53 – Anne Uumellmahaye Named New Smelt Chief Chef

Posted on May 21, 2013 by Dave Baldwin

RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 53

This is the Rubbery Shrubbery blog, where you’ll learn how Yachats (YAH-hots), Oregon, acquires a Major League Baseball franchise. To learn more about Yachats (“Where nature happens every day!”) and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns)— please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

The concession stand cuisine at Rubbery Shrubbery Stadium, home of the Yachats Smelt, will not be the usual junk food served at athletic events. You will learn why in the news article below, sent to us by free lance correspondent Satch Wagglesworth from Cannibal Mountain, Oregon.

Anne Uumellmahaye Named New Smelt Chief Chef
by Satch Wagglesworth

CANNIBAL MOUNTAIN, OREGON — Dzunukwa, General Manager of the Yachats Smelt, has finally ended months of speculation and named Anne Uumellmahaye to be the culinary honcho at Rubbery Shrubbery. In making the announcement, Ms. Dzunukwa stressed the huge responsibility heaped on Ms. Uumellmahaye’s shoulders. “Shouldering a load like that—Wow! I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes,” she said.

Ms. Uumellmahaye’s credentials are impeccable, though, so she appears ready for the task. She grew up here in this thin-aired company town and was destined to be a chef from the get-go, feeding her little brother, Rocky, various flavors of mud soup. She was so talented, Rocky didn’t realize it until he was sixteen, and then they both had a big laugh about it, you bet!

From those early successes, Ms. Uumellmahaye decided soup was her forte, and she designed her education with that in mind. Not surprisingly, she received her B.S. in cosmology from Cannibal State University. Then came graduate studies in stew and snert at Le Cordon Brun. And soon she was recognized as the world’s foremost mulligatawnyer.

She came to work for the Cannibal Soup Company as a gustatory engineer about ten years ago and quickly rose through the ranks to become the big cheese chowder. Ms. Dzunukwa hired her away from a very prestigious job.

With such a background, Ms. Uumellmahaye can be expected to concentrate on soup for Rubbery Shrubbery fare. We spoke to her about that.

Wagglesworth: Obviously, you advocate trickle-down gastronomics. Will we see any non-soups on the ballpark menu? Any traditional ballpark items?

Ms. Uumellmahaye: Sure. We can’t ignore tradition. We’ll tweak it some, though. We’ll have a popcorn pepper pot, a hot dog goulash, and a smelt and Cracker Jacks bouillabaisse. But also we’ll have a delightful roster of innovative items such as our stinging nettle gazpacho (see Fig. 1) and a bladderwort bisque (see Fig. 2).

Figure 1. Stinging nettle.*

Wagglesworth: Have the Smelt (meaning Ms. Dzunukwa) imposed any constraints on your legendary imagination?

Ms. Uumellmahaye: Not at all. I’ve told her we are currently experimenting with an escargot gumbo and a fragrant hogweed borscht, and Ms. Dzunukwa didn’t blink an eye. We’re getting along like a house afire.

Figure 2. Bladderwort.**

Well, there you have it. Ms. Uumellmahaye is brilliantly creative and will alter the baseball experience forever, for sure. We have always honored innovation, but what is the limit to our tolerance for rapid change in vittles? O brave new galaxies of diatoms and zooplankton whirling in a beetlebaum broth.

* From Flora von Deutschland, Österreich und der Schweiz by Otto Wilhelm Thomé, 1885.
** From Deutschlands Flora in Abbildungen by Johann Georg Sturm, 1796. Painting by Jakob Sturm.
NOTE: Do NOT try any of the dishes mentioned above at home!

Next time: The Smelt staff is still busy preparing for entry into the big leagues. Therefore, each Monday the Rubbery Shrubbery blog will have brief news reports on the progress of the Smelt organization. Also, we will have a guest blogger from time to time. Thanks for reading this stuff.

Be sure to check out the “Yachats Smelt” page on Facebook, and “Like” us if you’re so inclined. Thank you.

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52 – Thaw Could Spoil Longyearbyen’s Bid for a Baseball Team

Posted on May 13, 2013 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 52

This is the Rubbery Shrubbery blog, where you’ll learn how Yachats (YAH-hots), Oregon, acquires a Major League Baseball franchise. To learn more about Yachats (“Home of the World’s Largest Ocean”) and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns)— please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

Today we have a brief news item from the city of Longyearbyen (see Fig. 1) on Spitsbergen, an island of the Svalbard archipelago in Norway.

Thaw Could Spoil Longyearbyen’s Bid for a Baseball Team
by Henrik Jansen

LONGYEARBYEN, SVALBARD —The plans of the Yachats Smelt, latest addition to Major League Baseball, to field a farm team here in Earth’s northernmost city, are now imperiled by the massive climate change currently happening throughout the world (except in Oklahoma).

Longyearbyen Houses

Figure 1. Longyearbyen’s colorful houses before they started sinking into the muck.*

This brave town has been suffering an unprecedented intense thawing because of the heat escalation in the Arctic region. Permafrost beneath Longyearbyen has turned to slush. This frozen layer is up to forty meters thick, so when it melts the town is afloat on a sea of…stuff. Finding a solid field for baseball is unlikely without venturing outside town limits into the wilds where there are plenty of reindeer (see Fig. 2) and lots of polar bears (see Fig. 3). Lots and lots of polar bears. Lots more than you can imagine.

Figure 2. Svalbard reindeer. They go behind mountains, out of sight of humans, to practice flying.**

Anyone going out into polar bear country is required to carry a rifle or bazooka (these can be rented in town). Note, however, that polar bears are legally protected, humans not so much. Rather than shoot a bear, it is suggested the human attempt to come to a verbal understanding.

Figure 3. Polar bear, having gotten up on the wrong side of the berg this morning.***

But if no understanding can be reached with the bear, the human is still somewhat protected by law, kind of—it’s illegal for humans to die in Svalbard (and by extension, it’s illegal for a bear to kill a human). The problem is that corpses buried in the permafrost don’t decompose, an embarrassing situation remedied by requiring anyone considering dying to do it someplace else. With the new balmy climate, though, Longyearbyen might strike this law from the books and let people die wherever they want, thus rendering a clear conscience to the bears.

Although Longyearbyenites don’t understand baseball, they were looking forward to having a team and are extremely disappointed about the turn of events. Community leader Knut Harr expressed it best, “We wanted a new sport—any new sport. We’re getting sick and tired of having nothing but reindeer games.”

Figure 4. Downtown Longyearbyen. The North Pole is on the other side of that mountain. About 600 miles on the other side.****

* Photo copyrighted by Svalbard Global Seed Vault/Peter Vermeij.
** Photo copyrighted by Biopix: A Neumann
*** Photo copyrighted by Jerzy Strzelecki.
**** Photo copyrighted by Jennifer Dombrowski.

