During most of his young adulthood, Stan played baseball in the leagues set up by the textile manufacturing companies of the Carolina Piedmont. Over the years he played for many different teams and accumulated a mountain of stories, which he loved to tell as he grew older. When I was very young, my greatgrandfather told me some of these stories. Here's one that was passed down:

During one game in the prohibition years, his team (Converse) was down by one against its rival, Clifton, struggling to come up from behind during the whole game. Close to the end of the game, a Converse man bolts up from the stands and shouts, "I want a score, and I'll give $5 and a pint of liquor to the man that gives it to me."

Stan and his teammates looked at each other now that there was the additional motivation to win. Stan's teammate flied out to center in time to get a double. Next it was Stan's turn. He got up to the plate and when the ball flew, he knocked it out of the park. But by their rules, the ball wasn't yet out of play. So while the other team ran after the ball, everyone was shouting, "Run, Moseley, Run!" As it came to the home plate, he bowled over the catcher, but promised him a taste of that liquor.

Converse won and the man was true to his word. So Stan got his liquor and went to drinking it. Later on, his teammates were just about to drive him away when a plump older woman walks up to the car and taps on the window. When Stan rolls the window down, she leans in, "Are you the man that hit that home run?" "Yes," he says. And she reaches in and pins a bright red rose to his uniform. But Stan's so drunk that he can't find the words to thank her. So in a fit of laughter, his teammates drive off.

Stanyarne W Mosely