Questions
1. What details in the story about Honus Wagner traveling back in time
Honus & Me, Chapter 7; Literary Text
I was dying to tell mom about the card, but wasn't sure how to handle it. Mom's a bit of a goody-two-shoes about doing the right thing all the time. She might do something crazy like force me to give the card back to Miss Young. I almost busted a gut trying to hold back the news during dinner. "Is something bother you, Joe?" Mom asked as we scraped our plates off into the garbage.
"I'm just excited about my ballgame tomorrow, Mom," I lied.
"Who are you playing?"
"The Galante Giants."
"Those lunatics?"
"Yeah."
I did my homework and watched some TV after dinner before crawling into bed. Just before clicking off the light, I opened my backpack and took out the Wagner card. I wanted to look at ti once more time before I went to sleep. The tingling sensation started as I held the card in my hand. it was a pleasant, buzzy feeling, like a cat purring in my ear. My eyes felt droopy. I was thinking about Honus Wagner and what a great player he was. I was wondering if he was that good when he was a kid, and if the other kids made fun of him because he looked funny. I wished I could meet him. That was the last thing I remembered before dropping off to sleep.
Sometime during the night there was a stirring in my room. I thought for a moment it was the house creaking, but the sound was loud enough to make me sit up in bed out of a deep sleep. I jumped. Air escaped from my mouth in a startled gasp. I brought my hand to my mouth to cover it. My eyes were wide and they strained to adjust to the light from my night table. There was a man in my room. He was sitting in the chair at my desk, calmly watching me. He didn't look like he was a thief robbing the house. He was wearing a baseball uniform. "Who are you?" I asked dumfounded.
"Who are you?" He replied softly.
"Joe. Joe Stoshack. My friends call me Stosh."
"Then that's what I'll call you. Pleased to meet you, Stosh." He stood up and stuck out his right hand to shake. The hand was enormous, about the size of a canned ham. It enveloped mine completely, but gently. I looked the guy over. He was a big man. Not tall, but solid. About 200 pounds. He must have been in his mid-thirties, sort of weird looking, with big ears and a big nose. There were bags under his brown eyes, and a tinge of sadness in his face. He somehow reminded me of Abraham Lincoln. As he sat back down in the chair, I could see his legs were bowed like mine, but even worse. His chest seemed to be as big as a barrel. There was plenty of room on it for the letters Pittsburg. There was no H at the end.
"Honus...Wagner?" I whispered, rhyming Honus with bonus.
"Honus," he said, rhyming it with 'honest'. "My friends call me Hans. It's from the German name Johannes."
"Am I dreaming?" I asked.
"I don't know," he said. "Maybe I am. Sure doesn't' feel like a dream though, does it?"
"No. I just went to sleep, and when I woke up you were sitting here in my room."
"And I was at the ballpark shagging flies, and the next thing I knew I was here." Wait a minute! Shaking the sleep from my eyes, it occurred to me that his had to be some kind of trick. I'mno fool, and I know not to talk to strangers. I glanced around the room trying to locate my baseball bat. maybe I could defend myself with it if I had to.
"Who are you , anyway?" I demanded
" I already told you, Stosh," he replied gently. "Hans Wagner."
"If you're really Wagner, let's see you prove it," I said. "Show me some identification."
"Stosh, I don't carry my wallet in my uniform," guy said calmly. "I have no way to prove to you who I am."
"Well, I do." I pulled my copy of The Baseball Encyclopedia out of the bookshelf and furiously flipped the pages until I reached the entry for Hones Wagner. "Okay Honus, or whatever your name is. what was your batting average in 1900?"
"That was my best year, " he answered proudly. "I hit .381." He was right.
"Yeah, well what's your birthday?" I asked.
"February 24th," he replied. "1874."
Anybody posing as Wagner would know that. I looked down the column for a more obscure statistic. "How many errors did you make in 1909?"
"That's easy," he said. "Forth-nine. but at least ten of 'em should've been score as hits, if you ask me. I couldn't have reached 'em with a butterfly net."
I still wasn't convinced the guy was Honus Wagner. "How many home runs did you hit in your career?"I asked.
He thougth abtou that for a moment. "I cant' answer that one, Stosh."
"If you're really Honus Wagner, why don't you know how many home runs you hit?"
"Well," he said,, shaking his head. "I haven't hit 'em all yet. I hope I haven't anyway. I was countin' on playin' for a few more seasons before this old body is too beat up to hit homers."
"What year do you think this is>" I asked him.
"Why, it's 1909, of course," he responded. "What year do you think it is?"
I went over to my desk, picked up my calendar, and handed it to him. "Jumpin Jehoshaphat!" He was genuinely shocked.
"Are you saying you traveled through time from 1909 to now?"
"I didn't say nothing, Stosh. But it sure looks like it."
