A Card's Life

It's 1888 and photo studio in New York is where this story starts. Inside a group of baseball players look like they're ready to play 9 innings but the season is still over a month away."Hello,Mr. Cleveland,it's your turn. I'm going to have you pose over in front of the screen.We will take about 10 shots and later on pick the best." a photographer is heard to say. Standing in front of a fake background of a farm setting, a young player named Elmer Cleveland of the New York Giants is proudly showing off his new uniform. Having been out of the majors for 4 season now,kicking around the minor leagues,he recently found out he made the Giants team and on this cold early March afternoon he now poses in full uniform for what will be his first baseball photo card.

Elmer,just 25 years old,looks like a 15 year veteran with his piercing eyes and thick moustache as he stares into the camera as if he's about to deliver a pitch. His teammates off to the side try to get him to laugh as he takes his pose. Gil Hatfield,a 33 year old veteran with just a handful of major league experience, blurts out "Ya know rookie,I batted .429 last year,that 3rd base job is all mine!" Truth be told,Hatfield did hit .429 but he also only had 7 at bats and Mr Mutrie,the Giants field manager said neither Cleveland nor Hatfield were worthy of the starting position at 3rd base,he just had no other choice at this time. They didn't care,or at that particular time,know that he said that,they were just both happy to have a job in the majors. Little did they know a pretty good player named Art Whitney would be on the team playing 3rd base everyday and Elmer would be on his way to Pittsburgh by mid-June.

They took a few more shots and then both players got in on one shot. "Mr Hatfield,why don't you pretend as if you're sliding into the base and Mr Cleveland will tag you." Hatfield,the veteran, begrudgingly accepts as he had already taken all of his shots and as he said,"Let the rookie have his glory." Elmer had earlier played major league ball in the Union Association,a one year league back in 1884,and he did fairly well for himself,batting .322 in the last 29 games for the Cincinnati team. Not too many of the older players considered that a real major league but to Elmer,he was very proud of his accomplishment. As they set up for the pose,with Gil's hand outstretched towards the bag,they steady themselves for the shot,but not before Elmer,out of the side of his mouth threw out a few words which made them laugh and ruined the picture. Asked later on what he had said,Elmer replied with a smile"I told him that's the closest he will get to 3rd base all season."

"Ok Mr Cleveland,just give me a second to set up one more shot and then you gentleman can be on your way." the young photographer,William, said. From the side,another Elmer from the Giants,Elmer Foster shouted "Hurry up,before the saloon closes,no one wants to see his ugly face anyway." That of course brought on more laughter but there was obviously a hint of truth to it,not the ugly part,the players wanted to get to the bar more than they wanted to pose for pictures.They had already been there for what seemed like a day,just standing around pretending to field or hit a ball or catch a throw that never came and they were obviously cranky despite the laughter. "I'm going to place the ball on a string from the pole up there and I'll have you pose behind it as if to catch it." said William,which was followed by more remarks from the men to the side. "Make sure you open your eyes when you catch this one!" . He never did catch that ball,even with his eyes open and focused on it like it was the last out of the game. As the camera flashes the picture of Elmer is forever immortalized on a piece of cardboard....That's when I was born.

Now I doubt many of you have been a baseball card in the past or plan on it in the future but let me tell you,it's a very nerve-racking experience,at least the first few days. Between machines cutting and flattening and gluing I could barely stand it. Luckily I was surrounded by plenty of my friends and teammates most of the time,not that they had any idea what was going on either. Before I was cut into the card I am now,I got to see myself in other poses.My favorite is the one of me swinging the bat,probably about to hit my first home run,I'm sure it will be a deep drive well over the right field fence to win the game as the crowd cheers me on. As I cross home plate I notice ole' Gil off to the side in his clean uniform with a sad look on his face as he realizes he will never get off the bench. That was about the only time I smiled during the time spent at the place they called the printing factory.

The next thing that happened to me was being packed into a large cardboard box along with everyone else,including players I had only read about but never met.Cap Anson stood out the most among players I met,I didn't actually talk to him,just stood afar as I watched him tell everyone what to do,and what was going on. No one really paid him much mind,as we couldn't move,trapped in that box,we just talked and eagerly awaited our fate whatever that may be. After what seemed like a few days I started noticing more room to move as players started to leave. I was far down the bottom and couldn't do much but wait and ask others if they could tell what was going on. Two by two the other players disappeared and we could now hear talking and more machines going on,oh great another factory.The anticipation and uncertainty grew as I reached the top,just two more cards to go. There goes Elmer Foster along with Sam Crane,a pitcher with the Giants who I had just met. It was my turn next and I still had no idea what was going on. Just then a large hand reaches in and grabs me along with another card from the other side of the box and we are slipped into a smaller box that smells strongly of tobacco and shut in. That was the beginning of a lifelong friendship,I just didn't know it at that time.

I'd like to introduce you to my best friend,he's a washed up pitcher named George Keefe. I say that now,but at the time he was a young player just like myself trying to make a name for himself.He played with the Washington team sparingly and had not yet won his first major league game but he believed he was finally ready to make it big in the majors and at the time I didn't doubt him. I didn't know him well enough then to question his skills,all I knew as he was not related to the great Giants pitcher Tim Keefe,and he bore no resemblance to him either facially or by the way he threw the ball. In fact at the time I was so sure I could hit his best pitch that I told him every time he started to brag about his baseball twirling skills,but we were shoulder to shoulder in a small box and slowly becoming overwhelmed by the tobacco fumes,so for now it would all remain just talk between us.

We sat in our small quarters exchanging small talk and we could hear the garbled sound of others in the distance. Mostly we just sat and awaited our next step on this unknown journey and it would come soon enough. We felt moving around us outside and could still hear the other players,some of them yelling out to be released,some making jokes. It became quite evident that we were on a train once we heard the train moving and the whistle sounding. I was right back where I had started,a young ballplayer traveling the railway not knowing where it would eventually take me,but I knew I had my uniform and my ball on a string in front of me and I was now looking forward to my adventure. One that brought me all the way to a small town in New York,not real far from where I'd be playing my first game with the Giants soon. The town was called Schenevus and that's where George and I would meet our first human friend,a young boy not more than ten years old, named Willie Mills.

Willie was your average 10 year old boy in the 1880's,he went to school during the day,helped his parents working on their farm,and he loved baseball. Whenever he had free time he and the other boys in town would play ball till it was too dark to play. Willie was always the pitcher and whenever he played he pretended he was Mickey Welch,he even patterned his delivery after seeing the great Giants pitcher play one time last year on a barnstorming trip near his home. His friends all took on the persona of other Giants' players,none of them though pretended to be Elmer Cleveland,or for that matter Gil Hatfield,at least not yet because they had not heard of Elmer. Unfortunately for Elmer they would barely get to cheer him on as a member of their favorite team but he doesn't know that yet so lets not spoil it for him.

One afternoon as his father worked in the field and Willie finished up his homework,the old man called the boy out and asked him to go to the general store for him to pick up a few things,among them were his cigarettes. Willie grabbed the money from his father and happily obliged him as the alternative was to help in the fields and today was too hot for that. The general store was about 2 miles from the home and Willie threw rocks the whole way,strengthening up that arm he someday hoped would get him to the major leagues and hopefully he would be wearing a Giants uniform when he made it, though any team would be fine. He would begrudgingly accept another teams uniform as long as it wasn't the hated Chicago team who had beaten his beloved Giants too many times for Willie to handle. Plus his father hated Chicago too and every time they beat the Giants he would let people know just how much he loathed them and he got plenty of chances last year,in fact the Anson led White Stockings had won 11 of 17 games from New York this past season and looked every bit as formidable this upcoming year.

Willie reached the general store and was greeted by old man Cummings,who has owned the store since the 1850's and he knew everyone in town. An otherwise grumpy old man, Mr Cummings was always happy to see Willie,because he and his grandfather grew up together,and as he said Willie was the spitting image of his grandpa. They usually talked for awhile about baseball and no one knew more than old man Cummings and he was ready to fight you if you said you did. He helped the boy get all of his stuff together that is until he got down to the tobacco his father asked for because they were out of his usual Lorillard tobacco.The old man said "Here try these new ones we just got,Old Judge." Willie thought for a minute,mostly about the last time he brought home the wrong ones and proclaimed he couldn't bring them home because his father only liked one brand. The old man then pointed to a display piece he had behind the counter and said "Ya know they put baseball photos in each pack you buy including players like,umm say Mickey Welch." He showed the boy some of the cards he pulled out earlier from a couple packs he smoked himself,"See,here's a card of Thomas Poorman and a catcher for the Nationals named Mack,I believe his name is Connie. And here's one of Danny Richardson,the 2nd baseman for the Giants." Willie quickly changed his stance,and declared his father needed to try something new,and with a devilish grin he paid Mr Cummings and ran all the way home so he could find out which players were in the pack, hoping beyond hope that one of them would be his idol.

His father,now sitting on the porch,noticed the exuberant young boy running down the dirt road and asked what's all the excitement about. Willie had planned out the conversation the whole way home but it didn't exactly come out the way he planned. Instead he just blurted out that he had a card of Mickey Welch and he needed his dad to open the tobacco pack so he could get it. His father got angry at first till he heard the whole story and believed his son when he swore on his baseball bat that they were out of his brand. He then told the boy that he will open the pack when all of his chores were done.It was a statement that led to his chores being done faster than anytime he needed to do them before being allowed to play baseball with his friends. Willie just knew he would get a card of Mickey Welch and he pictured himself showing it off in school on Monday. As his chores were finished he noticed his father with a disappointed look on his face fresh from smoking a cigarette. Willie didn't know at the time but that would be the only pack of Old Judge's he would get for his father. The old man didn't like them even one tenth as much as his Lorillards and the general store would quickly stop selling them as they didn't sell well. For Willie the wait would be even longer as it was now dinner time and he would have to wait till afterwards for his cards.

Dinner was quickly finished, but of course, no one moved from the table till dad was done, no matter how anxious and fidgety Willie was. They went over to the father's chair,with the young boy following right behind him every step. The father,seemingly ignoring the boy but actually just messing with him,picked up the newspaper and began to read. Had the father kept the cards for himself Willie wondered. He gently tapped the newspaper and said "Dad,I did all of my chores and we ate dinner and I was real good....can I have those baseball photos?" The father looked at him with a bewildered look and said "Hmm I don't recall seeing any baseball players in there when I opened it." The boy's heart sank but his spirits quickly were picked up when his father pulled two Old Judge cards from his top pocket and said "Oh,do you mean these little things?" Willie smiled and grabbed the cards, which were not facing him, from his father's hands and turned them around to see....Elmer Cleveland and George Keefe! Who else were you expecting? He looked at the cards with a puzzled look,he had never heard of this Cleveland fellow and didn't really know if he was with Cleveland at some point or that was actually his last name. George Keefe was also an unknown to him,he had a famous last name but that most certainly wasn't the great Tim Keefe who played for the Giants. Though disappointed the boy was happy to have the cards and we were happy to be out of that pack of tobacco.

The boy went to his room and looked thru some old newspaper clippings he had for a mention of either player but couldn't find a word about them. Were these real players he began to wonder to himself,maybe they're just some actors playing the role of baseball players.Why didn't he just ask me who we were,I would've told him he was looking at the new star 3rd baseman for the Giants and some other guy who thought he was good but would be lucky to keep his head on his shoulders if I ever faced him, with the line drive I would hit up the middle. That would stop all the talk of how great he was! I quickly got over my dislike for ole George because as I would soon find out we would begin a lifelong friendship,mostly because we didn't meet many other cards for a long long time.

