Dixie had not been on the ground more than twenty minutes when Dahlen swiped the ball for a three-bagger.
It was one of those long, low, hard drives, and sailed about ten feet over the left fielder's head and in a direct line for Dixey.

He couldn't have gotten out of the way had he tried, but the fact was that he didn't see it coming, and the first he knew of it was when he heard a sharp yelp at his side and saw poor "Dago" tumbling off his seat between the wheels.
The dog was dead when picked up, the ball having broken his neck.
Between the yellow buckboard, the dead canine, the frightened horses and Dixey's excitement the whole field was in an uproar and it was fully ten minutes before we could get down to playing again, but Dahlen, the cause of it all, didn't even see the affair and scored on the death of "Dago," his being the only genuine case of making a dog-gone run that has ever come under my observation.
Some time during the winter of 1892, I added "big Bill Lange," who has since become one of the stars of the League, and Irwin to my string of fielders, and cast about to strengthen the pitching department of the team as much as possible, Gumbert and Luby having been released.

Having this object in view no less than eleven twirlers were signed, of whom all but four proved comparative failures, Hutchinson, McGill and Mauck having to do the greater part of the work in the box, the other eight men, Shaw, Donnelly, Clausen, Abbey, Griffith, McGinnins, Hughey and F.
Parrott being called on but occasionally.

Of this lot Griffith was the most promising and he afterwards turned out to be a star of the first magnitude.
With these exceptions the team was about the same as that of the season before, and that it proved to be as great a disappointment to me as it did to the ball-loving public, I am now free to confess.

It was a team of great promises and poor performances, and no one could possibly have felt more disappointed than I did when the end of the season found us in ninth place, the lowest place that Chicago Club had ever occupied in the pennant race since the formation of the League, we having won but 56 games during the season, while we had lost 71, a showing that was bad enough to bring tears to the eyes of an angel, let alone a team manager and captain.
The Bostons, whose team work was far and away the best of any of the League clubs, again walked away with the championship, that club winning 127 games and losing 63, while Pittsburg, which came second, won 81 games and lost 48.