"Oh, yeah," said Tweaty. "So you mean you brought your Dad around?"
"Well," the shadow said slowly. "The thing is, I was always very tall for my age. I had three brothers and a sister, and my sister was the shortest of the five of us. She grew to be six feet two. So you see, I was constantly hanging around the older kids and playing ball with them instead of hanging with kids my own age. When I was about thirteen or so, I used to carry bats for some of the Cleveland Indians, such as Elmer Flick, Napoleon Lajoie and Terry Turner. Of course, they were not called the Cleveland Indians then. They were called the Cleveland Bronchos in those days. Then the Cleveland Naps—after Napoleon Lajoie. Anyway, after the regular season was over, a lot of them would barnstorm around the Cleveland area, and sometimes I'd be their bat boy.
"Later on, I even pitched a few games for Bill Bradley's Boo Gang," the shadow added proudly.
"Boo Gang?" said Lisa with a little shudder.
"Boo like a Ghost?" added Hootsey.
"No, no," laughed Rube's image. "Bill Bradley was the third baseman for the Cleveland Indians—and one of the greatest who ever lived—and he also barnstormed with his 'Boo Gang' after the season was over. So by the time I was fifteen or so, I knew a lot of ballplayers. And I had my heart set on being a Big Leaguer myself.
"Well, one of my best friends was a catcher named Howard Wakefield. He was about five years older than I was. In 1906 he was playing for the Waterloo Club in the Iowa State League, and …"
"1906?" echoed Lisa. "But … But …"
"What's wrong?" asked the ballplayer's shadow.
"You have to be mistaken," said Elephant, recognizing the reason for his friend's perplexity. "It isn't 1906 yet. It's only 1902!"