And the sky was split with the force of his clouting!

A terrible booming sound has echoed far and wide across the land. The common man can be forgiven for assuming it is the sound of thunder pealing through the leaden New England skies.

But Rooters know the true source of the racket: Our mighty swat-artist, "Colossus" Ortiz, has reclaimed the power of his fearsome ash-stick and launched a collection of window-rattling four-ply drives. He is now responsible for 5 full-circuit clouts in the month of June.

Yesterday, he delivered his most impressive blast yet -- walloping the pill into the teeth of a gale and over the Green Monster Edifice! Prior to his display, many seasoned base-ball men assumed that no mortal could reach the fences in such a blow! But the Colossus has been known to make hay of such narrow-minded predictions.

Later, like Prometheus stealing fire, the journeyman between-sacker Nick Green followed our Hero's lead by ending the contest with a round-tripper of his own. The assembled throng (Yours Truly among them) let forth a rousing "Huzzah" and raised their dripping Mackintosh sleeves skyward to recognize the achievement.

Opponents beware: The Colossus is standing in the batters-box with mayhem on his mind again.

Thunder on the Base-Paths!

Hurdy Chadwick and myself joined the throng of happy Rooters in Fenway’s commodious out-field bulwark yesterday for an afternoon of steaming wieners, refreshing suds and delightful ball-playing from the local nine. Adding to the merriment was the Boston Club’s formal recognition of Maine’s Rooting Regiment, and seeing the Pine Tree State’s blue standard sailing above the grand-stand, amongst the stars and stripes and a phalanx of League and World’s Champion banners, brought a tear of pride to my jaded scribbler’s eyes.

The morning’s drenching rains made the day seem better-suited to mud grappling than base ball, but we began our trek southward with hopes that the new-fangled weather prognosticators were correct in their assessment that precipitation would end before our heroes climbed from the dug-out. What science these “weather-men” must have at their disposal, for as sure as you’re born, the 1:35 start time arrived with narry a mist falling!

In fact, the only thunder heard that afternoon came after a decisive eighth-frame blast from “Colossus” Ortiz. To that point, the Bostons and Torontos had been ensnared in a high-class flinging duel, with our Ace, “Nothin’ Doin’” Lester matching Roy “The Wizard of the Pill” Halliday hurl for hurl. But the Colossus made sure to clip the wings of the recently high-flying blue birds.

Ortiz’s mighty ash delivered a cannon-shot to the right field, where the young patrolman made an ill-advised “dive” in his efforts to corral the orb. As the pill skipped past his prone, helpless figure, the Colossus stoked his locomotive engine and roared around the second-bag to earth-shaking effect. Before the Toronto third-sacker could receive his prize, The Colossus had settled safely on the pillow!

Mayhem and triumphal songs erupted from the assembled Rooters! And tho’ he may have desired a brief nap at the corner, Ortiz did not remain long in “scoring” position. The next bats-man, “Yukon” Youkilis, delivered a deep “fly” that allowed our Colossus to amble to the home-plate and notch the game’s decisive run.

Such was our abiding joy from the spectacle that Mr. Chadwick and myself did not even need a restorative pause at one of the innumerable gin-joints, honky-tonks and dubious road-side food sellers along the U.S. Postal Route that links Boston to Maine.

Hurdy and Stuffy win the lottery!

The numbers of fortune surely were singing for ol' Hurdy Bird and The Stuffy One this early afternoon, as we were fatefully accepted into a rare lottery for admission tickets to a Bostons Red Stockings match to occur in the crisp and lovely month of September.

The occasion is Maine Day, that date where all the Fens celebrates its neighbors to the north. What kind of bunting will mark the occasion? Perhaps a fine deep blue with "DIRIGO" emblazoned across its majestically rippled creases. All Bay Staters will have their palms extended, ready to shake the hand of a true Mainer, a group so hearty it's of no wonder the 20th Maine regiment saved the whole of the United States that fateful day on Little Round Top.

A hearty "huzzah!" is reserved for Mr. McInnes, whose prowess at the ticketing office is certainly unmatched north of the Piscataqua River. For those attending the Sept. 14 match versus our even more northerly neighbors from Toronto, Canada, Hurdy and Stuffy will wear our Junior Maine Home Reserve uniforms with pride. We shall be positioned behind the practice pitching area beyond the "out"field, with steaming sausages and frothy ales in abundance.

Until then, let us say a word of good cheer for our ailing General, the young Joshua P. Beckett, whose cannon arm and sabre-rattling intensity marched our men to victory last season. Godspeed, good General!