Upnorth baseball fans know all about replacements

Upnorth, Wis. Mattress Mike was behind the bar when I entered Jackpine Joe's saloon and sports emporium here the other day.

"Where's the Big Guy?" I asked innocently. "Fleeing a jealous husband, or what?"

"Well, hello scribbler," Mattress said. "You are just in time to cover the biggest story of the year."

"Being in the right place at the right time is half the battle," I said. "Tell me more."

Mattress put a beer in front of each of us and lighted up before speaking.

"What's happening here is that Jackpine is protesting the baseball strike by hiring a replacement bartender."

"You are the replacement?"

"No," he said. "Jackpine hired a young fella from the sticks who wanted to try the big time. Just lasted a couple of days, though. So now I'm a replacement for the replacement."

"What was the problem or problems?"

"They were as many as the hairs on an outfielder's arm," Mattress replied. "In the first place, he was a terrible bartender. He couldn't draw a good beer if you gave him a pencil. Had his name written on his shirt cuff. Couldn't make change. He thought dimes was a slang term for women. He thought a martini was an Italian singer."

"That bad, huh?" I said.

"No," Mattress said. "That was the good part. As you know, this is a sports emporium and the kid knew diddly about sports, especially baseball.

"He thought fungo bats lived in caves and hung from the ceiling. He thought the infield fly rule had something to do with measuring insects. He thought Joe DiMaggio was in the coffee business. He thought the Kentucky Derby was a hat.

"We asked the kid if he knew anything about Carl Hubbell, and he said he wasn't into telescopes. Same thing with Babe Ruth. Said he didn't eat candy bars. He thought Bart Starr was part of the Big Dipper. He knew nothing of hockey. Heck, he would have tried to cash a body check."

After pondering all of that, I ordered another round.

"Well, how does Jackpine figure this will do anything about the baseball strike? Whose side is he on, players or owners?"

"He is in the worst possible position," Mattress said. "He is against both sides. He thinks his protest is like pitching high and tight. He said they'll be calling him `The Barber' after this is over."

"Maybe so," I replied. "Wasn't it Jackpine who first suggested that the local pitcher stick one in the batter's ear?"

"I don't know about that," Mattress said. "But I do know Jackpine is thinking along the lines that if baseball starts the season with replacement players, maybe the rest of us should consider using replacement fans.

"He's testing his theory right now by sending Chilblain Charley down to Chandler, Ariz., to view spring training as a replacement customer."

"You mean Chilblain is soaking up sun down in Arizona right now as a replacement fan?" I asked. "How is it working?"

"Well, it's sort of a mixed bag. As you know, Chilblain's skill level when it comes to athletics is weaker than Sterling Sharpe's neck. He knows as much about being a fan as some of the replacement players know about baseball. He ain't exactly the franchise.

"He thinks a rotator cuff is part of a shirt. Somebody told him to sit in the bleachers, so he went down to the laundry. On the other hand, or shoulder as the case may be, he established what is believed to be a new record for eating hot dogs at a spring training game. Like the players, he loves the sun and the pool at the motel. He regards it as a dream come true, a shot at the big time."

"I can't believe this," I said. "Jackpine is up here suffering in the cold while his replacement is living the good life down South. Like the strike itself, it makes no sense."

Having a big job in Ashland and the need to regain some sanity after this adventure into baseball's dark side, I took my leave.

"Watch your backside," Mattress said as I reached the door. "Jackpine has this idea that replacement baseball also calls for replacement scribblers. It could catch on."

Copyright 1995
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