| OCR Text |
Show Car Baseball Butch and Fenn Stories 72 and came by to harass us for a while. Sixty-four runs with a man left on second, and Parley walked away with only one out. Parley could run like a terror. Sixty-four runs is going to be a tough record to crack on Emery Street. The uneven traffic only holds for an hour or two after dark, then it's one car an hour except on special nights. Butch's house is down by the store which means more cars, but you've got to run through a lot of dangerous yard trash down there even to get a single. We stand by the fence and hope for cars. Butch has the bases loaded; I've got two on, but for now, Fenn has the lead. I'm a conservative player, but so is Butch, and I know that my hope of catching him tonight is by going for singles on cars making the quick turn off Concord. Sometimes, we can see the car lights in reflection off the stop sign, and if I run on speculation that it will turn our way, I can nab a double while everyone else watches. Also, part of my strategy is to force Butch into some of those dangerous short plays. If I can get an out or two on him, he'll be crippled in any chance running and that is where the records are. By ten o'clock we begin to hear the railroad trains whining their awesome harmonics as they drag the very world away, and the game of Car Baseball is full tilt. Fenn: twenty runs, runner on second, one out. Butch: twenty-nine runs, bases loaded, no outs. |
