.

The club will be named the Oaks, and the existing grounds on Monroe Street will be enlarged for their use and renamed Oaks Ballpark.

Herndon is currently taking applications for coaching positions. The club roster will be filled through a player draft, to be held on or around January first.

The other municipalities represented in the league will be Allentown, Bethlehem, Carlisle, Chadds Ford, Easton, Harrisburg, Hershey, Lancaster, Lewisburg, Scranton, and York.

The league directors hope they will be able to bring a fast brand of ball to the eastern half of the Commonwealth, and that each of the twelve clubs will attract passionate groups of rooters.

[Big Six]

December 11, 1904
Main Street, Kenilworth

James Belding politely stamped the snow from his well-polished shoes before he entered Martin's Haberdashery. After all, its owner, Peter Martin, was one of his best friends. James's walk from his jeweler's shop, just around the corner on Market Street, wasn't far, but the snow had been falling for two hours now, and it was starting to accumulate on the sidewalk.

Pete greeted James with a smile and stepped from behind the counter to greet him. James tucked his newspaper beneath his arm so he could shake hands.

"What's the good word, Jim?" Pete's handshake was firm, his large hand nearly engulfing that of his friend.

"I read in the paper here that our ball club hired its manager and all," James said, after subtly shaking his right hand a bit.

"Is that so? Have you heard of any of them?"

James opened his newspaper, spread it out on Pete's counter, and pointed to the article. "Says here Hal Perry is going to be the manager."

Pete stroked his chin for a moment. "Hal Perry? Where have I heard that name before?"

"He's a big fellow, used to pitch for Erie back in the eighties. I saw him pitch a no-hit game against...Scranton, I think it was. He could put some speed on it."

"I wonder if he'd like to pitch for us while he's at it?" Pete chuckled and continued to look at the article. He was too vain to wear his glasses, so he had to squint at the page to make out the words.

"They have special coaches just for hitting and pitching these days?" the haberdasher asked, his brow furrowing.

"Sure looks like it," James replied. "The name of that hitting coach is familiar too. Raul Franco. I think he played in Lancaster. I always wondered how old he was, because they said he got wounded down in Virginia with Grant's army."

Pete shook his head. "Is there a ball player you haven't heard of? Or are you just making all this up?"

James laughed. "I've never heard of the other fellows they mention here."

Pete's expression grew quizzical. "Does that say 'bench coach?' Why does the bench need to be coached..."

"I suppose he's like Hal Perry's right-hand man. There's a general manager listed here, too. I've heard he mainly brings players into the team, things like that."

"Ball clubs are getting more and more complicated all the time," Pete mused. "I thought all you needed was a bat, a ball, and enough boys to make two teams."

James grinned, reached down, and folded his paper again. "This is the genuine article, my friend. We'll get to see better ball next spring than we've ever seen here, if what I've heard is true."

"I hope you're right," Pete replied. "Now do you want to look at the merchandise today, or are you just here to talk base ball?"

"Not today, my friend." James smiled and reached for Pete's hand again, making sure to prepare in advance for the force of his pal's grip. "I'm shopping for Ella and Laura's Christmas today."

If there was a more beautiful woman in town than Ella Belding, nobody had seen her yet. Their daughter, Laura, the other person James was shopping for today, was at the top of the eighth grade class at Kenilworth Academy. Laura's older brother, Chet, was a junior. Tall and strong, Chet was said to be the best pitcher his age in the county.

"Give them my regards, then," said Pete. "And your boy, too. Isn't it time for him to be fitted for another suit? I swear he's even bigger than he was last time I saw him."

"Always trying to make a sale, Peter."

"And you don't do the very same thing, James?"

The two friends laughed and shared another hearty handshake and a clap on the shoulder before James set off to shop for the women in his life.

[Big Six]

December 31, 1904
224 Maple Street, Kenilworth

Harmon Floyd was very glad his new place of residence was "uptown" enough to have electric power, and he was even more glad Mrs. Frances O'Rourke was up-to-date enough to have it installed in the home she owned, the one in which Floyd had rented a room. As he stretched out on his bed, propped on three pillows, the light from the bulb above him was bright enough for him to make out the notes he had painstakingly written on the papers he held in his hands.

Floyd was the general manager of the Kenilworth Oaks. The nature of his work remained somewhat mysterious to even the most knowledgeable rooters, people like James Belding. The definition James had given his friend Peter Martin had been fairly close. Floyd was indeed mainly responsible for assembling the Oaks roster. That meant tomorrow was perhaps the most important day of the year, and not just because it was January 1.

Tomorrow was the Inaugural Player Draft for the Keystone League, and Harmon would be making the picks for the Kenilworth club.

Two weeks earlier, at the league office in Harrisburg, a clerk had pulled twelve tokens from a fine silk top hat and determined the order in which the twelve clubs would make their selections. The Oaks had been drawn third. Harmon Floyd was pleased with this outcome.

For one thing, he would be able to select an excellent player in the first round. The draft was to be run in serpentine style, meaning the Oaks would then have the 22nd overall pick, and after that, the 27th. Harmon thought having a shot at three of the best 27 players in the pool gave him a decent chance at setting his employers up with the nucleus of a fine ball club indeed. That seemed, to him, to be an even bigger advantage of his club's draft position.

