May 2, 1924

It was just me and Rachel today at Ebbets, thankfully. Her friend Margie had to work, and my head still hurt from listening to her all of yesterday. The weather was nice and this time we sat down past first base, which gave me a great view of Walter Holke and Jack Fournier as they played the bag. It's incredible to think that not too long ago fielders had to catch the ball with their bare hands. The huge gloves they use now are sure an improvement.

Burleigh Grimes pitched for the Robins, complete with his famous spitter. If the sun was just right I could see a bit of water gleaming off the ball as he threw it. The spray didn't seem to bug the Phillies, because they got their share of hits. The problem is they couldn't score anyone for seven innings. Bernie Neis tripled in the first Brooklyn run in the 3rd which got Rachel hooting and smacking my arm, and then Wheat and Brown got singles to make it 3-0.

Home Run Fournier did it again in the 6th, whacking Bill Hubbell's curve high and deep to right, where the ball almost hit a gull before it dropped over the fence. Rachel yelped with joy, grabbed the side of my face and landed a wet, sticky kiss on my right cheek. So she beat me to it, and made it easier for me to try a real one later.

Then the Phillies woke up. George Harper clubbed a homer to start the 8th, Holke singled, Wrightstone tripled over Brown's head in center, and Cy doubled him in to cut it to 4-3. Wilbert Robinson waddled out of the dugout and almost sent Grimes home but I guess Burleigh talked him out of it. He got the next two guys, hit Sand, then took care of the next four and that was that. The Phils have only beaten Brooklyn once so far, which might be their undoing if it keeps up.

Rachel tried to cheer me up afterwards by buying me a root beer float, and it worked pretty well. I found out she likes to write short stories and is thinking of trying a novel one day. She worked in the news room of the Brooklyn Eagle once delivering coffee to the writers, and said that inspired her. I promised I'd read something she wrote once, and she got us out of there quick as a flash and onto the first train to her parents' neighborhood.

The Stones lived on a nice shady street in Prospect Heights, in a row house kind of like the ones in Philadelphia except better kept. Her dad's name was Saul and her mom was Ruth, and I also met Rachel's younger sister and brother who were Sarah and Sammy. Anyway, the first thing her mother asked when we sat down in their living room was what my last name was. She made a funny face when I said Spanelli and Rachel said "He's Italian, not Jewish." Her mother shrugged and said, "Well, it's close enough." I think they were happy just to have Rachel bring a boy over who wasn't a troublemaker.

Mrs. Stone lit some candles and Mr. Stone said some things in Jewish language and then we ate a pretty good feast with this brown sliced meat and greasy flat potato things and something that was like saurkraut except that it wasn't. I also got a chance to drink wine for the first time, and had no idea it was so sweet. I started to feel kind of woogy after my second glass, which was when we went into their parlor room and listened to a play performed on their radio machine. I had a tough time hearing and following it, and because of the wine I mostly just stared at Rachel, who was right next to me on a little couch and smelling as good as the day before.

When her mother asked which hotel I was staying at Rachel butted in and said the Yorkshire, which I think she made up because she couldn't even tell them where it was. Then it was getting late. A friend of mine once told me if you want to get a girl you have to be extra nice to her parents, and boy, I was nice-ing the heck out of them all night and shook everyone's hand on the way out and said thank you maybe twenty times.

And I guess it worked, because the second we got back to Rachel's place she led me up on her roof, where she had two little chairs set up to watch the moon in. We could see its light on the river next to the Brooklyn Bridge from there, with Manhattan's big towers just behind it. Rachel moved her chair closer and put her hand on mine and we had a kiss that tasted like cinnamon and was probably only five seconds long but stayed in my head for the next five hours. We didn't know what to say to each other after except good night, and then it was back to the couch, but for the best sleep I'd ever had on one.

Two more Ebbets games left, reader-people. Right now I don't even care who wins.

Other National league games today:

GIANTS 7-13-0, at BRAVES 4-12-1
George Kelly is still not hitting for them, but the Giants finally beat the pesky Braves again behind McQuillan, and O'Connell gets a big triple.

at PIRATES 7-12-0, CARDINALS 5-14-1
Two homers from Earl Smith and two doubles from Cuyler give Meadows all he needs. Hornsby is suddenly in a strange slump going zero for his last nine at bats, most of them at important times.

REDS 3-11-0, at CUBS 1-3-1
Cincy is at it again, using two late singles and a Curt Walker 3-run smack to topple the punchless Cubbies, who can't do anything with Eppa Rixey this time.

NATIONAL LEAGUE through Friday, May 2
Pittsburgh Pirates116.647
Cincinnati Reds107.588 1
Brooklyn Robins107.5881
Boston Braves89.471 3
New York Giants89.4713
St. Louis Cardinals810.4443.5
Philadelphia Phillies710.412 4
Chicago Cubs612.3335.5

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