As quickly as we left the general store last afternoon we returned to the store in the hands of our new friend Willie. We didn't know where we were going or that we were about to meet ole man Cummings but we were happy with our new surroundings and the boy seemed pretty happy to have us. The three of us arrived at the store,which was much like the one from my own hometown and Willie went up to Mr Cummings and proudly showed us off...sort of. "Mr. Cummings,do you know who these guys are?" Willie asked. "Sure I do Willie, why this player right here is Elmer Cleveland, I just read about him in today's newspaper.They say he's some young power hitter fresh from the minors and they expect him to contribute greatly to the team. As long as he can catch the ball down at 3rd,I'll be happy." What the old man doesn't know is that I can not only catch but I'm going to hit so well that they will bat me 4th instead of Roger Connor. George almost fell off his card laughing when he heard me say that and looking back on it I can't really blame him but at the time I was confident I'd be around in the majors for awhile,and I shot him a dirty look to prove I meant business.

"How about the other player Mr. Cummings?" Willie inquired. The old man looked at the card and said "Hmm,that is Joseph Keefe,he uhh, isn't that good. Don't know why they made a card of him." The old man quickly covered his tracks by saying "He might be good this season if his control is on." It was obvious that he didn't want to admit he didn't know who the player on the card was but Willie believed him because he had no reason not to. After all,Mr Cummings was the king of baseball knowledge around these parts and he would fight any man who said he wasn't! I,on the other hand, did fall off my card laughing,and trust me,good ole Joseph as he was now known,didn't hear the end of it for a very long time. The same dirty looks that I was giving a minute ago to him were now being returned to me. In anger he also forgot the Connor comment I had made too,and I'm glad he did. Willie was now on his way home,knowing more about us just meant he could tell the kids in school how great I was and how good George could be if he could just control that ball a little better.

We made our way to what would be our new home for a while. Except for a few trips here and there we mostly stayed up top of Willie's desk. George in his throwing motion and me forever staring at a ball on a string, liked our new place except for the fact we didn't see many old friends. Sure we heard daily reports about their exploits from Willie and his father and the boy even cut out the article about me from the newspaper and pinned it up on his board over my head. George gazed at the paper and said "Says up there you hit .322 in 1884 and then you've been kicking around the minors ever since then." You know I actually played in the majors last year and I struck out Dan Brouthers and Deacon White in my first game!" I looked over at him and said with a grin"Are you sure that was you because I heard some guy named George Keefe did that,Joseph. Is he your brother or something?". That was the end of the conversation for the night,except for me after about 20 minutes of silence saying "Goodnight Joseph." which got no response. Tomorrow was a new day and we would be on our way to school for the first time, so I heard. I went to sleep,dreaming of how I would show off my hitting to the kids and they would all cheer for me,some may even pretend to be me when they played ball in town. Slowly I dozed off into a deep sleep.

That deep sleep lasted about two or three hours it seemed because next thing I knew there was a rooster announcing the morning right outside our window. The sun was barely visible and yet no one was complaining about the incessant noise coming from this bird who by all means should be on tonight's dinner table. Being a baseball player for the last eight years I've learned not to wake up before the sun but I have said goodnight to him as he started to peer his head over the horizon. Yes,you could say us ballplayers played hard and celebrated our wins hard,and drowned our sorrows from our losses all night. This would be something George and I would have to get used to pretty quick as it was no mistake this bird was allowed to live,these farm people got up as soon as our feathered friend told them to get up.

I could smell wonderful aromas coming from the kitchen and I sat there licking my chops at the thought of what feast awaited us but I was quickly brought back to baseball card reality when young Willie told us he would be back up soon so we could make our way to school. "Don't wash your hands Willie!" I yelled out,but I don't think he heard me because he came back with hands so clean you could eat off them,and I was just hoping for a sample from the breakfast which teased my nostrils. The young boy finished getting dressed and we were on our way again continuing our up till now,hectic journey. He took one final look at the two us,I,all handsome in my uniform and George over there still looking disheveled from his early morning surprise wake up call. Willie said "Boy,are the others going to be jealous when I show them you two!" We then ended up between the pages in one of his school books ready to go. I actually learned a lot about the civil war on the way to school,at least what I could see on the page in front of me. George on the other hand,slept the whole way there which was darn near impossible the way the boy ran over hills and jumped over fences to take a short cut to school. I knew we were close to the school when I could hear the voices of children playing and yelling in the distance. Time to put on my game face I said to myself,I have some new young fans to impress.

The children all gathered around Willie as he announced he had something that every other boy would be jealous of. He took us out from in between the pages after fumbling thru the book,almost worried that we may have fallen out on the way to school. He took ole George and I out,not letting anyone else handle us,and showed both of us off proudly. You could just see on the looks of the other boys faces that they were both a tiny bit jealous but also they had no idea who we were. Don't these people read the paper?! I hit .332 in the majors one year and Joseph over that can't control his fastball! George was quick to point out I only hit .322 that year but in the heat of the moment who can blame me for being off by a lousy ten little points. Luckily Willie,remembered everything that grumpy old man Cummings told him about us. Lucky for me that is, but of course Joseph,as he was now commonly known by everyone, had to try to explain himself to kids that just wouldn't listen to his stories of how good he really was. I too wish I couldn't actually hear him talk but alas,my luck was not that great.

It was later in that day that we came across,for the only time thankfully, a man who irked me like no other. Willie's teacher was an uptight man,you could tell he didn't partake in any sports,probably because he wasn't any good,and therefore he didn't particularly like anyone casting a positive light on the people who did play. Willie came up to his teacher,who's name escapes me now, and proudly showed us off. Not only did this evil man not care who we were but he also began to lecture the young lad about all ballplayers were ruffians with no education playing a child's game by day and the devil's game by night. That angered Willie,who only let the man know that he was a very smart boy,intended to complete college someday and he too would eventually be a major league baseball player for the Giants. I was as proud of him,as he was of us that day,and George over there shed a tear he was so moved. He says he didn't but for the sake of the story,since I'm telling it,he wept openly like a young girl who skinned her knee. A good day was had by all and we left the school on our way home,with a quick stop at the general store,because today was an important day,a fact that completely slipped my mind.

Willie pushed open the door and looked around for Mr Cummings. He wanted to tell him what his teacher had said and how he put the man in his place afterwards but those thoughts were swiftly forgotten as Mr Cummings appeared from the back and asked Willie if he knew what day today was,in a most energetic voice. Willie thought for a second and his eyes widened as he remembered. "Today is opening day for the Giants isn't it?!" and he was right. I couldn't believe in all the hustle and bustle the last month or so that I forgot that fact. Why we had to find out how many home runs did I hit and how many great plays did I make in the field! We would have to wait for word to come down later but the agony of the wait was well worth the results I would find out, for on the 20th day of April in the year 1888 the Giants won their first game over the Nationals of Washington by a 6-0 score. To top it off for me I did hit a home run and to make it even better, as we scanned the roster there was no mention of a George Keefe,or for that matter Joseph Keefe.He was back in the minor leagues...with control issues!

I smiled so much that day and night that my cheeks hurt. George proclaimed that it was just a mistake by the printer and he would probably be starting the next day. It was a claim that was unfounded,for he was back in the minors and wouldn't pitch again until injuries necessitated his arrival back in the majors late August of that season. By that time the Nationals were buried in last place and they obviously didn't care who pitched for them. When Willie arrived home the next day,after making sure his father had read the paper first,a mistake he made just once and only once,he cut out the box score of the game and put it right next to the article of me. There it was in all of its glory,my first major league home run,and no errors. I had played a near flawless game,save the three outs I had made in my other at bats. I chalk those outs up to rookie nerves and tomorrow I would rectify that by blasting two home runs. I couldn't wait for the next box score,anything to rub in the face of George. That next day came but was unaccompanied by any summary of the game or my exploits,just an ominous pep talk from Willie "Don't worry Mr Cleveland,you'll get 'em next game."

After that the highlights from my season were few and far between. I was not only sharing the 3rd base duties with Hatfield, but also with the great Buck Ewing who would play there to give his bruised and battered hands a rest from catching. On May 28th after first losing with Mickey Welch on the mound,then waiting for two days worth of rain to subside I made Willie a very happy young boy. He was obviously both sad that his idol had lost to the lowly Nationals,who were still without George over there, but he also hadn't played baseball or seen a box score of a game in three days now. The rain that postponed the Giants games also affected the weather here and left the fields unplayable for the next few days,and that's where I stepped in. Facing Art "Grasshopper" Whitney I proceeded to not only hit a home run,no doubt it was a shot that almost made it all the way to Schenevus, NY on its flight out of the ball yard, but I also had my first four hit game of the year. My Giants won 9-0 that day and the next day I had a new clipping on the wall with my name in bold print at the top. If only there was a story about George getting hit hard in the minors then that could've been better,but I'll settle for my solo accomplishment.

Willie was nearing the end of school for the year and his father promised him a big surprise as long as his son returned with a satisfactory report from his teacher for the year. Willie more than held up his end of the bargain and eagerly awaited his fathers return from town so he could show off his report card and collect on his prize. He made sure all of his chores were done so when his father came home he couldn't prolong his wait to find out his reward. Seeing his father on wagon coming down the road he hurried out to greet him with a huge grin and waving a piece of paper that would ensure he got his greatest wish fulfilled. His father checked it over,and told the boy "I knew you would do good so I bought a couple train tickets for next week and we are going to see the Giants play!" The young boys eyes grew and after confirming that his dad wasn't pulling some sort of mean prank on him, he ran down the street telling all of his friends where he was going. I didn't know it at the time but I was going with him,as he wanted the real Elmer Cleveland to meet his favorite Old Judge baseball card.

Sunrise came accompanied by that rooster I've grown to hate more and more each day but this time he didn't bother me. See,Willie and I both barely slept,both eager to see the Giants. I would be reunited with teammates I barely got to know and he would finally be in the presence of the men he so revered. Already dressed for hours for our big day,Willie looked at me and said "I can't wait to see you play and I'm sure you'll hit a home run just for me." That's a lot of pressure to put on a baseball card but I'm sure I would be up to the task. He slipped me into his top pocket and we waited at the breakfast table just so we could get our meal over with and get out on the road. Willie barely ate anything,claiming his stomach was too nervous to eat much,but we waited patiently for his father to finish his heaping plate of food,all the time screaming on the inside "Let's go!" which didn't help,just made the time seem like it passed slower. He finally finished,and they both kissed mom before taking off for our four hour journey to New York,specifically the Polo Grounds which was the home of the Giants since 1883,and we didn't know it at the time,but it would be the last year for that particular stadium.

The wagon ride to the station was agonizingly long and painfully bumpy.Both Willie and I were glad we didn't eat too much because it surely would not have stayed with us for the whole ride. Schenevus was not a big town and wasn't too close to where we picked up the train either,you could say it's an off the beaten path kind of town. Luckily the father knew someone in Oneonta, which was the nearest town with a train station,so we could park our horse and wagon there and not worry about it. He seemed to know someone in every town he went to in Otsego county. Our planned time was nearly impeccable as we arrived at the station as the train was pulling up and we were on our way five minutes later,next stop,the Polo Grounds. Well,it would've been nice if that was the next stop but it was a long ride,a very long ride and honestly both Willie and I worried that we would not arrive on time to see my inevitable home run but just as his father was on time for the train,our arrival at the stadium couldn't have been better if we tried it ten more times. The stadium was packed on the outside and our worries about missing the start of the game turned into worries of missing the game entirely because it was sold out. Such was the case before though,his father knew people,and the tickets were already there waiting for us.