Harmon ran his eyes over the names listed on the first sheet of paper. He had written FIRST ROUND at the top, in big, bold letters. He didn't think the Oaks would have a chance to land the first player on his list, a hard-throwing right-handed pitcher named Pep Galvin. Harmon was sure the Allentown Fleetwings would take Galvin off the list with the very first pick.

The next name Harmon had written down was that of Johnny Kelley, an athletic second baseman from the northwestern part of the state. There was very little Kelley couldn't do well on a ball field; he was a slick fielder and a mobile baserunner, and he hit the ball hard and often. Kelley was 29 years old, and ideally Floyd would like to pick a younger player, but Kelley's ability was undeniable and would make him hard to pass up if he were still available when it came Kenilworth's turn to pick.

Harmon liked Roxy Perkins almost as well. Perkins was an outfielder, with enough range to man the center garden and better-than-average power. He was also only 25, which gave him an edge over Kelley.

There was another pitcher high on Harmon's list. Al Goff, from Scranton, threw even harder than Galvin, but his pitches lacked the deceptive movement that made Galvin's so hard to hit.

Harmon put the papers down on the bed beside him and closed his eyes. He reached up and pushed his dark brown hair back from his forehead. The way he saw it, the Oaks would have one of the two best pitchers in the draft, or one of the two best position players. That didn't seem like a bad situation to be in, and when Harmon thought about it, he smiled. He wasn't sure which of the players he would choose, but he was confident he'd pick a good one.

He got up from the bed and tucked his notes into his leather briefcase, which he placed beside his dressing table. And, then, as he did every night, he turned to look at the portrait on the table, a portrait of a young woman with light, curly hair and a sweet smile.

Adeline Floyd was 24 when that photograph was taken. Six months earlier, she had married Harmon in the little church in Saint Davids.

Two weeks after she smiled for her portrait, Adeline fell ill. The doctor said it was pneumonia. He'd done his best, but he couldn't save her. Adeline was buried in the cemetery of the church where she'd been so recently wed.

That was eighteen years ago now. Harmon had never remarried. He'd never met a woman who made him smile the way his Adeline had done.

He looked at her picture one more time, turned out the light, and got into bed.

[Big Six]

February 1, 1905
144 Market Street, Kenilworth

A bitter, cold wild whipped in from the east, and the sky was filled with dense grey clouds. You didn't need the newspaper to tell you it was going to snow. A few of the old-timers said it felt a lot like it did before the big blizzard of '74.

Inside Armando's Café it was warm. Harmon Floyd and Hal Perry sat at a table by the window, a pot of Armando's coffee between them. Armando Reyes, the café's owner, stood behind the counter in a crisp white apron, polishing a glass.

Armando and his family were part of a lively Mexican-American community that had called Kenilworth home for years now. Most of them lived on the west side of town, a working-class area, filled with small, tidy homes and squat multifamily dwellings. That's where the Reyeses had settled first, when Armando opened his restaurant in a tiny storefront on Liberty Street.

But once Kenilworthians discovered the hearty breakfasts and delicious lunches Armando served, his business took off. He moved his café into a prime location on bustling Market Street, and he bought a lovely house on Linden Avenue. Armando, his wife Alma, and their three children lived next door to a dentist and across the street from a professor at Madison College.

Harmon had brought with him two neatly typed sheets of paper that, together, formed the roster of the Kenilworth Oaks--the roster he had assembled a month ago in the Inaugural Player Draft. The sheet Hal was holding listed the names of seventeen pitchers, along with their ages, heights, and weights. Harmon had also included his estimation of their ability, both current and potential.



"Goodness, that's a lot of pitchers," Hal commented. A polite, God-fearing man, Hal never used language much stronger than that.

Harmon nodded. "That's the way of things now. Nobody asks their pitchers to work nine innings on a regular basis anymore."

"If I'm reading this right, our best pitcher is a reliever?"

Harmon swallowed hard. He'd given a righthander named Doc Johnson his highest rating. Doc threw very hard, almost 100 MPH, if the stories were true. Harmon thought so highly of him that he used the Oaks' fourth round pick to choose him.

"Think of it this way, Hal. If we have a lead in the last innings, you can count on Johnson to protect it. And he can work in more games this way."

Hal Perry was in his fifties, but he was up-to-date enough to understand the value of a relief ace. "If it gives us an edge, I'm all for it."

Harmon relaxed now, and the two of them continued to discuss the team's pitching staff. While there was no true ace, there were perhaps five or six men who looked like they could be counted on as solid starters. Tom Dickens was perhaps the best of the lot.

Now Hal picked up the list of position players, which Harmon had laid out in a similar fashion.



Prominent among them was Johnny Kelley, the second baseman Harmon had regarded so highly before the draft. Allentown had chosen Pep Galvin first, as expected. Then, the Hershey Chocolate Kings decided to choose a pitcher, too, and they drafted Al Goff. A delighted Harmon Floyd wasted no time picking Kelley next.

"I like the looks of that Allison fellow, but he's no youngster, is he?" Hal pointed to the name of third baseman Charlie Allison.

