A stampede of white cleats

Why a pachyderm balancing on a base-ball is a fair symbol for a team from Oakland, Calif., is beyond the comprehension of your humble correspondent. And while they may appear docile as they plod around the underbrush, there is something menacing about the leathery visage of a noble elephant. For when the feet begin stamping and the trunk lifts and blows into the air like the trumpets of war, it is surely time to scatter for safer locales.

Such was the situation this Memorial Day week-end when the Bostons steamed to the West Coast full of vigor after a rousing homestand that featured seven wins and naught a loss. But as the estimable Stuffy McInnes so sagely pointed out in previous correspondence, a cross-America journey in a Pullman car is a certainty to sap any ball-player's energies. And arriving in the City by San Francisco, the Boston heroes bumbled their way through a three-day set of games, losing each one by a significant sum of plate crossings.

The Boston Red Sox team were sapped of vim, and extended the string of tourist losses to seven. Were they lulled into a stupor by the Athletics' kindly faces and white cleats? No-one can be sure, though it was a certainty that the trumpeting elephant was ready to strike. Beware!

Author's note: Following the drubbing in the City by San Francisco, the Bostons steamed their way north to the logging town of Seattle, where the salty air of Puget Sound was a better tonic than that of the Golden Gate. The Olde Towne Team pummeled the Marine Men of Seattle with the corpulent and crafty Bartolo "El Gordo" Colon manning the mound. A streak-breaking to fire the Bostons' ball-playing corps! Huzzah for a winning match away from the homey atmosphere of Fenway Park.