| Team | W | L | GB | Streak |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Harris Hardware | — | W3 | ||
| Miller Electric | 1.0 | L1 | ||
| Carter Bank | 3.0 | W2 |
| Team | W | L | GB | Streak |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Thomas Auto | — | W1 | ||
| Main Street Market | 1.0 | L2 | ||
| Wilson Feed & Seed | 2.0 | L1 |
At five o'clock the hardware store shutters its loading door. The bank lobby empties. The feed store's last truck rolls out toward the county line. By six, the same names are lettered across cotton jerseys beneath the park lights.
Municipal League Baseball began with four local businesses, two borrowed diamonds and a scorekeeper who kept results in a black ledger at the Parks Department. The league outgrew the ledger, then the first field, then the first generation of players. It never outgrew Friday night.
Families sit in the same sections of the same bleachers their parents did. Children chase foul balls against the fence. Former players line the rail and argue about bunts, weather, umpire zones and whether a 1987 Miller Electric club could hit today's pitching.
The sponsors are not corporate partners in the modern sense. They are the businesses people pass on the way home. Their owners coach, keep books, drag infields after rain and replace the bulbs above the old hand-painted concession signs. A team name is part uniform, part neighborhood address.
That is why the standings matter. They are discussed over breakfast, on shop floors and in church parking lots. Wins are small civic facts. Losses linger for a week. Every score gets carried forward into the next Friday, when the lights come on again.