Again, Harmon swallowed hard. Hal was right; Allison would turn 35 before the season was a month old. And Harmon had used the team's second pick on him, a fairly large investment in a player who might not be a regular for very long. The general manager lifted his cup and took a long sip of coffee. He believed in his choice, he believed in Charlie Allison, and he needed to help Hal Perry believe, too.

"Charlie's not young," Harmon agreed. "But he hits with a lot of power, and he won't swing at pitches he doesn't like. He's said to be as good a fielder as you'll find at his position anywhere in the league. He's taken good care of himself, too. I think he'll be just fine, Hal."

Perry paused for a moment. Then a slight smile broke across his face. "I trust you, Harmon. I wanted to see if you'd stick to your guns."

The two men went on to discuss the merits of Sparky Casto and George Lynde, two line-drive hitting outfielders with great speed. "You found Casto in the 25th round?" Hal asked.

"I'm surprised he lasted that long, too," Harmon agreed. Lynde, younger and perhaps a bit better, had been the Oaks' fifth round selection.

Armando stopped by the table to replace the coffee pot with a fresh one. His eyes fell across the Oaks roster, too. He smiled when he saw several Latino names: Arzola; Trinidad; Hernandez, twice; del Castillo.

"I don't mean to tell you how to do your business, but I think you might end up being glad you picked a few of these fellows," Armando predicted. "I wonder if any of them are from Mexico?"

"I'm not sure," Floyd replied. "All of them indicated they're American-born on their applications when they entered the draft."

"If they can play, it won't matter where they're from." Armando smiled. "Still, it's a good thing you don't let a thing like that matter to you."

Reyes had pointed out one of the founding principles of the Keystone League. Any man could play there, regardless of his color or his national origin. All that mattered, as Armando said, was that they could play.

In a little more than two months, Hal and Harmon would find out. So would Armando, and all the other base ball fans who couldn't wait for the season to begin.

Note: Since this is a fictional league, I decided to have some fun and let the Keystone League play some 1980s-style baseball. That's why Doc Johnson is a closer, and why you might see Charlie Allison hit 30 homers.

[Big Six]

April 3, 1905
Kenilworth Academy

One of the boys looked back over his shoulder. When he saw nobody was looking, at least not one of the teachers, he took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. Two other boys quickly huddled up with him, as the first boy unfolded his treasure which, from the way the boys were behaving, looked to be a piece of contraband, the kind of thing that could earn them a severe punishment if they were caught with it in their possession.

It was nothing as terrible as that. Bobby Hinton had torn a page out of his father's newspaper that morning. It was an article about the Keystone League season, which would begin today, and in it, the sportswriter for the Kenilworth Gazette had made some predictions about how the season would turn out. Now Bobby, Lewis Nix, and James McGinnis were studying it carefully, hoping one of their teachers wouldn't see them and confiscate it. There were countless things three eighth grade boys could be doing during their free time that would be considered infinitely worse, but the boys were taking no chances.



Lewis viewed it skeptically. "How do they know who's going to win the pennant? The season hasn't even started yet."

Bobby shook his head. "They're just predictions. What they think is gonna happen."

"The Oaks had the best record during spring training," James pointed out. He was right; the Oaks' 21-9 performance had been the best in the league during exhibition play.

"No way Hershey is going to be that much better than we are," declared Bobby.

"How do you know? You haven't seen any of the teams play yet." Lewis was still not convinced anyone could predict the outcome of a base ball season, and he was sure Bobby Hinton couldn't.

"Neither have you."

The furtive actions of the boys naturally attracted the attention of some of their classmates. Two girls, Laura Belding and Betsy Ray, spotted them and strolled over to investigate.

"What do you have there?" Laura asked them, her eyebrow arched. "The answers to Mrs. Gaines's Latin quiz?"

Bobby shook his head. "James doesn't need the answers, and they wouldn't help Lewis anyway." He smiled at the girls and started folding the paper back up.

"Oh, no you don't!" Betsy shook her head. "Let us see it."

"Not on your lives. Besides, you wouldn't understand it anyway."

"It's just some stuff about the base ball season," admitted James. "Bobby tore it out of the newspaper."

Laura's face wrinkled into a frown. "So you're saying we wouldn't understand base ball? Ha!" She quickly snatched it out of Bobby's hand and unfolded it.

Betsy looked over her friend's shoulder as Laura examined the projected standings. Bobby's estimation of the girls' knowledge wasn't completely wrong; Betsy knew only the most basic things about base ball--three strikes, three outs, four bases.

Laura, however, was a different story.

She folded the paper back up and handed it back to Bobby. "Allentown will be better than that," she declared. "Pep Galvin is going to be scary good. We don't have enough pitching to keep up with them. But Johnny Kelley will win the batting title,though."

She smiled sweetly, and Betsy waved goodbye. Then they turned and walked away.

[Big Six]

April 18, 1905
Oaks Ballpark

The stadium was brand new, and it still looked and smelled like it. The railings were freshly painted in an attractive dark green shade, and from the third base end of the grandstand all the way around to the first base side, they were draped with bunting. Every so often, a small Pennsylvania state flag was tucked into the bunting, almost inviting a rooter to pluck it out and wave it.

