Pinch was Really Something

Did I ever tell you about Pinch Holcomb? The best damned left fielder I ever saw. He was born with one leg shorter'n the other, and I'll tell you, it helped him!

When did I first meet Pinch, you say? Well, that is a question. I think it was 1919 or so, but don't hold me to that. Yes, I'm not sure when it was, but I can tell you where it was--Rochester, New York, of all places.

We were playing a few games in the area, and a couple of us headed to Rochester to see a motion picture, and this fella with a weird gimp comes up to us on the sidewalk outside the theater and tells us he knows we're ballplayers and that he'll take any of us on in a footrace and he'll beat us!

It was me and Schmitty Parker and Goldie Weston and Joe Brennan, and here we are, getting challenged to a footrace by this young feller with a gimp in his leg!

Well, Goldie Weston--you remember him, the pitcher from Cincinnati--well, Goldie says to this kid with the gimp, "Sure, I'll race ya. Loser buys the other a steak dinner."

Well, suffice to say, that night Goldie Weston bought a steak dinner for this kid with the gimp! You should've seen this kid--Pinch--ordering a steak with all the trimmings at the hotel restaurant! Just about the funniest thing I ever saw! Poor Goldie just sat there, looking redder than a California beet!

Anyways, we got him a tryout with a team in Albany that next week, and well, you know what Pinch did from there: hit 16 homeruns in 1923, had 36 doubles in 1926, stole more bases in 1928 than you could shake a stick at!

A shame he killed that man in '31.

A Night in Decatur

I remember one time when we had a game in Springfield--this must've been 1921 or thereabouts--and a few of us--myself and Lester Stills and Babe Montgomery--decided that, well, we didn't want to spend anymore time in Springfield than we had to. So after our game, the three of us snuck out of the hotel and found ourselves an automobile and drove to Decatur for the night.

Now, I don't have to tell you about the fun we had in Decatur.

But needless to say, when we came rolling back into Springfield the next morn, we were a sore sight, I'm sure. I'll never forget the look on Mr. Morris--he was our manager--on Mr. Morris' face when we came tromping up to the train station.

"Where were you boys?" he said. He didn't look a bit pleased to see us.

Lester strode up, sure of himself, and me and Babe trailed behind, heads hanging down.

"You see, Mr. Morris," Lester says, "we was scouting out the competition in Decatur."

"Oh, is that so, Lester?" Morris said. "Well, you do know that we don't play 'em for another three months, don't you?"

And Lester says, "Yes, sir, I do. And boy oh boy, do we have their number now!" Me and Babe did everything we could to not laugh, and I think Morris did the same. It sure was hard to be mad at Lester.

Morris gave Lester a playful punch in the shoulder and he whupped us with his ballcap as we passed. We sure let out a hearty laugh when we all got on the train and we watched Morris disappear into the next train car over.

"Good thing he didn’t ask us to run sprints up and down the rail," Lester said. "My legs are so tired, I'd have been crawling after three paces!"

We all roared and roared.

"Boy oh boy, some scouting we did—wait til I tell ol' Morris 'bout how that blonde sweetheart runs the bases!"

Me and Babe were doubled up laughing—my sides were hurting!

When we finally found the rest of the boys on the train, we couldn't tell the story without getting all tripped up laughing. I slapped my knee so hard, I was worried I was gonna break it! You shoulda seen the big Babe giggling like a bird in the trees! He might've laughed off about 10 pounds!

Oh my, were those the days. We was just a bunch of dumb fools. But I was never happier!