In 1963, the Indianapolis Indians minor league baseball team hosted Babe Ruth night at Victory Field on West 16th Street in Indianapolis.  On a hot summer night, Bernie Vogel, one of the Babe Ruth League coaches, took a station wagon load of boys to the game.  As part of the Babe Ruth Night celebration, the Indians were giving away a pony after the game, so we all kept our ticket stubs just in case. If memory serves me correctly, Bernie drove a 1959, light blue, Plymouth station wagon.  The boys that I can remember in the station wagon that night were, Raymond Veith, Marvin Fischer, Ernie Ward, Keith Trent, and Charlie Nelson.  If there was anyone else, please refresh our memory with a reply to this post.  Anyway, we enjoyed the game and stayed until the last out was made.  We left the stadium and were in the parking lot pretty close to getting in the car when we heard the public address announcer call the number of the ticket stub that would win the pony.  It was dark in the parking lot but there were enough car lights already on that we could make out the numbers.  None of us were surprised when our numbers didn't match.  All of a sudden Ernie Ward yells out, "Hey, that's my number."  "  You're kidding," we all say.  "It's me, it's me," Ernie keeps yelling.  So we all go back inside and are directed to home plate where a less than healthy looking pony awaits the lucky kid.  And let's face it, winning a pony is very lucky.  Sure enough, Ernie presents his ticket stub and is confirmed as the winner.  Some seedy looking guy in a pick-up truck with wooden side boards is prepared at that moment to load the pony and drive it directly to Ernie's house.  Ernie gives the okay.  No warning to his dad.  Remember, no cell phones to call ahead.  So we all head back to the parking lot and Bernie's vehicle to start the 45-minute ride home.  All the way home we're hanging out the car windows yelling, "Ernie won the pony, Ernie won the pony."  We'd stop at a stoplight and yell at all the cars around us, "Ernie won the pony."  We pull up to Ernie's house and pile out of the car and his dad appears in the front yard and we all yell, "Ernie won the pony."  Before his dad can process what is going on, the guy pulls up in the pick-up truck, unloads the pony, and ties it to the oil tank filler pipe coming out of the ground in Ernie's back yard.   Now hopefully Ernie will read this post and reply and I'll leave it to him to characterize his dad's reaction.  But I can best describe it as bumfoozled.  Here he was probably just getting ready to go to bed for the night and all of a sudden - CHAOS!  Right on Roosevelt Street in the middle of Plainfield.  I think all of us had visions of Ernie abandoning his bicycle and riding his pony around town as his primary mode of transportation.  I'm pretty sure that didn't happen as I never remember seeing Ernie looking like Yankee Doodle Dandy or even a cowboy.  Well Ernie can tell the story from here.  What happened to the pony Ernie?  Don't tell me it ended up in my standard issue paste jar in my desk at school.

Charlie, Hi!!!

 You can tell a great Story! Ernie and I were close buddies back then, but I don't recall that one. But then again, I forget alot of things.

 Dave