Steve longed for the Ponies and the good old Prelims between the Trial
Horses, with Blood dripping from the Ropes, but when he picked up the
Pink Sporting Page in the Morning, all he could find was that the Sacred
Heart Academy has wrested the Basket-Ball Trophy away from the West
Division High School.
Base Ball is only Near-Sport to one who has whanged the Wise Ikes that
mark up the Odds. Steve went to it because there was nothing else on the
Cards.
One Day he found every entrance to the Park guarded by a Blue Burly
and the Crowds being turned away.
The Health Department had put in a Knock on the Game, on the Ground
that the Ball, after being handled by various Players and passed from one
to the other, carried with it dangerous Microbes.
The Officials insisted that, after every Play, the Ball should be treated with
an Antiseptic or else that each Player should have an Individual Ball and
allow no one else to touch it.
The Society for the Protection of the Young had put up a Howl because
the Game diverted the Attention of Urchins from their Work in the Public
Schools and tended to encourage Mendacity among Office Boys.
The Concatenated Order of High-Brows had represented to the proper
Authorities that, as a result of widespread Interest in the demoralizing
Pastime, ordinary Conversation on the tail-end of a Trolley Car was
becoming unintelligible to University Graduates, and the Reports in the
Daily Press had passed beyond the Ken of a mere Student of the English
Language.
The Medical Society certified that eight out of ten Men had shattered their
Nervous Systems, split their Vocal Cords and developed Moral
Astigmatism, all because of the Paroxysms resulting from Partisan Fervor.
Either build an Asylum in every Block or else liberate the present Inmates
of all the Nut-Colleges. It was not fair to keep the Quiet Ones locked up
while the raving Bugs were admitted to the Grand Stand every Afternoon.
Under the Circumstances, a purely Paternal Administration could do only
One Thing. It put Base Ball out of Business.