While I couldn't actually see what Willie was seeing because my current seat was still in his pocket,the racing from his heart told me we were inside the stadium and he was very excited. Exclamations of disbelief were followed by him pointing out players "There's Buck Ewing! There's Roger Connor! There's Tim Keefe!" then it was followed by silence. The boy still recognized players but he was now speechless and warming up right in front of him was his idol,the great Mickey Welch. His father brought him down for a closer look and that's about all the boy did,albeit with his mouth agape the whole time. The father called out to Mr. Welch in between pitches as one got away from the catcher "Mickey,you're my sons favorite player!" Mickey gave a slight wave and a nod in the boys direction before receiving the ball back from his catcher and continuing with his warm-ups. The father then pointed out to 3rd base and said "Let me see your baseball photo boy,that 3rd baseman doesn't look familiar." He stared directly at me,then towards the player warming up at 3rd,back at me,and then the player again...was something wrong I thought to myself. The father then called out "Hey you at 3rd,are you Elmer Cleveland?" The man stared back at him and said "No,I actually play for the Giants,he's over there." as he pointed to the opposing dugout. The fan behind us held up his scorecard pointing to it and let us in on the news that shocked me "That's Art Whitney at 3rd base, didn't you read today's paper? We got him even up for that bum Cleveland from Pittsburgh!"

I had been traded and no one even told me! And just exactly who are you calling a bum mister! I batted .342 in 1884 and had two home runs already this year,and a four hit game! The spectator was obviously scared off by my menacing look as he didn't respond. Willie on the other hand wasn't as dejected as I was. He was happy to see Mickey Welch pitch and quickly got over my trade to a rival team,such a trooper he was. The game was about to start and I was in the lineup for the Alleghenies from Pittsburgh. Surely I would now hit a home run just to prove to my old team that they made a mistake getting rid of me, even if it meant disappointing Willie. The pitching match-up that day was one many people would love to see,even to this day,pitting two of the best pitchers of mine,or any time. You already know about Mickey Welch,but his opponent was the great James "Pud" Galvin who was just shy of winning 300 career games. The pitchers didn't disappoint,unless you like high scoring games,then you left feeling cheated that day.

My first at bat was an anxious moment for me,Willie clutched me in his hand and even held me up so I could see my at bat. Quickly,I wished he would put me down and back in his pocket as I struck out on three pitches. Obviously I was saving up for some dramatics and I probably wanted Willie to at least see his favorite player succeed just a little before I let him have it. The worst part of the day was the way the fans heckled me.Sure I was on the other team now but I really doubt any of their sisters could field better than me as they stated over and over,and most definitely none could make the throw from 3rd to 1st like I did! Why one man even proclaimed Willie could probably throw better than me,and I've seen him throw rocks before,he was no Elmer Cleveland. Each of my at bats seemed to get worse,and each time the crowd had more fun with it. It wasn't just me who didn't get hits though,only three men had reached base the first eight innings and not one runner has crossed home plate yet. I would most certainly get my chance in extra innings to win this game.

Well as I boldly predicted I would get my chance to win the game and I proved to be right. If I had said that I helped the Giants win I would've been more right,as to start the bottom of the 9th inning I lost a grounder in the sun,letting the ball roll thru my legs,and allowing the winning runner to take his place at 1st base. As if the gods had planned this game out knowing full well I would be in attendance, up stepped the man who took my place,Art Whitney. Art was not known as a power hitter,more of a singles hitter who stuck around because of his superb glove work,which back in those days was more like hand work as few players used gloves besides catchers. James Galvin was near perfect that day up to that point,allowing just three base runners,one by hit,one by walk and one by error. In every game there is at least one pitch that a hurler such as himself would like back. For James it was his very last pitch,and to get it back he would have to search thru the outfield crowd because the man who had not homered since his first season eight years ago,had won the game for his new team,and crushed the spirits of his old team. Art Whitney had sent the home team and fans home happy and luckily I would be in attendance to see it. " Take me home Willie" I proclaimed,I have seen enough today to make me sicker than I felt the day I was traded from the Giants...oh wait,that was still today.

The ride home was great for the father and son,as they kept going over the highlights of the game. The father even was kind enough to thank me for helping the Giants win finally. How soon they forget that four hit game and two home runs I hit for them,and all those errors I didn't make while with the team. Once I was back in the pocket for good for the ride,I had more important business to attend to than to listen to them talk about one lousy game. I had to come up with a great story to tell George about the game,and I had to make sure I really sold it so he would believe me. A big smile came over my face as my story came together,one so great I forgot about what a bad day I had,for at least five or six minutes that is. Willie pulled me out of his pocket one more time for a minute to say "Thanks Elmer,I know you did that for me." and he smiled. "Yeah yeah yeah" I said sarcastically" All for you Willie". Now put me back in your pocket,I have a story to perfect for good ole George.

We arrived home very late that night,Willie somehow fell asleep despite the bumpy ride. His father carried him up to his room and laid him in bed,forgetting to take me out of his front pocket and I spent the night there instead. I could tell George was worried that I hadn't made it back as he kept calling my name,loud enough for me to hear but not so loud that he woke the boy. I heard him but kept quiet as the inside of a pocket was a much more comfortable place to sleep than on top of a desk all out in the open. Let George worry, I said to myself and I dozed off for the night. As long as Willie didn't roll over in his sleep I'll be fine,besides,George needed some time to himself to work on his baseball game,he was after all a minor leaguer still.

In the morning the boy woke up early,eager to tell his friends about his adventure and they all eagerly awaited his stories as none of them had attended a major league game as of yet. He didn't even change his clothes as he was going to be playing ball all day,with his father's permission, and he almost forgot to put me back on the desk so I could tell George all about the game. When I arrived on the desk I came upon George with his back to me,arms folded and tapping his foot like he was my wife and I had not come home after a game,instead staying at the saloon till it closed and waking up when they reopened in the morning. I played along with him saying I could explain but he acted if he wanted to hear none of that. Finally after some silence,the suspense got to him and he said "So...how was the game?" With his back still to me,I put up my best game face and said "You definitely don't want to know." He was now very curious and turned to me and said "Why would I not want to know about a baseball game?" Here's the story he got,sit back and enjoy.

We got to the game early and noticed a player that looked very similar to you warming up for the other team. They were playing the Nationals,but you were a minor leaguer and they have two very good pitchers,why would you be there we both thought to ourselves. So we bought a scorecard and sure as day,there you were listed as the pitcher and batting 9th only because the pitcher had to hit also otherwise I'm sure they would've rather let the mascot hit. "Get on with the story wise guy!" George blurted out. So I continued. I was batting 5th right after the great Roger Connor and right before James O'Rourke. The team loaded the bases off you in the first inning and scored a run on a walk to Connor. I stepped up to the plate with confidence in my stride and waved to the adoring fans before stepping in and getting ready for a fastball because I knew you would not want to get behind in the count. That fastball came right down the middle,unusual for you,and I hit it so hard the ball nearly split in two! Long over the fence the ball went and the crowd went wild screaming my name "They were probably telling you where you should go,Cleveland" George quipped but I recovered quickly by saying "They were probably calling out where the ball landed,in Cleveland" which shut him up fast.

George obviously doubted my story but I spoke in such detail that he was believing it but not wanting to at the same time. I probably went a little too far saying that I hit three home runs before James Mutrie pulled me for fear of George having a nervous breakdown on the mound. I told him that by the 7th inning he was finishing the game in right field and they had to have someone else come in and finish the game for him. After the game we went to meet you too,and as we got close we heard the owner of the Nationals say "It's back to the minors for you Keefe!" and he threw your bag out the door and pointed towards the train station. You were obviously distraught so we didn't bother to talk to you. I wanted to give you a pep talk but Willie's father didn't want to be seen talking to you,so we actually waited for the next train out of town and that's why we arrived home so late. George was basically speechless,but seemingly giving himself his own pep talk he proclaimed loudly as if a large crowd had gathered around for my story that he would be back in the majors for good very soon. I clapped for him,showing pretend adulation but on the inside I was laughing my cardboard backing off and sort of proud of myself for maintaining a straight face during the whole tale.

This story would've been totally perfect except for one minor detail I didn't consider,and that was that young Willie loved to cut out box scores and like the rooster which crows every morning,Willie always cut out scores with significant meaning. Being the first game he went to,the score from the day before was front and center on his board and in full view of George. I tried to convince him not to even torture himself by turning around and reading it and for awhile it worked but curiosity got the best of him and he read it. I became as still as a picture,staring at my ball on a string,whistling to myself as if nothing was going on but of course he had to bring up the discrepancies between my story and what actually happened. "Hey Elmer?" I heard from across the desk. "Who me?" I replied. "Yes" George said, "I don't see one single mention of my name but umm down at the bottom I noticed that the 3rd baseman for Pittsburgh,a man with a name,alarmingly similar to yours,seemed to make an error which led to the winning runs being scored." I read the story,sort of out loud,shaking my head at some parts and looking very confused at others and declared "This wasn't the game we went to,this must've been another game." George then pointed out something glued to the bottom of the paper,a ticket stub of some kind with same date on it as the story and the score 2-0 written on it,and "my first game" written next to it.

It took about a week or so,but I finally confessed what George had probably already assumed, we went to a doubleheader and I was then traded between games,and the Giants then played a different team! "Ok,fine!" I finally admitted "But my story was much better then this game,they didn't even mention the sun getting in my eyes on that grounder,and where is the mention of me hitting .352 in 1884! " George corrected,as he always did "You mean .322 right?" I grimaced and mumbled "That's not the point!". Sure he may have got the last laugh but I had my fun and we later made up,with promises of him not bringing up this game ever again if I made no mention of him being a minor leaguer. It would be tough and there would be some slip-ups here and there but for the most part we stuck to our end of the deals. Willie, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind pointing out to friends from time to time that the person who helped win the game for the Giants was the man on the card in front of him. George always got a chuckle out of that but I was quick to point out that as far as Willie knew,his name was still Joseph.

As time passed,the box scores and updates of our feats were very few and it was hard to keep up with what the real George Keefe and Elmer Cleveland were up to. George Keefe actually was called up later that season and had a match-up vs. Tim Keefe which he came out on the short end of,as well as a 5-0 loss just a few days later to the same Giants team. Those scores made their way to our board above,but thankfully the two wins he had in two attempts vs. my Pirates team were not saved by Willie who now knew his real name was George.Oh well,that fun was over,but I still brought up the name Joseph from time to time. By the end of the 1888 season ole George over there made his way into thirteen games and he somehow managed to win six of them. I batted .225 on the season with 4 home runs in 39 total games but I was now a major leaguer and ready to show them all how good I really was once I could finally earn constant playing time. Teams all around probably got glimpses of my play and wanted to pursue me,so the Alleghenies only used me sparingly,not showing off my true skills,so they could sign me again and I could help lead them to the title...yeah that's probably what happened.

Just like when I really played baseball,the winter months always seemed to drag along and the first signs of spring appeared to just be a distant memory of my childhood. The only good part about being a card is that I didn't have to find a job to help pay the bills over the winter months,I was content just sitting on Willie's desk occasionally getting updates from the boy. George was also beginning to like the idea of not working because as he said,it gave him more time to get ready for next year. Later he would claim that it hurt his career because he became lazy and sluggish over the winter. I always contended that he was just a card and the real George Keefe was probably somewhere looking for a full time profession because he knew his days in the major leagues were numbered.

The temperature seemed to be breaking and Willie would check the newspaper now everyday for news of his beloved Giants team. I just wanted to know what team I would be playing for and thought over the rosters of every team,as I knew them prior to 1888,and tried to figure out where I would play if it were not with Pittsburgh. My best guess was Detroit to replace Deacon White would have to be pushing 40 years old by now and my worst guess was Washington,just because I didn't want to be teammates with ole George over there. I would soon learn of my fate,sort of,and I wasn't too far off with my best guess. Willie checked the paper one Monday afternoon and all of the teams listed their respective rosters. Deacon White was let go by Detroit but he apparently found a job with Pittsburgh,my job. I wasn't listed at all on any NL team,I guess that I must've had a better offer from an American Association team. I didn't follow that league too closely so I had no idea where I could end up. George smiled from ear to ear when he saw his name listed,he was not only on the roster for the Nationals but he was listed to pitch opening day vs. Charles Buffinton and the Philadelphia Phillies. Boy did that bit of news make my day.

