OCR Text |
Show DONT SHOOT FIRST BASEMAN UNLESS . . . I Childhood Memories Drive Batter Berserk . . . YOU WISH TO BE SWITCHED TO THE MINORS By H. I. PHILLIPS A PSYCHIATRIC EXAM (Wherein Elmer TwitchelL having hav-ing shot a first baseman, is questioned ques-tioned for reasons.) . Doctor. Now, then, I want you to relax and let your thoughts run freely. Elmer. Are you a good psychiatrist? psychi-atrist? Doctor. Yes, I never played first base In my life. Elmer. What position did you play? Doctor. I was a southpaw pitcher pitch-er in my college days. Elmer. That does it! I must have my gun back . , . Please, my gun! ... It rests my nerves so! Doctor. Quietl I'm trying to help you out of a very serious jam. You shot a ballplayer and can go to prison. Elmer. Do they put people in prison for shooting ballplayers? Doctor. If they didn't some clubs would be bumped oft in a single afternoon. Now, listen, there must be a psychopathic reason for what you did. As a child how was your home life, and you'd better make it bad. Was there, for instance ever a Christmas when your folks spent $5 on your brother for a first baseman's mitt and only $2 on you for a book? Elmer. That could have done it. Doctor. Did your father ever read the baseball summaries aloud? Did you ever live in Brooklyn back in the days of those eccentric Infields? Was anybody in your family a baseball base-ball fanatic? Elmer. I had an uncle who used to recite that Costello thing entitled en-titled "Who's on First?" Doctor. Good. I'll make a note of that. In your infancy were you ever chased with a ball bat for not doing your homework? Elmer. I seem to remember something like that. And I recall that as a little child I was taught to walk too early. I developed an aversion to walks. Doctor. That would explain it if you shot a pitcher. In school did you ever have a teacher who wore a mask and chest protector? ' Elmer. No, but I had a kindergarten kinder-garten principal who carried a sawed-off bat and insisted he had been ordered to bunt. Doctor. In your immature years did you ever play Softball? Elmer. Yes. I was such a poor hitter I never got to first except when hit by the pitcher. And I never got to second because there wasn't a .300 hitter on the team. Doctor. Now it's all clear. If you ever were to get to second base you knew you would, have to shoot the first baseman . . . The idea took possession pos-session of you! ... It became an urge! ... You couldn't resist re-sist it! . . . We can explain everything to the court. You are as good as free. Elmer. Goody! Goody! Can I have my gun back? Doctor. Probably, but we may have to switch you to some other leaguel President Truman says there is no depression. If you are out of work it is all a red herring. Milton Berle and his former wife, Joyce Matthews, separated in 1947, were remarried the other day . . . The ceremony was disappointing to us as no Texaco quartette showed up to sing the wedding march . . . It was one time on a Berle program pro-gram where the other performer got equal billing . . . Everything went off smoothly, Surrogate Bill Collins, who presided, refraining from opening the ritual with "Tell ya what I'm gonna do." VANISHING AMERICANISMS: "All I need is steady work to have a good bank account." "We'll give you one month free rent during alterations." "Boys' Suits! Nothing over $12." "Let's live within our income." "I've got 60 dollars,; let's go to a nightclub." When that new Sherwood-Berlin musical opens in New York the cry of the seat seekers may be "Give me Liberty or give me Kiss Me Kate." Baccalaureate Gentlemen of the classes of 1949: I am going to scrap the platitudes, plati-tudes, ignore the old rhetorical patterns pat-terns and skip anything resembling baloney balonus. It will be a novelty, I am sure, to hear a baccalaureate a little different dif-ferent from the one delivered last year. I give you these three all-important all-important words of three and four letters which rate paramount importance im-portance in the struggle ahead: "Use your head!" |