By Ray ‘Shutta’ Shaw

NEW YORK, New York – When the invitation came across the wireless, it didn’t take much urging to convince the Newtown Sandy Hook vintage nine to drop their plows, pack their kit and key for the next stage to the big city.

The country boys had already experienced Bridgeport, Waterbury and Pittsfield in their journeys this young season and to be invited to showcase their talents in New York’s Central Park it was more than they could do to contain their enthusiasm.

Newtown’s greatest challenge of the day, though, turned out to be getting to the ball yard by the 2 pm start time. The Newtown stage forgot to feed the horses overnight and a large amount of time was spent waiting for the Clydesdales to reload.

As things would happen, once the coach took to the highway the driver chose the most circuitous route imaginable to get to Manhattan. Then, once arriving in Harlem, the driver took a mysterious turn, which put the local contingent miles from their appointed destination.

The stage finally arrived near the 2 pm witching hour in close proximity of the Park and immediately emptied ballists and cranks on the sidewalk for a spirited jog to the North Meadow Grounds. The Gothams appeared equally disheveled, missing a couple of key players as well as their bats, balls and bases that had somehow gotten stuck somewhere between Hoboken and the Grand Central concourse.

It was a balmy day in June with temperatures in the mid eighties and threatening skies in the west. For the fourth time this season, Phil ‘90’ Keane, having honed his skills on these same fields in his youth, manned the box for the Sandy Hooks for the initial ‘1864’ match. The Pendergists – ‘Pops’ and ‘Express’ – ‘Bulldog’ Paes, ‘Mister’ Edwards, ‘Honus’ Pernerewski, ‘Muhl’ Snyder, ‘Zack’ Wheat, ‘Bingo’ Long, ‘BB’ Deickman and ‘Cool Papa’ Harmon rounded out the Newtown club.

Your scribe, being the only properly clad civilian within earshot (sporting a very well-worn bowler, period trousers and vest) was unceremoniously mustered into service as arbiter for the match. Therefore, by being required to focus one’s attentions on the matter of balls and strikes my recollections may be sketchy as to the ebb and flow of match one.

The early afternoon’s entertainment featured the brilliant three-hit, two-run hurling turned in by Keane, ‘90’s three for four day at the dish, the dogged defense of the Sandy Hook base tenders, the looming storm clouds bearing down on Manhattan and the mysterious ‘hide-and-go-seek’ pitching style of the Gothams hurler.

For eight mind-numbing innings the Newtown batters focused on finding a pitch they could connect with while the spastic hurler offered free pass after free pass resulting in free ace after free ace to the patient Newtown batsmen. If one were to revisit previous recaps of Newtown Sandy Hook matches, one would notice the word ‘patient’ rarely appears in the critiques of our home town nine.

However, this day was different.

Along with the gentle rain and insignificant thunder that appeared mid-innings to dampened the spirit, the unusual assortment of pitches offered by the Gotham archer had most Hooks and their charges perplexed to the point of anger and hoping for a cloudburst to extinguish the protracted event. In spite of that fact and feeling the match possessed the vitality of a terrapin derby, ‘Express’ Pendergist took matters into his own hands and upon being given a free pass to first electrified the partisans by swiping second, third and eventually home on a passed ball without the striker ever lifting the bat from his shoulder, or ‘Express’ even breaking a sweat.

In the end, the Newtowners walked to an 12 to 2 success in what seemed as fulfilling as shooting fish in a barrel.

As the persistent storm finally passed into the horizon the Gothams and Hooks recharged for the second (1867) match of the day with ‘BB’ Dieckman trying his hand against the Knickerbocker nine. The cranks and ballists were on the edge of their blankets in anticipation as ‘Trolley Car’ Schlapp and the Gothams trotted out a conventional hurler with a familiar style and immediately greeted him with a heated barrage of whacks to all parts of the field.

It wasn’t that he was a substandard hurler; it was simply that his offerings were enticing to a Newtown club who had waited since ten in the morning to tee-off on anything that looked like fair game. As a result, they spent little time picking out choice offerings they could propel to the far reaches of the park.

Thanks to this combination of pent-up frustration and the tenacity of the Newtown base runners, the Sandy Hooks took charge immediately by plating three in the first, two in the second and through back-to-back hitting of Dieckman, Wheat, Keane, ‘Express’ Pendergist, Paes, Long, Harmon, Edwards, Pernerewski and ‘Pops’ Pendergist amassed an impressive cycle of ten aces in frame four. At the same time, the fielding proficiency of the Newtown gardeners and scouts seized every Gotham opportunity with skill and conviction.              

In the bottom of the fifth with the score wavering around 16 to 2 for the Hooks and the clock approaching curfew time, the Newtown club took what seemed like a unanimous and unscheduled swoon; a siesta of such magnitude as to enable the home side to tack on nine discomforting aces in the span of one inning.

Was it fate? Were the Sandy Hooks preparing to squander a hard days work highlighted by exquisite pitching, pinpoint hitting, accomplished base running and acrobatic fielding for a sickening death-march to defeat? The query was quickly answered in the top of the six as the Hooks set the tables for their next act.

‘Bingo’ Long singled to left center, Harmon reached on a fielder’s choice, and Edwards and Pernerewski followed with singles as the anxious ‘Pops’ Pendergist stood primed in his on-deck position. ‘Pops’ had experienced a marginally disappointing day at the plate in game one and though he stroked a triple in inning four of the second match it was clear he had something to prove to himself and his supporters.

Due to his ‘ordinary’ output for the day, the Gothams took little warning of his presence at the line. As the New York hurler swung into action and delivered the shiny fat globe, which must have appeared like the first ripe tomato of the season as it arched its way over the dish, ‘Pops’ coiled like a cobra ready to strike its prey. As the sphere entered the confluence of first and third base line, ‘Pops’ uncoiled and his bat struck the ball with the force of a lightning bolt crashing down a stovepipe and an uncharacteristic crack echoed though the caverns as the scalded orb sailed beyond the boundaries of the grounds. As it took a few lively bounces around the distant backstop, it rolled convincingly to the proximity of first base in the adjoining field before the left gardener was able to reclaim it.

By the time the ball arrived back in the infield, all runners had plated to form an imaginary chorus line to greet the gallant dispatcher who arrived home with wings on his feet. ‘Pops’ and the hearty band of batmen from Newtown had assured a double victory and closed the book on their first visit to the most storied park in the world.

Huzzahs were exchanged with new friends as the Newtowners exited the ballyard for their journey back to the flourishing hills of Connecticut.

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