In a world where every night was dark and stormy, in a galaxy far, far, away, one brave soul took on a new life in a new place with new people. Things were new. He was scared. This is his story (r.i.p. movie trailer guy) ...
Darkness had fallen on the city of Chicago. After a glorious start, the Chicago National League Ballclub had been overtaken by hard times. No longer were they the zenith, the alpha, and the pinnacle of prestige in the new National League. They were an average team, wallowing in the mire of mediocrity.
Then the following year, everything changed.
The Cubs were unbeatable. Led by an upgraded pitching staff and the emergence of young stars, the team scored more than two runs more per game than their opponents, and hit more than 20 points higher as a team than the rest of the league. They were once again a juggernaut.
Leading the charge, well, actually somewhere in the rear of the movement, was a scappy, diminutive infielder named Joe Quest. Despite his diminutive size (5'6 150lbs), Joe still wasn't close to being one of the smallest men in the league. He wasn't even the smallest on his own team - ace pitcher Larry Cororan was 5'3, 127lbs.
But what Joe Quest lacked in recognition, he made up for in .... ummm ... not much really.
The truth is, Joe Quest wasn't very good. Even considering the fact he played in the "dead ball era", Joe couldn't hit. He averaged a horrible .217 during his ten-year career. And he didn't take many walks either, drawing only 104 during his time in the majors. To top it off, Joe was also atrocious in the field, even for his day, averaging nearly 37 errors a season for his career.
So why did I choose to write about Joe Quest?
Because he has a cool name.
Darkness had fallen on the city of Chicago. After a glorious start, the Chicago National League Ballclub had been overtaken by hard times. No longer were they the zenith, the alpha, and the pinnacle of prestige in the new National League. They were an average team, wallowing in the mire of mediocrity.
Then the following year, everything changed.
The Cubs were unbeatable. Led by an upgraded pitching staff and the emergence of young stars, the team scored more than two runs more per game than their opponents, and hit more than 20 points higher as a team than the rest of the league. They were once again a juggernaut.
Leading the charge, well, actually somewhere in the rear of the movement, was a scappy, diminutive infielder named Joe Quest. Despite his diminutive size (5'6 150lbs), Joe still wasn't close to being one of the smallest men in the league. He wasn't even the smallest on his own team - ace pitcher Larry Cororan was 5'3, 127lbs.
But what Joe Quest lacked in recognition, he made up for in .... ummm ... not much really.
The truth is, Joe Quest wasn't very good. Even considering the fact he played in the "dead ball era", Joe couldn't hit. He averaged a horrible .217 during his ten-year career. And he didn't take many walks either, drawing only 104 during his time in the majors. To top it off, Joe was also atrocious in the field, even for his day, averaging nearly 37 errors a season for his career.
So why did I choose to write about Joe Quest?
Because he has a cool name.