About the only thing I could think of which was worse than George starting opening day was to find my name left off every American Association roster too. Well my nightmare became a reality the next afternoon when Willie read the paper aloud and confirmed that I was not a member of any major league team. I knew in my heart I couldn't be back in the minors so the only reasonable conclusions I could come to was that I was either injured or holding out for more money. Maybe if I had just worked in the off-season I wouldn't have injured myself or wouldn't need the extra money....wait,I'm starting to sound like George aren't I? Oh well, I thought to myself,I'll have to just ride this out from the desk and see what happens. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long to play itself out,because as I sat here listening to George gloat of his accomplishment,it took every ounce of restraint in my cardboard body not to rip this ball off the string in front of me and hurl it at his head while he patted himself on the back.

As the season started I got a bit of good news but it wasn't about me,it was the fact George lost 8-4 opening day and his team started off 0-4 before he set foot in the pitchers box again. When he did,the results were almost as good as finding my own name in the paper. Willie had cut out the next box score and even circled George's name but it wasn't for what he did on the mound.It was for what he couldn't do and that was get a Giants player out. All told they scored 16 runs off George that afternoon while his team could manage just three. It was also noted by me that they repeated the same score the next day and his team was now 0-6 and in last place...again. He was now relegated to sitting,as the Nationals rotated three other pitchers,all of whom had little success but all were much better than George,that was until the unthinkable happened. On June 1st,1889 the lowly Nationals needed George to pitch because of injuries and tired arms and the gods must've been on his side because not only did he win but him beat Tim Keefe! If that wasn't bad enough,after two days of rain,the two teams met again with the same pitchers on the mound and again George was the victorious Keefe! This season was getting worse and still no sign of Elmer Cleveland. About the only good thing that happened was Willie turning over George in a form of protest because he beat his Giants team twice in a row,I greatly appreciated that.

The 1889 season came to an end without a mention of me and I was worried but somewhat optimistic because I overheard news of a third major league joining the fray next season which meant more opportunities for me. George ended the season with very little to brag about,his 8-18 record and high total of runs allowed showed he had a long way to go before becoming the superstar he was in his head. He pointed to the positives which included beating such tough adversaries as the afore mentioned Tim Keefe twice, James Galvin and Old Hoss Radbourne. I mentioned that they probably not only took pity on him but they probably took it easy,sitting their best players in favor of fans from the crowd who still put up a good fight. It's funny,as much as we got on each other,our struggles this season probably brought us much closer together as friends and it certainly helped us cope thru the struggles that were ahead.

The winter of '89 was much worse than the previous one. Not only was the wait to find out where I would end up excruciating but the weather was harsh with constant blizzards taking their toll on the Mills family and their farm. Sitting on the desk there wasn't much I could do but listen and put on my best face whenever Willie would sit down and do his homework or just write about baseball. He would occasionally just make up his own imaginary team of players with names very similar to the players from the real team. I took great pride in the fact his 3rd baseman was named Ohio,no first name given but I knew it was me. I also took great sadness in following his reenactment of the 1887 season when Mr. Ohio was traded away mid-season for a veteran with a good glove,as he put it. Sure it was all in his overactive imagination but he could've pretended to keep me,at least in front of me. Oh well, I'll earn back the boys admiration this upcoming year,that I was sure of.

There was news early in the 1890 calendar year,the date of which I can't be sure of. George over there had decided to sign with a team from Buffalo that would be a representative of the new Player's League during it's inaugural season. Nearly the whole Washington team from the previous season would join him,as well as some players you would never hear from again such as Fred Doe, Bill Duzan and a man that was just known as Lewis,that I'm sure there's an interesting story about out there somewhere,just waiting to be told. The news on me wasn't as good as for ole George,in that there was no news. The season again started with no signs of the man they called Elmer Cleveland. Had something bad happened to me and Willie didn't want to tell me. Had I done the unthinkable and quit baseball to pursue some other profession? I scoffed at that idea though,for as long as I've known myself my passion had always been baseball and I knew they would have to tear the uniform off me before I up and quit on my own. A guide by a man named Spalding given to Willie by grumpy Mr. Cummings later eased my nerves,when we found out I had spent the previous season playing for a minor league team near my hometown of Washington DC. and I was slated to play there again the next,obviously working my way back up to the majors.

The Player's League was no picnic for George despite the diminished talent caused by three leagues operating at once. He not only pitched less but he allowed more runs,hits,base on balls,won less,struck out less and just plain stunk.....I could go on but I can now see the actual steam shooting out of his ears as I went over his stats,and I know when I've pushed him far enough. About the only highlight of his season was getting released in early August so he couldn't lead the league in losses. By the end of the year he was in the same minor league as I and lucky for him,we never got the opportunity to face each other,but there would be a chance for us again to meet in the not too distant future. Although I was not happy about spending another full season in the minors,it was obvious to me I had earned another shot at my dream and would be somewhere considered major to start the next season. George once called me the most optimistic man he had ever met,but I think he's confusing it with confidence. My stats were worthy of a raise in salary in my own estimate,a batting average just a hair shy of the .300 mark. A quote in the upcoming Spalding guide proclaiming me the surest hands at the 3rd base position in the league and to top it off a share of the league lead in home runs with ten. George claims that I played in a small ball yard but I told him all ten of my home runs would've left the confines of any park in America though I obviously had no way of backing that up.

I'm not going to bore you with the details of yet another winter but I will say that it was a very important one for young Willie who was now age thirteen. He got a chance to pitch some local semi-pro games when a barnstorming team went thru town and from all accounts he did very well for himself. It could just be that they took it easy on the young boy,as each time he pitched the game was more than out of hand with the result not in doubt. Listening to his father he was sure that if the boy stuck to it he would make a fine major leaguer someday. The alternative for him was helping on the family farm once school was done and then eventually taking it over,and that was more than enough motivation for the boy. His father would like for him to follow in his footsteps but would absolutely love nothing more than to be sitting in the crowd at the Polo Grounds one day cheering his son on.It was probably because of his father's love for the game that Willie was able to get so good so young at baseball. He was much more lenient than your average farmer would be with his son,he obviously put in a little extra time just so his boy didn't have to. I think the success of the boy is what drove me to succeed myself the next season.

Despite the fact that the Player's League folded and the competition for major league jobs would be tougher both George and I had jobs at the highest level to start the next season. We both ended up in the American Association,the first time either of us had played there. I was the starting 3rd baseman for the Columbus Colts while George was a starting pitcher for the Washington Senators. Not the opening day starter,no he wasn't quite that good anymore,but they thought highly enough of him to start the year with him in the rotation. I had finally made it back to the majors and young Willie updated me everyday of the season on my progress. Yup,everyday until April 23rd, exactly twelve games into the year when I was replaced at 3rd by a former teammate from the 1888 Pittsburgh team,William Kuehne. I never liked him to begin with,always playing 3rd base well enough to keep me from playing full time that year and fulfilling my true potential. I was back in the minors again,and had no one to blame but everyone else. I'll admit, making eleven errors and batting just .171 doesn't look good but twelve games is just too few to really judge a player,especially in the cold month of April.

George was now on his own in the majors and we got updates about him only from that April 23rd day on and I'd like to share all of them with you. He was 0-2 up to that point in four games and had pitched to a tie one time in a game called due to darkness. On April 28th our young fireballer took the mound vs. the dangerous Baltimore Orioles team and he put on his best pitching performance ever. Throwing a combination of fastballs down the middle and curves balls that didn't curve ole George escaped near tragedy by just one run. Yup,he only gave up 19 runs in a losing effort. Had his team been able to muster just another seventeen more runs against Sadie McMahon that day our hero would've left that field on the shoulders of his teammates as the victor in what surely would have been an epic struggle. A quick scan of all the major league box scores from that day up until present time shows that a Mr. George Keefe would regretfully never play another major league game,joining yours truly,Elmer Cleveland,as former major leaguers who played out their career in the minors. He finished his big league career with a 20-48 won loss record in 78 games and I batted a respectable .255 in 80 career games,two more than George over there.

If I thought getting updates about us before was hard,just imagine how little George and I heard about each other the rest of our career. I spent most of my time commenting on how I was better than whoever was playing 3rd base at that particular day for the Giants. By 1893 they had a third sacker named George Davis and even I couldn't admit that I was better than him,he was truly a superstar player. The Giants weren't as successful as they had been in the past. Their star players either grew old,or left for other teams,or in the case of Willie's idol, the great Mickey Welch retired one game into the 1892 season. Willie embraced a new favorite player,of course a pitcher, and boy was he great. That young man was Amos Rusie and they say he threw harder than anyone who came before him and maybe anyone who's come along since. I had actually heard of his exploits prior to becoming an Old Judge card,and to tell the truth,I'm glad I never had to face him. With a well used dirty baseball in his hand and the sun starting to make its way towards the horizon, he was not only unhittable but you were lucky to leave the batters box alive.

Willie always wanted to see Rusie pitch and their paths would eventually cross years later,but alas he never actually got to see him pitch a game,something he always regretted. The young boy was also starting to make a name for himself locally with his pitching accomplishments. When boys from the next town over came to challenge our team,Willie always sent them home angry,dragging their bats behind them and kicking stones as they left our town defeated. Also these days,all the players now wore gloves and the kids wanting to emulate them,but unable to afford or find an actual glove, made makeshift ones. If I had a glove back in 1891 maybe I would still be playing. If George had a glove back then he could've abandoned his pitching style that was once referred to as chuck-and-duck. Maybe he could've caught some of those line drives back then and saved his center fielders arm from falling off with all the long distance throws they wouldn't have to make. Willie had his own glove,given to him by Mr. Cummings for his 15th birthday and that would be the only glove he'd ever use. In a day when fielders would leave their glove on the field as they left to bat,Willie always brought his with him. Some of the other kids didn't appreciate that, but none could match his pitching so they just accepted it.

By late in the year 1895 we would go thru a big change in our routines. Willie had graduated school and was moving on to college in upstate New York. We would occasionally read about his on field performances and when school was not in session he would return home to help around the farm.By nighttime he would regale us and his father with stories of his mound work in college. About this time his father began keeping a scrapbook of Willie,for every time he would pitch,he would make the local paper. The boy never got to read the stories while at school so they would always sit down and go over the season game by game when he came home. Eventually all the stories that he kept on the cork board above us made their way to the scrapbook. I was getting tired of reading those old stories anyway,especially that first game story. It did make for some boring times though,without Willie there was only so many times George and I could talk about the games we played in the past. In reality the truth was getting stretched so much that when looking back on what really happened,it paled in comparison with our tall tales.

As far as the rest of our baseball careers went,George became a good pitcher believe it or not. Sure it wasn't till he had his own kids years later,and once they could actually lift the bat,it was basically back to normal for him. He kicked around the minors for about seven years after his last major league game,playing anywhere a team would hire him from Baltimore to Stockton California and any place in between that confused him with Tim Keefe....till he pitched. I also played for almost seven more years,mostly staying close to home although in 1895 I traveled to Louisville for one last try at the major leagues and crossed paths with my long time nemesis Gil Hatfield. He was one of eight 3rd baseman they used before getting the great Jimmy Collins on loan from Boston for the duration of the season. I never actually appeared in a game with them but while the team was on the road I got paid,barely,just for practicing at their home park. Gil would play five games for them in what would be the end of his major league career at age forty.

