The Cloverdale Grammar School gave much attention to athletics and
especially tried to encourage the baseball team which had been organized
from the seventh and eighth grades. Mr. Tilden, the principal, was
sincere in his desire that his pupils should engage in the sport, but
having given his verbal encouragement and assistance, it did not occur
to him that his personal presence on the playground was in any degree
necessary to the welfare of the school. He interpolated but on
restriction into the fun: “In order to safeguard our school buildings,”
he said to the boys, “I am going to make one ruling, namely, that you
must not send the balls toward the school building. Any boy who does
that, accidentally or otherwise, must drop out of the game.”
All went well for a few days. The less aggressive among the boys adhered
to the rule strictly. But one day one of the leading boys, Reginald
Coleman, happened to hit the stone foundation of the school building. In
this particular instance the stone foundation was surmounted by brick
walls up to about one-third or one-half the height of the building, then
finished off for the remainder of the distance with wood.
Reginald argued with much boyish eloquence that “the foundation was not
a part of the building, no possible harm would result from hitting it
with the ball, hence it could not be that Mr. Tilden intended to include
that in his prohibition.”
So much in earnest was Reginald in pleading his case that the other boys
were soon won to his way of thinking, and he was allowed to continue in
the game.
For the next few days Reginald’s modification of Mr. Tilden’s rule was
the law of the playground. Then came another issue. Carl Story lost his
balance slightly just as he raised his bat to strike, the result being
that the ball glanced sidewise, striking the brick wall of the school
building. It was now Carl’s turn to present a plea for leniency in the
application of the law.
“Aw, ’tain’t fair to throw that out! It don’t do no more harm to hit the
brick than it does ter hit the stone. That brick’s a part of the
foundation. Didn’t you fellers say the other day that we could hit the
foundation? It’s _all_ foundation up to the top of brick.”
Now Carl happened to be playing in the same nine as Reginald, and
Reginald naturally espoused his cause.
“That’s right, kids,” he joined in, “Carl didn’t hit the building; he
only hit the brick foundation. Let him play on! We don’t want to lose
this game. Go on, Carl”—and Carl finished the game notwithstanding the
protests of the opposing nine.
Thus the modifications of the rules went on from day to day, always in
favor of the larger and stronger and more aggressive boys and always to
the disadvantage of the younger and smaller ones of the opposite side.