Next time: The Smelt staff is too busy preparing for entry into the big leagues and has little time for this blogging nonsense. Therefore, each Monday the Rubbery Shrubbery blog will have brief news reports on the progress of the Smelt organization. Also, we will have a guest blogger from time to time. Thanks for reading this stuff.

Be sure to check out the “Yachats Smelt” page on Facebook, and “Like” us if you’re so inclined. Thank you.

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51 – Momentous Press Conference

Posted on May 7, 2013 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 51

This is the Rubbery Shrubbery blog, where you’ll learn how Yachats (YAH-hots), Oregon, acquires a Major League Baseball franchise. To learn more about Yachats (“Baseball Capital of the World”) and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns)— please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

Today we will attend a momentous press conference as you can see by the title of this post. Have a seat and fasten your seatbelts as Harrison Grutch gives you a strict accounting.

Momentous Press Conference
by Harrison Grutch

Waiting for the news announcement this morning, the meeting room was packed with reporters, Smelt boosters, and other likewise Yachatians. All on pins and needles. Tension as thick as the air in downtown Duck Egg.

At last, a tall woman emanating leadership strode to the podium. She featured straight black hair, straight shoulders, purposeful gold eyes, and a nose. “Good morning,” she began. “I’m Honoria Glossop, Smelt General Manager Dzunukwa’s trusted assistant. I’ve been asked to make a couple of announcements.”

Everyone twitched with anticipation. Wumpy, being Wumpy, leaned back too far in his chair and fell over.

Ms. Glossop continued. “First I have some bad news for you. Seattle has thought of many possible applications for the Safeco Field roof—covering city parks when it rains, covering Pike Place Market when it rains, covering Seattle Center when it rains. All that demand can keep it in continuous usage.”

Everyone squirmed at this revelation. Wumpy, back up in his chair, was drifting off.

Ms. Glossop again. “So, we were informed today that Seattle intends to keep its roof.” She looked appropriately glum, and her audience reflected it right back at her. Wumpy snored.

“But now for the very bad news,” said Ms. G. “Major League Baseball called this morning and told us, ‘There’s no way you guys are going to get a big league team. You’re so tiny, we couldn’t even find you on our map (your dot must be the size of the Higgs particle), and how are we going to make money off you thusly? So, just forget it, okay?’”

Boy, did that put a damper on the get-together. The worst funk I’ve seen since the whale was blown up down the coast in Florence. Dead indigo silence. Stunned to realize all their sweat was down the drain. Their great dream turned inside out.

Until one voice piped up with enthusiasm. “Hey, that’s not the end of the world. We still have the Yachatian World’s Fair. Now we can put all our effort where it should’ve been in the first place.” It was Crazy Bop McSkittle, multi-directional white hair flying, glasses clinging to the cusp of his red nose, and about to spiel about building that dadburn World’s Fair, again.

“If we pull together, show some real teamwork, we can do this. Looky here! I have some photos of great World’s Fairs. This is the Crystal Palace in London in 1851 (see Fig. 1). The British are still talking about it! And here’s a photo of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair (see Fig. 2). It was the fair that changed the world. And the next snapshot is New York’s 1964 World’s…”

Figure 1. Interior of the Crystal Palace, London, in 1851.

Right here Brassica Chin chimed in, “You know, Crazy Bop has a point. We’ve wanted a Yachats team, but we’ve had one all along. It’s US! So we work together to get a World’s Fair instead of a big league ball team. So what? It’s the working together that matters.”

Figure 2. Exhibition Hall at the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair.

And with that, light bulbs went on all over the room. The place was abuzz and abubble. “We can do this!” Annabella Kowalski shouted out. Boswell Carfinch added, “We’ll have the best World’s Fair ever!” And tears streamed down the cheeks of lovely Angelita MacAvity.

Wumpy suggested that Rubbery Shrubbery Stadium could become Rubbery Shrubbery Exposition Center featuring the Rubbery Shrubbery Exhibition Hall built out of LEGO® blocks. “It’ll be magnificent surrounded by millions of Plastiposies®,” said Yabby Weezer. Even now, Bebe Broadbent was planning the new airport on Clarity Mountain.

Thus we learned that we already had what we sought. We wanted team spirit, the camaraderie that makes the soul sing. Whatever our goal, we will always have that.

Suddenly, Dzunukwa appeared with the doorframe. Let me tell you, a ten-foot-tall Sasquatch witch draped in wall and jamb and all hairy and smelly is a terrifying sight. A hundred partial sentences hung in midair. Light bulbs flickered. The crowd froze. A dark scarl stormed Dzunukwa’s linteled brow.

“May I have your attention, please?” she cooed. “We seem to have a bit of a mix-up. My assistant, Honoria Glossop, is an apparition I’ve created to stand in for me at indoor events (I’m hard on buildings, as you can see.) Sometimes she gets a little confused, though. You know how it is with figments.” She glanced daggers at Crazy Bop. “My assistant might have been misled by someone.”

Honoria was standing in a corner still trying to look sympathetic. Dzunukwa waved her enormous hand in the illusion’s direction, mumbled some mumble jumble, and Crazy Bop disappeared.

Dzunukwa continued. “I was hoping she would tell you this—Seattle called this morning and said (I quote), ‘Sure, you can have our roof. We’ve contracted with Exxon to change our climate so it will be much drier and warmer in Seattle. Something like Phoenix, except without the haboobs (see Fig. 3). Therefore, we won’t be needing the roof. Call us when you’re ready to come up and get it, and we’ll help you take it down and pack it up.’ Really nice guys.”

Figure 3. Haboob near Phoenix, Arizona.

Dzunukwa waited patiently for the twittering hubbub to die down. “Then we got a call from Major League Baseball saying they’d heard we will get the Seattle roof. ‘That changes things,’ they said. ‘Changed our minds, for one thing. We’ve decided we can probably squeeze the Smelt and their second-hand roof in somewhere. Probably in the American League.’” Dzunukwa smiled and winked (I think).

Then whooping and hollering rose up from the crowd like I’ve never heard before. Tambourines clinked and beer mugs clanked. Somewhere there must have been fireworks.

“I knew we could do it!” Annabella Kowalski shouted out. Boswell Carfinch added, “Who wants a World’s Fair when they can have a big league baseball team!”

And tears streamed down the cheeks of lovely Angelita MacAvity, again.

Next time: The Smelt staff will now be busy preparing for entry into the big leagues and will have little time for blogging. Each Monday, however, the Rubbery Shrubbery blog will have brief news reports on the progress of the Smelt organization. Also, we will have a guest blogger from time to time. We hope you’ll continue to join us.

Be sure to check out the “Yachats Smelt” page on Facebook, and “Like” us if you’re so inclined. Thank you.

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50 – Electrons Amuck!

Posted on April 29, 2013 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 50

This is the Rubbery Shrubbery blog, where you’ll learn how Yachats (YAH-hots), Oregon, acquires a Major League Baseball franchise. To learn more about Yachats (“Baseball Capital of the World”) and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns)—please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

Today’s entry in the RS blog was supposed to be written by Tyler Macaroon, but he is busy right now, taking care of a traffic ticket. In his stead we have our old reliable Wumpy Mugwump who has never gotten a traffic ticket. He will review some of the comments our astute readers have emailed to us.

