"'Well,' I said, 'the reason I'm so successful is because I can beat anybody.'"
"Now aren't you getting a little carried away with your bragging?" asked Nibbles. "I mean, I'm very much enjoying your story, even though I know little about baseball except that you play it on a bass drum. But really, I think you're carrying your pride a little too far into the negative."
"Yeah," admitted Rube, "I am sorry about that. Sometimes that happens to me when I get too worked up. Anyway, I went out there that day and I pitched one of those unusual games: no hits, no runs, no errors. Twenty-seven men faced me and not one of them got to first base. And that evening in Columbus they put me up for sale, with all the Big League clubs bidding on me, like a horse being auctioned off. The Cleveland club went as high as ten thousand five hundred dollars for my contract, but the Giants went to eleven grand, and I was sold to them. At that time, that was the highest price ever paid for a baseball player.
"I reported to the New York Giants in September of 1908, as soon as theAmerican Association season was over. I was eigh …"
"It still feels a little odd to have you 'remembering' things from years that have not yet been," interrupted Hootsey.
"Let him finish the story," admonished Elephant.
"I am sorry," said Rube. "But it is a memory to me, and a prediction to you. I will try to be more careful about naming years if I can remember to be. But in any event, I was eighteen years old at the time, and already the most valuable player in the Big Leagues! Excuse me if I seem to boast, but I feel that I am justified this time. I was the hero of the hour.
"Still, I came up too late in the season to make a trip to Chicago with the Giants that year, but the next season we made our first trip to Chicago the second week in June. And the first thing I did, as soon as I got there, was to make a beeline for that firehouse.
"The only one there when I first got there was the Lieutenant. I walked up to him and said, 'Lieutenant, do you remember me?'
"'Never saw you before in my life,' he said.
"'Well, remember about three years ago you caught me sleeping back of that stove there?'
"'Oh, are you that kid from Cleveland that said he's a ballplayer?'
"'Yes!' I told him. 'Remember me? My name is Marquard. RichardMarquard.'
"'Of course,' he said, not really interested. 'What are you doing here?'
"'I am in the Big Leagues,' I explained. 'I told you when I got to theBig Leagues I was coming out to visit you.'
"'Well I'll be …' he began, then, 'Who are you with?'
"'Why, I'm with the New York Giants,' I said with pride.
"And boy, for years after that, whenever the Giants would come to Chicago, I'd go out to that firehouse. I'd sit out front and talk for hours. The firemen would have all the kids in the neighborhood there … and all the families that lived around would stop by … and it was really wonderful. Everybody was so nice and friendly. Gee, I used to enjoy that. It was a great thrill for me.
"Actually, every single day of all the years I spent in the Big Leagues was a thrill for me. It was like a dream come true. I was in the Big Leagues for eighteen years, you know, from 1908 through 192 … Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I was with the Giants for seven glorious years, with the Dodgers for five years after that, with Cincinnati for one year, and then with the Boston Braves for four. And I loved every single minute of it!
"The best years of all were those with the Giants. I don't mean because those were my best pitching years, although they were. In 1911 I won twenty-four games and lost only seven. And in 1912 I won twenty-six. That's the year I won nineteen straight! I didn't lose a single game in 1912 until July eighth!
"Actually, at the risk of sounding boastful again, I won twenty straight, not nineteen. But because of the way they scored then, I didn't get credit for one of them. I relieved Jeff Tesreau in the eighth inning of a game one day, with the Giants behind, three to two. In the ninth inning, Heinie Groh singled and Art Wilson homered, and we won, four to three. But they gave Tesreau credit for the victory instead of me. Except for that it would have been twenty straight wins, not nineteen."
"It's still a pretty magnificent record," harumphed Elephant "I don't see any reason for all the sour grapes."
"Oh, no," said Rube's shadow. "No sour grapes. It was the grandest year of my life. Of course, I had other great years with the Giants, too. In 1914—er, sorry. I've just told this story this way for so long, it is hard to change it now—I beat Babe Adams and the Pirates in a twenty-one inning game, three to one. Both of us went the entire distance that day, all twenty-one innings. And the following year, I pitched a no-hitter against Brooklyn and beat Nap Rucker, two to nothing."
"No wonder you remember your years with the Giants best," said Hootsey understandingly.
"Oh, no," said Rube. "But that's not the reason. The real reason is … Well, maybe it's because that was my first club. I don't know. Whatever the reason, though, it was wonderful to be a Giant back then.
"Take Mr. McGraw, for example. What a great man he was! The finest and grandest man I ever met! He loved his players and his players loved him. Of course, he wouldn't stand for any nonsense. You had to live up to the rules and regulations of the New York Giants, and when he laid down the law you'd better abide by it!
