“I'll play "Great website! “At long last...
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“Our conversation soon turned to a discussion of athletics, for which both Abner and I possessed certain gifts and which, from our earliest boyhood days, had always led to energetic competitions between us. In the midst of our spirited discussions, I challenged my cousin to attempt to swing an old ax-handle while trying to hit a small white ball which I might propel in his direction.
“The uproar grew and soon we found ourselves proceeding to nearby Thom's Meadow across the road, seemingly half the town in tow, to contest our several predictions. As I painstakingly stepped off 20 paces, the commotion increased with the entire assemblage raising high their pitchers of ale and beer, cheering us in loud anticipation. Circling my arm in a wide arc I readied my toss, took a single step in the direction of my cousin, and released the round white ball. Abner swung wildly — and missed!
“The populace quickly took to our new game. New contests ensued each afternoon as, beverages in hand, the crowd’s delighted shouts of “New Pitcher!” echoed up and down our valley.
At that, the stranger abruptly stood and affixed his garment, preparing to leave. But he paused upon doing so, pointing back one final time at the tabletop. “Gentlemen, I leave this matter forever in your hands! And may you never forget it...” and here the entire tavern grew silent as the stranger, staring straight into the eyes of the young brewer, lowered his voice and whispered, “Don’t Just Watch The Game — PLAY THE GAME!”
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t was a hot summer’s afternoon right here in Cooperstown,” the stranger began slowly. “Abner and I were enjoying our favorite brew over a most pleasant luncheon in this very tavern.
“Never one to shrink at any challenge from me, my cousin quickly accepted my proposition. Immediately, all present began to hold forth their own opinions, some predicting Abner might indeed hit the ball, others predicting he certainly would not.
“The crowd erupted with excitement. Not anxious to bring a quick end to their obvious delight in our joyous new sport, I quickly signaled my readiness to again deliver the ball. This time, Abner hit my toss cleanly. Yet before the ball could be retrieved, the crowd was clamoring for still another throw. There followed an entire afternoon of the most stimulating of competitions among us — our chief entertainment consisting of the assembled crowd’s collective delight in predicting the winner of each contest — and lifting high their pitchers at the results.
To increase their entertainment from their predictions, I soon added fresh inventions to our game. Outfielders to quickly retrieve the balls. Bases and base-runners to provide further perplexities for our ever-watchful prognosticators. And finally...” he sputtered, growing red-faced with excitement, “I added my finest innovation of all...This!” Here the ragged stranger leaned far forward and, with a crude carving knife, scratched an odd chart of baseball terms deep into the top of the tavern table.
“You see it now, don’t you, Gentlemen?” he muttered, wild eyed and laughing. “All the others have missed it! This Game of baseball — it is a sport, sirs, played not by the athletes — but by the spectators themselves! Can I state it more plainly? Athletes don’t play baseball — spectators do!”