Electrons Amuck!
by Ashwagandha C. “Wumpy” Mugwump

This is reliable old Wumpy standing in for Tyler who at this moment is serving time for an unspeakable traffic violation. In case you don’t know, the speed limit through downtown Yachats is 25 mph. And there’s a pedestrian crosswalk as well. A word to the wise—those stocks in front of the empty lot where the blacksmith’s shop used to be aren’t there for decoration. Just kidding! If you have a chance, please stop by and say hi to Tyler who’s out there somewhere doing community service.

I was intending to hold a crucial press conference today, and Tyler was supposed to be doing the event’s coverage, but things don’t always work out. We’ll get along without Tyler well enough—that’s not the problem. It’s a darn email message that’s done it…has me so discombobulated I’ll need to postpone the confab with the press until I can think straight again.

The message reads, “Dear Mr. Mugwump, my client is dead sure you’re the daddy of her recently born kid. She wants you to own up to your responsibilities, and I say, Right on! So, how about it? You gonna own up or what? Signed ‘Lawyer Lady’. P.S. Please send photocopy of your driver’s license to verify yourself.”

Well, that was so ridiculous I decided to dignify it with a sharply worded rejoinder, thusly: “Dear Lawyer Lady, I’m dead sure this is a case of your client confusing me with some other paternity guy named Ashwagandha C. Mugwump. This has happened to me before. A number of times, in fact. Please tell your client don’t feel bad. Perfectly understandable mistake. Signed ‘Not the paternity guy of this instance’.”

Then I sent the lawyer lady a photocopy of my driver’s license, and she wrote back and said sorry for the confusion. She said obviously no one would want her kid to be paternaled by that. So the matter is settled, but it shook me up, I can tell you. I’m in no condition to do the press thingy.

So, to fill the resultant dead space, I thought you might like to read some of the more colorful email messages we receive here at the Smelt headquarters. The first one is an example of the kind we receive by the score daily.

Aboo Ben Adam, Lawyer
ONE KNIGHT’S SQUARE,
Nuikandi, EGAD20, Nigeria
Phone: 666-63458873
Good day, Sir or Madam,

This is VERY personal email directed at you and I request it be treated
as such. I am Aboo Ben Adam, law solisiter. I am persanal
attorney/sole executater to the late Mr. Bartholomew, hereinafter referred
to as “my cliennt who worked as rich indpndent oil magnet in my Contry”
and wh o died in car crash with his imediate family on the 4th of
oct,2008. Since my client’s death in OCt, 2008, I write
many letters to Embasy with intent to locate any extended
relations that shall be claimunts/beneficeries of his abandoned persnal
estate and all such efforts have not been availed.

Now I sit on this 4.8 million U.S.D. and I decide to find credible personage and finding you bear similar name, I decide to ask if you’d like to have the money? If yes pleas send me yoursocial security numer, name, and bank information. Plees cklik here to send that to me: THIS IS NO SCAM

Like I
imply, I reqquire only a solem confidentility on all this.

Best regards,
Abboo Ben Adam

Just one example of the torrent of email we’ve received since the world first became aware of Yachats’s quest for a big time sports franchise. The RS blog is one of the most thoroughly read blogs in the world, after all.

Our next email message comes from Toad S. in Tennessee. (At least, we think that’s right. A tobacco stain’s smudging the name. It might say Bartholomew J.) It reads:

Hi there, RS! Listen I’m having a little problem finding me a job and I’m wondering if I can just come on up to Yakats [sic] and play for you guys. I’ve been playing for our town team, the Hog Hollow Grunts (see Fig. 1), and got myself two hits in the last game although that rock in the infield helped a tad on the last one. I got myself several other hits this year so I must be hitting at least .300 (haven’t got the hang of figuring all those complicated stats yet). Anyway, with a little batting practice like you pros get, I’ll bet I could hit maybe .400 or more. I got my own glove and can play any position mostly first base. Just give a holler and I’ll be on your doorstep in a frog’s wink.

Toad S. or Bartholomew J. in Tennessee

Figure 1. Hog Hollow Grunts’ official team photo. Toad or Bartholomew is in the second row.*

And our sympathetic reply:

Dear Toad or Bartholomew,
Why, sure. Come on up to Yakats. We’ll find some place for you in the lineup. There’s always room for rampant enthusiasm. By the way, please bring your own shoes and jock and do you have a uniform? And one last thing, do you expect to be paid?

Wumpy Mugwump and the whole RS staff

Our third message is from Prof. Forp of Yale University (see Fig. 2).

Dear RS,
I am writing in behalf of my son, Knobby, who is in his senior year here at Yale. He has decided he would rather be a baseball player than work for a living. He has never played the game (what with not missing a single class and studying every waking hour nobody has the time to participate in a sport too, unless he is a student at Harvard or one of those places). I doubt if that will be a problem since baseball doesn’t appear to be very hard and Knobby is very keen. Would it be okay if Knobby comes up there and plays for the Smelt? At least, until he gets this ludicrous idea out of his head. We are stinking rich so of course he will pay his own way. Please let me know right away because we have twenty-three firms waiting to hear from him regarding their job offers. Thank you.

Prof. Forp, Chair of Questionable Studies, Yale University

Figure 2. Yale University, 1807. Notice the students in the foreground, attempting to play baseball before it was invented.

Here is our earnest reply:

Dear Professor Forp,
We are absolutely giggly to learn that Knobby wants to be a Smelt and pay his own way. It seems there’s a snag, however. Major League Baseball rules, as we understand them, prohibit Ivy Leaguers, and especially Yalies, from playing major league baseball. If only Knobby were a student at Harvard, we might be able to get a special dispensation. But Yale? No chance. Might we suggest that Knobby send his resume to various teams in the leagues in Japan. They might be more tolerant towards Yale graduates, having had less experience with them. Thank you for your interest in the Smelt.

Wumpy Mugwump, the RS Staff, and just about everyone else in Yachats

And our final message for today is from Waldport, the town just up the road from Yachats.

Dear Smelt,
You cowardly scumbags! We bet you’re too chicken to come up here and play us. You know we’ll kick your butts all the way back to Yachats. Scaredy cats! Scaredy cats!

The Waldport Heathens

And my scathing, non-scaredy cat reply:

Dear Heathens,
Oh, yeah? Says who?

Wumpy Mugwump, etc.

Well, after that unpleasant exchange of outrage, I’m seething to the point I can’t go on. I need a nap.

* Actually, a photo of the Yoncalla, OR, town team, 1921. Courtesy of David S. Eskenazi.

Next time: Wumpy calls a momentous press conference again.

