George Washington Took It On the Chin Sometimes, Too

The stories we've all heard about the American Revolution are usually the happy tales, or at least the heroic ones - the Christmas night crossing of the Delaware, Jefferson's penning of the Declaration, the final victory and British surrender at Yorktown. But let's not forget that as often as not, the big-hearted but under-prepared and underfed Americans were taken to the woodshed.

Fast forward a couple hundred years. The Jitterbugs travel to the one-stopsign hamlet of Nehawka, and on the four corners around the stopsign intersection are a Methodist church, a park, a farmer's co-op ... and a baseball diamond. For the average Nehawkan youngster, that means their leisure-time options are checking soybean futures and playing hardball. It's not a hard choice. And, unfortunately for your big-hearted but somewhat under-prepared (although not malnourished, thanks to our parents' generosity and the succor of the Miller Brewing Company), all the hours of practice for those Nehawkan boys showed. It wasn't pretty.

But the Jitterbugs are a spirited crew. Later that night, back at the Roy, we rested up with our High Life while Mitch quizzed us on famous first dates, including the first typewriter patent (1868), and the first single-engine around the world flight (1981). Meanwhile Lucas treated us to an impromptu French horn recital, with the highlight (High Life?) being a rousing version of "When the Saints Go Marching In". After a good night's sleep, we made our way west, like General Washington outmanuvering Cornwallis to fight another day, and landed in the aptly named Central City.

Compared to Nehawka, Central City is a Manhattan, but it's still small enough that baseball seemed to be the primary pasttime. Although the cousins Demmel put up a number of hits, we never were able to sustain much momentum, and the Central City Shamrocks bombarded us from the first inning on.

But Central City had a beautiful park, and it was the perfect place, and perfect weather, for our first night sleeping in the outfield. Under an advertisement for Wagner Funeral Home, we spent the night like our barnstorming forebears did - under the stars.

So. We took some knocks on the chin ... but things always turn around on the Fourth of July.

Farwell Game - thoughts from the other dugout

MURDOCK JITTERBUGS OUTDANCE FARWELL FENCEBUSTERS


The date was June 8th 2007 and the location was the Farwell Ballfield. The temperature was 95 degrees at 6 PM, but nothing was going to stop the fans and players from pulling this game off. Playing in replica (green and yellow and red and while) uniforms, the game appeared as a flashback to the 1940's.
The young, handsome, collegiate, trim, 20-26 years olds comprised the The Murdock Jitterbugs. They are the brainchild of Lucas Stock, UNL grad student, who wanted to retrace the steps of his great uncles who played on the original team from the depression-era. Lucas created this 2-week documentary project aiming at capturing the character of small town baseball and the effect on their respective communities. Farwell was the final game of their season and the end of a very memorable tour for these, outstanding in character, group of young men who shortly would be embarking on new careers of their own across the country.
The Farwell Fence Busters were made up of dad's, grandpa's, childhood friends, cousins, neighbors and Little League teammates who all had some direct connections to Farwell townteam from the past. When Lucas Stock contacted Randy Lukasiewicz, organizer, about wanting to play Farwell because of it's long and great baseball tradition, Randy , could " not turn down this golden opportunity to re-enact the past." Of special significance is that 2007 is the 95th anniversay of the founding of the oldest amateur league in mid-Nebraska, the Sherman-Howard, also 75 years since Farwell fielded a team called the "Fence Busters."
Fans and players came from as far as Omaha, Sutton, Lincoln and Murdock to witness this wonderful outdoor spectacle. A brief visitor was even big baseball enthusiast and player in senior leagues until recently, former Omaha Mayor, Hal Daub.
Prior to the game and a prayer by former Farwell player and Farwell coach, Larry Lukasiewicz, the "National Anthem" and "Take me out to the ballgame" were sang.
A valant effort was certainly given by the home team, including cheers of "Go Grandpa, Go" but the youthful Jitterbugs just outdanced the dazzling bunch of Polish Fence Busters who just came up short by the score of 21-6. Ray Hurt was the starting pitcher and was relieved by Neil Ritz. Only at a game saturated with Polish descendants would you find the umpire going up to bat!!!!!! The mixture of ethnics groups, youth, near misses, LONG baselines, close-calls and pot-bellies brought much fun and humor to the evening.
Other Fence Busters included Lou Waltman (Lincoln), Alan Lewandowski, Joe Kezior, Kevin Chelewski Mike Horky, Jim Horky, Randy Kauk, Tom Mudloff, John Mudloff and Randy Lukasiewicz, Don Jehorek was the umpire and Tracy Lukasiewicz was the scorekeeper.
The sound of steel cleats and wooden bats can be heard again in Farwell next year on June 8th. Time and location to be announced.

Jitterbugs Are Back

Dear Jitterbug Fans -

Many apologies for the very long delay since the last post - a combination of a vacation, a 600-mile move, and a notebook temporarily lost in the shuffle have kept your blogger away for awhile. And even though the minds of Nebraskans have turned from America's pasttime to the Husker football juggernaut, the remainder of the Jitterbugs trip will not be forgotten.

