Georgetown Gentlemen

🎄⚾ IT’S CHRISTMAS RAFFLE TIME! ⚾🎄

The Georgetown Gentlemen are proud to launch our 4th Annual Christmas Raffle — and this year’s prize package is our best yet!

One lucky supporter will win a Premium YETI beverage bucket packed with top-shelf Kentucky bourbons and holiday cheer — nearly $1,000 in value!

A huge THANK YOU to Landcal for donating the YETI cooler and Maime's Fine Wine and Gifts for expertly curating this amazing package!

Featured prizes included in the beverage bucket:
🥃 Woodford Reserve Kentucky Derby 146
🥃 Maker’s Mark Cellar Aged 2024
🥃 Coopers’ Craft Barrel Reserve
🥃 Cream of Kentucky Small Batch
🥃 Old Forester
👕 Georgetown Gentlemen T-Shirt
… and more!

Tickets: $10 each — NO LIMIT
As a 501(c)(3) charitable organization, tickets are tax-deductible
Raffle ends December 15

How to Purchase:
• Venmo: (scan QR on flyer)
• Message us directly
• Buy from your favorite Gentlemen player

Your support helps us preserve the history of America’s pastime and strengthen community spirit right here in Georgetown. ⚾❤️

Thank you for cheering us on — and good luck!

This Halloween, the Georgetown Gentlemen tip our caps to all those 19th-century ballplayers still haunting the basepaths. The game never dies — it just gets a little quieter after dark.

Play safe, have fun, and keep the spirit of baseball alive . . . if you can.

Come on out tomorrow! See some vintage baseball player and visit with some baseball card dealers!

In a contest fit for the annals of Kentucky lore, the Georgetown Gentlemen welcomed a group of spirited lads, and one lass, of the Paris Bourbonites, to the west field of the storied Ward Hall estate for a doubleheader of base ball beneath the evening sky. With the first pitch tossed as the sun headed towards Frankfort, the teams sought respite from the July furnace and waged their friendly feud in what was hailed as the second annual Battle for the Barrel.

To the uninitiated, the moniker may require explanation. The proud towns of Georgetown and Paris have long quarreled over which may lay rightful claim to being the true cradle of bourbon whiskey. Parisians point to their Jacob Spears as the spirit’s forefather, while Georgetonians, stout in their conviction, invoke the Rev. Elijah Craig as the original distiller. A barrel which formally held the potent potable was set as trophy for the night’s victors—along with temporary bragging rights as the birthplace of bourbon, naturally.

The squads agreed to a doubleheader, each match consisting of four innings—first by the bound-friendly 1864 rules, followed by a fly-only affair per the 1869 style. To determine who would take the field first, the teams engaged in that most masculine of athletic customs—an arm-wrestling contest. The Bourbonites put forth a burly gent called “Tiny” (an appellation steeped in irony), while the Gentlemen leaned on their own brawny son, Daniel “Iowa” Lamoreux. After a bout that had the crowd leaning in and gasping, Iowa’s might prevailed, and the home nine took the field first.

Game one commenced with Tommy “Molasses” Druen hurling the onion with precision, dispatching the first two Bourbonites he faced. Yet Paris rallied to notch a pair of tallies before the inning closed. The Gentlemen answered with one run, but still trailed. A similar exchange in the second left the score 4–2 in favor of the visitors.

Then came the third, and what a display it was! With bats singing and spirits high, the Gentlemen near batted around, raking nine runs across the plate. Big blows were delivered by Aaron “Steamer” Fairchild and Coleman “Major” Payne, whose bats cracked like thunder over the field. Nick “Cowboy” Hunt and Alan “Big Al” Hale wreaked havoc on the basepaths, galloping like wild colts. In the field, Bryon “Hotshot” Ellis at third and Drew “Bucky” Beckett at short kept the Bourbonites honest with slick hands and quicker feet.

Though Paris mounted a three-run rally in the fourth, the Gentlemen held fast, sealing an 11–7 triumph in the opener.
As the sun furthered its descent, game two began. The Bourbonites, having found their rhythm and capitalizing on a few ill-timed blunders by the Gentlemen, began to stretch their advantage inning by inning. Young Layne “Dugin” Royse, a mere 13 years of age, patrolled left field like a seasoned campaigner, robbing the Gentlemen of sure hits. Eric “Musket” Hatch blasted a ball so far it may yet be sailing eastward. Meanwhile, Jack “Chubbs” Koch darted around the bases like a greased possum, and Steve “Super” McCauley—more often seen wielding a ruler than a bat as the Paris school superintendent—proved that his feet still had fleet.

Down 14–6 entering the bottom of the fourth, the Gentlemen summoned all their dander. With grit and gumption, they began to chip away at the deficit, drawing nearer and nearer, until only three runs separated the squads. Lonnie “Downtown” Brown delivered a timely strike, and Matt “Mustang” Cizek twice found himself belly-down between third and home, but miraculously crossed the plate, drawing raucous cheers from the gathered cranks.

Alas, with two outs and momentum still building, a final tip from the bat was deftly snagged by Will “Big Red” Wilson, and the Bourbonites took the nightcap.

With the tally tied at one apiece, the barrel itself shall remain in dispute until next year’s showdown, though spirits on both sides were as high as the evening’s full moon. Players from both squads shared laughs, handshakes, and hearty fare afterward, proving once more that gentlemanly sport binds more than it divides.

Of special note was the grand turnout of cranks—men, women, and younglings alike—whose cheers rang out through the Ward Hall grounds. Local vendors offered their wares, and the evening took on the air of a true town gathering, a celebration not only of base ball but of community.

The Gentlemen now sit at a commendable 7–4 on the season. With bumps, bruises, and sunburns alike, they shall enjoy a deserved respite before taking the field again on August 17th. Until then, they rest under the knowledge that on one fine evening in July, they gave their town a game—or two—to remember.

Until next time, dear readers, may your skies be fair and your balls not foul.

Tonight is the night! Come on out to Ward Hall and watch some base ball!