Confessions of an All-American Girl

Madonna's Model Madonna portrays me in the movie, A League of Their Own. She plays a cut-up, and was the original clown of the league. Rules were always made to be broken, and think broke every rule in the book. met Madonna when they were making the movie in Skokie, Illinois. liked her. She was just like anyone else who was earning $60 million a year. In the All-American Girls' League we had to wear skirts and look like ladies at all times. The only time we weren't feminine was when we were playing ball. The guys would look at our short skirts, then look at our legs and wonder how we could slide without taking all the hide off ourselves. Well, we did take the hide off ourselves. Today the men can't even play if they have a strawberry, and they're making all those millions. God, whoever thought it would get like that? loved to slide. One year think stole 100 bases. They've got a picture of me sliding hanging in the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. And could hit home runs. One of my managers said, I wish I'd have gotten you when you first started, because you had all the natural ability. But you want to swing so hard. Which did. hit a ton, because had more satisfaction doing that. started out playing softball in Beverly Hills with Pepper Paire B. Geena Davis played her in the movie. Practically every year we were champions; we used to get little trophies. In 1944 the All-American League sent out super-scouts, and Pepper and joined Minneapolis, a new franchise. was just out of high school and made $75 a week, which was a lot of money in those times and tops in the league. Some girls got $45-$50. Before ended was getting $125. That was supposed to be tops, but a lot of gals got more than that under the table. Each team was owned by a different business, so if the girls wanted to work part time they could make it legit. I'd say we were on a par with the Class-A or AA Minor Leagues at that time. From about '45 to '48 the league had very sizable crowds, maybe a million people a year. In '46 we went to Cuba for spring training, and we outdrew the Brooklyn Dodgers, who were also training there. always wanted the people to get their money's worth. So a lot of times I'd clown around and do acrobatics in the outfield. If made an out I'd stop by the grandstand behind first base and sit with the fans and say, Gosh, if you'd been yelling for me, I'd have gotten a base hit. Now, next time get up, you yell and I'll get a hit for you. Sometimes it worked. Not all the time, but sometimes. Or I'd hit a single and run it into a double--I could nearly always do that--I knew what kind of arms the outfielders had, and it usually wasn't close. Or maybe I'd get into a little argument with the umpires, things like that, to get the people into the ball game. I'd have glass eyes that used to get from carousel horses, and we'd have a little seance for base hits. We'd gather around and put them on, or keep staring at them and say, going to get a base hit-- or a home run, or win the ball game. We just concentrated on that horse's eye. I'd go up into the bleachers and hand out a few glass eyes, and the fans would hold them. They looked forward to that and in fact would come down and ask for them. One time we were winning seven or eight straight games, and all during the streak we didn't change uniforms, socks, anything. Good God, you had to put cologne on every night! We about stunk each other out of there! once got benched for being superstitious. My first manager was Bill Wamby, who made an unassisted triple play in the 1920 World Series. He saw us having a seance and said, You're not playing tonight. said, Why? I'm not hurt. You're overly superstitious. said, I've never heard such a ridiculous thing in my life. …

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