According to the Gazette, the weather was supposed to be warm, and by early afternoon, there was every reason to believe the prediction was a good one. David Herndon unbuttoned his jacket as he stood at the grandstand railing, not far from home plate. He'd been walking around the stands, greeting people along the way, thanking them for coming out to see the Oaks on the Opening Day of their new ball park.

The owner had managed to persuade the headmaster of Kenilworth Academy to give the students a half holiday to celebrate Opening Day. John Manning was a base ball fan, so it wasn't a hard sell, and Manning, his wife Katherine, and their four small children, were already in their seats behind first base. More than a few of the Academy students were here, too, gathered in groups, talking and laughing, waiting for something interesting to happen on the field.

The Oaks began their season with a two-week road trip. They lost two at Easton, but recovered to sweep a four-game set at Hershey, who were supposed to be the class of the Keystone League. At Lancaster, where the Red Roses were off to the best start in the league, the Oaks lost two of three, but both were spellbinding 4-3 decisions. The journey ended at Harrisburg, where the teams split four games.

Manager Hal Perry was pleased with the result of the road trip. He told the Gazette, "It wasn't easy, starting out away from home like that, but we won more than we lost, and we are coming home in first place." Indeed, the Oaks' 7-6 record was good enough to give them a half-game lead over Easton and Allentown in the Independence Division.

The fans cheered as the Oaks came out to warm up. Ping Davis grinned and softly tossed a baseball to an eight-year-old boy who stood at the railing. The barrel-chested first baseman had every reason to be happy. He'd hit three home runs and driven in 12 runs already, taking the sting out of the fact his batting average was 50 points below his weight.

Along the third base side, Oaks pitcher Russ Lloyd was warming up, pitching to reserve catcher David Hernandez. Lloyd, a righthander with a decent fastball and a tricky knuckle curve, was today's starting pitcher. All four of the Oaks' front-line starters had pitched well; Lloyd's 3.18 ERA was the highest among them. As a group of young rooters watched from the railing, Lloyd threw a particularly nasty knuckler that Hernandez, grinning, could only swat at as it went past him.

Today's opponents, the Bethlehem Steelers, had been struggling. Their 3-10 record was the poorest in the league. But Buddy DeCarlo, who had pitched them to two of their wins, was pitching, and any team had a chance to win with him on the mound.

By 2:05, the grandstand was as full as it was going to get. Herndon would have preferred a full house, but it was a Tuesday, after all.

Hal Perry filled out his lineup card like this:



The game was no classic, but it turned out well. DeCarlo struggled with his command all afternoon long. When Johnny Kelley led off the fourth by spanking a hanging slider off the center field fence for a triple, the Steelers lefty seemed to lose his poise completely. For some reason, manager Tony Jones left DeCarlo in the game, and a string of bases on balls and singles put a big white "5" on the scoreboard for the home team. By the time Jones lifted him for a pinch hitter in the top ofthe seventh, DeCarlo had allowed four hits...and eight walks.

Russ Lloyd allowed home runs to Bob Thorp and Jack Ellis, but he was otherwise very good, striking out seven Steelers before Doc Johnson came on to pitch the ninth. Doc recorded an easy save, his fifth of the young season.

After the final out was recorded, on a ground ball to shortstop Dutch Hawkins, David Herndon came out of his box and stood at the main gate to the ballpark, thanking the rooters for coming out to the game. He shook hands with Armando Reyes, who told the owner to come to the café and enjoy a hearty breakfast sometime, on the house.

"I appreciate it, Armando, but I won't let you do that, and you know it," Herndon replied. Herndon was a generous man--perhaps too generous, in the opinion of his accountants--and he was generally well-liked around town.

Today, with a happy crowd of baseball fans returning to their homes for dinner, a late-afternoon sun making it feel much more like spring as they walked or rode (many riding in Kenilworth Carriages, of course) along Monroe Street, the owner could probably have been named the High King of Kenilworth.

[progen]

Great read! I was born and raised in Chester County, PA, and when I saw you mention a village, I was thinking of Kennett Square, in Southern Chester County. I'm an old guy, and my wife and I moved from PA to Savannah in 2016 to eventually retire. I'm going out in July, she still has some time yet. Keep up the good work, and you're right on your post with the Fresno dynasty, there are a lot of good reads on here! Have fun with this and I'll be following.

By the way, my wife and I used to go to Lancaster to see the Barnstormers play(independent team). Funny, the one year we went, they had Ryan Minor playing 3B. He will forever be known as the player who took Cal Ripken's spot, the night he decided to end his consecutive game streak. We also have been to Harrisburg to see the Senators. You're off to a decent start with the Oaks!

[Big Six]

Originally Posted by progen

Great read! I was born and raised in Chester County, PA, and when I saw you mention a village, I was thinking of Kennett Square, in Southern Chester County. I'm an old guy, and my wife and I moved from PA to Savannah in 2016 to eventually retire. I'm going out in July, she still has some time yet. Keep up the good work, and you're right on your post with the Fresno dynasty, there are a lot of good reads on here! Have fun with this and I'll be following.

By the way, my wife and I used to go to Lancaster to see the Barnstormers play(independent team). Funny, the one year we went, they had Ryan Minor playing 3B. He will forever be known as the player who took Cal Ripken's spot, the night he decided to end his consecutive game streak. We also have been to Harrisburg to see the Senators. You're off to a decent start with the Oaks!