So, if you can turn back the clock from the pleasantness of early September to the peak of baking summer, let's head back to Seward. Like just about every other game, it was clear and hot and still. Since it was a weeknight, a number of our regulars couldn't make it, but Alex Brown's father Steve and his brothers Jordan and Evan stepped up and took the field, as did current Farmhouse resident Bryan Harris, who drove all the way from Lincoln to make the game. The last time Steve Brown played hardball "I Will Survive" was topping the charts, Dustin Hoffman was yelling a lot in "Kramer Vs. Kramer," and muttonchops were still cool. (But muttchops have always been cool for Jitterbugs.) But Steve's decades of softball certainly prepared him for the game. He was a rock on first base, and when he was in the box, he put the bat on the ball.

So did the other Jitterbugs. Seven of us RBI'd, and a three-run fourth inning gave us a 4-2 lead. We never looked back. Paul Demmel threw nine strikeouts and managed to stifle every Seward rally. Despite an injured leg, catcher Justin Snyder held the defense together and scored a run of his own, riding the pony home. And what sealed the deal was Matt Greenquist's ninth-inning rip to center field, a stand-up triple that drove in two runs. The final score: Jitterbugs 9, Seward 5.

As we collected our gear after the game, roman candles were firing everywhere - it was the last day of June in Seward, the 4th of July capital of Nebraska - and driving the Dolphin camper back to The Roy, we stopped near Ashland's racetrack to watch the end of their annual show.
At the Roy we fried up our covertly caught catfish and then ate it in the front yard, washing it down with High Life and playing Swedish horseshoes in the dark.

The Jitterbugs Love Old-Timers

When the Jitterbugs threw anchor in Schuyler - this time a full hour before gametime - our reputation had preceded us. Due to the crack work of our team's PR corps, the Jitterbugs made it on the front page of the Schuyler weekly a few days earlier, which brought not only one of the largest crowds we've had so far, but a crowd that came bearing stories and photos from the halcyon days of Nebraska town team ball.

One gentleman, Marvin, who played for Schuyler back in the 40s, regaled us with tales from that era, including a wince-worthy anecdote about breaking his finger while catching and then having the break mis-set by a doctor, leaving the upper digits forever canted to the right, like a telephone pole cracked by a tornado. He also mentioned that ballplayers back in their league in the 40s didn't play with cups. Do the Jitterbugs love this? Yes. The Jitterbugs give toughness two bruised thumbs up.

On the mound the Jitterbugs had our veteran pitcher, Mark Demmel, who put in five solid innings, keeping Schuyler at bay while our offensive steadily put runs on the board. RBIs by Mitch, Luke, and Lucas gave the Jitterbugs a 3-0 lead by the end of the first inning, and from there, we never looked back. In the field, the Jitterbugs made play after play, led by Nick Dolan, whose glove is currently being studied by the Hoover Vacuum Company. With Jeff Backemeyer's RBIs in the fourth and sixth, plus four strike-outs for closer Mitch, we had multiple-run league the whole game, finally winning 8-4.

All of the Schuyler fans were tremendously gracious, and after the game the field umpire even offered us his yard to use as a postgame party site. It was an offer we couldn't refuse. Our fans brought meat and snacks, including Andrew Minarick's own Oatmeal Chews, hereafter Jitterbug Bars. During the festivities, the teenaged son of our host walked us down his street until it dead-ended in a ring of trees, with a large private lake beyond, a lit fountain at its center. "That's where the richest man in town lives," he said, his eyes wide and clear. "Over in that mansion on the other side of the lake." In the mid-evening of a summer night in the middle West, with bottlerocket sulphur and the savor of grilled meat hanging in the air, it was a moment Bruce Springsteen would have smiled on.

The Jitterbugs Love Jagger

After leaving Heron Bay, the Jitterbugs went their separate ways, and a few of us camped near Camp Kitake on a small strip of land wedged between the Platte on the left, and on the right, the BNSF tracks and beyond it, a stand of oaks winking with fireflies. We woke up hot and hungry in the morning, but due to a few unavoidable delays, we weren't able to leave until after noon, so we spent a few hours reading and playing "Would you rather ..." and leaving coins on the tracks for the freight trains to smush paper-thin. With one penny in tow, as big around as a half-dollar, we finally hustled off down the road to Cubby's (I-80 NE Exit 420). Never have flapjacks and chicken-fried steak tasted so good.

For our game that evening in Valparaiso, the Jitterbugs brought in a ringer of a pitcher, Jeff Heinrich, who went to school at UNL with a lot of the Jitterbugs, and is also married to Mitch's sister, so he felt right at home, since our team's second name might as well be "Mitch and Kin."
Heinrich was bringing the heat, hard and accurate, only giving up three runs in five innings.

And Heinrich was getting all the run support he could handle. In fact, if you'd been driving through Valparaiso around 7:30, you might have thought Independence Day had come early this year. But you needn't have been alarmed, it was only Luke Francis' three-run homer, which easily could have been mistaken for a fist-sized roman candle, shooting thirty feet beyond the center field fence.

