“You gotta be determined as the devil, selfless as a saint. Keep it ‘tween the white lines, and hit ‘em where they ain’t.”
—John McCutcheon, Sermon on the Mound
I can’t remember the last time I’ve looked forward to a baseball season as much as this one.
As I write this on a sunny spring Friday afternoon, opening day for the Royals was yesterday.
The Wichita Wind Surge have their home opener on April 11.
My own opening day was Sunday on the field at the Old Cowtown Museum. For more years than I’d care to admit, I’ve been a member of the Bull Dozers, which along with our rival team, the Red Stockings, makes up the Cowtown Vintage Base Ball Club.
Base Ball, by the way, is not a typo. That’s the way they spelled it in the 1870s, the period Cowtown endeavors to re-create.
Our team names and uniforms come from grainy newspaper clippings about two local teams from back when Wyatt Earp patrolled the streets of Wichita.
We play by the same rules they did.
The pitching is underhand, but you can throw as hard or soft as you like. If a batter’s bit by a pitch, the pitcher has to tip his cap and apologize — no walks.
In fielding, if you catch a ball on the first bounce, the batter’s out, although any baserunners can still advance.
They didn’t have video replay back then, so if an umpire was unsure of a close play, he could appeal the call to the fans in the stands.
They call it “vintage” baseball and I’m a little more vintage than most.
Most guys play barehanded. The ball’s a little softer than a modern one, but after breaking a finger 10 years or so ago catching a high fly, I’m one of the few who wears a period-correct reproduction glove.
Baseball gloves were a new invention in the 1870s and more like a leather work glove than a modern mitt. Even so, they were considered somewhat unmanly (like I care). The earliest gloves were made with flesh-toned leather to hide that you were wearing one and some players even painted fingernails on theirs to fool the fans in the stands.