NOTE: Big Forbes Crossbowe wants to remind you that today is National Retiree Day. So is tomorrow and the next day and the day after that and…

If you are a retiree, check at www.gotcha.gov to find out if social security and medicare have been snatched away from you. If so, go look for a job. If not, celebrate by reading a book or spelunking or puttering around your dungeon. But before you plan to do anything, check for your pulse.

NOTE AGAIN: Eric Sallee and Dave Baldwin are cautiously optimistic the Rubbery Shrubbery blog will live to entertain you another day.

Be sure to check out the “Yachats Smelt” page on Facebook, and “Like” us if you’re so inclined. Thank you.

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49 – Here’s Mud in Your Eye!

Posted on April 22, 2013 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 49

This is the Rubbery Shrubbery blog, where you’ll learn how Yachats (YAH-hots), Oregon, acquires a Major League Baseball franchise. To learn more about Yachats (“Playground of Neurons”) and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns)— please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

Today Harrison Grutch will continue in his highly educational series of interviews, asking Yachatians how they hope to make a fast buck off the baseball industry. The astonishing entrepreneurial wizard, Elmer Sludgemore, will describe how a simple observation will make him filthy rich.

Here’s Mud in Your Eye!
by Harrison Grutch

This here is Harrison, and I’m standing on the bank of the Yachats River talking to Elmer about his baseball business acumen. (You can get a gander at the mighty Yachats in Fig. 1.) Elmer is one of those entrepreneurs who didn’t amount to a hill of parsnips until he lucked out and had a brilliant idea. I’ll let him tell you about it.

Figure 1. The mighty Yachats River, with rainbow.*

Harrison: Hey, Elmer, I suppose the new Yachats Smelt franchise will open up plenty of opportunities for baseball-related businesses in Yachats.

Elmer: That it will, Harrison. It’s amazing how many ways there are to make money off this game. Whoever invented it should be given a medal. I think we are on the verge of boom times in the land of the Smelt.

Harrison: Well, tell us how you got started.

Elmer: Sure. You see, new baseballs have this shine on them that makes them slick. Add a little sweat on the ball, and you can’t throw the darn thing—it’ll go squirting off, like an oiled eel. So that shine has to be taken off, and in the 1930s, Lena Blackburne, a major league player and manager (see Fig. 2), started rubbing the shine off with a special mud. It’s become a baseball tradition for umpires to rub balls with the Official Lena Blackburne Baseball Rubbing Mud. For years that mud has come from a secret spot on the Delaware River in New Jersey.

Figure 2. Lena Blackburne, sitting between Hall of Famers Eddie Collins (left) and Ty Cobb. Lena is protecting his glove from Cobb who had a shocking number of steals during his career.

Harrison: Urrrk! Gag! New Jersey mud? That’s disgusting!

Elmer: You bet! So I got myself some of that official mud, ran my fingers through it, squished it between my toes, and I’m thinking shoot, we have much better mud than that right here in the Yachats River. Not in the estuary, mind you. That’s too sandy. What we need here is a smooth, creamy sort of mud. And I knew exactly where to look for it.

Harrison: At a place you’re keeping strictly secret, I’ll bet.

Elmer: Oh, I wouldn’t divulge that secret for all the money in the Cayman Islands. I will tell you, however, that there are these mud slides the river otters make on the banks of the Yachats (see Fig. 3)…those little guys come careering down those slicks and shoot out across the river whooping and laughing like there’s no tomorrow. And that mud there is so smooth and creamy you could almost…

Figure 3. North American river otters, having a family squabble.**

Harrison: But, telling us about the slides…doesn’t that give away the secret location?

Elmer: Well, heck. If an otter can find them, how hard can it be?

Harrison: So, Elmer, you’re going to market this mud?

Elmer: Sure. Of course, it has to be scooped up and squished into jars—we’ll have expert scoopers and squishers. Then we’ll ship it to all the ballparks all over the world. Fortunately, the Yachats mud keeps really well, much longer than ordinary mud. And it’s not toxic or flammable, either. The mud in rivers back East can poison you or burst into flame from just a butterfly beating its wings. But not our mud.

Harrison: And what will you call your mud?

Elmer: “True Grit.”

Harrison: You’ll need to work on that, I think. Can I assume this is just the beginning of what will be a booming diversified corporation in Yachats? What do you have planned for future products?

Elmer: Oh, once we are well established in the ball rubbing business, my wife, Wilma, wants to go after the big bucks in the beauty world. Mud facial masks for cleaning the pores, detoxifying the skin, rejuvenation, and that kind of stuff. We’ll call it “My Youthful Radiance and Exuberance” and use the acronym—MYRE.

Harrison: Wow! From baseball to cosmetics! It is a brave new world, isn’t it? Do you suppose you might spin off into services for the mud wrestling industry?

Elmer: Nah, not enough profit potential. But we are going to enter the housing industry, building quality mud huts dirt cheap in those parts of the world where poverty is required.

Harrison: That’s a great idea! The poor have had a rough time lately.

Elmer: And we have another idea, one with a lot of potential, I think. We’ll build golems (with magnificent complexions) and tailor them to suit the purchasers. (See Fig. 4.) The Sasquatch Society of Sorcerers has assured us that, with a few incantations, the instructions can be installed in the golems quite easily. So we’re set to start cranking them out.

Figure 4. Golem, programmed to head a Fortune 500 corporation.***

Harrison: Amazing! They’ll be able to work 24/7 and won’t require breaks or vacations.

Elmer: Yep. And since money won’t mean anything to them, they won’t require payment. We’re thinking that the huge corporations will fall all over themselves to hire golems to be their high level executives. Imagine…a CEO who will work for nothing. A free Board of Directors. Think how much money Exxon or Walmart would save.

Harrison: But will a golem be able to perform a CEO’s job?

Elmer: Sure. No worries, there. A golem can be designed to play excellent golf.

Harrison: Wow! Ideas don’t get any bigger than this, Elmer.

* Photo copyrighted by Elizabeth Gates.
** Photo copyrighted by Dmitry Azovtsev.
*** Reproduction of the Prague Golem.

Next time: Wumpy calls a momentous press conference.

NOTE: In anticipation of the thousands of letters we would receive otherwise, Elmer points out that he won’t be taking mud from the otters’ actual playground, but rather from virtual slides, to some extent, nearby. No recreational facilities will be harmed in this blog. After all, a river otter without a mud slide is like a golem without a to-do list. Like a facial without a face. Like a village without a mud hut.*

* On the other hand, a mud hut without a village is susceptible to the Lion who comes along and huffs and puffs and blows the hut down and eats the entire extended family within (unless they have a ball of yarn handy for him to play with).

NOTE AGAIN: Eric Sallee and Dave Baldwin are full of gratitude for the uncountable riches the Rubbery Shrubbery blog has brought them.

Be sure to check out the “Yachats Smelt” page on Facebook, and “Like” us if you’re so inclined. Thank you.

