Goliath of the Beevile Bees used this bat in 3 seasons with the Beevilles Bees from 1906-1907.
Bruiser Bob Bobinski was a basher – tough as Texas clay,
He loved to crush that little ball – and all who came to play,
A game of base against him – and his club down Beeville way.
They called themselves the Bees, you see,
For the sting they brought – to bruising,
They were the killer kind, – in glee – no harbor there for losing,
They kept the mainsail tight and hard – til victory was cruising.
Bobinski had a facile mind – as slugging fiend and mentor,
To all the younger swarming Bees – he was their godly sender,
And obstacles were little more – than fire’s fast building tinder.
But then one day – from Goliad – a man came forth with offers,
A chance to swiftly fill or drain – their proudly building coffers,
A way to put to sleep – at last – those noisy neighbor scoffers.
Bruiser Bob just winked and glowed – he found it quite amusing
But Bruiser Bob did listen – to the story of this madman,
This smiling Jack from Goliad – was truly quite the sad man,
And now he offered lunacy – in ways that coaxed, “Eh Gad, Man!”
It seems that several weeks ago – old Jack had nursed a beanstalk,
That quickly climbed 2,ooo feet – as Goliad’s only street talk,
But growing as it did – one day – its future took a moonwalk,
And vanished all the way – up there – no need for false excusing.
Shortly after all seemed done,
Here came the absolute real fun,
A giant shinned his way to earth,
And boomed down hard his weighty girth.
And he “HO HO Hoed” his way from there,
To the ball field out – at the county fair.
At 20 feet tall – with a great big stick,
The giant joined the Goliad Hicks.
And quickly – fast launching – six balls – to swift flight,
He pummeled the far off Gulf – and long into the night,
As it took just that long – for those he hit out of sight,
To make full descents from their stratospheric height.
And now Jack just wanted – the wings of the Bees,
He smiled in obsequy – as if he could please,
The people of Beeville – and Goliad too,
The young Bees in earshot – suspected the screw.
But Bobinski signed up – to take the game deal,
And now it all rode – on the game outcome wheel,
With one big exception – to the Smiling Jack schpiel:
The giant could choose – his team of appeal.
Now Jack was so sure – of the giant’s allure,
That he signed on the line – to that team choice clause – for sure,
Bob winked as he signed – like he’d just found the cure,
For every addiction – but gambling – so pure.
The younger Bees all worried – how the giant might decide,
They held the fear that a Hick choice – would their money soon divide,
But Bob quickly calmed them down – “I’ve something to confide:
This isn’t so bad – that I’d really risk – our woeful hide – or even our baleful pride.”
“Six weeks back – I wrote to my brother – Goliath is his name,
I asked him to come here fast – over slow – but get here all the same.
He said that he would be here – get here just as soon as he could,
But he had to first find a farmer – and fool him – really good.”
“The rest of this big story – you mostly all know well,
Goliath found old Smiling Jack – and sized him up real clear,
Jack didn’t know beans about farming beans,
Or ‘Jack’ on catalytic growth – from our sweet-shine homemade beer.”
“Don’t worry about the little things – Goliath’s now here with us,
And once we dust off Goliad – and leave old Jack to cuss,
We’ll rumble round this state real hard – and really have some fun,
‘Cause when it comes to wins and dough – we’ve only just begun.”
Houston, Baseball, & Other Musings.
The Pecan Park Eagle 