{"id":11128,"date":"2007-07-21T12:27:32","date_gmt":"2007-07-21T17:27:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.baseball1.com\/notes\/?p=30"},"modified":"2007-07-21T12:27:32","modified_gmt":"2007-07-21T17:27:32","slug":"notes-404-requiem-for-a-league","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/2007\/07\/21\/notes-404-requiem-for-a-league\/","title":{"rendered":"Notes #404 — Requiem for a League"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 NOTES FROM THE SHADOWS OF COOPERSTOWN<\/strong>
\n<\/strong><\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Observations from Outside the Lines<\/strong>
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 By Two Finger Carney (carneya6@adelphia.net)
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

#404\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 JULY 21, 2007
\n<\/font><\/strong>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 REQUIEM FOR A LEAGUE<\/strong>
\n\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

From NOTES #384:<\/em>
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0
\n<\/font>A LEAGUE OF THEIR<\/s> OUR OWN\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 <\/u><\/strong>
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

Last Halloween, an item appeared in my local paper, announcing the formation of a new league, right here in the shadows of Cooperstown. “The NY State League” — if all goes as planned — will have four teams, named for the four cities that huddle in these shadows: Utica, Rome, Herkimer and Oneida. But that may change, and I hope it does, since I don’t think the four cities will relate to these teams. Why?
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

Well, all the games are scheduled to be played in Utica, at Murnane Field, where Roger Kahn’s Blue Sox were Good Enough to Dream<\/em> in 1973. This is good news, Murnane is less than two miles from my home. The league will be independent — more good news, as that gives the owners the freedom to promote the games any way they want, without needing MLB’s approval. But the players will not be from the four cities (like the really old days), they will be 22 & 23-year-olds, mostly from Arizona and Florida and the Northeast (Cape Cod league?), trying to get scouted and signed to pro contracts, I guess.
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

This league is not following a tough act. For newcomers to Notes<\/em> and Utica baseball, the Blue Sox used to lead the NY-Penn League in attendance, once upon a time. Enter Bob Fowler and his son, who were, to put it charitably, extremely challenged when it came to marketing. I think the consensus word among fans was actually “clueless” but who cares?\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 They are long gone now, they let fan interest slip away, sold the Sox out of town, took the money and ran. So the area has not had pro ball in about five summers or so.
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

But it has not been devoid of baseball entirely. The American Legion state tournaments have been played in Utica several times, promoted well, and drew well. This is no big secret any more, minor league baseball should be<\/em> something that makes money, as it makes for fan fun. And you do not need to be a Bill or Mike Veeck to pull it off, it’s almost a formula now, there is no limit to the different ways to hook fans.
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

I hope the NYSL succeeds, whatever it calls itself or its teams. I know baseball can succeed here in the shadows of Cooperstown, or anywhere where it is well planted, nurtured and given a fair chance to grow. In my wildest dream, I want to see this league become a model, for any city in any county in any state, that has lost its franchise to the competition that has pitted cities against each other, lured by new parks and promises of millions of dollars … just like the worst<\/em> of MLB. I look at the NYSL as a seed, the kind that sprouted all over this country after the civil war. And it will be nice to know that if the big money ever topples O.B. from the top down, there will be something already on its way up.
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/strong>
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 The new league lasted less than three weeks. The baseball was good enough to watch<\/em>, the kids played hard. But even more than the fans here in the shadows of Cooperstown, they were victimized. They signed on (sort of, they were not given copies of their contacts), to build their resumes. Imagine the thrill of playing your first pro game, but having no box score to show around. No stats of any kind, unless you kept them yourself, and how credible a resume is that<\/em>?\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 The league was, to put it mildly, hard to follow<\/em>, and in the end, hard to take<\/em>. Not because of the games, they were fine. But the Actons turned out to be worse owners than the Fowlers — no one could have predicted that<\/em>.
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 More on this below. Utica remains good enough to dream<\/em> of a team that is owned by a fan, by someone who understands what fans are, what makes them tick, what draws them to baseball.
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 So the New York State League is dead. But long live baseball<\/em>.
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

BETSY’S RIVAL\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 <\/u><\/strong>
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 When I “poemed” Shoeless Joe Jackson, many years ago, the most striking facts seemed to be that he was a superb hitter, one of the best ever, and that he named his bats. Only one of them became famous, Black Betsy, and “she” became the heroine of my poem:
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

SHOELESS JOE<\/strong>
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

How he loved her
\n<\/font>How he used her
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

She was never heavy to him
\n<\/font>But the perfect fit
\n<\/font>What a pair they were
\n<\/font>Summer after summer:
\n<\/font>Joe and Betsy
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