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48 – Ratcheting Up the Hatchery

Posted on April 15, 2013 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 48

This is the Rubbery Shrubbery blog, where you’ll learn how Yachats (YAH-hots), Oregon, acquires a Major League Baseball franchise. To learn more about Yachats and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns)— please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

In this post Ingeborg Von Root returns to interview the new Smelt Farm Director, Anna Bandana, regarding her efforts to build a hierarchy of minor league teams to develop future Smelt. (You’ll find a photo of Ms. Bandana in Post #47.)

Ratcheting Up the Hatchery
by Ingeborg Von Root

Upon being named general manager of the Smelt, Dzunukwa quickly chose Anna Bandana as the new farm director. A surprising selection, as everyone in the press corps will agree. Ms. Bandana has little baseball experience and has never been a Sasquatch, yet she has Dzunukwa’s unwavering confidence. So, we decided to interview her.

Von Root: Anna, thanks for talking with us today. All of this must have been unexpected. What were you doing when you got the word?

Bandana: Oh, my goodness! I had no idea! I was at the farm, down in the barn milking the giraffes when Dzunukwa’s phone call came. She says drop everything, she needs me immediately. I says I kinda have my hands full at the moment, and she says never mind that, just get on the first plane here.

Von Root: I couldn’t help noticing you said giraffes.

Bandana: Oh, silly me! I should’ve told you. I live in Botswana in Africa. Milking the giraffes is easy, except for them kicking the bucket over. Rhinos are harder, but if you let ’em know who’s boss right off, they’re docile as cabbages. On the other hand, the elephants…

Von Root: So, Anna, you have quite a task ahead of you—building a farm system from scratch. Where will you begin?

Bandana: Well, we need to find cities that can support minor league baseball. We have two already—both are Oregon towns—Drain (Plungers) and Duck Egg (Toxic Sox). Now we’re searching for a few more. Of course, our first thought was to check out Yachats’s Sister Cities— Longyearbyen, Norway, and Monte Carlo, Monaco.

Von Root: That seems reasonable. I imagine they jumped at the chance to have Smelt farm teams.

Bandana: Longyearbyen (see Fig. 1) was very interested, I think. It’s the world’s northernmost town, on the island of Spitsbergen, well within the Arctic Circle. It has a strong tourism industry, with lots of fascinating wildlife—walruses, reindeer, and polar bears… Gosh, can you imagine trying to milk a…

Figure 1. Longyearbyen about teatime.*

Von Root: Well, it must be a bit chilly for baseball there, being so close to the North Pole.

Bandana: Oh, for a couple of months in the summer it isn’t too bad, and with the Arctic warming up rapidly, Longyearbyen might become the perfect place to be in August. You know, after having nighttime all winter long, they have the midnight sun from April 20th until August 23rd, so they won’t need lights for baseball. Saves on electricity.

Von Root: It sounds like Longyearbyen is a sure bet to be one of the Smelt farm teams. I’m wondering…would you actually try to milk a…

Bandana: Longyearbyen is a strong possibility, but Monte Carlo (see Fig. 2) is a different story. They don’t have any room for a baseball stadium. Hotels and casinos are jam-packed on a dot on the map. Don’t even have room for agriculture. Nothing there to milk.

Figure 2. Monte Carlo, showing how overbuilt it is.**

Von Root: Nothing, except tourists. So, Monte Carlo is out. Who else are you considering?

Bandana: Well, Dubai City (see Fig. 3) has asked for a team. They’ve even offered to build an artificial baseball stadium on an artificial island in an artificial lake. And Rubbery Shrubbery, Inc., put in a bid to landscape the whole thing, including the playing field, in artificial plants.

Figure 3. Dubai, showing how hot it is.***

Von Root: Oh, that sounds wonderful!

Bandana: Yep, if it weren’t so darn hot. Like the sunny side of Mercury. You could fry an egg on the top of your head. And that’s in the winter.

Von Root: Can’t they just put a roof over Dubai for shade? Like the roof Yachats is getting from Seattle?

Bandana: I think Dubaiites would view that as wimpy. We’ve given up on them. And we have an even bigger problem with another city that’s asking for a team—Malé, in the Republic of the Maldives (see Fig. 4). They’ve covered their whole island with buildings. Even a badminton court couldn’t be squeezed in. Also, the island is at sea level. It won’t take much rise in the Indian Ocean to force everyone there to wear hip boots.

Figure 4. Malé, Maldives, showing how damp it is.****

Von Root: Well, no one can be expected to play baseball well in hip boots.

Bandana: Especially without a ballpark. So, we went looking elsewhere and found Majuro (see Fig. 5), the capital of the Republic of the Marshall Islands (RMI), which already has a ballpark. It’s right behind the RMI Capitol Building, across the street from the Majuro Hospital (see Fig. 6). A lot of baseball enthusiasts there, I bet.

Figure 5. Aerial view of Majuro showing baseball field in lower right corner (the dolphin is looking right at it).*****

Von Root: Well, it looks like Longyearbyen and Majuro are the lucky ones that will host Smelt farm teams. Are there any others?

Figure 6. Close-up of the Majuro baseball stadium (bird’s-eye view) right behind the nation’s capitol.

Bandana: Well, there’s always Botswana.

* Photo by Wild Wonders of Europe/Liodden, National Geographic.
** Photo by I, Katonams.
*** Photo by Ranjit Laxman from Cochin, India.
**** Photo by Shahee Ilyas.
***** Artwork by Mari Kawagae.

Next time: Maybe Botswana.

NOTE: Crazy Bop McSkittle is still making a nuisance of himself, picketing Dzunukwa’s offices in the wetlands, writing letters to the editor of the Yachats Gazette, and even making appearances on what he thinks is the Yachats TV station (Yachats doesn’t have a TV station). All this in the pursuit of a World’s Fair for Yachats. He even has a Facebook page dedicated to this senseless endeavor. Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous?

NOTE AGAIN: Eric Sallee and Dave Baldwin are feeling increasingly confident that the Rubbery Shrubbery blog will attain results. In fact, they’ve already seen some, probably.

Be sure to check out the “Yachats Smelt” page on Facebook and “Like” us (if you feel so inclined). Thank you.

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47 – Dzunukwa Takes the Reins

Posted on April 8, 2013 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 47

This is the Rubbery Shrubbery blog, where you’ll learn how Yachats (YAH-hots), Oregon, acquires a Major League Baseball franchise. To learn more about Yachats and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns)— please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

Today Brassica Chin interviews several au courant Yachatians regarding the selection of the new Smelt general manager. A general manager to humble all other general managers, as you will see.

Dzunukwa Takes the Reins
by Brassica Chin

After reviewing many resumes and interviewing a superlative aggregation of candidates, the Yachats Smelt have named a general manager at last. She is Dzunukwa*, a well-known doyenne of Yachats society and author of the current best seller Fun with Wrinkles. (See Post #32, “How We Will Spend Our Vacation,” for a photo of Dzunukwa.)

