Moonshine and the 'pickup' baseball game

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Moonshine and the 'pickup' baseball game

Unread postby Mike » Sat Dec 10, 2005 10:59 am

I grew up in the '50s in a small town in northeast Georgia, right on the edge of the mountains and only a few miles from South Carolina. At that time, we had only loosely organized baseball, but it was far and away the most important sport in our lives. Naturally we hated the Yankees with a passion and weren't too fond of the Dodgers either. I think we liked the Pirates best of all, but we weren't near so passionate about our likes as our dislikes.

Our undeniable hero, even though he was old and known to be 'mean', was one of the greatest baseball players ever, Tyrus Raymond Cobb (lifetime batting average .366 with well over 4000 hits). His hometown was only about 25 miles down the road so we claimed him as 'ours'.

Pickup games were common and schedules were always subject to change if not enough players showed up. We had a nice field to play on that was almost major league size. It was located toward the bottom of a series of sloping hills.

Because of this considerable slope, there were large drainage pipes underground that emptied somewhere down near the railroad tracks at the bottom. These drainage pipes had vents at various spots along the way.

On a Sunday afternoon one August, two teams, one local, the other from a nearby town, were going at it hot and heavy. The crowd was much in the game and would wander onto the field and in and out of the dugouts at will. Some of the gloves the players were using were little more than pieces of leather held together with a few stitches.

A friend and I were watching this while seated above the fray and marveling at the ability of a few of the players. One of the best was the yardman for my neighbor. In about the fourth inning we noticed a loaded pickup truck come down the winding road and stop at one of the vents to the drainage system. It was the one closest to the ball field. Out pops the sheriff (he and his family had a lock on the sheriff's office for many, many, years). He commences to open these cardboard boxes and pull out half gallon jugs. He takes the jugs over to the vent and begins pouring the crystal clear liquid down the drain vent.

Curious at this, my friend and I mosey down to where the sheriff and his deputy are pouring out this stuff. At about the same time, the folks at the game notice the proceedings above them too. As if by magic, the whole ball field empties and about 80 people are soon gathered around the sheriff and that pickup truck.

You have probably guessed by now, that what he was pouring down that drain was MOONSHINE. Several people set off, cups in hand, to find where the drain pipe ended. A player gave a ten year old kid 50 cents to steal a bottle. The kid grabbed a bottle and only made it about 20 feet before dropping the bottle in his haste.

The players, fans, my friend and I, all stayed 'til the last drop was poured. The searchers for the end of the drain finally returned unsuccessful. Much as baseball was loved thereabouts, that game never resumed and everyone left with half-hearted promises to go at each other another time.

The last words I heard were these, 'Next time we play y'all, I'm going over the fence!' The reply was instantaneous, 'Only way you gone go over that fence is to climb it!'
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. - Dylan Thomas
Mike
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Unread postby bunghole » Sat Dec 10, 2005 2:36 pm

:lol: Wonderful story, Mike. Thanks for posting. I enjoyed it.

ima - :partyman:
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