Salutations and greetings; it is I, Worthington P. Foxtrotty IV, your loyal reporter of all things concerning the fantastick new pass-time known as "the base-ball."
Having completed my traipse from the Fens to our state-of-the-art printing presses here at the Boston Daily American and Irish-Abuser, I am pleased to note that reports of cholera are down to a mere 75 per week in that far western neighborhood, wherein play the local professional base-ball club, the Boston Red Stockings. While the thought of such hoodlums earning upwards of $0.75 per day playing this so-called "sport" may offend the senses, the fact remains that thousands of the unwashed peasantry of the Hub of the Universe have adopted the Red Stockings as a pleasant diversion from their lives of drudgery and toil. Today the men of the Stockings faced a professional club from the Dominion of Canada, who go by the self-styled monicker of "Bleu Jais". This swarthy lot of ill-bred fur trappers sent their notorious pitch-thrower Roycraft Halliday (bad seed third son of the Denver Hallidays) to the New Huntington Grounds to combat our local nine.
Despite the anger of our Lord at such frivolity, expressed by the most accurate simulacrum of His flood sent to test Noah -- not to mention the wave of cow-filth washed in by the deluge from the adjacent pastures -- the contest was nonetheless prosecuted at twenty past the seventh hour. Our local hero, the illustrious Jonathan Lester (who, despite his crippling battle with scurvy last year, has been known to best TWO men at the same time in fisticuffs), dispatched the ruffians with expediency for eight frames of base-ball. Unfortunately, the rustic Halladay was our hero's equal, matching him thrown-ball for thrown-ball.
At last, however, Fate, the tawdry, fickle Jezebel that she is, bested the provincials, and led our local nine to triumph. In the ninth frame of base-ball, the mighty Halliday dispatched the Free Negro known as Covelli Crisp with dispatch. (Free-man Crisp, whose employment by the Red Stockings base-ball club stands as a shining example of our Nation's progress in the twenty-five years since the War Between the States, was allowed a chance to participate due to the indisposition of the popular and charming half-breed Ellsbury, whose syphilis acted up at a late hour.) Recent Sicilian immigrant Dustin Pate (born Diecenzio Xaverius Pedroia di Palermo) was no more successful. Damnable Papist!
With the vile Halladay looking invincible, it was up to the unlikeliest association of heros to save the day for the local nine. First, Caribbean-born Free Negro Ortiz, a citizen of the Kingdom of Spain -- whom I believe plays as the "designated pinch-hitter" when not serving as an indentured apprentice at team manager Terrianiti Francona's blacksmithery (damnable Papists!) -- drew a timely bases-on-balls, while his countryman Ramirez rocketed a single-hit to the center field. The stage was set for the Mighty Greek, Youkilis, to end the terrorizing reign of Halliday. And one! And two! And flies the ball to center field! It is a hit! Rumble and stumble, Ortiz has tallied a score! Pandemonium ensues as the Red Stockings surround the Hero Mighty Greek! Huzzah!
As the tired but pleased fans fought and caroused into the night, exhaused by the gruelingly long two hour and eighteen minute contest, the battered Canucks retreated to their dormitory-houses for the night. The two sporting clubs, proud gladiators of this Nineteenth Century, will meet again at the New Huntington Grounds tomorrow, when the Inscrutable Chinee Matsuzaki will serve as the local hurler, against the foreigner's Dustin McGowan (presumably also a damnable Papist).
BREAKING NEWS: Sources have informed this reporter that the Mighty Greek Youkilis is not, in fact, a Greek, but is instead one of the money-changing Hebrites. Shocking!!!!