I bet you’ll see in a few days where Mrs. Hayes gets through bein’ a widow, and her next name’s goin’ to be Mrs. William Baker Junior. They ain’t no danger o’ me forgettin’ that name. The guy that owns it is a ball player, but the only thing alike about he and the Baker Connie Mack’s got is that they both listen with their ears. You fellas didn’t never get a look at this bird because he was so good that we didn’t only play him in one game, and that was against the Philly club. If him and her does hook up, he won’t need to play no more. With them runnin’ the team together, they’ll be enough comedy without him puttin’ on a uniform anymore.
You knowed Old Man Hayes, o’ course. He was a good old scout, but he pulled a lot o’ boners, one o’ which was him marryin’ this doll. She’s a handsome devil all right; I’ll slip her that much. But he should ought to of knew that he didn’t cop her because she was a-stuck on him. She had it doped that he was about all in, and it wouldn’t be long till the dough was all hern. His heart was bad, and they was two or three other things the matter with him, and havin’ her round didn’t make him no healthier. At that, he’d of croaked sooner or later without no female help.
He was sure nuts over his ball club, and it hurt him every time we lose a game. You can see where he was hurt pretty often last year. At that, Bill Fox was gettin’ by all right with the managin’ job, when you figure the bunch he had. But finishin’ seventh didn’t make no hit with the old man, even if we thought we done pretty well to stay in the league and not get arrested. Anyway, Bill got canned and the job was gave to me. If I hadn’t ’ve needed the money pretty bad, I wouldn’t never ’ve tooken it.
Them deals I made last winter helped us a whole lot, and when we got down South this spring, we wasn’t a bad lookin’ club, barrin’ one or two positions. We was such a improvement over the old gang that the old man lost his needle and was countin’ the world’s serious receipts along in March. He kept a-askin’ me who did I think would be in the race with us. If I had of told him the truth and says we couldn’t win no pennant unless your bunch and the New York club was killed in a railroad wreck, he’d of canned me. So what was I to do but tell him we had a good fightin’ chancet to cop, when we didn’t have no more chancet than a rabbit or somethin’. I says the luck would have to be with us and if it was we might surprise everybody. That luck stuff was to be my alibi when we landed where we belonged.
The season opened and we got away good. McGraw’s pitchers was in no shape, and we skun ’em three out o’ the first four. We broke even with Philly and give Brooklyn a good lickin’. We was right out in front along with you fellas. Then we struck a slump, and you guys and Philly both goes ahead of us. The old man called me in and ast me why didn’t we stay in first place. I might of told him it was because we knowed we didn’t have no business there. But I stalled and says I didn’t want to have my club go too fast at first or they might maybe get tired out.
Then we come West in May, and the old boy come along with us. We opened up in Cincy and broke even with ’em, though they looked like the worst club in the world. The old man wasn’t feelin’ well, and a doctor told him he should ought to go home, but he says he would go to St. Louis with us. Higgins trimmed us four straight, and that finished the boss. He grabbed a train for home, but croaked on the way there.
It was gave out in the papers that young Mrs. Hayes would be president o’ the club, but I didn’t take no stock in that till we come in off’n the road. I was like everybody else; I figured that Williams, the vice president, and them other directors would run things.
But when we got home, after a rotten trip, she ast me to come and see her at the office. I goes, and there she is, walkin’ up and down the rug just like her husband was always doin’. When we had shooken hands, she says:
“Well, Mr. Dixon, you didn’t have no success in the West.”
“No,” I says. “We run into some tough luck.”
Then she ast me was it tough luck or rotten ball playin’, and I says it was some o’ both. Then she says:
“We’ll try and stren’then your team. I and Mr. Williams, the vice president, has decided we got to spend some dough for new players. I have gave Mr. Sullivan orders to go scoutin’ round the colleges.”
“Lay off’n the colleges,” I says. “We don’t need no more ornaments. What we should ought to have is some ball players. Besides that, you can’t buy no men off’n the