" I thought time travel was just something on TV."
"TV?" he said puzzled. "What's TV?"
"Never mind. Why are you here?" I asked.
"I don't' know, Stosh. All I know is , something very powerful brought me to you. You and me gotta figure it out by tomorrow cause I got a big game on Saturday and I don't want to miss it. I gotta get back to 1909."
This guy put on a good act, but I still wan't entirely convinced it was Honus Wagner. It was just weird to think that he traveled through time and landed in my bedroom. Suddenly, I remembered the card. Where was it? Frantically, I pulled the blankets off my bed. It wasn't there.
"Where is it?" I almost yelled at him.
"Where is what?" he replied gently.
I turned around and threw my pillow aside. The card was right there, still in its plastic case. Honus looked at the car, shook his head, and chuckled as he watched me. "You okay, Stosh?"
"i know." I turned to him slowly and pointed my finger at him. " You were trying to steal my card! That's what happened. You dressed up as Honus Wagner, snuck into my house, and tried to trick me into thinking I was having a dream! Who hired you, Birdie Farrell?"
"Hired me? Stosh, why would anybody steal a baseball card?"
The way he said that, it was obvious he honestly didn't know the answer.
" This baseball card could solve a lot of my problems," I told him.
"Son, no piece of cardboard is gonna solve a man's problems, unless it's to keep a draft out of his windows."
"What if I told you this card was worth a half a million dollars?"
"I'd say you're loony," Honus said. "They give those things away for free."
"Maybe in 1909 they did," I explained. "Today they're worth a fortune." He laughed again, like I was putting him on.
" Do you have any idea how much they pay baseball players today?" I asked him.
"Oh, I don't know Stosh. The cost of everything is always going up. $20,000? $30,000 maybe?"
" The average major league salary is a million dollars a year. If you were playing today, you'd get six million. Maybe more."
"Now I'm sure you're loony. SOn, when I broke into the majors, I was paid two hundred fifty dollars a month. And that was good money! Heck, a mug o' rootbeer only cost a few pennies. Last season I held out until old man Dreyfuss coughed 70 up $10,000. With that, I'm satisfied. Ten grand is as much money as any man should be paid to throw and hit a ball."
.""You play ball, Stosh?"
"Yeah, but i'm no good,"
"They used to give it to me bad," Honus said.
"Kids used to say that i was the only person in the world who could tie his shoelaces without bending down. They used to say that if i ever straightened my legs out, i'd be seven feet tall. That sort of thing. One guy said you could roll a barrel through my legs. But let me tell you something" He leaned closer to me. " They could never roll a baseball through my legs."
"What did you do when kids said that kind of stuff?"
"Simple. I'd hit a single. Then I'd steal second. Then i'd steal third. Then i'd steal home. Then they'd shut up."
"That's easy for you,"
"You're Honus Wagner."
"Y'know, Stosh, you remind me a little of me as a a boy. You even look like me. You've got the tools to be a good player. You just have to convince yourself."
"Sure..."
" Stosh, do you want to know the one secret to bein' a great ballplayer?"
"Don't tell me, let me guess," I said "Keep your eye on the ball?"
" Nah, any monkey can do that," Honus said "The secret to bein' a great barber is to trick yourself into thinkin' you already are one." "Huh?" "It's the same with anything, Stosh. The secret to bein' a great barber is to trick yourself into thinkin' you already are one. The secret to bein' a great salesman is to trick yourself into thinkin' you already are one. And once you think yoiu are one, you become one. see what I mean?"
"I'm just excited about my ballgame tomorrow, Mom," I lied.
"Who are you playing?"
"The Galante Giants."
"Those lunatics?"
"Yeah."
I did my homework and watched some TV after dinner before crawling into bed. Just before clicking off the light, I opened my backpack and took out the Wagner card. I wanted to look at ti once more time before I went to sleep. The tingling sensation started as I held the card in my hand. it was a pleasant, buzzy feeling, like a cat purring in my ear. My eyes felt droopy. I was thinking about Honus Wagner and what a great player he was. I was wondering if he was that good when he was a kid, and if the other kids made fun of him because he looked funny. I wished I could meet him. That was the last thing I remembered before dropping off to sleep.
Sometime during the night there was a stirring in my room. I thought for a moment it was the house creaking, but the sound was loud enough to make me sit up in bed out of a deep sleep. I jumped. Air escaped from my mouth in a startled gasp. I brought my hand to my mouth to cover it. My eyes were wide and they strained to adjust to the light from my night table. There was a man in my room. He was sitting in the chair at my desk, calmly watching me. He didn't look like he was a thief robbing the house. He was wearing a baseball uniform. "Who are you?" I asked dumfounded.
"Who are you?" He replied softly.