Before I move on past that,I should point out that during a minor league game late in 1896 while I was with Baltimore,a man named George Keefe came into town with the Newark team and pitched against us. In what was the only time I know of that we faced each other, yours truly came out on top and I reminded George of it every time I had the chance. With the score 6-6 in the 8th in our favor,I stepped to the plate,already with two walks and a single in hand. George was tired by then and his neck hurt from turning quickly to see where all the hits went, but up until that point he was very lucky. When I stepped to that plate though,his luck ran out. I sent a shot in the outfield gap and took off as fast as my 34 year old legs could carry. With the throw coming in I used every last ounce of effort and beat the throw into third with a headlong slide. George obviously bothered by what had just happened walked the next two batters before getting the next two over anxious men to swing wildly at would have most certainly been ball four. Realizing that Keefe wasn't paying any attention to me,and before he could deliver his next pitch,I took off for home! He noticed much too late but threw home anyway and the ball sailed over the catcher's head to the backstop. The other runners alertly noticed I was stealing and they followed. With the throw bouncing around back towards the dugout, all three runs scored and we would shut down the Newark team in the 9th inning to win it. For most players in that game it was just a meaningless late season game but the real Elmer Cleveland realized its significance and capitalized on it,forever gave me bragging rights anytime talks of our careers would come up.

Both players would soon retire to other careers and to spend time with their respective families. For George and I though our family was here and for the most part,we were just starting our lives. We both took great interest in Willie and how he was doing both in school and on the ball field. He was now two years into school and gaining some interest from professional teams. Upon his father's wishes,Willie continued on with school and put his baseball career on hold till after he graduated.It's not often that the son of a small town farmer graduated from college,so the thought of Willie possibly doing it brought great pride to his entire family. His college team won a title his 3rd year and Willie was a huge part of that team,twice allowing just one hit in a game,and once striking out sixteen batters is a performance that would've made Amos Rusie or Mickey Welch smile. His fourth and final year of school started off rough with an arm injury suffered while making a long throw from the outfield but ended much the same as the previous three,with Willie again the top player on the team. They didn't win the championship this year and most blamed it on the time Willie missed while out injured. A few months later the boy would graduate and he returned home now to weigh his options and he had plenty. A total of five major league teams wanted to sign him right away and put him right on a minor league team,on loan of course, so they could get this boy wonder before anyone else could. Willie had been thru a lot this year and with only a month left to go,and a tired arm,his father talked the boy into coming home for the winter and letting the teams wait,a move that would pay off greatly in Willie's mind.

Going into early 1899 there was a lot of talk around town where Willie would end up playing. Rumors floated around town that he could pitch for the Giants but as of yet no one from the team had come to see him or made contact. We came to find out later that Willie started those rumors with an anonymous letter to his local newspaper in hopes that someone from the Giants would get their hands on a copy. Whether that's what happened or not we may never know but weeks later a former Giants pitcher by the name of Jack Sharrott came to town asking to see the boy pitch. It was an early February morning and Mr. Sharrott was dropped off at the end of the long driveway by Mr. Brown,who was a huge baseball fan. When he heard that the new man in town was looking for Willie and he was representing the Giants,he made a conscientious decision to get him there as fast as possible. Willie and his father were outside working hard like farmers do and he wasn't exactly ready to show off that golden arm that had everyone talking but he quickly got into that mode for this guy had traveled all the way from New York to see him. The young boy wanted to send him back with glowing reviews.

Mr. Sharrott initiated the conversation by introducing himself first to the father,then to the young boy who was obviously very ecstatic to see him. They offered him a drink and he gladly obliged them as they went in the house to talk. George and I eavesdropped on their conversation and he even remembered Jack Sharrott from the minor leagues. He said of him that he was a fine gentleman and would make sure that Willie wasn't taken advantage of by the owner,who could be known to pinch a penny here and there,especially with young farm boys. I was glad to hear that as I had seen many a young player with great arms,thrown to the proverbial wolves. They would have him pitch everyday and if his arm hurt too much they would say stuff like "Well,there's always someone else we could find to take your place." They would have dead arms by the time they were twenty or so and all because the owners didn't want to pay two pitcher's salary. After they finished at the table,and Willie had loosened up his cannon,they went outside to watch the boy throw. By the sound of the ball pounding the glove as his father crouched behind a makeshift plate,you could tell the boy really had his best stuff. Mr. Sharrott asked the see the boy's curveball and Willie obliged him throwing one after another that seemed to fall off an invisible table that ended just a few feet in front of the father.

Needless to say, Jack was impressed and he told the boy he could stop throwing but Willie wanted to show him another pitch he had been working on and this really piqued Jack's interest. The boy called it his out pitch and to the uneducated baseball fan it looked just like a slow fastball. Mr. Sharrott was no slouch when it came to pitching though and he noticed right away that the boy had the same delivery and arm speed as his fastball but the ball was coming in a good fifteen miles per hour slower. He proclaimed that's the best slow pitch I've ever seen. He had to see for himself and even though he had not batted in a couple years he picked up a nearby bat and stepped into a batter's box he had drawn with his foot. Let's see a few fastballs son,and Willie threw them right into the glove as he flailed at the sphere zipping by him. Jack called out "At some point in a couple pitches I want you to throw that slow ball. " and Willie nodded and tossed him a few more fastballs till Jack finally tipped one back off the barn. Willie knew it was now time to show this old ball player what he really had,and he rocked back and released a slow ball even slower than the previous ones. Jack,brimming from confidence after he finally caught up to a ball,and not realizing that it was probably the perfect time to throw that out pitch,swung with all his might causing a wind that almost knocked George and I off the desk two stories high and forty yards away! The end result was a former ball player twisted on the ground like a pretzel for he had missed that pitch by a good ten feet. From his position on the ground Jack Sharrott declared " Don't let this boy sign anything till I get back from New York!"

Despite the fact that no ink had touched paper yet and the boy was still no more than your average farmer, there was a huge celebration with family and friends asking to hear over and over the story of Willie's performance for the scout. George and I had our own party as the one continued downstairs. I knew George had been out of the loop too long because the liquor got to him quick. He tipped his hand about that fact when he claimed that he actually taught Willie that now famous slow ball one day when I was out. Knowing full well I never left those two alone for fear of George actually trying to give him pointers, I told him he was full of something unmentionable,and we went on with our celebrating which lasted far into the night. The week that followed seemed like an eternity. Every person that passed the house brought a stop to the work and every time the father and son were left disappointed. People from minor league teams also visited shortly after with contracts in hand but Willie was holding out for what he considered the top prize,his beloved Giants. The scout obviously left impressed,but they had not heard from him and Willie was getting so anxious he wanted to get on the next train to New York and find out what the hold up was,but he never got desperate enough to take it that far.

The first day of March came and Willie was already working out with the local kids team getting ready for the upcoming season despite the fact he had not seriously considered an alternative to the Giants. All of the local kids got a big kick out of playing on the same field as Willie and he became a teacher to them. He knew these kids would grow up emulating him if he even played one game in the majors so he took it upon himself to make sure they learned to play the right way. Most of his friends as a kid were off working real jobs and these were a new generation of children he was helping to mold. These kids had grown up hearing about how good he was in college these last four years and he was the closest thing to a professional sports star they had within miles of the town's limits. On this particular day Willie was teaching the kids how to bunt. As great a pitcher as he was,he was a horrible batter,so he had better be good at bunting because no coach in their right mind is going to let him swing away with runners on base. Willie was having a bit of trouble teaching one of the kids the proper technique so he left the mound to demonstrate it for him. As the pitch came in Willie laid down a beautiful bunt that hugged the 3rd base line and finished halfway between the bag and home. Before he could turn the kid to say that's how you do it,he heard a voice from behind the plate say "Don't forget to get that top hand behind the bat,you need it to sign this contract". Sure enough behind him stood the familiar face of Jack Sharrott.

Willie told the kids to keep up the practice and he would be back tomorrow but he didn't for that next day he would be on a train to spring training with the Giants. The contract called for Willie to get paid two hundred dollars per month throughout the season. His father read over the contract to make sure it was on the up and up and everything seemed to be in order. Willie signed it without even reading it and then hastily ran upstairs to put together his suitcase full of clothes and necessities. He really didn't care about the money,he just wanted to play professional ball. For George and I that was the last we saw of the boy till early October. Our young friend,who we had watch grow from a rambunctious boy of ten to a college educated man with a bright future,was on his way to make both of us proud. He looked at me and declared " Mr. Cleveland,very soon I'm going to be a Giants player just like you,I'll be sure to make you proud!" He then looked at George and said "And you,you're lucky you don't pitch anymore otherwise you'd be on the short end of one of my masterful pitching performances!" He then hurried downstairs and waited to leave. He still had twelve hours before morning but he had no plans of sleeping that night for he already felt he was dreaming.

We then waited for reports from spring training in the form of letters which Willie had promised he would write every night. His father promised the whole town would be in attendance for his first game at the Polo Grounds which wasn't really possible but Willie knew he would have tons of supporters on hand. The first letter came addressed from a small town in Arkansas where the Giants players worked out. Willie was awestruck to be on the same field as such players as George Davis,Kid Gleason,George Van Haltren, Jack Doyle and Mike Tiernan. The team wasn't great when it came to pitching but they did have a man named Jouett Meekin who Willie was a big fan of. As usual though,the veterans back then didn't socialize with the rookies trying to steal their job so Willie would have to admire these guys from afar and hope they come to accept him sooner than later. He quickly made friends with another young Willie from the team,a pitcher named Willie Garoni who was also spending his first spring with the Giants. The two were nearly inseparable as they were almost the same age and had the same background,lone children growing up on farms,and both attended college and were signed by Jack Sharrott. Too much in common for them to deny the bonds that tied them together.

The letters from Willie came almost everyday as promised along with one that slightly shocked his father. He and Willie Garoni were being loaned to a minor league team in Erie,Pa and that's where they would start their professional career. The father broke the news to the town,but said Willie's spirits were high and he was sure he would work his way to the majors very soon. The Giants were without Amos Rusie who was resting a sore arm and the rest of the pitching staff was average at best so they would surely need Willie at some point. The Erie season began the first week in April and Willie was the opening day pitcher and he didn't disappoint. The news spread thru town like a wildfire during a drought, he had thrown a one hit shutout and struck out ten batters. His new best friend pitched the next day and nearly equaled his output,making them an imposing duo in the league. If they could keep this up they thought,the Giants might change their mind about who's pitching for them when the season started on the fifteenth of April. It was not to be though as the Giants started with what they had and they started off very slow,dropping to the bottom of the league as fast as Amos Rusie could throw a ball,before the sore arm of course.

The season kept going and the news kept coming and the scrapbook kept getting filled. Willie was one of the best pitchers in the league and even got a mention in the Sporting News,the leading sports publication at the time. He finished the season on a bit of a down note losing his last two starts but the Giants surely had to take notice of his outstanding season. His friend Willie Garoni also pitched well all season and because he finished strong it probably led the Giants to call him to the majors at the end of the year rather than our own Willie. On the sixth of September Garoni made his way to the Polo Grounds,just one day after pitching his last minor league game. By the next evening he was finishing off the last inning of a 10-0 blowout loss to the Baltimore Orioles. He made another appearance a few days later and during a doubleheader vs. the Pirates he would make a start allowing just four runs in nine innings but getting no support from his hitters. He would take the loss in that game,and despite the fact he was just twenty-one years of age and coming off a superb minor league season,he would never pitch another major league game.

Willie Garoni stayed with the team thru the end of the year and after the season ended he accepted an invitation to join Willie and his family on the farm for a few days. Our boy was back,and even though he hadn't made the majors yet,he was still a celebrity around town. He even overshadowed Garoni despite the fact he actually pitched for the Giants just weeks earlier. The local paper ran a story while the two players were both in town touting them as the next great pair of aces that will soon someday grace the mound at the Polo Grounds. The story played out well in town but as you already know now about Garoni, he would not pitch again at the Grounds in New York or any other major league stadium. George and I were happy to have our boy back and he was happy to be around family again. He helped out around the house but his father didn't make him work too hard,he didn't want him to get injured in even the slightest way. At night Willie would go thru his scrapbook and we would give him pointers on what to do when he made the majors. George's advice was all about pitching,how to throw lefties,and how to pitch in certain situations and my advice was don't listen to George. Willie obviously took my advice,he had no choice but to listen to me because he couldn't actually hear me if you didn't know by now. That didn't stop us from talking though, what else did we have to do anyway.