I happen to know Kennett Square very well. My family goes to Longwood Gardens every Christmas, and we often make our way into Kennett Square to walk around downtown. My wife can't stand mushrooms, but she loves Kennett Square.

I'm originally from Baltimore, and I remember Ryan Minor well. I saw him play at three different minor league stops on his way to Baltimore and his emergence as a trivia answer. He might have made the wrong decision when he picked MLB over the NBA. He was a big star at Oklahoma back in the mid-90s. I think the 76ers drafted him.

Thanks for stopping by.

[progen]

Hey, good to hear. My daughter lives in Glen Burnie. Got her Master at Hopkins, and doctorate at Univ of Maryland. Love the Inner Harbor, and what can you say about Camden Yards. Looking forward to following your dynasty. Stay safe!!

[Big Six]

April 30, 1905
Kensington Academy Athletic Field

The batter took his stance in the right-hand batter's box, his feet slightly apart, his bat held high. He was clearly an athlete, a little over six feet tall now, about 180 pounds, lean and fit.

Baserunners took their leads from first and second bases, but the pitcher was paying almost no attention to them. A smart young man with good baseball sense, the young righthander knew the runners weren't going anywhere with this particular batter at the plate.

He threw the batter a good pitch. A fastball with good velocity and some movement, it was low and inside, barely a strike. Most high school batters would either take this pitch--for a called strike, if the umpire called it correctly--or waved at it harmlessly, probably too late to catch up to its speed.

This batter wasn't a typical high school batter. He gauged its swiftness accurately; he liked to hit fastballs, and he hadn't met a high school twirler who could put one past him regularly. He swung his bat and made solid contact.

The Kenilworth Academy field had two small sets of bleachers, and both were filled with teenagers. The Kenilworth kids wore maroon and grey, and their opponents, from Hummelstown, wore royal blue and white. At the crack of the bat, the Kenilworth rooters came to life.

Standing not too far away were four men. The teenagers paid very little attention to them; they didn't know who they were, but they were somewhat used to seeing strangers at their games. These men were representatives of Keystone League ball clubs: the Allentown Fleetwings, the Carlisle Indians, the York White Roses, and the Chadds Ford Blue Jays. They'd come to Kenilworth to see exactly what they were watching right now.

The man wearing the navy Chadds Ford cap turned to the fellow from York beside him. "You can hear a difference when a really good batter hits the ball, can't you?"

The York man nodded. "You can close your eyes and tell if he's the kind of player who might make it."

The ball shot off the bat like a streak, a line drive into left-center field. The outfielders were playing deep, but neither of the boys got to it in time. A ball hit like this at Oaks Park would have smacked hard against the fence, and the batter would have pulled in to second with a double. But there was no fence here, and the ball could skip, unimpeded, as far as it could carry, with one of the Hummelstown outfielders in pursuit.

The outfielder was running hard, but only because he didn't want his coach to think he was a slacker. The Kenilworth baserunners were moving at no more than a brisk jog. The batter had come out of the batter's box hard, but as soon as he saw the ball split the outfielders, he slowed his pace. The man from Allentown noted that he didn't jog, which told him the batter respected his opponent and the game too much to mock them.

The kids from Kenilworth were jumping up and down, shouting excitedly as each of the three boys crossed home plate. The score was now 8-1 in favor of their team, and it was always fun to get one over your rivals. The Kenilworth players congratulated their teammate with claps on the back and cheerful banter.

The four Keystone League scouts made notes, either in their minds or, in the case of the Carlisle man, on a small notebook he held in his left hand. On top of the page he was writing on was the name BELDING, underlined neatly.

Chet Belding was a junior, and people around Kenilworth were saying he might be the best athlete to come out of their town in a generation. He starred at quarterback for the football team in the fall, and he'd given basketball a try this winter. He was best known, however, as a baseball player, a talented pitcher and, as he demonstrated a moment ago, a formidable batsman, too.

College was definitely a possibility for Chet. He was a good student who especially liked math, and there were coaches from Haverford and Villanova at today's game, too. Until last fall, there was no doubt that he'd continue his education after his graduation from Kenilworth. He'd play baseball and football, get his degree, and probably come home to Kenilworth and practice some profession or another.

But now there might be another option for him, the opportunity to stay in Pennsylvania and play some high-caliber ball.


There was nobody from the local club at this particular game. Hal Perry had seen Chet play twice already, and Harmon Floyd had done him one better. While Kenilworth Academy was putting the finishing touches on an easy victory, the Oaks were coasting to an 8-2 victory of their own over Chadds Ford at Oaks Park. For the struggling Blue Jays, it was the ninth consecutive loss, a horrid turn of events that had taken them from the division lead to a three-way tie at the bottom of the standings.

Oaks pitcher Tom Dickens went the distance to earn his fourth win. He'd been chased from the box in the second inning last time out, a disastrous 17-9 loss at Allentown that featured Fleetwings leadoff man Ruben Garcia hitting for the cycle. It was the only poor outing of an otherwise splendid season for the emerging ace of the Kenilworth staff.