"Joe. Joe Stoshack. My friends call me Stosh."
"Then that's what I'll call you. Pleased to meet you, Stosh." He stood up and stuck out his right hand to shake. The hand was enormous, about the size of a canned ham. It enveloped mine completely, but gently. I looked the guy over. He was a big man. Not tall, but solid. About 200 pounds. He must have been in his mid-thirties, sort of weird looking, with big ears and a big nose. There were bags under his brown eyes, and a tinge of sadness in his face. He somehow reminded me of Abraham Lincoln. As he sat back down in the chair, I could see his legs were bowed like mine, but even worse. His chest seemed to be as big as a barrel. There was plenty of room on it for the letters Pittsburg. There was no H at the end.
"Honus...Wagner?" I whispered, rhyming Honus with bonus.
"Honus," he said, rhyming it with 'honest'. "My friends call me Hans. It's from the German name Johannes."
"Am I dreaming?" I asked.
"I don't know," he said. "Maybe I am. Sure doesn't' feel like a dream though, does it?"
"No. I just went to sleep, and when I woke up you were sitting here in my room."
"And I was at the ballpark shagging flies, and the next thing I knew I was here." Wait a minute! Shaking the sleep from my eyes, it occurred to me that his had to be some kind of trick. I'mno fool, and I know not to talk to strangers. I glanced around the room trying to locate my baseball bat. maybe I could defend myself with it if I had to.
"Who are you , anyway?" I demanded
" I already told you, Stosh," he replied gently. "Hans Wagner."
"If you're really Wagner, let's see you prove it," I said. "Show me some identification."
"Stosh, I don't carry my wallet in my uniform," guy said calmly. "I have no way to prove to you who I am."
"Well, I do." I pulled my copy of The Baseball Encyclopedia out of the bookshelf and furiously flipped the pages until I reached the entry for Hones Wagner. "Okay Honus, or whatever your name is. what was your batting average in 1900?"
"That was my best year, " he answered proudly. "I hit .381." He was right.
"Yeah, well what's your birthday?" I asked.
"February 24th," he replied. "1874."
Anybody posing as Wagner would know that. I looked down the column for a more obscure statistic. "How many errors did you make in 1909?"
"That's easy," he said. "Forth-nine. but at least ten of 'em should've been score as hits, if you ask me. I couldn't have reached 'em with a butterfly net."
I still wasn't convinced the guy was Honus Wagner. "How many home runs did you hit in your career?"I asked.
He thougth abtou that for a moment. "I cant' answer that one, Stosh."
"If you're really Honus Wagner, why don't you know how many home runs you hit?"
"Well," he said,, shaking his head. "I haven't hit 'em all yet. I hope I haven't anyway. I was countin' on playin' for a few more seasons before this old body is too beat up to hit homers."
"What year do you think this is>" I asked him.
"Why, it's 1909, of course," he responded. "What year do you think it is?"
I went over to my desk, picked up my calendar, and handed it to him. "Jumpin Jehoshaphat!" He was genuinely shocked.
"Are you saying you traveled through time from 1909 to now?"
"I didn't say nothing, Stosh. But it sure looks like it."
" I thought time travel was just something on TV."
"TV?" he said puzzled. "What's TV?"
"Never mind. Why are you here?" I asked.
"I don't' know, Stosh. All I know is , something very powerful brought me to you. You and me gotta figure it out by tomorrow cause I got a big game on Saturday and I don't want to miss it. I gotta get back to 1909."
This guy put on a good act, but I still wan't entirely convinced it was Honus Wagner. It was just weird to think that he traveled through time and landed in my bedroom. Suddenly, I remembered the card. Where was it? Frantically, I pulled the blankets off my bed. It wasn't there.
"Where is it?" I almost yelled at him.
"Where is what?" he replied gently.
I turned around and threw my pillow aside. The card was right there, still in its plastic case. Honus looked at the car, shook his head, and chuckled as he watched me. "You okay, Stosh?"
"i know." I turned to him slowly and pointed my finger at him. " You were trying to steal my card! That's what happened. You dressed up as Honus Wagner, snuck into my house, and tried to trick me into thinking I was having a dream! Who hired you, Birdie Farrell?"
"Hired me? Stosh, why would anybody steal a baseball card?"
The way he said that, it was obvious he honestly didn't know the answer.
" This baseball card could solve a lot of my problems," I told him.
"Son, no piece of cardboard is gonna solve a man's problems, unless it's to keep a draft out of his windows."
"What if I told you this card was worth a half a million dollars?"
"I'd say you're loony," Honus said. "They give those things away for free."
"Maybe in 1909 they did," I explained. "Today they're worth a fortune." He laughed again, like I was putting him on.
" Do you have any idea how much they pay baseball players today?" I asked him.
