Published: May 02, 2008 06:07 pm            

Take me out to the ballgame

Larry Jones, Democrat Columnist

My father was an honest hard-working man of few vices, and was respected throughout the community by all who knew him. In this regard, I was a fortunate lad. While he wasn’t a drunkard, womanizer, or gambler, he did suffer from one mortal weakness. He dearly loved the game of baseball — America’s favorite pastime.

During the first half of the last century, baseball provided wholesome entertainment that could be enjoyed by everyone whether they lived in urban or rural communities. During this era, it wasn’t just a spectator sport for adults as it is today, but instead, everyone could participate. Every community had teams that competed with neighboring towns. Popularity for local adult baseball teams was at its greatest peak during my father’s younger years. With the widespread introduction of radio broadcasts of professional baseball games by the 1930s, interest in the sport increased considerably, but soon after this time the local teams began to disappear.

As the community teams lost ground, the sport of baseball continued to grow. Part of the appeal of professional baseball stemmed from the large number of minor league or farm teams throughout the country. This area was fortunate to have such a team nearby — the Fort Worth Cats, part of the Texas League. The Cats have a long history dating back to the 1888, but perhaps their heyday was in the late 1940s and early ’50s. It is during this time that I so vividly recall the many games we attended at LaGrave Field.

Going to see the Fort Worth Cats play ball was one of my father’s greatest indulgences. Despite any sacrifice that was necessary, he would eagerly seize the opportunity to hear the organ play, smell the hot dogs and popcorn, and hear the crack of a hickory bat on a warm summer evening. Even in the hardest of times during the drought of the 1950s, we occasionally attended.

To attend these games was no easy task during the 1940s. Consider my father and mother driving 50 miles with two rambunctious boys under 10 years old in a 1937 Chevrolet pickup and returning home after midnight. My father’s love of baseball transcended all such obstacles.

A couple of weeks ago I watched a PBS documentary on KERA/CH 13 about the Fort Worth Cats. It was delightful. Bobby Bragan, manager and catcher during this time, was on the program, and he told many great stories about the team. He was my team favorite, along with an earlier catcher Andy Anderson. I would try to imitate every move they made. Dee Fondy, the left handed first baseman, was my brother, David’s, idol. I’ve never seen a right-hander want to be left-handed as badly as David.

Although times were hard down on the farm in those early days, baseball was still affordable, unlike professional sports today. Some time ago my old Navy buddy, John Hayes, was recalling the days when his father, Frankie Hayes, played professional baseball. Frankie, a catcher for the Philadelphia Athletics, retired in the late 1940s. Despite being selected to the American League All-Star team 6 times, his highest salary was only around $15,000. While this was a comfortable sum at the time, it is a pittance compared to the exorbitant salaries of today’s steroid enhanced “role models.”

I feel very fortunate to have been able to witness this “Golden Era” of Fort Worth Cats baseball history that was shown on the recent PBS documentary. They told of the quadruple wedding ceremony held on the field in 1950. I was there on that August evening when Cats team members Joe Torpey, Don Hoak, Russ Ross, and John Rutherford were married while standing with their brides at home plate. Perhaps my favorite memories involve the food. The vendors shouting, “Get your ice cold Coca Cola (or beer), peanuts, popcorn, hot dogs,” will forever ring in my ears. Even better was going to the Pig Stand which was located adjacent to the field before the game and getting a zesty sauce covered hot dog.

While my father, brother, and I were great baseball fans, this enthusiasm was not shared by my mother. I can only imagine the number of times she recounted having to endure a 19 inning game while sitting on hard wooden bleachers on a hot summer night. Before she passed away a few years ago, this tortuous recollection may have been her final words. She was not amused!

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Larry M. Jones is a retired Navy Commander and aviator who raises cattle and hay in the Brock/Lazy Bend part of Parker County. Comments may be directed to nowhearthis@pwhome.com. Columns submitted to The Weatherford Democrat by guest writers reflect the opinions of the writer and in no way reflect the beliefs or opinions of The Weatherford Democrat.

        

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