"I'll never forget one day we were playing Pittsburgh, and it was Red Murray's turn to bat, with the score tied in the ninth inning. There was a man on second with none out. Murray came over to McGraw—I was sitting next to McGraw on the bench—and he said, 'What do you want me to do, Mac?'
"'What do I want you to do?' McGraw said. 'What are you doing in theNational League? There's the winning run on second base and no one out.What would you do if you were the manager?'
"'I'd sacrifice the man to third,' Murray said.
"'Well,' McGraw said, 'that's exactly what I want you to do.'
"So Murray went up to the plate to bunt. After he got to the batter's box, though, he backed out and looked over at McGraw again.
"McGraw poked his elbow in my ribs. 'Look at that so-and-so,' he said. 'He told me what he should do, and I told him what he should do, and now he's undecided. I'll bet he forgot from the bench to the plate.'
"Now, in those days—and I guess it's the same now—when a man was up there to bunt, the pitcher would try to keep the ball high and tight. Well, it so happened that Red was a high-ball hitter. Howie Camnitz was pitching for Pittsburgh. He wound up and in came the ball, shoulder high. Murray took a terrific cut at it and the ball went over the left-field fence. It was a home run and the game was over.
"Back in the clubhouse, Murray was as happy as a lark. He was first into the showers, and out boomed his wonderful Irish tenor, singingMy Wild Irish Rose. When he came out of the shower, still singing, McGraw walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. All of us were watching out of the corner of our eyes, because we knew The Little Round Man—that's what we used to call McGraw—wouldn't let this one go by without sayingsomething.
"'Murray,' McGraw said. 'What did I tell you to do?'
"'You told me to bunt,' Murray said, not looking quite so happy anymore. 'But you know what happened, Mac. Camnitz put one right in my gut, so I cow-tailed it.'
"'Where did you say he put it?' asked McGraw.
"'Right in my gut,' Murray says again.
"'Well,' said McGraw, I'm fining you a hundred dollars, and you can try putting that right in your gut, too!' And off he went.
"Oh, God! I never laughed so much in my life! Murray never did live that down. Years later something would happen and we'd yell to Murray, 'Hey Red, is that right in your gut?'
"There were a lot of grand guys on that club: Christy Mathewson and Chief Meyers, Larry Doyle and Fred Snodgrass, Al Bridwell and Bugs Raymond. Bugs Raymond! Ah, yes! What a terrific spitball pitcher he was. Bugs drank a lot, you know, and sometimes it seemed like the more he drank the better he pitched. They used to say that he didn't spit on the ball: he blew his breath on it, and the ball would come up drunk.
"Actually, there was very little drinking in baseball in those days. It's a shame that drinking will become more and more commonplace in American sports with the passage of time. I have seen it, and it is sad. Myself, I've never smoked or took a drink in my life. I always said you can't burn the candle at both ends. You want to be a ballplayer, be a ballplayer. If you want to go out and carouse and chase around, do that. But you can't do them both at once.
"Of course," continued Rube Marquard's shadow, 'when we were on the road, we had a nightly eleven o'clock bed check. At eleven o'clock we all had to be in our rooms and the trainer would come around and check us off. We'd usually have a whole floor in a hotel and we'd be two to a room. I always roomed with Matty all the while I was on the Giants. What a grand guy he was! The door would be wide open at eleven o'clock and the trainer would come by with a board with all the names on it. He'd poke his head in: Mathewson, Marquard, check. And lock the door. Next room, check, lock the door.
"As far as I was concerned, I never drank a drop even when I was in show business. In 1912 I made a movie with Alice Joyce and Maurice Costello, and then I was in vaudeville for three years, Blossom Seeley and I. That's when she was my wife. It didn't work out, though. I asked her to quit the stage. I told her I could give her everything she wanted.
"'No,' she told me. 'Show business is show business.'
"'Well,' I said, 'baseball is mine.' So we parted."
"You mentioned that you were with the Giants for seven years, and then the Dodgers for five, did you not? How did it feel when you were traded from the Giants to the Dodgers?" asked Elephant.
"Well," said the shadow, "not too bad. See, I traded myself. I didn't seem to be able to get going in 1915 after I pitched that no-hitter early in April, and late in the season McGraw started riding me. That was a very bad year for the Giants, you know. We were favored to win the pennant, and instead we wound up last. So McGraw wasn't very happy. After I had taken about as much riding as I could stand, I asked him to trade me if he thought I was so bad.
"'Who would take you?' he said to me.
"'What do you mean?' I asked. 'I can still lick any club in the league.'And I could, too! Heck, I wasn't even twenty-six years old then.
"'Lick any club in the league?' scoffed McGraw. 'You couldn't lick a postage stamp!'
"'Give me a chance to trade myself, then,' I suggested. 'What would you sell me for?'
"'Seven thousand five hundred bills,' he answered.
"'Okay,' I said. 'Can I use your phone?'
"'Sure,' he said.