The announcement sent shock waves through the baseball world. In Dzunukwa the Smelt have hired the first Sasquatch witch to lead a major league baseball organization (several have headed major corporations, of course).

A few major league general managers submitted their resignations immediately upon hearing the news. “They don’t pay me enough for me to negotiate with Dzunukwa,” said one executive who asked to be anonymous. “In fact, I wouldn’t do that for all the money in China.”

We have yet to hear from the Baseball Commissioner’s office regarding the rumor that Bud Selig will be stepping down from that position as soon as he can get his desk cleaned out.

To learn more about this enigmatic new Smelt force, I’ve asked two Yachatian old timers, Wumpy Mugwump and Yabby Weezer, to speak with us today.**

Brassica: Gentlemen, you probably know Dzunukwa better than anyone else. Could you tell us a little about her, uh…childhood?

Yabby: Sure, Brassica. Old Dzunukwa is a true Yachatian. Born and raised just east of town in the Siuslaw National Forest. Came from a large family—too many kids to count. All the boys went off to play football at the University of Oregon. The only members of the family I knew besides Dzunukwa were her older sister Dkenesaw and a younger sister Dfanny Mae.

Wumpy: Yeah, Dkenesaw was named after Judge Landis (see Fig. 1) who was Commissioner of Baseball long ago. She was straight-laced and calculated. And Dfanny Mae was just the opposite—a real party Sasquatch. A wild one, let me tell you. But Dzunukwa was different still. Wanted to be a witch from the time she was relatively little. Studied witchology hard.

Figure 1. Kenesaw Mountain “Happy” Landis. On one of his up days.

Yabby: That’s right. The three sisters were as different as night and day and…uh…

Wumpy: But they had one thing in common—they loved to play baseball. All the kids loved baseball. Played in a meadow in the middle of the forest.

Yabby: And they were good, too. Outstanding athletes. Any of the kids could’ve played football for the Oregon Ducks if they wanted, but Dzunukwa and her sisters turned down scholarships so they could stay home and play meadow baseball.

Brassica: So Dzunukwa learned baseball by actually playing it. That must be a rarity for today’s baseball execs.

Wumpy: It probably gives her an advantage. Also, despite all the tales about her being dim-witted, she’s really very sharp and that gives her an advantage, too.

Yabby: Yep, she’s a rarity, all right.

Brassica: Has she moved into her office yet?

Yabby: She sure has. Now understand, buildings find her to be a problem—she’s a challenge for door frames and faucet handles. Therefore, her office is in the wetlands out beyond center field. (See Fig. 2.)

Figure 2. Dzunukwa in her new office suite viewed from center field of Rubbery Shrubbery Stadium.

Brassica: I’m sure she must feel at home there. Has she settled in enough to begin making Smelty decisions?

Wumpy: Oh, it took almost no time for her to pick the Smelt field manager. It’ll be Terry Francona, who had so much success bringing championship teams to the Boston Red Sox. See Fig. 3.

Figure 3. Dzunukwa with Terry Francona, soon to be manager of the Smelt.***

Brassica: But the Cleveland Indians just hired him to be their manager!

Yabby: Well, Dzunukwa was very polite about it. She said that if the Indians agree to let Francona manage the Smelt, they wouldn’t have to negotiate with her. The Indians were so happy, they said they would give her Francona and three players to boot. They said they would give her the roof off their stadium if it had one.

Brassica: That’s very nice of them. It’s wonderful to see how well everyone gets along in Baseball. Obviously Dzunukwa encourages cooperation. Has she made any other major decisions?

Wumpy: Yep. She picked her new farm director and assistant farm director (see Fig. 4). Now the Smelt can start building a strong farm system.

Figure 4. Dzunukwa with the new Smelt farm director and her assistant, Hiram.****

Brassica: Wow! Dzunukwa has sure gotten right down to business. It sounds like she has shaken off her earlier reputation.

Wumpy: She has taken steps, no question. For one thing, she’s become more judicious in her use of magic. Also, she no longer coos “Huuu huuuu.” (She used to do that all the time.) And that gunny sack thing’s no longer a problem, I’m sure. For many months now, the Yachats/Waldport area has had no reports of missing children.

* Dzunukwa is pronounced DZOO-noo-kuaw, where “DZ…” starts with the tip of the tongue pressed against the back of the upper incisors.
** I agreed to write this article with the stipulation that I wouldn’t be required to interview Dzunukwa. She scares me.
*** Photo by Keith Allison.
**** “American Gothic” by Grant Wood (1891-1942)

Next Time: Perhaps we’ll take a look at the Smelt’s minor league teams as the new farm director shapes things up.

NOTE: As for Dzunukwa’s sisters, Dkenesaw became the largest fashion designer in the world and lives in a forest near Paris. Dfanny Mae went to Hollywood where she has starred in many Indie films, such as Bigfoot Meets Godzilla and the Bobbsey Twins and Yeti Beach Blanket Party. Last year she was nominated for a Golden Noogie for her performance in Abominable Snowwomen in Love.

NOTE AGAIN: Eric Sallee and Dave Baldwin will be happy to address any issues regarding the Rubbery Shrubbery blog. They’ll respond to suggestions, requests, and vexations only during their normal business hours, however.

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46 – Why Nine Players on Each Team?

Posted on March 31, 2013 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 46

This is the Rubbery Shrubbery blog, where you’ll learn how Yachats (YAH-hots), Oregon, acquires a Major League Baseball franchise. To learn more about Yachats and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns)— please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

For this post, we stray from the Yachats Smelt story to give you a tale of baseball’s early history. It might not be historically accurate, but it is precise.

Why Nine Players on Each Team?
by Dave Baldwin

One day in the 19th century three guys were lounging around ye olde tavern with nothing much to do, so they decided to invent baseball. Let’s call them Alexander Cartwright, Henry Chadwick, and Abner Doubleday because those were, in fact, their names. See Figures 1, 2, and 3.

Figure 1. Alexander Cartwright (middle, second row). The New York Knickerbockers Baseball Club, 1847. Only six members on the team—obviously before the invention of baseball.

When it came to specifying how many players would be in each team’s line-up, they dithered. Finally, Alex said, “I have an idea. Here’s how we’ll resolve this. We’ll take a random number… say, my birth date (4/17/1820) without the slashes and parentheses. Then we’ll scramble the digits good and proper to make a second random number (e.g., 2011874), and subtract the smaller number from the larger. Like, 4171820 minus 2011874 equals 2159946. Am I going too fast?”

Figure 2. Henry Chadwick. An inveterate jokester with an enviable sense of humor. See the sparkle in his eyes?

Abner grunted and Henry groaned. “Good,” Alex enthused. “Now let’s sum up the digits in that number: 2+1+5+9+9+4+6 = 36. Next, we’ll sum those two digits: 3+6 = 9. So that’s how many players we’ll have on each team.”

