May 3rd. 1990

Baseball Commissioner, "Baby Doc" Edison, is working himself up into a lather again. Early morning phone calls, crap in the mail, stuff in my drop box at the Elk Store.

Here is the latest missive:

"Baby Doc proclaims: I will allow bunting this year in the Pepper Martin Softball Game. The reason is that Pepper, who played third base for the Saint Louis Cardinal's 'Gashouse Gang', hated players who tried to bunt on him. In picking up the bunt, instead of throwing to the first baseman, he would fire at the runner's head as he ran down the line. They rarely bunted again.

A special "head-hunters" award will be given this year to the Elk player who dents the most skulls in the Pepper Martin spirit of fair play.

As to the rumor that Pepper's 92 year old mother will come to our 'Field of Dreams': A limo has been hired just in case - and 92 Elk Mothers will be there to greet her. It's shaping up to be a great Pepper Martin - Mother's Day extravaganza, what with 'head hunting', Mrs. Martin, and a bar and barbecue. And to think,

ALL PROCEEDS GO TO THE ELK CHILL-DRUN'S SUMMER PROGRAM

. Starting time, 2:30 PM. Sunday May 13th.

Seems to me that Baby Doc; inviting 92 mothers to come see him encouraging their children to get their heads knocked off because of some dubious trophy...well, this I gotta see. Already I think I smell tar and feathers. Bill, you better keep your foot off the brake.

May 10th.

So, what is this? I'm sitting in the Roadhouse Cafe, trying to enjoy my breakfast when in storms "Baby Doc" Edison who thrusts a crumpled up piece of paper at me and places a brand new baseball hat on my head.

Bribery. Payola. A buy off, plain and simple. Right there in front of out of town tourists.

"Bill! Bill! Can't we do this sort of thing somewhere out in the woods?"

When I got home I adjusted the fit of my new hat and carefully unwadded the note which reeked of tobacco fumes. Two thirds of one side was covered with Bill's cheap black ball point scrawl, smeared in places with what tastes like jam and scotch. No one can read Bill's printing but I copied it down, letter for letter and leave it to you to decern some possible meaning. Here it is:

"Fiwal burps from Baby Doc XXXXX ow the Pepper Martsw Sofiball game. 'I have sewt his mothev round - trip plawe ticlcets from Tulsa, Oklahomnr to Elk, but her aithritw might prevewt her fron coming. Due to mass hystevia, gwadecl ? on by a rabble-rowsing press, the heacl huwter's awarcl will be cawcelled. Ed Bird will servc Margarilcs at the barcqwe (roast Baby Doe) altcr tlc game awd Ron Bloomquisl has oflercd to donatc 100 jugs ol Big Red foc thc childdrcn. Vorm Dwvall pormiscs to prcscnt the Pcppcr Mwtin,ccwards whew evry-owe is totally iwtoxic6tcd. Happy Mothcrs..."

Goodness. Did that say they are going to serve roast baby doe after the game? ROAST BABY DOE??

Bill! Bill!, this time you have gone too far. I personally think the town psychologist, Doctor Del Wilcox, and the Elk Ambulance, equipped with straight jacket and six strong volunteers, should be standing by for the start of the Annual Pepper Martin Softball Game, next Sunday, May 13th at 2:30, out behind the Elk Garage at what our poor lost soul calls his 'Field of Dreams'.

How could Mother's day have lowered itself to this?

May 17th.

The long awaited day. The day that Pepper Martin's Mother is supposed to arrive in our humble little town for the Great Pepper Martin Baseball Extravaganza.

"Baby Doc" Edison, Greenwood/Elk's Baseball Commissioner, tracks me down in Mendocino, where I am recovering from Lolli's huge birthday party. It's nine in the morning.

Ring. Ring.

Hello?

"Hey. Pepper Martin's Mother left Tulsa, Oklahoma at 4:30 this morning. She is flying to San Francisco. Cary Bisagna will escort her to Elk and she will arrive at the playing field at 3:30 PM."

Yeah. Right. I went back to bed.

At 2:30 PM, I arrive back in Elk at Bill's 'Field of Dreams' and take up my usual spot beside the remains of a fence. High thin clouds, weak filtered sun light, and strong Pacific wind is blowing in towards home plate. About twenty short outfielders are facing a gang of batters, hunkered down, out of the wind, behind the back stop. I move over behind a pregnant mother to cut the wind and enjoy some radiant body heat. This is going to be a long afternoon.

Pepper Martin's 92 year old Mother, coming to Elk. This I gotta see. If it weren't for that, I'd call it a day and go home.

The short people play on. I get up and go buy a beer.

Finally their game is over and the teenagers and adults start choosing up sides.

All of a sudden a horn starts honking out beyond left center field. A red Mercedes convertible drives onto the field. It arrives at the hollow we call a pitchers mound, while "Baby Doc" screams, "It's Pepper Martin's Mother! It's Pepper Martin's Mother!

Gob's of short people gather around, surrounded by the more skeptical adults, while a 'nurse' helps elderly 'Ms. Martin' out of the car and over to the special chair provided for the occasion.

Baby Doc keeps screaming, "It's Pepper Martin's Mother!"

Eventually, the adult version of the game wobbles back on track and the short people start thinning out from around 'Ms. Martin', and her 'attendant nurse'.

I saunter over to get the gist of what she is saying to the few remaining wide eyed kids...

"I hate the game. Pepe didn't leave me diddly squat!"

"Now mother", says the nurse, "be nice to the children."

I look at her closer and think to myself;

Mother, what big teeth you have.

Mother, what strong stubble you have on your chin.

Mother, what fat strong fingers you have.

Mother, what a flat hairy chest you have peeking out over that Cardinal nightshirt you're wearing.

Mother, what hairy legs you have under that ratty pantyhose.

But, Hey! I've never seen this 'mother' before. I don't know where Baby Doc dug this one up but, whatever, she is definitely the hit of the afternoon.

I wander off and hunker back down behind some mothers to ponder this turn of events. Finally my musings are interrupted when someone hollers, "It's over!".

I get back up and follow the crowd over to the waiting barbecue and margaritas.

Baby Doc announces the awards:

The Abalonies won the Greenwood/Elk.  6 - 2.

The golden spittoon went to Johnney Gallo, our first two time winner.

The Pepper Martin jock strap went to A. J Barrett, some hot shot out of Willits, for his outstanding flying leap into the weeds after a high right field hit.

Ms. Martin hoarsely announces, she wants to give Baby Doc an award and when 'she' has every ones attention 'she' promptly drops her skivvies and hands them over to Bill.

I have seen enough and go home.

Thank God. The Pepper Martin Baseball Extravaganza is over for another year.