"We were both pretty mad at that point, so I got 'hold of the operator and asked her to get me Wilbert Robinson, manager of the Brooklyn club. You see, Robbie—that's what we called him—had been a coach with us for years before he became the Dodger manager in 1914. After a while, she got Robbie on the phone.
"'Hello?' he says.
"'How are you, Robbie?' I asked.
"Fine,' he said. 'Who is this?'
"Now, I had to handle this conversation very carefully. My whole world depended on it. 'How would you like to have a good left-handed pitcher?' I said in a jovial tone.
"I'd love it,' he said. 'Who is this? Who's the man? Who are you going to recommend?'
"I then dropped the clincher. 'I'm going to recommend myself,' I told him.
"'Who are you?' he repeated.
"'Rube Marquard,' I said, trying to sound impressive.
"'Oh,' Robbie said. 'What are you kidding around for, Rube? I have to go out on the field and I don't have time to fool around.'
"'No,' I told him, 'I'm serious! McGraw is right here and he says he'll sell me for seven thousand five hundred buckaroos! Do you want to talk to him?'
"'Of course I do,' Robbie said. And right then and there I was traded from the Giants to the Dodgers.
"And, of course, we—the Dodgers, that is—won the pennant the next year, and I had one of the best years I ever had. I think I had an earned run average of about one and a half in 1916. And then we won the pennant again in 1920. So everything worked out pretty well.
"One day when I was pitching for Brooklyn, I pitched the first game of a double-header against Boston and beat them, one to zip! I was in the clubhouse during the second game, taking off my uniform, when the clubhouse boy came in. 'Rube,' he said to me, 'there's an elderly gentleman outside who wants to see you. He says he's your father from Cleveland.
"'He is not my father,' I said. 'My father wouldn't go across the street to see me. But you go out and get his autograph book and bring it in, and I'll autograph it for him.'
"But instead of bringing in the book, he brought in my Dad. And we were both delighted to see one another.
"'Boy,' said my father to me, 'you sure are a hardhead. You know I didn't mean what I said ten years ago.'
"'What about you, Dad?' I said. 'You're as stubborn as I am. I thought you never wanted to see me again. I thought you meant it.'
"'Of course I didn't,' he said.
"After we talked a while, I said, 'Did you see the game today?'
"'Yes,' he said, 'I did.'
"'Where were you sitting?' I asked him.
"'Well, you know the man who wears that funny thing on his face?'
"'You mean the mask? The catcher?' I said.
"'I guess so,' my father said with a smile. 'Well, anyway, I was halfway between him and the number one—you know, where they run right after they hit the ball?'
"'You mean first base?' I asked.
"'I don't know,' he said. 'I don't know what they call it. I was sitting in the middle there.'
"'How many ball games have you seen since I became a ballplayer, Dad?' I wanted to know.
"'This is the first one,' he said.
"Well, he stayed in New York with me for a few weeks, and we had a great time. Finally, he had to go back to Cleveland. After he'd left, the newspapers heard about my Dad and they wanted to know his address back home. So I gave it to them, and doggone if they didn't send reporters and photographers to Cleveland to interview him.
"They took his picture and asked him a lot of questions. One of the things they asked him was whether he had ever played very much baseball himself.
"'Oh,' he told them, 'of course I did, when I was younger. I used to love to play baseball. I used to be a pitcher, just like my son Richard—I mean, like my son Rube.'
"'Are you proud of your son?' they asked him.
"'I certainly am,' Dad said. 'Why shouldn't I be? He's a great baseball player, isn't he?'"
The group of Ozites was silent for a few moments as the Forest Monster carried them along toward Yoraitia. The large pachyderm could feel a tear welling up in his left eye, and he brushed it away with his trunk.
The little party arrived in Yoraitia in a short time. When they got there, it looked like as happy a township as any other in the Marvelous Land of Oz.
"I knew there could not be any really serious drought in our fairyland," said Elephant happily. "After all, Oz is always pleasant and lovely. Lurliné's enchantment has always seen to that."
"I thought that Lurliné was only a character from an ancient legend,"scowled the Forest Monster. "In any event, I was not created by anyFairy enchantment. I know, for I was created by two prominent WickedWitches."
"And I was hatched out of an egg just like any other hoot-owl," replied Lisa. "But that doesn't prove anything. In any event, Glinda the Good said there was a drought happening here. But clearly she was mistaken. I don't think droughts are natural in any part of Oz, anyway."
"They aren't," agreed Ozma. "But Glinda would not have told me a lie.She must have believed there was one here."
"I think maybe she was right," said Tweaty. "Look here. I see that this tree was only watered recently. See? It looks like it has been leaning over since … well, since at least last Tuesday at around three o'clock. Before that, I fear it was left dry for several weeks."
"Tweaty's right," agreed Nibbles. "I can see it starting to straighten up even as I look at it!"
