The ludicrous always partakes of the unexpected and nowhere does the unexpected happen more frequently than on the ball field. One of the most laughable incidents occurred in a game between the Union and Hope Clubs played west of the Fair Grounds [in 1868], on which occasion the Union boys appeared in bright new uniform that had been ordered from the East. One of the Union nine selected for this game, Kieselhorst failed to put in an appearance, and Julius Smith was chosen to fill his position but the latter’s uniform had not materialized and he positively refused to go on the field without a uniform in which resolution he was determined, more particularly so, because he had escorted his sweetheart to the grounds and naturally desired to show up to the best advantage. Jule Smith and Kieselhorst were about the same height, but the former was of much larger and more muscular development. He was finally induced to don Kieselhort’s uniform and though it was a tight fit he was so anxious to show his lady love what a fine player he was that he put forth all his energy to outdo his fellow players. Jule Smith was a fine batter and when his time came he hit the ball with so much force that it went sailing way down centerfield while he himself flew like a winged Mercury to first base where he was encouraged to continue his running by the loud shouts of his companions “to make a home run.” At third base the shouts were more vociferous and urgent. Jule put in his best sprinting licks and landed safe at home amid the most terrific shouts ever heard on the ball field. When he recovered himself enough to look around it was to discover the players rolling around on the grass all convulsed with laughter and the game at a standstill. A friendly Indian, Rufus Lackland, came to his aid and escorted him to the dressing room where Jule was quickly brought to a realization of the fact that his pants had parted.
-E.H. Tobias, writing in The Sporting News (November 30, 1895)
I think this little story is a much better way to put the 1868 series of posts to bed than to have me write up some kind of ponderous essay on the significance of it all. If you've been following along, you already know my thinking as to the importance of the 1868 season and I'm not feeling the need to go over everything again. I'd rather just point out that Julius Smith, in a game that year, splint his pants while hitting a home run.
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