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A Pride-Building Baseball Game

Editor’s note: When Elaine Johnson “pitched” a story about a historic softball game in Sister Bay featuring a cast of well-known local characters, I said, “Yes, please!” Unfortunately, there seems to be no photographic evidence of this epic game. However, we did find a photo in our archives of Al Johnson pushing his friend Winky Larson in a wheelbarrow, all of which will make more sense after you read Elaine’s entertaining account of this softball battle between the sexes.

“Swede and I were having a cup of coffee and I said, ‘You know, Swede, our girls’ softball team is pretty darn good. I’ll bet we could beat the business people if you had guts enough to play.’

“‘You must be out of your Norwegian mind or you’ve gone nuts,’ Swede replied.”

The baseball season is here and going full steam. It’s hard to have a conversation without having a difference of opinion about who’s got the best team. All this baseball talk took me back to a very special softball game.

By the way, the fellow I call Swede is Al Johnson, just in case you didn’t realize that. Most of the merchants from the game are gone, but I’ll bet Swede is up there waiting for a rematch!

The merchants would all take time to play ball but only after Labor Day. When Labor Day came you could shoot a cannonball down Sister Bay’s main street and never hit a soul; everyone went back to Illinois.

It was a few years back. Softball was the game everyone was playing and enjoying. The Louis M. Hanson Field needed money for lights. Swede and I were having a cup of coffee and I said, “You know, Swede, our girls’ softball team is pretty darn good. I’ll bet we could beat the business people if you had guts enough to play.”

“You must be out of your Norwegian mind or you’ve gone nuts,” Swede replied.

I said, “Well, I’ll scout the town and see if I can come up with some players for you, but how’s about a small wager?”

“Name it,” Swede replied.

“How about if we lose, Gret and I donate $100 to the light fund. If you lose, you push me around the bases in a wheelbarrow?”

“Get your $100 out, kid, this game is in the bag!”

I went to each merchant asking if they would help put a team together. I got about 15 people who thought this would be just great fun. JJ had special T-shirts made for their players. Krist gave us full-page ads for three weeks so everyone got into the spirit of things.

We had special people coming. [Green Bay newscaster] Chuck Ramsay was a guest player for the boys. We had Boss Hog, his deputy (Roger L.) and one of those good-looking, long-legged southern blondes. I borrowed a white Caddy convertible for our guests to ride to the game in, escorted by a couple of squad cars with lights and sirens blaring. The squad cars and the convertible circled the field a couple of times and then the game began.

Earl Willems was the manager of the guys. He looked and acted so much like Billy Martin. After kicking dirt on the ump for four or five innings they threw him out. I think Billy Bastian took his place.

Every once in a while we would pass the hat and everyone could become part of lighting the field.

There were so many plays I could tell you about, but here are a few: Jeff Lund (who had Church’s garage then) got a single but thought he could make second, so he turned up the juice and slid into second. There were screams coming from that guy like you wouldn’t believe. Dick was called off the bench to have a look at him. “Yup, his ankle is broken, call the ambulance.”

The game went on. Tony from the pizza parlor came to bat with the biggest pizza paddle you could imagine. He hit the ball okay, but when he sprained his wrist and was thrown out at first, he left the game. The Krist boys gave it all they had. Keith had bought a new pair of white cleats just for the game. He danced away on second base and to tell you the truth, Mr. Bojangles had nothing on that boy.

I was pitching and my cousin, Gret, and her sister, Eileen, were sitting along the third base line. A fellow leaned over and said to Gret, “That pitcher looks a little older than the rest of the girls, but she seems to pitch OK. How old is she?”

Gret said, “No one really knows but they say she smokes pot.”

“Oh,” the guy replied, nothing more was said.

There was a fellow standing down by the first base line. He motioned me over and said, “Elaine, if you introduce me to that long-legged, good-looking blonde that’s helping the base umpire, I’ll give you $10.”

“Well,” I said, “That’s not a gal, that’s a commercial fisherman, Johnnie Weborg.”

He wheeled around and he looked and looked at Johnnie and he finally said, “I don’t care, I’ll give you $5 anyway.”

Johnnie said, “No deal!”

Jackie Bunda was on third base, and he decided to steal home. He was coming full tilt when he started his slide. He was short so he got up and ran full steam again and slid, but there was the catcher waiting with ball in hand for him. Jack had a flight the next day to New York for a clothing show. He never got out of the hot tub or bed for three days. I don’t think he played ball again.

Winkie came to bat. I pitched him a painted up grapefruit. Wink swung, hit it and ran to first. We claimed he was out. Wink said to the ump, “I know I hit whatever she threw, I’m on first and the first baseman has no ball, I think I’m safe.”

The ump thought a while and called him safe. As far as I know that grapefruit is still out there somewhere.

Well, our team was ahead 8 to 5. There were two outs and two on base, the last of the seventh and the big Swede came to bat. He pounded the heck out of home plate with his bat, looked me straight in the eye and said, “Okay, baby, throw the best pitch you got.” I threw that ball hard, low and inside, but that goofy Swede nailed it, sending it into right field.

Ingrid N. was playing deep but when she saw the ball coming she ran hard and dove to catch it. She rolled around in the dirt and after the dust settled, there she stood with the ball in her glove looking like an ice cream cone. The girls had won!

The wheelbarrow was brought to home plate, I got in and Swede took off for 1st base. When we hit that base I never touched the bottom of that wheelbarrow until after we crossed home plate. Swede was in good shape then, running 10 miles a day.

We passed the hat several times during that game and we collected nearly $2,000 for the lights.

A couple of days later an expensive-looking foreign-made car drove into our yard. A lady about 55 got out and walked toward me. She said with an English accent, “I’m looking for Elaine Johnson.”

I wasn’t sure whether I should answer her or not, but I finally admitted who I was. “Yes, I’m Elaine.”

“Well, I have traveled the world over many times. I attended the softball game the other night. I laughed, I cried, I shouted and thoroughly enjoyed myself more than anything I have ever done. I asked the person standing beside me who those fellows were. He said they own most of the business in Sister Bay. If you could count their net worth together it would take us a month to do it.

“I had to come up to see you, Elaine, and tell you there is no place in this world where I have ever seen so much joy, love and brotherhood as I saw at that softball game. This little Village of Sister Bay has more love and togetherness than I’ve ever seen. Please don’t ever lose it!”

I always think about that ball game and about that lady who went out of her way to tell me how she felt about our village. It’s always been a pride builder for me and it should be for you.