At the end of a lot that ran along the right field wall of a park that we were scheduled to play a night game, was a parochial school for girls. As we got off our bus we could see a group of little girls playing with toy baby carriages and playing make-believe, like what little girls do.
It was the 70’s, and a lot of players wore long hair, mustaches and sideburns. Some of the guys just couldn’t grow or sport the “look” on their own so they got stuff to stick on. Big handlebar mustaches, fuzzy sideburns were fun stuff that made the game interesting and a bit nostalgic.
During a field break, one of our guys noticed that the little girls had left but the toy baby carriages were still in the lot. So, a couple of guys quickly went over and pasted on these big handle bar mustaches on all
the baby dolls that were in the toy carriages. (as was brought to our attention later.)
Just an hour before game time, a coach’s meeting was called and we found ourselves in the main meeting room of the stadium. There was the owner of the stadium, two police officers, and this very fragile looking
Sister from the Catholic school across the street. The Sister was the Mother Superior of the school and there was nothing fragile about her when she tore into us about the joke that some of our guys pulled.
As it turned out, one of the little girls borrowed from their Christmas scene, the baby Jesus and place the figurine in one of the toy carriages.
At first I was appalled and disgusted by this act of irreverent behavior. Right up until the good Sister held up the figurine and … oh my God … the look just hit me … there was this Holy, gentle little figurine sporting the biggest, bushiest handlebar mustache I’ve ever seen.
Now I’ve been in situations where self control was a serious matter and this was by far a serious matter. But so help me I couldn’t contain myself. Neither could eleven other guys in that room – cops included. The only one that was not in the mood was this Sister Superior.
That had to be one of the most expensive road trips in that club’s short lived history. Not only was there a little-known Catholic school for girls a lot richer ($), but every time we’d look at one another wearing a mustache we’d all come apart at the seams laughing. And it got so bad at one point that for a short time, we were the cleanest cut ball club on our circuit. :babylaugh: