“I see,” said the Professor, “very good, indeed, we will continue. Jones the first shaver (he must have been a Barber man) swung the sign (the sign?).”
“Yes, the sign—the barber pole—the stick—the bat.”
“Ah, yes, very good; swung the sign on a drop (drop ball) and raised it over Arthur’s study box (study box—do you mean—of course, you mean, he raised it over Delvin’s head) for a single. The fellow with the after 6 P. M. name (let me think. Guess you’ll have to help me again, Tim).”
“Read a little farther,” said Tim.
“The fellow with the after 6 P. M. name waited patiently, and as the Babe couldn’t see the plate because Knight was near (oh, yes! I see his name was Knight, very good, indeed, Babe couldn’t see the plate, ha! ha!) he walked. Wilson hit a slow one to Johnny which he came in on and rolled around the sod (Everson must have fumbled), while Jones, Knight and Wilson perched on the salt bags (very ordinary that last), Hughie wigwagged (signaled) the infield to come close so they could hear the song of the Whirling Sphere and join in the chorus.
“Amberg binged (must mean hit) one which knocked the wind out of Honus’ organ (the ball hit Hagner in the stomach, I should say, from reading that), Johnny picked up the sphere (ball) and heaved it at the Barber band sitting back of Gibbie, behind the screen, to make them join the music (he threw wild and high past Gibbie), and Jonesy and the Utter Darkness (Utter Darkness? Oh, yes! Knight again) beat a fast tattoo on the base line and disappeared over the horizon to the visitors’ bench after their final journey toward the West. (Now, if I understand that, it means Jones and Knight both scored and went and sat down on the bench with their fellow players. Is that the idea?)”
“It is,” said Tim.
“Well, we’d better finish this inning, anyhow. Babe got himself in tune by this time (you mean he got in harmony with the requirements of his job, I suppose) and whanged out three high, but perfect notes (he sent up three good balls), which Wheeler tried to reach in unison with him (Wheeler tried to hit each of them) but couldn’t (in other words, Wheeler struck out); Wilson, who had reached third while the loud pedal was open (let’s see, Wilson had got to first on Johnny’s error. Then this must mean he got around to third when Johnny made the wild throw past Gibbie), was lulled to sleep by the sweet strains (was so delighted that he got careless) and was caught napping by Gibbie (Gibbie caught him off third base), Dorner sent a whistler (a fast one) out to Talkington who muffled it (do you mean muffed? Oh, no, I see! he caught it and that muffled its whistle), and the singing practice was over. Score, 7-2.
“I think that is about all I can hope to learn in this first lesson in your new language, Murnin,” said Professor Bennett, resuming some of the dignity which he had dropped when he had become interested. “When I first saw this I thought it wouldn’t do at all, but there seems to be something about this new language of yours which makes the report of a ball game quite interesting, and, I shall, therefore, let the story go in the Reporter. I wish, however, that you would write out a class-room copy of the report in plain English so that I can have a defense handy in case any one asks questions of me.”