“Okay,” Abner yipped. “Now, I’ll figure out how many innings we’ll play. But I’m going to use my birth date instead. I was born on June 26, 1819. I’ll shuffle that 6261819 to give me 8619261. So, 8619261 minus 6261819 gives me 2357442. I add those digits to get 27 and add those to get 9. Wow! We’re going to play nine innings.

Figure 3. Abner Doubleday. We’re not sure who taped the squirrel to his head.

Henry scowled. “Wait a minute. I don’t trust you hornswogglers. Let me calculate using my birth date – October 5, 1824.” He whipped up a jumbled version of 1051824 and hammered out the math.

“Holy mongoose, Hank!” Alexander shouted. “You came up with 9, too. That cinches it. Nine it will be.”

Figure 4. Mongoose. Just minding his or her own business. Not claiming to be holy.*

We are indeed fortunate that they stumbled on nine as the number of players on a team, because that is actually the correct number. To demonstrate this, we’ll use the precise total number of players who have played in the majors and the Negro Leagues since that fateful tavern rendezvous: 19,623. We’ll yank out the comma and rearrange that number (randomly, of course) to get 62193. Now we’ll subtract: 62193 minus 19623 equals 42570. Summing these digits gives us 4+2+5+7+0 = 18 and 1+8 = 9. QED.

* Helogale parvula in Korkeasaari zoo. Photo by Miika Silfverberg (MiikaS) from Vantaa, Finland

Next time: We’ll have big news regarding the selection of the Smelt general manager. Very big news. Frightening, too.

NOTE: Our tavern trio sipped a bit more and continued with exuberance, using their method to determine the number of strikes for a strikeout, balls for a walk, outs for a half inning, bases on the infield, foul lines, goal posts, and cows in the outfield. Fortunately, Ms. Eliza Mae Rizzleblurt, proprietor, saw the trio was topsy, stepped in, and made them rewind to the point at which our story ended. Unfortunately, in the only photo we could find of Ms. R., the woman who saved baseball, she had her eyes closed.

NOTE AGAIN: Dave Baldwin borrowed this tale from “Baseball Paradoxes” on his own website, http://www.snakejazz.com .

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45 – The Yachats Baseball Industry

Posted on March 25, 2013 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 45

This is the Rubbery Shrubbery blog, where you’ll learn how Yachats (YAH-hots), Oregon, acquires a Major League Baseball franchise. To learn more about Yachats and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns)— please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

Harrison Grutch returns with his rustic curmudgeon charm to write today’s post. He will interview the Crossbowe brothers, Orville and Wilbur, about their new baseball-related businesses. But first, Harrison has a disturbing rumor from drought-ridden Migraine Springs, Texas (see Fig. 1). If you don’t recall this town, go immediately to Post #34, “The Wetstone Pipeline.”

The Yachats Baseball Industry
by Harrison Grutch

This morning I received a discouraging phone call from “Pecos Billy” Bob, my old buddy in dust-smothered Migraine Springs. He says the Keystone XL Oil Pipeline which is supposed to carry Lake Winnipeg and Lake Superior down to the middle of Texas maybe won’t.

Figure 1. Texas dust. Very big dust.*

The problem is Duluth. It seems Duluthians have gotten attached to their Lake Superior (see Fig. 2). Here’s how our phone conversation went.

Figure 2. Lake Superior. Duluth is the reddish area above the tip of what looks like the needle nose of a big, bad wolf looking to our left.**

Grutch: Do the Duluthians have a good reason for not relinquishing that water? After all, Texas really needs it.

Bob: They say Duluth would have the world’s largest mudflat in its front yard. They say, “Why can’t Texas take one of the other lakes? Like, Lake Erie. It’s just a small pond with green scum—no one would miss it.”

Grutch: Could you use another lake? Well, you wouldn’t want Erie with all that green scum, but how about Michigan or Huron?

Bob: Hey, Michigan would be perfect! We’ve found that a ley line connects the center of the lake with the center of Texas. Think how the flow of Earth energies between those two power centers would force the water right down the globe to Migraine Springs.

Grutch: That sounds good, but doesn’t a ley line also connect Texas with Lake Superior? And Lake Huron? And Lake Ontario? And Lake Wobegon and Lake…

Bob: Turns out, we can’t do Michigan, anyway. Chicago’s even snippier than Duluth. All the big lakes have snippy cities.

Grutch: Have you thought of other solutions?

Bob: Well, we were considering yanking that ice sheet off Greenland and tugging it down to the Texas coast. There it could be chopped up and the chunks hauled up to the middle of the state.

Grutch: You’ve given up on that idea?

Bob: Well, sure! Chopping up the ice would be a lot of hard work.

Grutch: Yep, I can see that. Any other ideas?

Bob: We had one more, but it was a little farfetched. We read that dowsing (see Fig. 3) is a good way to find water. Apparently, something sympathetic emanates from the water and causes a willow twig to bend toward it. So we hired a licensed dowser, the best in metropolitan Migraine Springs. He walked around holding that stick and suddenly yelled “Eureka!”

Figure 3. Famous dowser.***

Grutch: That’s great!

Bob: Nah. I went over and looked at that twig and I says, “Hey, that’s pointing at your feet!” You see, about 60 or 70% of the human body is water, and that includes his feet. It was a bust.

At that point Pecos Billy began sobbing uncontrollably. With no water, it looks unlikely that Migraine Springs will host a farm team of the Yachats Smelt. It’s enough to make anyone cry.

To cheer myself up, I moseyed out to the Gerdemann Botanic Preserve (see Fig. 4) for a chat with Orville and Wilbur Crossbowe, the younger twin brothers of Big Forbes Crossbowe. I found them sitting under a Chilean Flame Tree (see Fig. 5).

Figure 4. Gerdemann Botanic Preserve, Yachats.****

Grutch: I’ve heard both of you are starting baseball related businesses. Tell me about them.

Figure 5. Chilean Flame Tree (Embothrium coccineum).

Wilbur: Sure. We have the perfect setup. You see, Orville here is extremely judgmental, in fact we both are. Well, what better profession for someone as opinionated, yet meticulous as Orville than umpiring? So Orville is opening an umpiring school—The Thumbs Up Ump Institute.

Orville: That’s right. We’ll teach aspiring umpires everything they need to know, from rubbing baseballs to avoiding seven years bad luck by stepping over foul lines.

Grutch: Sounds like a brave new generation of umps is on the horizon. And what is your new business, Wilbur?

Wilbur: Well, being opinionated to the point of being obnoxious, and being an unmitigated loudmouth, I’m planning an umpire baiting school. And I’ll put it right next to Orville’s school. My students will have plenty of opportunities to practice and so will Orville’s.

Grutch: And what will you call your school?

Wilbur: The Heckle and Snide Academy.

* NOAA George E. Marsh Album.
** NASA Landsat photograph.
*** Dowser Otto Edler von Graeve in 1913. From George Grantham Bain Collection (Library of Congress).
**** Photo by Kathleen Sand.

Next time: We’ll give you some little-known baseball history. And it has nothing to do with the Smelt.