He called her black and beautiful
\n<\/font>She responded to his touch
\n<\/font>By springing to life
\n<\/font>Charm for no one but Joe
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

Traveled with him from Philly
\n<\/font>To Cleveland to Chicago
\n<\/font>Betsy brought him luck
\n<\/font>Until that terrible day
\n<\/font>They were split up
\n<\/font>By the Mountain Man
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

Cut down in his prime
\n<\/font>Accusations hurled by gamblers
\n<\/font>Jackson said it wasn’t so
\n<\/font>Betsy protested loudly
\n<\/font>But the hanging judge had spoken
\n<\/font>The fatal word
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

Torn from his trademark and trade
\n<\/font>Banished to roam the countryside
\n<\/font>Aching with all his soul
\n<\/font>For a reunion that would never happen
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

How he loved her
\n<\/font>How he used her
\n<\/font>She was everything to him
\n<\/font>Betsy was never just
\n<\/font>Joe’s bat
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 When I started digging into the events of 1919, it became apparent that the role of Shoeless Joe Jackson in whatever<\/em> happened that Fall, was unique. I quickly obtained and read Frommer’s 1992 Shoeless Joe and Ragtime Baseball<\/em> (see Notes #269<\/em>), which contained his grand jury statement; Donald Gropman’s Say It Ain’t So, Joe!<\/em> (get the revised 1992 2nd edition, for the appendices) and David Fleitz’ 2001 biography Shoeless: The Life & Times of Joe Jackson<\/em> (both reviewed in #272<\/em>); Jack Kavanagh’s 1995 Shoeless Joe Jackson<\/em> (for juveniles, but Jack was a meticulous researcher; see #282<\/em>); and finally Kelly Boyer Sagert’s 2004 Joe Jackson<\/em> (see #345<\/em>; by then I was contributing to the Jackson literature). This is a short list; what I want to say here is that in all of my research for Burying<\/em>, I skimmed the early biography, and focused on 1919 and the years after.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 The only time I really spent time on Katie Wynn Jackson, Joe’s wife, was when I read her deposition for the 1924 Milwaukee Trial.
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 But now there is a new book out from Pocol Press, Thomas K. Perry’s Just Joe: Baseball’s Natural, as told by his wife<\/em>. It is fiction, make no mistake about that. But it seems to be worthwhile fiction, like Blue Ruin<\/em> or Hoopla<\/em> or perhaps, dare I say, Eight Men Out<\/em> — the kind where you will learn a lot, it’s just that you won’t know precisely whether what you learned is based on anything solid, or made up in the author’s imagination.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Out of force of habit, when I first picked up Just Joe<\/em>, I opened it to 1919. That was probably a mistake, and I’m glad that I started all over again, at the beginning. Because this book is not about the Fix and the Cover-Up, it is a love story. And the charm of Just Joe<\/em> is in its language, the simple telling of the story from Katie Jackson’s perspective. The language is believable, like Ring Lardner’s in You Know Me, Al<\/em> or Mark Harris’ in his Henry Wiggins trilogy. Perry has pulled the story together from Jackson’s relatives and friends, as well as from all the documentation (from newspapers) that he could find. The result is a story that is refreshing for its simplicity. Do not pick up the book looking for clues to unravel the B-Sox mystery. Read it for its imaginative description of a baseball star of yesteryear, and those days when times were harder, especially in the rural south mill towns.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Katie and Joe Jackson were married when they were 15 and 19 (or 20) years old, respectively. In their day, the category “teenager” had not been invented, not really. Kids worked, and grew up working, then worked some more. “Teen marriages” were common, and (I think) usually worked out fine. Katie’s and Joe’s sure did.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 The author states in his Foreword that the timeline of the events of their relationship (where they were) “is precisely followed.”\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 That is not quite the case, although I doubt few readers will notice. Perry confuses the 1920 grand jury and the trial a year later — many writers do — so that GJ foreman Harry Brigham announces the “not guilty” verdict in 1921.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 The other errors are minor, too. For example, “Landis would contradict himself before you could turn around, ignoring nose-on-your-face affronts with the likes of Hal Chase, even Cobb and Speaker, then pound away on my man and Buck Weaver.”\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 In fact, Chase was black-balled (but not officially banned) from MLB before Landis took office; the Cobb-Speaker case surfaced at the end of 1926, and was not a slam-dunk, easy call. Perry is correct about Landis being closed to appeals from Jackson and Weaver, of course, and about his being inconsistent in his calls as Commish.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Just Joe<\/em> will not likely sway anyone — nor should it, it’s fiction<\/em>, and that is all it claims to be. It is to be read gently, more to get to know Kate, than Joe. Or to better know their times, and how two simple lives got very complicated.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 A final note — I hope the 1924 Milwaukee Trial material becomes widely available someday, and that Thomas Perry reads it and works it into a revised edition of Just Joe<\/em>. He will have some more color and detail for the fateful day in October 1919 when Lefty Williams tossed Joe that dirty envelope, with the $5,000 that more than anything else convicted him in the public mind of complicity in the crookedness. Katie Jackson gave an important statement for the 1924 trial — as far as I know, it was her only under-oath testimony of any length. Most of that statement is in Burying the Black Sox<\/em>. What struck me when I first read it, was that Katie denied crying when Joe told her about the $5,000 — not what you’d expect from a stand-by-your-man wife. According to Katie, Lefty gave Joe the cash, saying it was “part of what he (Lefty) had gotten,” but without further explanation.