Twins at Cleveland.
Twins 5, 'Toons 4.

In the beginning, there were cartoons. Some jaunty, some mild, and most all involving antelope. And from the earliest days, those cartoons inspired humankind to greater and greater heights of athletic achievement.

Over fifty-thousand years ago, the first game of BAK was played in the plains of what is now western France. The game began when a tribesman from a tribe of chunky, jiggly gents picked up a rock and chucked it at a hunter known as Tor-ee. Hurt emotionally, Tor-ee picked up the rock and threw it back at the tribesman. And so the game of BAK was born. And the tribes who played it were powered by the force of the vaguely amusing representations they wore stitched to their loincloths (or in the earliest days, their loins).

Although the rules of BAK eventually became more complicated, the goal of the game remained the same: hit the members of the other tribe with a projectile in a way that really smarts. In 675 B.C., Jutokos Mornopolis from the Athens Gemini was pelted in the wrist by a smooth, round stone hurled from the sling of a Captain of the Spartan Barbaros. The Captain, who wore his helmet tilted rakishly to the left, was named Cheeseburgeros Sabathios. And Captain Cheeseburgeros Sabathios of the Barbaros proved to be a nemesis of the Gemini for many years to come. And once again, each polis had its own powerful representational talisman.

In the Middle Ages, BAK evolved into a game played largely by the nobility. Designed to channel the competitive features of courtly love, the knights of BAK would try to smite scented leather sachets filled with pomegranate husks. In 852 A.D., Sir Davis of the "Woods Dwellers " smacked Sir Shannon of the "Dual Virtues" with a scented sachet in a way that challenged Sir Shannon's honor. Sir Shannon responded by speaking harshly into the grill of Sir Davis's helmet. Had monks not intervened, the smiting would have been terrible that day! And, of course, emblazoned on the shield of each knight was a powerful image designed to dazzle and intimidate.

So it has continued through the ages. Perhaps the most momentous BAK contest occurred during America's period of great western expansion. While games between the Native Americans and the Union Army were closely fought, neither side could seize a decisive advantage. Friars were brought in to ensure that violence would not erupt. Indeed, the games were so long and so evenly matched, that noted Cowboy poet Daniel "Moonshine" Gladdazzle was believed to have set up a still inside his viewing tent to ensure a steady supply of his favorite beverage.

After several days of tied play, Lt. Shenandoah Stewart of the Union Army strode to the platter over which the stuffed chipmunk serving as the BAK was to be thrown. He glanced down at the homespun patch designating that he was a member of the First Minnesota Regiment. On that patch, two burly gents -- perhaps strangers to each other -- shook hands across a mighty river. Lt. Stewart thought to himself, "if ye two gentlemen from different settlements can befriend another, then I at the very least can smack the crap out of this chipmunk." All the while, the Native Americans' designated BAK deliverer, Dances with Riske, was fingering his tribe's medallion -- a comic rendering of a powerful chief. "We'll see whose talisman is more powerful," Lt. Stewart muttered under his breath.

Riske pitched, Stewart swung, and the rest is BAK history.