Days like that had been rare for the Oaks, however. Their 16-9 record was joint best in the league, and they led the Independence Division by three games over Allentown. Johnny Kelley, George Lynde, and Charlie Allison were all batting over .300. Kelley and Allison had hit four home runs, while Ping Davis had smacked six. Dickens and Russ Lloyd had each won four games. Doc Johnson had saved six of the Oaks' victories, and he hadn't allowed a run.

It was a good time to be a base ball fan in Kenilworth.

[Big Six]

May 6, 1905
Prospect Park, Kenilworth

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Kenilworth, a perfect day for a ballgame. But the Oaks were away at Scranton this weekend, so it seemed like half the city had decided to enjoy the sunshine in Prospect Park.

Harmon Floyd was among the crowd of Kenilworthians at the park today. Normally, he would have been with the team, but today was the day the Keystone League released its list of players who were entering next month's First Year Player Draft. Harmon had awakened before sunrise and walked downtown to Armando Reyes's café for a hearty breakfast: a three-egg omelet, bacon, and toast, washed down by a whole pot of coffee. Then he continued to the telegraph office at Union Station, where he awaited the arrival of the telegram from the league office which would contain the coveted list of draftable ballplayers. It was just past eleven o'clock now, so with the list in hand, Harmon tilted the brim of his straw hat up to catch a bit of breeze and made his way to the park. He found a bench, sat down, and began to examine the list.



Harmon already knew quite a bit about many of the players who were being touted as high draft picks. Harry Middleton was a third baseman with a good glove and the ability to make consistent, hard contact. He also got high marks for his personality. Jerry Swadley, another collegian, was a fleet center fielder who might win a batting title one day. The most highly-regarded high school player was Bill Paul, a power-hitting shortstop from Churchville, over in Bucks County. They were all good players, but Floyd was intrigued by several others.

Righthander Alex Dominguez had enjoyed a very good season as a collegian, going 11-4 and striking out 172 batters in 136 innings. He threw a lively fastball with a cutting motion, and had two different change-of-pace pitches. Harmon liked Dominguez better than Bill Huffman, who was usually ranked as the #1 pitcher in the draft class. He'd heard some things he didn't like about Huffman's personality, while Dominguez's coaches praised his tireless work ethic.

Likewise, Harmon thought Art Gibson had a chance to be every bit as good a third baseman as Harry Middleton, with slightly more potential as a power hitter.

As things stood right now, Floyd wouldn't get to make a pick until every other team in the Keystone League had a shot. The Oaks were flying high, leading the Independence Division by 4 1/2 games, with a 20-10 record that was just a bit better than Lancaster's.

Hal Perry's boys had closed out April by sweeping four games from Chadds Ford at Oaks Ballpark. After splitting a pair at Carlisle, the Oaks had won the first two games of their series in Scranton. The players were enjoying themselves, and the mood in their clubhouse was loose and relaxed.

If the team had an Achilles heel, it was their bullpen. Doc Johnson still hadn't allowed an earned run, and his 10 saves were second in the league. However, none of the other relievers had pitched well at all. Billy Hood, in particular, had been disappointing, partially because he was expected to be so reliable.

Fortunately, the starters had pitched so well that Perry could often bypass the wobbly relievers and turn the game directly over to the Doc. The offense had been productive enough to take the pressure off the pitching staff; while only Johnny Kelley and Charlie Allison were among the league leaders in any category, guys like Sparky Casto and George Lynde were delivering key hits.

Harmon folded up the telegram, leaned back, stretched out his legs, and pushed his hat over his forehead. In a few minutes, he was dozing peacefully in the sun. Meanwhile, up in Scranton, a stocky right-hander called Larry Soderberg was holding the Oaks to five hits, while his teammates roughed up Dave Malone and Richie Ellis enough to earn a 4-2 victory.

By the time the team's train pulled in at Union Station, Harmon would be finishing the delicious chicken dinner Mrs.O'Rourke had prepared for herself and her lodgers. Not even the news of the loss would spoil an otherwise perfect day. After all, there would be another game in two days.

[Big Six]

May 9, 1905
Oaks Ballpark

Over ten thousand rooters had come out to Oaks Ballpark today. It was, by far, the biggest crowd to ever watch a base ball game in Kenilworth, and the smile on owner David Herndon's face was every bit as big.

The fans were being treated to what would one day be known as a "good, old-fashioned pitchers' duel." The Oaks' starter, Tom Dickens, and his opponent, Easton Gold Sox ace Horace Acosta, brought identical 5-2 records into the game. Nobody was surprised, then, when Dickens and Acosta matched zeroes for five innings.

Only three Oaks had managed to hit safely against Acosta. One of them was George Lynde, who ripped a line drive single in the bottom of the first inning. The popular outfielder smiled and doffed his cap to the cheers of the crowd. Among those cheering the loudest was a ten-year-old boy named George Parlour, who was delighted to share his hero's given name. George was, however, possibly the only fan who was aware that Lynde's single gave him 44 safe hits in 119 at-bats, pushing his batting average to .370. The best math student his fourth grade teacher at Kenilworth Academy had ever seen, young George could figure batting averages in his head. He'd run as fast as he could to make it to Oaks Ballpark after school, and he was now especially glad he had done so.

