In a mem­o­rable encounter at the Lit­tle League field, Jef­frey Magee was observed just after the Red Sox cel­e­brat­ed a vic­to­ry. The impres­sive high­light of the game was John McNab’s remark­able feat of strik­ing out six­teen bat­ters, an achieve­ment that estab­lished a new Two Mills L.L. record. Stand­ing five feet eight inch­es and alleged­ly weigh­ing over a hun­dred and sev­en­ty pounds, McNab looked every bit the part of a pow­er­house pitch­er, despite his offi­cial age of twelve.

While most play­ers strug­gled against McNab’s infa­mous fast­ball, one new play­er emerged: a scrap­py, small kid with­out a prop­er uni­form. He con­fi­dent­ly approached the plate with a book laid flat on it, sport­ing a bor­rowed red cap. When McNab dis­mis­sive­ly attempt­ed to scare the kid away, he instead donned the cap and stepped up to bat, gen­er­at­ing laugh­ter from McNab. The ensu­ing pitch took an unex­pect­ed turn when the kid con­nect­ed with the ball, send­ing it fly­ing toward McN­ab’s head, nar­row­ly miss­ing him and send­ing his cap spin­ning. The shock of the inci­dent silenced the onlook­ers.

As McNab col­lect­ed him­self, he ordered the ball and cap returned to him, but soon found him­self on the defen­sive as the runt con­tin­ued to hit home runs, prompt­ing wild excite­ment on the side­lines. Frus­trat­ed, McNab attempt­ed to regain con­trol by throw­ing pitch­es aimed at the kid, all of which result­ed in strikes that the kid clev­er­ly avoid­ed.

In a twist, McNab decid­ed to shake things up by toss­ing not a base­ball but a frog instead. In a dis­play of inge­nu­ity, the kid suc­cess­ful­ly bunt­ed the amphib­ian and dashed towards first base, aim­ing for a rare inside-the-park home run, an act that cat­a­pult­ed him into action. McNab, des­per­ate to pre­serve his record, chased the frog that veered from him toward third base. The chaos that ensued saw both the run­ner and “frog­ball” rac­ing for home plate. In a cli­mac­tic fin­ish, it was Magee who tri­umphed, touch­ing home and fur­ther solid­i­fy­ing his unex­pect­ed lega­cy, as McNab shout­ed threats after him, vow­ing he’d bet­ter not return. This encounter marked the birth of what would be humor­ous­ly known as the world’s first frog­ball home run.