When 1900 started the Giants were still without the great Rusie,his arm just wasn't getting any better despite the recommended rest. The team had finished the prior season in ninth place,a full thirty games below the five hundred mark. The fickle fans and local New York media cried for new players to be brought in but the pitching staff to start the next year remained nearly the same,and that included no Willie to start the year. He and Garoni were still the star players on a minor league team,but both knew they were just a bad start by the team away from a major league job. They both continued their great pitching and the Giants kept up their recent losing ways but like the season before Willie somehow never made it to the big club. Well,that isn't entirely true as just two days after he made his way home following the end of the Erie season, he was summonsed to New York to join the big club. They had a week left in their season but their pitchers were all overworked. Upon returning from a series in Philadelphia they need someone to pitch the third or fourth game of a series vs. Boston and both Willie and Garoni made their way to the team. Unfortunately those games never were played because the two Willie's also brought rain with them. The Giants had a week off because of the inclement weather and there was just three scheduled games left to play and no reason to make up the other games.All the two best friends could do was watch from the end of the bench as the regular pitchers took their turns on the mound to close out another season

Over the winter Willie worked extra hard to make sure he wouldn't be let down again. Despite the fact he was home for the winter neither George nor I saw him besides when he slept. He was determined to play for the Giants in 1901 and he knew that he deserved that spot just as much as the next guy. The great Amos Rusie was traded away in December in a deal that netted the Giants perhaps their greatest player ever, a young man named Christy Mathewson. He had pitched for the Giants earlier that season but he got drafted by the Reds,and they used Rusie to get him back because they liked him so much. Willie had seen him pitch while with the team and also earlier in the year in the minors and knew he was a real hurdle when it came to winning a spot in their rotation. A deaf player named Luther Taylor was also a highly touted pitcher and if both he and Christy pitched well enough, it would push Willie back to the minors. He was beginning the reconsider his loyalty to the Giants. Sure he wanted to pitch for them but if he were with any almost any other team now,he would almost be guaranteed a major league job. There was also his best friend Garoni who was keeping in touch by letter and he wanted to be back in the majors more than anything,working hard in the off-season to help his cause.

When the players convened in Arkansas all eyes were on the young hurler named Mathewson. George Davis took over the reins of the team,and he took an immediate liking to Christy. Willie and Garoni knew that he had a spot sewn up and they were competing for that last spot now with Taylor who got in some valuable experience the prior season. Training camp came down to the last three days and the three pitchers were in a dead heat and they knew it. Taylor took the mound the first day facing a local college team and he was masterful,allowing a mere three hits,all of them infield hits,and just one earned run. The odds were surely in his favor now and it put a lot of pressure on the two Willie's. That pressure probably brought on the next event,and the best friends would always wish it was an event that never happened. Garoni took the mound shortly after the noon hour and was throwing his best stuff,making the college hitters look foolish. All looked well until one young player in the second inning kept fouling off ball after ball frustrating Garoni. He was one strike away from retiring the first six batter without one of them reaching base. He threw pitch after pitch and the pesky kid would keep just barely getting a piece of the ball. An angered Willie, already twelve pitches into the at bat,and with his chances of impressing the team slipping, threw the next pitch harder than he ever had. The ball sailed to the backstop and Garoni stood on the mound hunched over holding his shoulder. Willie knew something was wrong and he was right. That was the last pitch thrown that season from his best friend and he knew it right then as he looked into his Garoni's eyes.

What happened next was just as unfortunate for Willie,as he had to continue the game with his friends well-being weighing heavy on his mind. He pitched as well as could be expected but not well enough,he was going back to the minors,this time to Norfolk which was much further from home. Garoni returned home after visiting a New York doctor,plenty of rest was recommended for him and that's about all he did except read letters from Willie all season,although he did make one more trip to New York. Willie was now alone with no teammates from last,no family and no best friend. George and I thought about making a trip to see him and support him but we only got as far as the edge of the desk thanks to a brisk wind. He was pitching well and often as they had just two regular pitchers and a washed up veteran who filled in from time to time on the Norfolk team. The only problem was the Giants were doing even better in the majors,they got off to a strong start behind Mathewson and Taylor who went from unknown rookies to star pitchers almost overnight. With all that was on Willie's mind and all of the overwork,his stats began to decline right at the same time the Giants did too. Would this kid ever catch a break everyone in town started to wonder.

Shortly after July 4th the Norfolk team was on its way thru Kentucky when the Norfolk manager told Willie he had to get off the train. He told the bewildered boy that he was going to play for another team and they would be picking him up here later that day. Willie was shocked,he didn't think the coach was serious but was pretty sure when the train pulled away without him that he wasn't joking. He didn't tell him anything except stay at the station and wait for the next train coming in from Ohio. There wasn't even a team from Ohio in the league he was in,this was getting worse and worse every second. The wait was worse for him then the wait we went thru in that cardboard box at the printing factory way back when. After a few hours,most of which were spent sweating and pacing, he saw the train from Ohio pulling into the station. Willie stood up tall,ready to meet his new teammates but they weren't exactly new to him. Because just like his first day at spring training two and a half years ago,Willie began to recognize one great player after another including his new manager George Davis. That's right,the Giants were leaving a series in Cincinnati and on their way to St. Louis and Willie was on board with them!

A letter was written to his family as soon as the train left the station informing them that he was going to be pitching for the Giants in just three days. His father actually read the box score before he received word from his son and almost fell off his chair when he saw the name Mills listed as pitcher. It would've been nice if Willie actually pitched well that game but his father was just as proud of him either way. His son was a bona fide major leaguer and no one could take that away from him now. He immediately told the whole town of this event,some of which already knew from the score,but all were waiting to hear from the father just to make sure it was really his son. A quick glance of the game shows that Willie gave up eight runs but stayed in to finish the game,and he took the loss. His highlight of the game was his first major league hit,a double if you can believe it! The next letter from Willie stated that he was pitching again in Chicago a few days later and he promised to do much better.His father pulled out the Giants schedule he had and noted the date July 23rd as the next time they would be in town. He fully intended to be in attendance at that game and to stay there as long as he had to just to see his son pitch in person. If he were to truly hold himself to those intentions, he would be in for a very long wait.

Willie kept his promise to his father and pitched much better in Chicago but unfortunately his fielders had made no such promise. They seemed to be just going thru the motions out there and although they were not charged with any errors,they weren't charged with any effort either. They took the loss 7-4 that day to drop Willie's career record to 0-2. Of note in that game is the fact that the winning pitching was a future star just coming into his own,a man named Rube Waddell. Willie brushed off the defeat and was eager to get back to New York to see all of his friends and family,including Willie Garoni who made the trip in already. Unfortunately for Willie he had a detour on the way to the Polo Grounds,one that brought him right back where he started the season,in Norfolk. He was heart broken and obviously not the same pitcher he was before. In his mind he went from major leaguer to major failure over night and he took it with him to the field. We would've been extremely worried about him,because it was unlike him not to send letters daily but the one we received just a few days into September eased our concerns. Willie had met a wonderful girl and it was love at first sight,you could tell in his writing and eventually you could see it in his on field performance. The pains of not playing in the majors were replaced with the joys of a beautiful woman who would shortly become his wife and no too long,would become the mother of his first child,but I'm getting ahead of myself a bit.

Willie arrived home following the season and along with him he brought his new girlfriend Mae. We got to meet her briefly that day as Willie showed her his room. He was obviously a little embarrassed as not much had changed in his room since age seventeen when he first left for college. George and I hardly recognized the boy,as we still called him. He was a man now,had a full moustache and everything just like me back in 1888.In fact,I still had that same moustache and I'll probably always have it. Mae was a beautiful girl,looked like she could be a stage actress. George stood up tall,and sucked in his gut to try and impress her but she barely noticed him. Willie however did point out the fact I was wearing a Giants uniform,the same one he had wore in the majors but she didn't seem too impressed,obviously not a big baseball fan. They went downstairs shortly after that and judging by the laughter and length of conversation,she was a big hit with the family. We were real happy for Willie then but looking back on that day,it saddens us because we had no idea that day would mark the beginning of his new life,one that would take him to a town a little way upstate called Utica.

That off-season Willie found out that the Giants weren't going to sign him the for the following year but they promised to stay in touch. They had an influx of new live arms and the mediocrity of his minor league season,coupled with his major league failures weighed heavy in their decision. He now had to go around the other teams marketing himself as more than just a pitcher who looked bad on two occasions. He eventually had to sign with a minor league team and hope that his stats would do the talking. The closest team he could find in need of pitching was in Utica. He and Mae moved away from us in early March,and he didn't even let us know the move was for good. We fully expected him to come back in the winter like he did every year,even after we heard the news of his marriage. One good thing for Willie was that Utica was desperate for pitching and needed just more than one Willie and that's when he got his best friend back. Even though Garoni was never the same pitcher as just two years ago,he was good enough to be average in the minors and that was good enough for Utica. Everything was falling into place for our good friend,and we were kept abreast of all his games,as his father continued the scrapbook. He was looking forward to Willie joining him in fatherhood and wanted to show his new grandson just how good his father was on the field. Why he assumed it would be a boy was beyond us,but around June of that year we found out that the child, whether it was a boy or girl,would be on its way.

The major leagues never called for Willie that year. He was watched from time to time but never impressed them enough to warrant another try. It really didn't bother him this year,he was very happy and in Utica he was a star pitcher,close enough to home to have friends and family see him perform every once in a while. We got to see him a couple times during the winter but by Christmas time he decided the traveling was too much for Mae and the baby, so we went a long time after that before his next visit. It was amazing how his parents left his room in the exact same shape as when he first left,except for dad adding to the scrapbook and mom periodically cleaning,we were pretty much left alone to sit on the desk and talk baseball. George and I had already talked about every personal experience we had on the field so most stories we told started with "remember when..." and they ended more embellished than prior times they were told. A lot of times we would just sit around and listen to what went on around the farm,and talked about what we would do to that rooster if we got the chance to get our hands on it. It couldn't be the same one could it,do roosters really live over fifteen years we thought,and then it hit us. We had already been around for fifteen years and not heard a peep about the real Keefe and Cleveland in quite some time. We spent that day basically talking about what we probably were doing all that time,once our baseball careers had ended.

On March 3rd,1903 we were awoken early by screams from the parents. Startled,I rose to my feet and did my best James Corbett impersonation,he being the best boxer when I was still playing. I began to realize that the yells were actually those of joy and once they settled down and talked at normal levels I realized that word had just come to the family that Willie was a new father . I say "I" only because somehow, George slept right thru this event. I saw a smile on his face though as he laid there and I assumed he was in the ninth inning of his perfect game again so I didn't bother him. The delusions of grandeur that he had ever since I met him even managed to enter his dreams. This man while asleep pitched more perfect games than everyone else in history combined while awake,and I don't just mean in the majors. In the morning I told him in passing that the Utica team Willie played for acquired a new future star named Arthur Mills. At first he said something like it was interesting he had the same name as Willie but a few minutes later he caught on. No one ever said George was the swiftest baseball card. Father Mills hunch was right on target, he had a new grandson and already he was calling him a future major leaguer....not too much pressure to put on a one day old infant is it?