Lynde took a long lead off first base. He was always a threat to steal, and his presence on base clearly unnerved Acosta. Reading Acosta's motion perfectly, Lynde got a fantastic lead and took off for second on the first pitch to Johnny Kelley. Sox catcher Marty Sullivan came out of the chute firing, but his throw sailed over the second baseman's head and into center field. Lynde was grinning as he bounced up and raced safely into third. Acosta glared over at him as he dusted himself off.

Now the Oaks were coming to bat in their half of the sixth, with the shadows lengthening over the field and a cool breeze causing the rooters to pull their jackets or sweaters around themselves more closely. Leadoff man Dutch Hawkins fouled off the first pitch he saw, and swung and missed at the second. Acosta had Hawkins on the ropes, but Dutch bounced the next pitch toward shortstop and beat the throw to first. Acosta scowled as he snapped his glove at the return throw from the first baseman.

Now he had to face Charlie Allison, while the crowd began to buzz excitedly. Acosta's first pitch was a curve, and Allison jumped on it with gusto. The crowd rose at the crack of the bat. The Gold Sox left fielder took two steps back before he realize his efforts would be fruitless, and he simply watched the ball disappear over the fence as the big crowd roared.

Acosta was livid. Then he noticed who was batting next.

It was George Lynde.

The rooters hadn't even had time to sit back down before Acosta threw his first pitch. It was a fastball, and it was aimed directly at George Lynde. George took it on the hip and turned toward the mound. Acosta knew what would happen next. He tossed his glove away and had already taken two steps toward home plate before Lynde flipped away his bat and charged toward Acosta. Marty Sullivan tried to grab him, but the stout catcher wasn't quick enough to capture the much more athletic Oak.

Acosta squared up as Lynde approached and threw a punch, a crisp right cross. Lynde saw it coming and slipped it by shifting his head to the right. He then delivered a sharp left jab that Acosta blocked. Both Horace and George had spent a bit of time in the ring, and it showed.

The Oaks charged from their dugout in support. Big Ricky Arzola, 6 feet and 200 pounds, led the way; he was George's best friend and roommate. The Gold Sox infielders converged on the fray, and their bench emptied as well.

Both combatants had the chance to land a punch or two before they were pulled apart. Lynde, three inches taller and twenty pounds heavier, got the better of the scrap, connecting with a hard right hand that nearly put Acosta on the ground. An angry Ricky Arzola was subdued by Marty Sullivan, while Billy Hood, who was emerging as a team leader, went after Bucky Silva, the biggest man on the Gold Sox roster.

Once order was restored, the Oaks went on to score two more runs. The Gold Sox rallied to make a game of it before Doc Johnson did Doc Johnson things, retiring the last two batters on three pitches to save a 4-3 victory for Tom Dickens.

The next morning, the league office would announce suspensions for the primary combatants: two games for Lynde; six games, or two starts, for Acosta. The Oaks would miss George very much; as young George Parlour could tell you, he'd batted .571 in his last six games.

Very few Oaks fans were thinking about this, however, as they made their ways home from a rather entertaining afternoon at the ball park.

[Big Six]

May 27, 1905

The train slowed as it approached the station, and the conductor's voice betrayed a touch of boredom as he called out the name of the next stop.

"Kenilworth...Union Station, Kenilworth..."

The young man was dozing until he heard the conductor's voice. When he heard "Kenilworth," he sat up straight, adjusted his flat cap, and took a deep breath. He reached beneath his seat for the small leather grip that held everything he'd brought on his journey. When the train pulled into the station, he disembarked, making his way along the platform and going through the high arched doorway into the station.

He had never been to Kenilworth before. All he knew was that he had family living there, a cousin of some sort whom he'd never met. He did have the man's name, so he could ask around and find someone who knew him.

Two teenaged girls spotted him, and the bolder of the two giggled and waved. He smiled, touching his cap in reply. Two steps behind the girls, their father glared at him, and his grin changed from flirtatious to sheepish in an instant.

The young man walked up Union Street and turned left on Monroe Street. He moved with the easy grace of an athlete. Soon he reached the gates of Oaks Ballpark, and he stopped to take a closer look.

The Oaks were away at Chadds Ford, where they hoped to avenge an 8-2 beating from the Blue Jays the day before. The Oaks had cooled off only a bit after their torrid April, but their once-comfortable lead over the rest of the Independence Division had shrunk to half a game. The Carlisle Indians were playing inspired ball, and were breathing hard down the Oaks' necks.

The young man knew nothing of this. He was barely aware of the fact Kenilworth had a ball club. That information, however, had been enough to cause him to buy a ticket and hop on a southbound train, hoping to connect with a cousin who didn't know he was on his way. The young man didn't know his cousin's address, and he didn't think his parents did, either. Not that he'd felt much like asking them anyway.

So, he'd packed a bag and left Pittsfield, Massachusetts behind, and he guessed it was for good. He'd gotten tired of hearing his parents tell him to make something of himself. They compared him constantly to his Uncle Francis and Aunt Elizabeth's kids.

"They're both doing so well for themselves!" his mother would say. "They'll both go to college, and you could too, if you'd only work as hard as they did!"