"Oh, I don't know Stosh. The cost of everything is always going up. $20,000? $30,000 maybe?"
" The average major league salary is a million dollars a year. If you were playing today, you'd get six million. Maybe more."
"Now I'm sure you're loony. SOn, when I broke into the majors, I was paid two hundred fifty dollars a month. And that was good money! Heck, a mug o' rootbeer only cost a few pennies. Last season I held out until old man Dreyfuss coughed 70 up $10,000. With that, I'm satisfied. Ten grand is as much money as any man should be paid to throw and hit a ball."
.""You play ball, Stosh?"
"Yeah, but i'm no good,"
"They used to give it to me bad," Honus said.
"Kids used to say that i was the only person in the world who could tie his shoelaces without bending down. They used to say that if i ever straightened my legs out, i'd be seven feet tall. That sort of thing. One guy said you could roll a barrel through my legs. But let me tell you something" He leaned closer to me. " They could never roll a baseball through my legs."
"What did you do when kids said that kind of stuff?"
"Simple. I'd hit a single. Then I'd steal second. Then i'd steal third. Then i'd steal home. Then they'd shut up."
"That's easy for you,"
"You're Honus Wagner."
"Y'know, Stosh, you remind me a little of me as a a boy. You even look like me. You've got the tools to be a good player. You just have to convince yourself."
"Sure..."
" Stosh, do you want to know the one secret to bein' a great ballplayer?"
"Don't tell me, let me guess," I said "Keep your eye on the ball?"
" Nah, any monkey can do that," Honus said "The secret to bein' a great barber is to trick yourself into thinkin' you already are one." "Huh?" "It's the same with anything, Stosh. The secret to bein' a great barber is to trick yourself into thinkin' you already are one. The secret to bein' a great salesman is to trick yourself into thinkin' you already are one. And once you think yoiu are one, you become one. see what I mean?"
Baseball Best 1,000; Informational Text
#3 Johannes Peter "Honus" Wagner
SS-OF-1B-3B, Louisville, Pirates, 1897-1917. Hall of Fame, 1936.
The story goes that one day in PIttsburgh, Wagner was manning his shortstop position when he reached around with his glove hand to pull out a chaw of tobacco from his back pocket. (In the early days of baseball, players wore gloves that more closely resembled golf gloves). The batter hit a sharp grounder his way. Wagner calmly barehanded the ball and gunned it over to first, thus throwing out a man with one hand behind his back.
Wagner was stocky, barrel-chested and had shovels for hands. Legend has it that when he dug balls out of the infield dirt and zipped them over to first base, a small load of stones and irt would travel with the ball.
He played virtually every position except catcher. He was tremendous hitter, winning eight batting titles and six slugging average titles. He hit over .300 16 times, led the league in doubles seven times and triples three times. He stole 722 bases, and led the league in that category five times.
In 1902, Wagner played 61 games in the outfield, 44 at shortstop, 32 games at first base, one at second base and pitched once. He didn't make an error at any of those positions. From 1913 to 1916, he led the league's short-stops in fielding position.
Wagner was a terriic athlete: He may well have been the first baseball player to lift weights, and he was a fanatic about a new game that had recently been invented in Springfield called basketball. He played baseball until he was 43 and was perhaps the best 40-year-old player in baseball history.
Lifetime stats: BA: .327, HR: 101, RBI: 1,732, H: 3,415, SB:722
SS-OF-1B-3B, Louisville, Pirates, 1897-1917. Hall of Fame, 1936.
The story goes that one day in PIttsburgh, Wagner was manning his shortstop position when he reached around with his glove hand to pull out a chaw of tobacco from his back pocket. (In the early days of baseball, players wore gloves that more closely resembled golf gloves). The batter hit a sharp grounder his way. Wagner calmly barehanded the ball and gunned it over to first, thus throwing out a man with one hand behind his back.
Wagner was stocky, barrel-chested and had shovels for hands. Legend has it that when he dug balls out of the infield dirt and zipped them over to first base, a small load of stones and irt would travel with the ball.
He played virtually every position except catcher. He was tremendous hitter, winning eight batting titles and six slugging average titles. He hit over .300 16 times, led the league in doubles seven times and triples three times. He stole 722 bases, and led the league in that category five times.
In 1902, Wagner played 61 games in the outfield, 44 at shortstop, 32 games at first base, one at second base and pitched once. He didn't make an error at any of those positions. From 1913 to 1916, he led the league's short-stops in fielding position.
Wagner was a terriic athlete: He may well have been the first baseball player to lift weights, and he was a fanatic about a new game that had recently been invented in Springfield called basketball. He played baseball until he was 43 and was perhaps the best 40-year-old player in baseball history.
Lifetime stats: BA: .327, HR: 101, RBI: 1,732, H: 3,415, SB:722