Baseball on a Waxed Floor
A drizzling rain turned Seattle's Madison Street Park into a mud pit, forcing players to do more 'ground and lofty tumbling' than actual base running.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
It could hardly be called a ball game, yesterday's exhibition at Madison Street Park, but it counted as a victory for Portland in the percentages. In the first place, good playing was rendered impossible by the drizzle of rain that set in shortly after Umpire Knight put the players to work. There was not enough water to cause the play to stop, but it was sufficient to put a thin coating of sticky mud over the diamond and to make the grassy outfield harder to stand on than the waxed floor of the ballroom. The ball flew around at a lively rate and often at random, while the players at times did some splendid feats of ground and lofty tumbling in endeavoring to handle it. Portland won, 10 to 6, despite Seattle's late-game surge.
“The ball flew around at a lively rate and often at random, while the players at times did some splendid feats of ground and lofty tumbling in endeavoring to handle it.”
Early Seattle baseball culture was defined by the improvised nature of its facilities, like the long-gone Madison Street Park. Today's professional stadiums offer climate-controlled comforts, but the frustration of watching a team 'not in the mood' to win remains a familiar sentiment for local sports fans.
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