His mother was probably right. He was intelligent, but he'd only done well in classes he enjoyed. He preferred playing ball or fishing to studying, and as the end of his eleventh grade year approached, he more frequently chose to spend the day beside a stream rather than in a classroom. That had happened a year ago. He didn't even make a pretense of returning to school in the fall.

His decision did not go over well with his parents, and rather than argue with them about it, he found himself a job as a porter and moved into a room in a boarding house. His work put a few more pounds of muscle on his frame, but otherwise, he didn't care much for it.

What he really wanted to do was play ball, and the only person in his family who seemed to understand that desire was his Uncle Francis. It was Uncle Francis who had told him about the Keystone League; a man with whom Francis had practiced law years before had moved to Harrisburg and had written to him about it. Francis had also given him his relative's name.

"I wish I could give you more information, but that's unfortunately all I can recall," Uncle Francis had told him.

"That's enough for me," he'd replied.

The young man realized he knew very little about how a fellow went about getting a position on a professional base ball team. As far as he knew, it would be enough to show up at the park and offer his services. Perhaps he'd be given a tryout of sorts. He had his catcher's mitt with him, and he figured someone would loan him the rest of the gear he needed, and perhaps a bat. He'd take care of the rest.

The ballpark was empty, though; the young man correctly guessed the team was playing an away game today. So he continued on his way, and eventually found himself on Market Street, standing in front of the window of Armando's Cafe. The man behind the counter looked friendly, so the young man went inside. He took off his cap and approached the counter.

"Excuse me," the young man said, smiling politely. "I was wondering if you know of a man in town by the name of William Flannery."

Armando Reyes smiled back, and lifted his fingers to his chin. "Flannery...Yes, I do believe I recognize that name."

The young man's smile brightened. "Oh, that's good news. I don't suppose you know where I might find him?"

Armando looked the young man over. He wasn't suspicious by nature, but he also knew better than to give too much information to a stranger. "I'm afraid I don't," he replied. "But Mr. Flannery stops in for a cup of coffee most mornings. if you give me your name, I can tell him you are looking for him. Perhaps then he'll look for you. How does that sound?"

The young man nodded. "That sounds fine. Please tell him that his cousin is looking for him. My name is Tom O'Farrell."

[John C]

Well, this is a nice little find...though I'm surprised you put Lewisburg in a division with Harrisburg and Carlisle in one with Allentown.

I hope you continue this!

[Big Six]

Originally Posted by John C

Well, this is a nice little find...though I'm surprised you put Lewisburg in a division with Harrisburg and Carlisle in one with Allentown.

I hope you continue this!

I actually almost did switch Carlisle with Lewisburg. I think I put Lewisburg and Harrisburg together because they're both on the Susquehanna River, and because I've ridden/driven up US 15 a gazillion times on trips to visit relatives in Rochester, NY. I'd look across the river at Harrisburg, and then we'd pass through Lewisburg. We'd get ice cream at Bechtel's Dairy, which is a treat I wish my kids had the chance to enjoy. Our oldest would have been there, but he doesn't remember it, and that's a shame.

The longer I think about it, the more sense it makes to switch the two teams. Sometimes all it takes is another set of eyes to point out a better way to do something, so I appreciate you mentioning it!

I think a league realignment will be in order for the Aught-Six season.

Thanks for stopping by, John. I think this will be a lot of fun.

[John C]

Lewisburg is part of District 4 for the PIAA; they get lumped into the playoffs with District 2 and 11; District 2 is Scranton. So I think it's an apt switch.

This makes me want to recreate my Harrisburg-area twilight league.

[Big Six]

Kenilworth Hotel
Kenilworth, Pennsylvania

Mr. Francis O'Farrell
227 Elm Street
Stockbridge, Massachusetts

June 1, 1905

Dear Uncle Francis,

It has been an eventful few days since I arrived and since you are the only person who knows anything about my recent decisions I wanted to write and let you know I arrived safely and am doing fine.

My trip on the train went well. Kenilworth is not too big a city, but it is not a small town, either. It has a good hotel, and I got a room there the day I arrived. I also met a man who knows Cousin William, and with his help I found William the next day. If I am going to be in town for any length of time, I might ask William if I could stay with him and his family. He has a wife and two young sons, and I don't want to be a burden.

The local club is called the Oaks, and they play in the Keystone League. The Oaks returned home from a trip to Lewisburg, Chadds Ford, and Easton today, so I went to the ball park to meet the manager and ask for a tryout. I think I surprised him with my request, but he had me borrow some catcher's equipment and catch one of their pitchers who needed some extra work. The pitching coach watched me, and he told the manager I did fine.

The manager, whose name is Hal Perry, told me to watch the game and stay after it ended to take some batting practice. The game lasted ten innings, and Kenilworth came from behind to win it, 5-4. It was starting to get dark, so I only got to take a few swings, but I hit some hard line drives. Mr. Perry said I did well. He told me he would have to talk to the general manager and the team owner, but that if I could, I should stick around town. Apparently the team is drafting new players in a few days and if they don't draft too many catchers, they might have a place for me on their reserve list. I have nothing else to do, so I will wait.

If this plan does not work out, I will either stay here and find a job or come back to Massachusetts and try my luck somewhere else. Please tell my parents I am safe. I will write to you and tell you what happens next.

Your nephew,
Tom