GMS/TEAMS
SEASONS
CAREER STATS
May 12, 1910
Every player in baseball seems to have a nickname, and I suppose mine is better than most. We seem to be living in an era of nicknames chosen with a dearth of imagination. When I was a lad, there were nicknames like “Death To Flying Things”, “The Freshest Man On Earth”, and even “The Old Woman In The Red Cap”. Nowadays there is for the most part a procession of Rubes, Reds, Docs, and Leftys. And heaven forbid you be seen inside a house of worship or you must be forever known as “Deacon”.
No, my nickname will do fine: I’m proud of my alma mater. Having an education at least sets me apart from the tobacco-juice-spitting oafs who populate a large portion of the Peoria clubhouse. My nickname isn’t what’s causing my general malaise these days…
Perhaps it’s the way the team is performing; stumbling through the first third of the season as if in a daze. Or perhaps it’s my own performance; a batting average that hovers around the .200 mark is no cause for a cheerful disposition. Or perhaps it’s the volume of Kierkegaard essays I’ve been reading; what makes these Danes so melancholy?
Oh well, another day. Peoria is not a terrible place to summer, although the public library is a disgrace. I’ve been going for long neighborhood walks in the evening to ease my mind. Tonight I’m going to walk on to Electric Avenue… H.E.G.
Harvard Eddie Grant