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 In October 1919, a national and everlasting scandal could not have been imagined by anyone, not even a writer of fiction. So it almost hurts to see Katie Jackson take the tainted cash from her loving husband, as she always did, and put it dutifully in the bank, where it soon comes in handy to pay hospital bills for Joe’s sister — but not before (in Joe’s account) the cash is shown to Harry Grabiner right after the Series, and not before Grabiner directs the Jacksons to keep it, when he visits Savannah that off-season to sign Joe to a new contract.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Just Joe<\/em> portrays a couple of uncomplicated people, who fall in love and stay in love, and together face more adversity than they seem to deserve. If Shoeless Joe is a Natural, Katie Wynn Jackson is, too. Not supernatural, not unnatural. Simple and free, devoted to each other and to baseball, no matter what.
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CURIOUSER & CURIOUSER\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 <\/u><\/strong>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0[Written while the NYSL was still alive]<\/em>
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 This is one of the strangest items I’ve seen yet, at the NYSL web site \u00c3\u00a2\u00e2\u201a\u00ac\u00e2\u20ac\u02dc\u00c3\u00a2\u00e2\u201a\u00ac\u00e2\u20ac\u02dc where the (outdated) standings seemed to have vanished. What was this NYSL slugger doing in Syracuse on a night, when his team (and us fans) needed him?\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 And how exactly did this guy outslug the entire AAA team?
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Adam Amar Wins Home Run Derby
\n<\/font><\/em>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0
\n<\/font><\/em>Rome Coppers First Baseman, Adam Amar, from the University of Memphis, outslugged the Syracuse Chiefs, the AAA affiliate of the Toronto Bluejays, Saturday night, July 14, at Alliance Bank Park in Syracuse to win the 2007 Home Run Derby. Teammate Joe Dempsey also participated in the contest.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Is this the first documented case of a HR Derby taking priority over a game during a season?\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 I checked the Syracuse Chiefs’ site, and sure enough there was<\/em> a pre-game HR Derby featuring NYSL players — it was part of a promotion to draw fans from the Utica-Rome area. So THAT’S where they were on Saturday night!<\/em>
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 As I noted in #402<\/em>, seems like old times — we are indeed back to the days of the clueless Fowlers and their anit-marketing of the Utica Blue Sox. Even when the Fowlers came up with a good promotion, they tended to blow it. For example, in Syracuse, on one night each summer, a local grocery chain (Wegman’s) gave fans who attended, a chance to win a car, via a drawing of ticket stubs at the end of the game — and they drew overflow crowds. When the U-Sox gave fans a (very long) chance to win a car, in some kind of throwing competition, they failed to announce it ahead of time<\/em>, so it drew nary an extra fan.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 The NYSL is doing something similar. The fans who are staying home do not know what they are missing, because the NYSL is not telling them — before or<\/em> after the games. I’m not a big anthem fan, but recently the anthem (before the second games — unnecessary, in my book) has been sung by an excellent barbershop quartet, and by an Elvis impersonator. Both versions were great, compared to the tedious recording used before all first games. I don’t know that BSQs or fake Elvises will attract any more fans, but announcing their presence at least tells fans that something is happening at the ballpark<\/em>.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Now in its third week, the NYSL has succeeded on the diamond, but its grandstand and bleachers are virtually empty. It is a sadder sight than when the stadium is covered by two feet of upstate NY snow.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Before the season, I hoped that the new league would go with A League of Our Own<\/em> — underlining its independence and local flavor. It has turned out to be almost a private<\/em> league instead, for those few fans who attend the games. We joke about the plus side: No lines at the concession stands (but nothing much to buy there, either); easy to find friends; no problem parking near the gate; your own cheering is amplified; can sit anywhere you want; odds of being selected during the games to win a free car wash, pizza, flowers, and so on, are very good<\/em>; and so on. Yes, it is dark humor.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 No one expects the league to make it to August 31. They are struggling to learn basic concepts: rain checks, published stats and standings, info on where the players are from (another good name for this league would be Who Are these Guys?<\/em>), group sales, even a mascot<\/em> for the kids. (I am not crazy about mascots, but kids love them, and when they go out into the community for kids’ birthday parties and other events, they can be magnetic, if zany, personalities. Maybe the NYSL has a mascot, The Invisible Man<\/em>, which goes nicely with all the invisible fans.)
