For those seeking a solution to the perennial questions of how the state might punish someone enough so that they become rehabilitated, community-loving citizens without the need for unusual punishments and, at the same time, reap a benefit for society as a whole thus making incarceration cost-effective – I may have your solution - Microfilm Readers.
Oh sure, they appear benign enough on the outside, but they are CRT screens of pure evil housed inside nauseating plastic beige exteriors. They do not eat or sleep or play fair. They hum and whistle and spin - too fast - too slow. Round and round the picture goes until your brain is mush and the migraines come like nightmares pulsating inside your head. It is as if you rode the “salt and pepper shaker” at the County Fair for eight hours straight. Make it stop! Please make it STOP!
God help us all if Dick Cheney ever finds out about microfilm readers . . .
And yet there I was giving up the mind and the body to retrieve information. For what? For whom? For research? For the League? For you? For me? What is up? What is down? How long has it been? Mommy?!
Yes, it’s that time of the year again (well actually it is quite late this year but that is another story) when I go fishing for some information about one or more inductees into the Hall of Fame. Dennis and the Times Herald were kind enough to let me do a little research, but what I really got was a Dantesque lesson in mental self-flagellation. All of the old newspapers have been stored on those wheels of death. Those chubby, squat reels . . . . black, gray sometimes white . . . those reels of microfilm. I can see them. I can smell them. I hate them.
Feed the lead under the roller, under the glass, under the roller into the other reel and turn the knob . . . there is no index . . . stop . . . what is the date? . . . what page am I on? where is the Sports section? why does the newspaper look like this? why are there thirty different headlines and stories on a page? who are these people? where am I? turn the knob . . . turn the knob . . . spinning and spinning . . . dizziness . . . the headaches begin . . . no more, no more, make it stop – I’m begging you – PLEASE! For the love of God no more!
Nothing. It is a herculean task. The stench of the Augean stables is nothing compared to that of my fried brain and the acrid chemical aroma of warmed acetate. I got nothing. My head pounding - now screaming – time to LEAVE! Wait. I can at least check 1946 before I go. I want to know. Why only five Teams? That doesn’t make any sense. Yet I’ve read the Reporter’s 1970 century celebration special edition Sports 100 Years. The look back at the League’s first twenty-five years:
“The Perky League had only five teams in that first season of 1946 – Souderton, Tylersport, Skippack, Collegeville and Schwenksville. Hatfield was among the charter members but dropped out before playing a game.
Membership swelled to eight teams in 1947 with Lansdale, Franconia and Sell-Perk joining the fold.”
This is Gospel. This is truth. And it would be great to find a story that outlined the beginning of the League. Charlie Romanoski and Art Bustard are in the Hall of Fame already. Who were the other guys at the beginning? Shouldn’t we honor them as well? Maybe I can find out. Maybe I can get through another reel . . . oh man my head hurts . . . under the roller, under the glass, under the roller into the other reel . . . turn the knob . . .
So many Leagues. So much baseball. Didn’t anybody play another sport? Oh wait, there’s a story on golf and a notice of Bobby Riggs appointed tennis pro somewhere in upstate New York, but it’s mainly baseball and more baseball. Leagues and Leagues and Leagues. Independent Teams looking for games. Amazing. Truly a Golden Era. But no stories on the Perkiomen Valley Twilight League. Wait. Yes. There’s one. And another. Few, but informative. What? Are you kidding me?
Who the heck are the Lansdale Eagles? And who is Spring Mount? What the heck is going on here?! My head is killing me!
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