"Then how," began Elephant, "did it … Oh, I think I know."
"Of course!" added Lisa. "Glinda has already been here. She has already determined the source of the problem and fixed it!"
As she spoke, she noticed out of the corner of her left eye that another personage had joined the group.
"Glinda!" said Ozma, instantly recognizing the newcomer.
"Your Majesty," replied Glinda with a loving smile. "I see that you have come to see that the Yoraitians have been provided for. It was really very simple. You see, a tribe of giant polka-dot beavers had just claimed a territory a few miles up the river. It is natural for polka-dot beavers to build dams, and they had no awareness that theirs was blocking off the water supply of any inhabited towns. Once they found out, they were happy to remedy the situation. Now they are happily helping Yoraitia to better utilize its water supply. They are really very intelligent animals, and they have acknowledged you as their Queen, too."
"I am very pleased," said the youthful ruler.
"But that is not why we are here," put in Lisa quickly. "The Queen needs her Anmars. It is the only way that she can save the residents of the Lunechien Forest."
"The Lunechien Forest?" echoed the Good Witch. "Why, my goodness! What is wrong with the Lunechien Forest? The last I read of it in my Great Book of Records, it was a very happy land of elephants and unicorns and other carefree creatures."
"Indeed it was," said the Forest Monster gravely. "But I'm afraid its hardships are all my fault. In my thirst for power, I drained many of the small, unfortunate beasts of all their strengths and abilities. I have since seen the error of my ways, and I repent of my unOzlike actions. I had been so blinded by my resentment toward the Cowardly Lion that I was not even thinking about how much wickedness I was doing. The little Princess-Queen of Oz has forgiven me already. I am willing to do whatever I can to make restitution for my acts. I know that you are also a Queen and that you are one of Ozma's closest advisors. If you wish me banished from all Oz once you have restored all of my poor victims, I will accept the punishment without a murmur."
The shadow of Rube Marquard stood still and listened with a puzzled expression on his face.
Ozma looked at Glinda. "The Forest Monster really has repented," she said. "I saw the change with my own two eyes. He is willing to be restored to the size of a natural spider so that all the others can have what he took from them."
"Then it shall be done," agreed Glinda, handing Ozma the magical tool.
The Forest Monster carried the entire group—including Glinda—to the famous Ozian forest. Instantly, he and Ozma gathered up the comatose Lunechien animals and prepared to restore them to rights.
Glinda also lent a hand in the restoration process. It was not an easy task, but in only a little more than fourteen hours the lush Lunechien Forest was once again alive with the sounds of joyful birds and animals milling about among the trees and bushes.
At the end of it all, the Forest Monster was as small as a typical arachnid. Still, his tiny face was all smiles. Indeed, he was as happy as a lark that the poor animals he had wronged could be righted again. And, in fact, it has been recorded in Glinda's Great Book of Records that not a single animal was overlooked during the restoration process. All were brought back to their former care-free selves without exception. Well, maybe one exception. Somehow, in all of the hubbub, Tweaty was overlooked. He did not consider it politic to interrupt the proceedings. After all, his fellow beasts had had a far worse enchantment than he had. Of course it was uncomfortable to be a tiny orange elephant. But how much worse to be completely without oneself. He decided to wait until another time to ask to be restored. He felt that it would be too much of a selfish act to ask Ozma or Glinda to take time away from those who truly needed their help when he knew that he could stand to be a small orange elephant for a little while longer.
The reunion of the Lunechien friends and families was a cause for celebration throughout the Forest. A grand party was enjoyed by all, and even the Cowardly Lion made another trip away from home to pay his respects upon his fellow Foresters. The celebration went on 'til the wee hours of the morning, when Ozma and Glinda had to get back to their regular duties.
As for the residents of the Lunechien Forest, I am told that they are as happy today as ever they were.
The former Forest Monster, now content to stay small and keep a low profile, continues to this day to spin the most delicate and beautiful webs you can imagine. And, indeed, he did have one of his creations covered in gold, and gave it to Ozma as a sign of his submission to her rule. She keeps it hanging over her bed in such a way that it is the last thing she looks upon at night. The spider-creature has told me that it functions as a dreamcatcher, preventing any unhappy dreams from ever reaching her as she slumbers. The Sleep Fays, who once kept out these bad dreams, have voiced their gratitude to the former Forest Monster for this fine gift.
And now, it is time to say goodbye for a time to our happy friends in Oz. But do not fret. Queen Ozma is always sending us new messages from her glorious domain. I can assure you that it will not be so very long at all before we will all be getting together again over another Oz book. Until then, both of your grateful historians wish you as much happiness as is again known in the Lunechien Forest of Oz.
A hard copy of this book is available at: http://members.aol.com/LionCoward/home.html Also available is the sequel: "The Magic Topaz of Oz"