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Looking back, I think it was probably a mistake to name the four teams after four cities, one being hometown Utica. What these players have in common is their dreams — of getting signed to a real pro contract, and moving on up, even if it’s just to a rookie league somewhere. So why not build on Roger Kahn’s image from 1983, when he bought the Utica franchise in the NY-Penn League, in order to write Good Enough to Dream<\/em>?\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 The teams would be the Dreamers, the Aspirants, the Hopefuls, and the Imagineers (if Disney won’t mind). A few creative people could market the hell out of that theme, and I bet all four could have great logos, on T-shirts, caps, and the rest.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 What if they had a league, and nobody came?<\/em>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Was there still a league?\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Applaud the NYSL owner with the sound of one hand clapping.
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OUT WITH A WHIMPER\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 <\/u><\/strong>
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 On July 14, I sent the local paper a letter that started with a Yogi-ism: “If people don’t want to come out to the park, nobody’s going to stop them.”\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 I complained, but mildly, that after two weeks, the new league was hard to follow<\/em>. There were no standings, so no one knew who’s in first<\/em> … whatever pennant race was afoot, was being run invisibly. No line scores, no box scores. No stats, therefore no streaks or slumps to notice, no batting race, or pitching feats to appreciate. Who were these guys?<\/em>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 No rosters with numbers for the fans who showed up. No radio ball at predictable times, then none at all.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Perhaps the problem can be summed up in one word: popcorn. The smell of freshly popped corn sells itself, and the stuff has supported theaters and other public arenas forever. The NYSL corn came in overpriced plastic bags.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 On July 18, the staff was told the games were rained out, but then someone changed their mind, and they were played — with only the PA announcer and scorekeeper on hand. The players on the field outnumbered the thirteen fans in the stands.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 On July 19, the rumors of the league’s demise were swirling. The local media, smelling the blood, noticing the circling vultures overhead, started reporting the funeral arrangements before the actual death. The league was clearly on life-support now, waiting for Jay Acton to pull the plug. But he refused to face the media and do that.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Friday, July 20, the league is dead, but the games go on. Jay Acton is not to be seen at the park, where a couple hundred fans show up in rainy, long-pants-and-jacket weather. It is one of the better turnouts. I was there to watch the tryouts, there when the first games were played, and was there at the end. The players, considering the circumstances (no paychecks yet, they were due on July 15), performed well, almost gallantly.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 A friend observed that Utica had been victimized by Acton, who came into town like the title character in “Music Man” and sold the city a plan for a marching band. We bought the uniforms, and the bats and balls, but it turned out to be a scam after all. Googling Jay Acton, I learned that we should not have been surprised, he had a track record for such stuff. But it was worth the shot, we had almost three weeks of pretty good baseball.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 In january 2006, Jay Acton complained to the Richmond Times-Dispatch<\/em>, “The [Richmond River Dogs] fans aren’t paying my bills.” Naturally, that upset the fans who were<\/em> coming. The relocation of the River Dogs in April 2006 prompted one fan to label Acton and his partners “the worst owners in minor league hockey history.”\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 They refused to make the announcement themselves, that the team was leaving. Apparently they were still selling season tickets, the month before they pulled out.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 There were other warnings about Acton on the internet, too. To be fair, he and his son got a lot of good press, too, when they started things up. The charges of “snake oil salesmen” tended to come at the end of their stays.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 So history repeated itself. This league died with a whimper. Its end was not announced, it was leaked by the managers and the players. Acton: “I’m just scratching my head.” And indeed, he was clueless. So the media could only report the league was “on the ropes” or “on the verge of folding,” leaving “players’ future in doubt.”\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 As one player understated, “It just seems like it was a last-minute thing. It could have worked out if some things were done differently.”\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Rob Acton said he and his father “misjudged the demographic of people in the Utica area who would attend games and what they wanted for entertainment. They aimed at middle-agers. “I think the promotional advertising was wrong. The age group we should have gone after was the 18-to-35 age group.”\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Wrong.<\/em>
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Utica has a sizeable older<\/em> population, and baseball appeals mostly to them. But its magic is that it is fun for everyone — toddlers thru the “ancients,” and that it is fun precisely because it is so damn democratic. The poorest fans can come and sit near the wealthiest. There are no Catholics, Protestants, Jews, Muslims, or Buddhists at the ballpark, just fans. The park has drawn fans from every part of the city and every surrounding town and village.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 The area is blessed in many ways, one being an extraordinary number of great, affordable family restaurants. To limit the food at the ballpark to hot dogs and burgers, when there is such a wealth of ethnic cuisine available, seems criminal. Greek night, Italian night, German night … Matt’s Brewery Night<\/em>.