Willie again would be pitching for Utica in 1903, although he started the season a little late because of the child's birth. He was again accompanied by his good friend Garoni on the team,and although neither gave up on their major league aspirations, they were both more than happy to be in Utica. They were with their best friend,Willie had his home and family just two blocks from the stadium,and Garoni also had a girl of his own and was thinking about moving into town. They didn't know it at that time but from that point on both of them never pitched for another team in either the minors or majors. Garoni lasted there all the way till 1913 we heard and for our boy Willie,he lasted there till 1914 when his career ended abruptly one July afternoon following a game. From 1903 on we saw Willie about four to five times a year,every time he would show up he would look thru his scrapbook which was meticulously updated by his father. He occasionally picked George and I up and smiled,and placed us back on the desk,making sure to put us in the same place every time because if he didn't his mother surely would. When little Art was old enough Willie began to show him all of his box scores and highlights and the young boy took a great interest in his father. It was said by Mae that Art made sure every friend he made in school or just around town knew that his father was once a major league pitcher. Willie always made sure that the kids got in the games even if they didn't have money to cover the attendance fee. George said he did the same thing while with the Nationals but every time I remember going to that stadium it was emptier than a schoolhouse in the middle of the summer. Yup,we still got on each other from time to time because it passed the time,and we had a lot of it on our hands.

I alluded to Willie's career ending abruptly before and it's not really something George and I talk about much but for the sake of the story I guess it's important. Back in 1913 on a cold October morning I woke up and just didn't feel right,I remember spending the whole day just depressed and I had just an empty feeling. At the time I had no idea what it was,I never felt that way before and even George noticed something different about me. On July 5th of the next year I woke up with the same exact feeling for the second time but this time George also had the same symptoms as me. We would find out shortly that Willie had passed away. Much later I would realize that the first time I felt that way,it was I,Elmer Cleveland who had passed. We were just fifty-one years old and had succumbed to a heart attack. Supposedly I lived a full life,always keeping busy right up to the end. Willie,on the other hand, was just thirty-six at the time of his passing.Much too young and he had so much to live for too but be rest assured he went out the way he would've chosen had he been given that choice.

It was a very hot July 4th and Utica was playing a day game with it's star pitcher on the mound,the great Willie Mills. He had all of his pitches working for him that day,and despite the heat and the fact he was more than five years older than anyone else on the field,he kept competing like his job was on the line. He didn't allow any runs and unfortunately his team didn't score any. Maybe if they had I wouldn't be telling this part of the story so soon. The game went on forever it seemed and the heat was unbearable but cheers of the crowd pushed Willie to keep going deep into extra innings. From the seventh inning up until the top of the sixteenth Willie retired every opponent's batter he faced and in the process he struck out over ten batters for the first time in quite awhile. He came to bat in the bottom of that sixteenth inning with a man on first and no outs,his job was simple,move the runner to second with a bunt. He had probably sacrificed himself a thousand times over the years but he couldn't get the bunt down the first two times and the corner infielders were right on top of him each time. He decided to swing away,hoping maybe he could bounce one over the infielders as they charged in. The pitcher wound up and he pulled his bat back from the bunt position and noticing it was a batting practice fastball coming right down the middle,he swung with all of his might! When he opened his eyes,the ball was carrying over everything,the 3rd baseman, the left fielder and most importantly the outfield fence. For the first time in his memory he had hit a home run,and this one won the game.

The exhausted man suddenly was full of energy and they say his feet never touched the ground as he ran around the bases. The sold out crowd was in a frenzy and with his teammates waiting for him at home plate Willie jumped into their awaiting arms. The game ending homer set off a town celebration with some fans claiming it was the greatest game they had ever attended. The only problem was that Willie never made it past the dressing room just past the dugout on his own. He collapsed from severe dehydration and was rushed,almost unnoticed to the nearest doctor,still alive but not responding to anyone. The doctor did all he could but Willie didn't make it past morning,eventually passing in the arms of his wife as his teammates waited outside his room. His best friend Garoni was in shock,he left the doctor's house and walked to the stadium and just sat on the mound and cried. He had pitched his last game the year before but was planning on playing one more game at the end of the year where he would come in and pitch the last inning in a game Willie started. Now,he would have to start that game,and for Willie,he would finish that game. In what was an emotional game for him and his teammates,he threw a three hit shutout before pointing to the sky and saying "That was for you best friend". A few days later a heart-broken Garoni returned to his home in Fort Lee NJ where he grew up and within a few weeks he passed away of consumption.

The next few days were hectic around the house,everyone in town gathered to pay their respects to the parents of a young man who was a town idol. All of the kids in this small farming town knew about Willie from the time they were old enough to hold a baseball. A lot of the fathers around now,grew up with him and were strikeout victims of his thru the years. Teenagers were taught how to play correctly by him when he came home to visit. In reality he never left Schenevus,even to this day he is known. Heck,the ball field in town and the street he grew up on are still named after him. A good portion of the townspeople even accompanied his parents up to Utica for the funeral while George and I stayed behind and watched the house. We spent the time telling stories of the boy and occasionally shedding a tear or two. Mae and Arthur even came back to town after the ceremonies and just sat around with people who told stories of Willie from back even before we met him. Before Mae left for home,Willie's father wanted to give her something special,the scrapbook he had been keeping all these years. He wanted to make sure Arthur had it so he could show his children and so on down the line. The father had one more thing to paste in,his last box score. He looked at the book and smiled and then right after he turned away he stopped and looked back at us. He smiled and said " You guys were always Willie's favorite possession so I surely can't have a full scrapbook without you". Although at the time it was very uncomfortable to be glued into a scrapbook and closed in,it was hard for either George or I to say no to the proudest father you'd ever meet.

The next morning we were on our way to Utica along with Mae and Arthur,a new adventure for us. You would think it would be exciting for two cards who sat on the same desk almost everyday for the last twenty five years to finally be going somewhere different but it turned out to be the beginning of a long boring time in our cardboard lives. Mae looked thru the scrapbook about a week after we arrived at the house and she cried most of the time,sometimes closing the book then starting again where she left off. We were on the very last page of the book,at the bottom,right below his final box score. She looked at us and smiled with tears still slowly running down her cheeks,you could tell it brought back memories of her first time at the house. Unfortunately for us,that day would be the last time we would see Mae. She didn't go anywhere for awhile,but deciding the memories were still too fresh and much too painful, we were put up in the attic of her house and eventually she forgot we existed. Sure we would hear people from time to time up there,at first they were voices we would recognize,but as time went on they became unfamiliar. We also got pushed further and further back in the attic,so far that no one even came near us for over fifty years,no exaggeration. If I thought talking to George for twenty five years in a row on that desk was boring,try over fifty in an attic with no new stories to tell because nothing new happened to us. We were glued to a page in a book,all but forgotten from the real world but our journey was far from done. We just didn't know when it would continue,or for that matter when they would get that darn draft fixed up here,Utica winters are freezing!

It would've been nice to know what was going on in the outside world,or for that matter,the downstairs world. We always wondered what happened with Willie's parents and the farm. They didn't have any other relatives still living that we knew of and I don't think Mae and Arthur moved to there once the parents had passed. If they did move,they obviously forgot us,not that leaving us in the attic untouched for so long was any better. Everybody we've met has loved looking at the ballplayers in uniform on their own card,why not them? Hopefully nothing bad happened,it's a horrible way to think but when you spend so much time just sitting around and doing nothing,the strangest thoughts will go on inside your head. George used to think Arthur would eventually come find us because he had such a great interest in baseball but we never heard much from him. Guess he didn't like the attic and after being up here so long,who could blame him.Who knows, he might've never known we were in the attic because the few times we did hear him up here,he quickly left. I think the least they could've done was open the scrapbook so we could look around,maybe have some room to throw the old ball around whenever there was enough sunlight to do so. I think the thing that says the most about George and I is the fact we never changed our pose,always looked our best ready to impress anyone that might come around because we knew that day would eventually happen.

George and I were telling our usual tall tales one day when we heard a couple people make their way into the attic. Usually we would hear from them at the end of winter when they put clothes away and the middle of fall when the winter clothes came back out. Besides that,only before and after Christmas did anyone venture into the attic,and like I said before,no one really came all the way to the back corner we were in. In fact when they turned the light on we didn't even know about it by sight,that's how far back we were. We would just hear them say,make sure to turn the light off when you come down,the attic monsters don't need to see. George always believed in the attic monster but I knew better because the only monsters in this house were the ones downstairs that left us up here all this time. Well anyway,this day we noticed the voices were getting closer and things around us which had been untouched for over a half century were now being explored. From the sound of things,it was a woman and young girl and as they got closer we heard them mentioning names we hadn't heard from anyone else for years. The woman remarked to her daughter "Why this must've belonged to your great grandma Mae." and they talked about her for a few minutes before moving on to the next item. They did more searching and finally came to the box we were in which was marked "Willie's belongings" according to the mother. Just to crush our spirits she said "There's so much up here that we cant look at it all in one day! We will come back up here some other time when we have the chance".

We sat there disappointed that they had given up right before they discovered us. It was great to hear them talk about the people we knew before being put up here in near isolation but being that close to getting out of here after so long was a horrible thing to deal with. When they left we assumed they would be right back within days,but days turned to months,and months into a year. It was exactly one year to the day according to them,the last time they were up here was also the young girl's birthday and that's what reminded them to come back up. They looked thru stuff around us and talked some more and basically got on our nerves because it seemed like again they would just go right past us but then it happened. The little girl blurted out " Hey mom, remember this box!" as she picked up our home for the last thousand years or so it seemed " We read about great grandpa Willie online. This is his stuff!" I didn't know what exactly they were on line for,but they must've had old newspapers to read while they waited. They brought the box with us in it,down from the attic and set us on the kitchen table and began to rummage thru his belongings. They finally got to the scrapbook and started flipping thru it,glancing over stories but obviously not full appreciating what they were reading. When they got to the last page we saw the light of day and as we looked around the room everything was shockingly different from the world we grew up in,just exactly how long had we been in that attic we both wondered.

The young girl who we could now see for the first time bore a striking resemblance to the Mae we knew,it was actually quite eery. She read over the notes written by Willie's father and then looked at both of us and said "Who are these strange looking guys, mom?". Not the kind of greeting we expected after being cooped up for so long. The mother looked at us and said "Hmm,they must be old judges from back when Willie played,this one was from Cleveland and the other must've been from a town called Keefe,Washington. I think that's where your great-great-grandparents lived". She then said "Put them off to the side and we will look them up online later." I turned to George and said "People in modern times sure do spend a lot of time waiting on line I guess" He nodded and said "They must have trouble getting milk and eggs around here since we are so far from the farm". So we sat off to the side of the table for a little while and watched the two of them make food and then eat. "Ahh, eating,I remember when I used to do that Elmer!" George said as he licked his lips,staring at the food like he was going to jump off his card and go get it. They then had a birthday cake for the young girl and again we didn't get anything to eat despite the fact we sung Happy Birthday just as loud as the mother. You may wonder how we knew the words to a song that was made long after we took up residence in the attic. Well,we didn't actually know, we just sang along real loud making up words as we went along like we did back in the saloons after games,too drunk to care that we were making buffoons of ourselves.This time though we were drunk on the heavenly aroma of the food before us but of course,we never got to eat.

They cleaned up their plates and the table and then picked us up so we could wait on line with them. It was kind of late for two females to be waiting on line for anything but who were we to tell them what to do, we were just happy to be out in the open again. We went to the living room and if you thought we were shocked at the differences before well we were in for the shock of a lifetime. There was a box in the corner of the room making noises and it had pictures of actual people moving around and you could hear what they were saying. They had a typewriter that showed the words that you typed on another moving picture box. I didn't even see paper and this thing played music too! George and I just looked at each other in amazement. Funny thing was we didn't even have to wait on line to use this typewriter picture box. The mother began to type in some stuff,and after about thirty minutes something popped on the box that amazed George,his eyes opened wide like he had seen a ghost! It was a picture of me on that crazy box thing! The mother read it to the daughter who stood behind her,looking over her shoulder "Says here that this is Elmer Cleveland,and he was a baseball player for the Giants. These are Old Judge baseball cards". George looked at me and said "Wow Elmer,you're famous!" She then found a similar picture of George and after reading for awhile proclaimed "Too bad,this isn't Tim Keefe,we would have something valuable here, they're both considered commons,whatever that means." I smiled when I heard that despite the fact she called me common because it had been a long time since someone besides me insulted George. My smile abruptly changed to a frown as she said "I'll take them downtown to Marty and see how much money I can get for them. Maybe we can get each other some nice clothes for these pieces of cardboard!" She then cut the page in half forever separating us from the memories we grew up with.