NOTE: As you’ve seen from our examples of ley lines and dowsing, use of scientific-sounding language is no assurance of a concept’s validity. Stepping over foul lines, however, is another matter.

NOTE AGAIN: Dave Baldwin and Eric Sallee are very grateful the Rubbery Shrubbery blog has been named one of the world’s best-read.

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44 – A New Smelt Farm Team

Posted on March 18, 2013 by Dave Baldwin


RUBBERY SHRUBBERY Post 44

This is the Rubbery Shrubbery blog, where you’ll learn how Yachats (YAH-hots), Oregon, acquires a Major League Baseball franchise. To learn more about Yachats and its inhabitants—called Yachatians (yah-HAY-shuns)— please go to this page or go to GoYachats.

Now for something completely different. Yachats’s mayor, Ron Brean, has agreed to join us in writing this post. Ron has contributed the basic ideas for it, and he’s done most of the writing. The Rubbery Shrubbery staff has fiddled with it slightly to fit it to our usual format, but be assured, all the good stuff is Ron’s.

A New Smelt Farm Team
by Ron Brean

Naturally, the soon-to-be famous Smelt will have farm teams. Like every other team that aspires to greatness, they need a pipeline of new players. Naturally, the farm teams are placed in locales with much smaller markets so as not to interfere with the draw to the Smelt games.

Given the current level of the Smelt’s newest developmental club, however, there is little worry of that. The team is composed of has-beens trying to make their way back to the show, never-weres that probably never will be, and young prospects. They are all wanna-bes.

That’s not to say they don’t have a following. They do. In fact there has been some sort of a following since the team was first conceived. “Conceived” may be the operative word there. It seems there are an inordinate number of pregnant ladies proudly wearing the team’s puce and mauve colors in the stands (not that a puce paunch isn’t very fetching). Market surveys have also shown the crowd to comprise a surprising number of bill collectors, IRS auditors, and bounty hunters. Odd though it may be, it is a following. “Following” may be the operative word there.

This farm team, like most franchises, has moved around a bit, its current location and status being a step up the ladder…or at least up the valley. They started somewhere kind of near the lower reaches of the Willamette Valley in Oregon, somewhere near the confluence of the Great Columbia and the almost as great Willamette Rivers. They have now moved about 3 hours up the watershed.

The specific location of origin, like everything else about the team remains obscured in the team’s history. There isn’t one. No one chronicled the team formation, early players, the origin of the name (yes, the team has a name and I’m getting to that), or anything else. No diaries have been unearthed to shed light on the team’s past. Local newspapers didn’t bother to mention their games.

The only record is word of mouth that has passed down from generation to generation of team fans. Since many of those mouths in the early years were so stuffed with tobacco products as to make speech both undistinguishable from sounds made by a sleeping bag in an industrial sized washing machine, and dangerous to be in front of, even that history which came to us orally is of questionable value.

Nevertheless, the story is this: The first rendition of the team was a bunch of pioneer types that got together to play baseball. They knew their team needed a name—a team can’t win a game (or lose one, for that matter) without a name.

Like sports teams of all types everywhere, they tried to come up with a name that was suggestive of spirit, of courage, of prowess, and of …well, I guess marketability. Now, most of the animal names with enough panache to fill the bill had already been spoken for so they continued past the menagerie to historic heroes. However, being a relatively uneducated lot (perhaps explaining the lack of a written history) they didn’t know any heroes they could agree on. See Fig. 1. Fast moving pieces of machinery like, say, “jets” hadn’t been invented. So they were a bit stuck for a while until a fad of the time brought forth an idea. The fad was “dare-deviling”.

Figure 1. Alexander the Great. One of the historic heroes they couldn’t agree on.*

In those days, before technology advanced dare-deviling equipment into bungee jumping and parasailing, daring devils were forced to devise less equipment-centric means of defying death. Dare devils were much respected and looked up to and thus fulfilled most of the requirements of a good team name choice. Just calling yourselves the “Dare-devils” wasn’t adequate, though. Too vague. You had to be specific and find some tie to the local community.

It turns out that while waiting for equipment technology to advance, dare devils were forced to use natural phenomena, scary tall buildings, and low-tech equipment to dare the devil. Flagpole sitting arose as one of those, but it seriously lacked the required heart thump of a team name. See Fig. 2.

Figure 2. Alvin “Shipwreck” Kelly flagpole sitting. Mr. Kelly started the flagpole sitting fad in 1924. Notice how lacking in heart thump this is.**

A widely publicized thrill-seeking, crowd-awing endeavor of the time was the attempt to ride a wooden barrel (very low-tech equipment) over Niagara Falls. That was too “eastern” for the locals, and frankly too high-tech. So, to prove themselves gutsier than the eastern namby-pambies, local dare devils took to launching themselves off the tops of waterfalls without barrels, a feat far superior to that of mollycoddles in other time zones. They splashed into the shallow plunge pools at the base of the waterfalls in the Columbia Gorge, and none ever bragged about it. See Fig. 3. Plenty of pizzazz and moxie there.

Figure 3. Dare devils at Acapulco, Mexico. Very similar to Oregon dare devils.***

That’s why the team became the Multnomah Falls Plungers. Of course, they might not have been all that near Multnomah Falls, but everyone knew where Multnomah Falls was, and nobody then or to this day knew where the team’s real roots were. See Fig. 4.

Figure 4. Multnomah Falls, Oregon. High but not at all similar to Niagara Falls.

So the team was proud to be called the Plungers. Each time the franchise moved it always kept that name. The latest move of these nomads was when they were acquired by the Smelt and moved up the Willamette Valley to their new home. No one seemed to realize there might be some consternation with keeping the same name while moving to Drain, Oregon. Consequently, the Drain Plungers have become the pipeline of the Smelt. When first introduced to the new farm team, long time Yachats fans took one look at the Plungers and simply said “Oh, those Smelt!”

* Detail of the Alexander Mosaic, representing Alexander the Great on his horse Bucephalus. Naples National Archaeological Museum, Naples, Italy.
** From HistorybyZim.com.
*** Photo by James Huckaby. From Wikipedia.
**** In case you are anxious to find Drain on a map, it is seven or eight miles west of Yoncalla and a hop, skip, and a jump southwest of Naughty Lady Meadow.

Next time: We’ll take a look at how Yachatian entrepreneurs are grabbing the Smelt brass ring.

NOTE: The Stadium Committee has not yet heard from Willamette University Professor of Chemistry J. Charles Williamson. An experienced LEGO architect and construction project foreman, Dr. Williamson would be the perfect selection to take charge of the youthful labor force working on building Rubbery Shrubbery Stadium. If the committee can’t get Dr. Williamson for this task, out of desperation it might have to resort to asking Donald Trump to do it. (Dagnabbit!)

NOTE AGAIN: Dave Baldwin and Eric Sallee are very grateful that Mayor Ron Brean joined us in writing this post of the Rubbery Shrubbery blog.

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