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 An old issue of NOTES<\/em>, #167, “That’s Entertainment!” (from August 1998), told a success story from Bridgeport, CT, that is still going strong. You could look it up, in the Notes Archive<\/em>.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 If there is any joy in this particular Mudville today, it is in bidding farewell to Jay Acton, and taking some consolation that he hasn’t sold a franchise and made a couple million dollars, like the Fowlers did when they closed down the Blue Sox.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Saturday morning, July 21. The players reported to the field at nine a.m., to turn in their uniforms. I reported, too, just to see the end. I chatted some with a young reporter, hovering near the gathering of athletes. He’s an intern, and will soon return to Arizona. I left before I could see if Acton would talk to him.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 The final scene at Murnane reminded me of the end of summer camp. The players were talked to, by Acton, and handed a piece of paper — their official releases, enabling them to sign on elsewhere? I did not see any paychecks trade hands. No one wanted to go, to make<\/em> it end, declare it over. So they milled, stalled, lingered, delayed the inevitable. Neil Sedacka had it right, breaking up is hard to do<\/em>. It was a sunny morning. It looked like it would be a great day for baseball.
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[According to the Utica Observer-Dispatch<\/em> web site, the official time of death was 10:45 AM.\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Jay Acton told the reporter he would have a press release later.]
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<\/em>FROM THE NOTES ARCHIVE: #52 FEBRUARY 5, 1994
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<\/em>YOU KNOW ME, DON’T YOU?\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0
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<\/u><\/strong>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 I am baseball<\/em>. I’ve looked pretty much the same for over a hundred summers. That sounds like I’m old, but I feel<\/em> young.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Find me in the eyes of a Little Leaguer, or those of kids out with the ballpark crowd for the first time. Some say I look best in sunlight, on grass, on a Sunday in July. But that’s me, even on a cold April night, even inside a dome.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Don’t make the mistake of confusing me with those who play the game. Baseball is not greedy, nor am I skinflint owners or TV folk who sell commercials. Players may auction themselves off, bet on or throw games, and shun the fans. They may be ignorant about my past. They may even think they are baseball, but they are not.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Look past them all. See me in the turning of a 6-4-3 double play and a rookie’s first hit. See me in the sweat on the forehead of the pitcher straining for the last out. See me in the autograph easily signed with a smile, the tip of the cap, the glance toward the stands when in a pinch. See me in the moment when suddenly everybody stands to see where the long ball will land.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 I knew your grandfather when he could hardly speak English, but spoke baseball fluently with his neighbors. I knew your father when he was given his first glove, when he played in the street and in vacant lots, from morning till dusk. And I’m getting to know your son, who puts on his team’s catcher’s gear like it’s a suit of armor.
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\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Don’t you recognize my voice?\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 It’s in the buzz of the fans that you hear on the radio, and the crack of the bat. It’s vendors hawking peanuts and sodas, kids squealing on a playground, Moms and Dads rooting for their kids to get a hit.
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 I was there long before the Black Sox, and I’m still here. I was there before Jackie Robinson, in every league in the land, and I’m still here. I was there before radio and television, before Curt Flood, before the big money, and I’m still here. Tough as horsehide standing its ground against swinging wood, I am baseball, and will be here as long as people let me into their lives.
\n<\/font>\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0<\/font><\/p>\n

\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 You know me now, don’t you?\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 I am baseball<\/em>, the summer game, alive, sturdy as a family tree.
\n<\/font><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 NOTES FROM THE SHADOWS OF COOPERSTOWN \u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Observations from Outside the Lines \u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 By Two Finger Carney (carneya6@adelphia.net) \u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 #404\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 JULY 21, 2007 \u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 REQUIEM FOR A LEAGUE \u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 From NOTES #384: \u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 A LEAGUE OF THEIR OUR OWN\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0\u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 \u00c3\u201a\u00c2\u00a0 Last Halloween, an item appeared in my local paper, announcing the formation of a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":29,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11128","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11128","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/29"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=11128"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11128\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11128"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11128"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11128"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}