In the morning she came downstairs and folded us in half so that George and I were now basically face to face. Usually I had seen him from across the page or the desk but we haven't been this close since we were in the tobacco pack and frankly,I forgot how ugly he was. We now left that house in Utica for the first time since we got there and although we didn't know it right then,we weren't coming back. I don't know how we got across town but it didn't take long and it was a much smoother and quieter ride than we were used to. She brought us into a well lit store,still folded together and called out for a man named Marty. She said to him "Wait till you see what I've found up in the attic!" then she unfolded the paper we were on and a big ugly man looking down at us looked very surprised. He quickly changed his expression and said " Yeah,I have a couple of these Old Judge cards,they're worth about fifty bucks....wanna sell them?" She looked at him a declared that she wasn't a sucker and she had looked up our value online. He then offered her one hundred dollars for the both of us. I was highly insulted and so was George,but I don't know why he was mad. I was sold to a team back in the minors for two hundred dollars back in 1885 and now this guy wanted both of us to play for him for one hundred! I pleaded with her not to do it,but she took the money and left the store with a smile on her face. Sadly,that was the end of our association with the Mills family,the only one we had up to that point.

The guy looked at us and grinned,then he went to wait on line somewhere to find out how much he could sell us for. These people nowadays have lines for everything. Well about an hour later he came at us with a pair of scissors and cut away all the paper around us including the piece that held George and I together for oh so long.He then began moving stuff below us and next thing we know we are placed next to shiny baseball cards,in color no less. We became instant celebrities in our new glass case as word got around of our arrival. This is how I pictured myself when I played baseball,surrounded by adoring fans,who knew it would take...wait I didn't know how long it took,so I asked one of the shiny cards just exactly what year it was. He said "Well I've been here for about a year and they say I was born in 2006 so I'm going to say it's 2007 now". His brilliant math skills were correct as other cards around us confirmed it was indeed the year 2007. George had a puzzled look on his face as he tried to figure out how long we in that attic in Utica,and I finally had to tell him it's been ninety three years since we've been out. That was crazy to fathom but we didn't dwell on it too long because everyone there wanted to know about us. You see,in Utica,they had only heard about Old Judge cards but until we showed up the oldest card there was some guy named Bowman Dick Kokos who they say was born in 1954, a mere sixty six years after we were born.

I enjoyed our celebrity status except for the fact I had to hear every one of George's stories again and just like every other time he told them,the stories got more and more outlandish. I finally stopped him when he said he struck out the mighty Cap Anson five times in one game shutting out the White Stockings 2-0 while not giving up a single hit or walk. I knew he never struck out Anson even once in his career,but to do it five times in a nine inning perfect game was too much to let go.His excuse was that Anson shaved his moustache and then batted out of place,then grew it back and batted again for the next batter. I just shook my head in disbelief of the stupidity of that statement,and the fact he looked like he believed it himself. Sure I told some stories that stretched the truth a little like when a young man named Mauer claimed he batted .347 last year, I couldn't help it and I said I hit .352 as a rookie in 1884. Luckily for me,George didn't hear it as he was busy telling everyone about the time he threw a ball thru the backstop in Louisville. Sadly,that was the only truth he told that day and before you think he threw real hard let me say that the backstop in Louisville was as sturdy as the imaginary pedestal George put himself up on. Basically,it didn't take much to throw a ball thru it and he always leaves out the detail that it was a wild pitch that ended up costing him the game.

As we got acclimated to all the new cards we began to find out the differences from baseball back when we played and today's game. For one thing,this Mauer kid was covered in padding that he said all of the catchers nowadays wear. If they had protection for catchers back when I played I might've even considered taking up the position just so I was more versatile for a team looking for an extra utility player. The gloves they wore now were amazingly big too,no wonder these guys don't make errors like when I played. They couldn't believe I never even used a glove in the majors but I had the mangled fingers to prove it. George found out that some pitchers had as many as six or seven different pitches to choose from but just like him,they mainly relied on fastballs and curves. The bats some of these players had were so light,no one used a thirty-two ounce bat back in my day,how are you supposed to pitch inside on them when they could get that twig around so quick. Many of the players told me I wouldn't believe the stadiums they had now including a thing called a dome which was an indoor stadium,and they even played night games! Why at this point I was enjoying their stories as much as they were enjoying mine.

This was probably the most fun we had at any one particular time but it didn't last long enough. We heard stories of people coming in and taking other cards away but up until that point we had all of the same fans,I mean friends,as when we got here. That all changed when a young boy and his father came into the store and they were there shopping for his birthday gift,according to them. They obviously knew Marty and he showed him all of the new stuff around the store but they were still a case away from us. One of the cards whispered over to me "They usually come here for the newer stuff,especially young kids,so don't worry". I wasn't worrying up till that point but I began to,especially after I heard Marty mention that he had two new cards that even he had never seen before. Everyone looked at us and said "They're talking about you guys." I wasn't ready to go,I was having too much fun at this card store and George definitely didn't want to leave,he finally had an audience for his prattle of the dead. Sure enough though,they headed in our direction and we were taken out of the case for the young boy and his father to look at.

The boy was amazed at the sight of us and I couldn't blame him.He obviously recognized my greatness and had no clue how bad George was,so this was the reaction I anticipated. The father asked Marty how much we cost and he said "I can take two fifty for the pair for you,but I'm making no money off of that." The father thought about it for a minute and he knew the boy really wanted us,even if we weren't ready to go back to the life we had over one hundred years ago. He tried to give Marty less money but he stood his ground and said he couldn't take any less. "Way to go Marty!" I exclaimed despite the fact he could've still made a lot of money from selling us to a new owner for less money,he did after all only pay one hundred for both of us. The father talked to the boy about it,and then they looked around a little more. Marty put us back in the case as the two potential customers weighed their options. Finally the father said "How about one twenty five for one of them?" Is this man crazy I thought, Marty would never split up his two new star cards,we were centerpieces of this glass case world but I didn't know him as well as I thought I did. He immediately agreed to it citing that it was the boy's birthday and it was the least he could do. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach and couldn't believe this could actually happen to us and George....well George was busy telling stories again. He was too busy to realize what might be about to occur and I was too overcome with panic to tell him. The boy came back and looked at both of us,the glass case became silent and George finally realized what was about to happen. The boy pointed to me and said "I'll take that one!" and off I went. This kid was so happy to have me and I could see it on his face but I had no interest making him happy that day or any other. As I looked across the store one last time I could see George,still in his pitching motion as if he just threw a ball but I knew he was actually reaching out to me and there was nothing I could do.

I was now in the child's hands and he couldn't stop staring at me,except once every minute or so to thank his father for the wonderful gift. Who would I blame for the horrible fate that befell me though? I was just mortified at the thought of never seeing my best friend again and I harkened back to the story of Garoni sitting on the mound and crying over Willie. I know knew exactly how he felt that sad day. We arrived at the house and the boy immediately ran to his room and told me "I know just where to put you!" I knew just where he could put me too,back at Marty's store! Unfortunately we didn't have the same thought. He moved some other cards around and then put me right in the middle of his desk between cards of a fellow named Babe Ruth and one named Christy Mathewson. Of all the people to be put next to,I had to sit next to the guy who took Willie's job in the major leagues! I didn't know of the Ruth guy,but I remember George saying he struck him out a few times when he was asked about him at the card store. I got to know those two pretty quick but they were no George,well apparently the Ruth guy was really named George,but he was no George Keefe nor had he ever heard of him. I guess when a guy strikes you out so many times you try to forget his name... or maybe that was just another tale from George. The thought of me believing one of his stories actually made me smile,but I was not over the grief of losing a best friend,I just didn't want to show it in front of other ballplayers.

The young boy had just finished dinner one night and came to his room with a large book in hand. He had got a book called the Baseball Encyclopedia from his library the other cards said. They claimed this kid studied baseball like he was going to school for it. He leafed thru the pages till he found the one I was on and began reading "Elmer Ellsworth Cleveland,bats right and throws right. Born in Washington DC on September 15th,1862 and he died October 8th of 1913." That's when I realized why I felt that way that morning some ninety four years earlier. He continued on as every one of the players now listened on "He played for three seasons with four different teams and he hit .255 career including .322 his rookie season". Ruth looked at me and said "I thought you hit .362 as a rookie?" Great another George questioning my batting skills. I looked at him and just muttered "Typo." before shushing him,and then we went back to listening. The boy went on reading "Says he hit four home runs career." before looking up at Babe Ruth and saying "Watch out Babe,we gotta another slugger in the house!" At first I smiled but soon realized he was being facetious with that comment. Ruth looked at me and said phonetically "se-ven hun-dred and four-teen" as he pointed to his chest proudly. I asked him "So what is that number, your weight?" I knew what he meant but I couldn't dignify him with a positive response for his obvious gloating.

The boy soon left and I began to wonder what George was doing at the time. My guess was telling stories to the other cards still,probably ones about striking me out. I knew he was still at the store because who would pay money for him without me. Sarcastically I thought to myself,I'm sure there's a lot of George Keefe or Washington Nationals collectors out there. That team would finish second in a one man race and George would be there to make up a story about why they didn't win. I sure do miss him though,along with everyone else we knew over the years. These newer cards don't appreciate what us older cards did for them,why without us there would be no them. The thing I liked about the new kid was that he didn't buy any of those shiny cards and he really had an appreciation of the older players. My memories of long ago were jogged when the new boy brought friends over to show me off just like Willie did when he first got me. Only back then he was showing off a brand new card,and now this new kid was showing off a card that was older than anyone had seen before. I started telling Christy about Willie and then mentioned to him that they were teammates and he remembered him along with Garoni. He said the two were inseparable,which of course made me think of George. I started talking about Willie's family and that Ruth fella' mentioned he faced an Art Mills from Utica back when he played around 1928 or '29. I smiled when he said that because I was positive it was Willie's son following in his father's footsteps.We all got along pretty well despite the different eras we played in and the fact Christy was such a gentleman all the time and Ruth was pretty much the polar opposite.

I spent all summer watching this modern game in the boys room. When he was supposed to be asleep the sound was off so it was hard to understand what was going on. We would be watching a game and next thing I knew there were people running on a beach and smiling or things called automobiles going real fast down winding roads. What did any of this have to do with the game? Eventually the game came back on and I'd forget about all the nonsense I had just witnessed although I almost turned off a game in disgust one time while watching a Phillies game,when I noticed a big furry green thing running onto the field and dancing on the dugout and it was considered to be part of the game. Ruth then said the players today made millions of dollars and I almost stained my cardboard backing. The game was definitely different from when I played but it was still enjoyable to watch,just confusing at times. I just wish they had four umpires when I played,we were lucky to have two umpires and even luckier if we had one honest one. I also couldn't believe that my Giants team was now in San Francisco but they were still a major league team. Back when I played they had a few teams out there I heard but it was called the California League and from my understanding they weren't worthy of being considered a major league. I also saw my first World Series ever and for the first time I began to root for a team to win besides the Giants. That Ruth fella was an American League guy while the two former Giants players had to root for the National League team,even though I had never heard of the Colorado Rockies before entering this house. Unfortunately the Red Sox won and that was the team Ruth started his career with, so he was happy about that despite the fact he wore another team's jersey.

It was now winter and Christmas was fast approaching and for the first time I saw the new tradition of hanging colorful lights outside the houses. It looked nice at night with the lights off but I