Francis' rocket set the tone for the rest of the game, putting a little of the old Lindy Hop Jitterbug swagger in our step. All told, ten Jitterbugs had hits, and we followed up the three-run effort in the first with a five-run output in the second, highlighted by yet another home run, this one by Mitch Minarick. By the seventh inning, we were up 13-3. But coach Paul "Carl Lewis" Demmel was not through with the carnage yet. After getting a walk, he decided that our ten-run cushion wasn't quite enough, so he stole second base. And then he stole third. Some might compare this to beating up on a little kid after you've just stolen his Snicker's Bar, but Paul is the sort of guy who watches the Discovery Channel so he can see lions eviscerate gazelles. He would've stolen home if we'd have let him.

After the game, the Jitterbugs and our fans spent the evening at Val Tavern a few blocks from the baseball diamond. By that point, the kitchen had closed, so we restored our depleted calories with Busch Light and potato chips, just like they did in the old days. Anyway, I've been told beer is a macronutrient. And that was the night: shooting pool, laughing loud, nodding our victorious heads to the jukebox's Rolling Stones.

The Jitterbugs in Weeping Water

In the Jitterbugs' much-needed day of rest after our Stromsburg game, we acquired a valuable asset: a 70s-era Toyota Dolphin camper. After hosing it down, checking the oil, changing the battery, and filling it with fresh water, it was ready to shuttle us down to Weeping Water. And with its oak veneer paneling and brown plaid cushions - plus the teal curtains Mrs. Minarick helped us hang - we'd be traveling in style.

Weeping Water is a small town in the southeast corner of the state, a few homes and churches and stores nestled among a number of gentle hills. It would be a nice enough place, but WW has always had a long-standing rivalry with the blue-collar hamlet of Louisville, and since a number of Jitterbugs hail from Louisville, we were out for blood. Our center-fielder Andy Mixan had been talking up the game since our earliest team practice.

But Weeping Water came to play. Led by a coach who sported an intimidating Mad Dog moustache (imagine the top and sides of a square, a thick salt-and-pepper inch), they put their
bats on the ball from the very beginning. But with a combination of solid fiedling and savvy pitching by Mark Demmel, the Jitterbugs stayed in the game. On the offensive end, Luke Francis had a stellar game, going 3-3 with a couple of doubles and a couple of RBIs. Mark Demmel was also swinging well, using a old-timey wood bat to slap a couple of hits near the outfield fence. By the end of middle of the sixth inning, the Jitterbugs were trailing 8-4 but were within striking distance.

And in the sixth strike we did. Hits by Gangwish, Greenquist, Paul Demmel, yet another by Francis, and a clutch two-RBI single by Andy "Weeping Water's Bane" Mixan tied the game at eight by the end of the inning. As the baby-faced Mixan said, "You don't ever discount old man strength."

Unfortunately for us, the Weeping Water squad wasn't quite done yet, putting up 6 runs in the seventh, and then sticking in a hoss of a closer, who shut us out in the bottom of the inning to end the game, 14-8 Weeping Water. But the game proved that we could rally, and that with a little more practice to scour off the years-old rust, we could play with anybody. After the game, the Dolphin took our bruised bodies to Heron Bay, an elegant bar overlooking the Platte, and we let the PBR do the rest.

Jitterbugs in Stromsburg (for a little while)

Riding the crest of our first victory, the Jitterbugs zoomed into Osceola, NE, this getting into town twenty minutes before game time, instead of twenty minutes after. But to our surprise, there was no team waiting for us. Inquiries were made at the nearby public swimming pool, and the lifeguard called a friend of hers who was going to the game, and she told the lifeguard who told us that the game was actually going to be played in nearby Osceola, since the team was culled from kids from Stromsburg, Osceola, and Shelby (SOS), and they rotated fields every game. With a few sighs and curses, we hopped back in our cars. So, it was tally-ho to Osceola, where we arrived - approximately - when the game was supposed to start. However, we were fully uniformed, which was an improvement over last game. Even better, our pants had been upgraded at the hands of Mrs. Minarick and her crack team of seamstress daughters: the maker of our vintage pants hadn't yet added fly buttons when we picked them up, so after our first game, the Minaricks added them to each pair. Many thanks. After a brief warm-up, the game began. But as the Kansas City Royals know all too well, pitching is hard, and the sluggers from SOS put up a quick eight runs on us before the end of the first inning. So the Jitterbugs put out an SOS call of our own, and Luke Francis stepped up to the mound from first base and quelled the SOS run. The rest of the game, the Jitterbugs battled hard, putting up runs and playing tight with SOS, including a 2 for 3 batting performance by Mitch Minarick, the hero of our first game at North Bend, showing he can hit the strikes as well as he can throw them. But despite his bat and Francis' arm, the Jitterbugs couldn't quite overcome the first inning deficit, finally losing 18-9. On the bright side, the game highlighted our offensive firepower and showed that as long as we can pitch, our bats will do the rest. As we left that night under the lights, sipping the Gatorade bottles that the SOS coach gave us for free, we were confident about our chances against Weeping Water.