Notes from the Shadows of Cooperstown
Observations From Outside the Lines |
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NOTES FROM THE SHADOWS OF COOPERSTOWN
Observations from Outside the Lines
By Two Finger Carney (carneya6@borg.com)
#312 OCTOBER 25, 2003
LOOKING BACK
Of all the advice Satchel Paige has served up, "Don't look back -- something may be gaining on you" is the hardest to take. Baseball fans are always looking back. What did he do his first time up? His last start? Last season? It is virtually impossible to watch a game between the Yankees and Red Sox without looking back. And so on.
Recently, at a local SABR meeting, the Cooperstown chapter was given a treat, as Cliff Kachline looked back at all of his World Series memories. He started his collection in St Louis, in 1943, and it grew into the hundreds. I mean games he attended! My own collection has been stalled at one since 1971. That was the first night game in Series history, and by coincidence, Cliff was there, too. Baseball is a small country.
Cliff's "meanderings" (his word) reminded me how "sticky" our baseball memories are. Other things cling to them. So when we listen to someone tell his stories about Reggie's three first-pitch homers, or Fisk's body-English blast, we wind up recalling much more than a play in a game. We not just look back, we go back to where we were and the friends or family we were with, and how we got there, and where we went after.
With that in mind, I thought in this issue I would take a look back at the World Series memories stored here in Notes, hoping to both entertain and jog my readers' memories. But I got no farther than Notes 1993 collection, and found a whole issueful waiting for me there. I added a couple other things, too, but get ready to remember that October ten years ago, when the World Series trophy went north of the border for the first time. Set your time machine for Lenny Dykstra and The Wild Thing versus Joe Carter and the Jays Dynasty.
For those of you who now read Notes only for "Black Sox" fixes, you won't be disappointed, either.
I ought to note that Never on Friday -- my B-Sox book -- has been submitted for the SABR Jerry Malloy competition, which is stepping on first base with the hope of arriving at home in 2004, published by the University of Nebraska Press. I'd like to hear from anyone with experience working with them, please. Without further ado, let's start looking back, despite 'Ol Satch!
THE REST OF THE STORY
I thank Walter Watts for sending me the three-part series on Ban Johnson that appears with his by-line (as told to Irving Vaughan) in February/March 1929. In Notes #310, I reported at some length on the series done by Ed Wray and Roy Stockton for the St Louis Post-Dispatch at about the same time, and about how Vaughan tried (unsuccessfully) to scoop Wray & Stockton.
Having read both series, I recommend Wray & Stockton's, if you only read one. Prepared over a year, it is better organized. But the two are essentially the same, as you would expect.
In the Trib, Johnson mentions something I'd not seen elsewhere, that his friend Phil Ball, who owned the St louis Browns, told Johnson he'd leave baseball if the crooked White Sox players were not prosecuted. One more motive for Ban to collect enough evidence for new indictments and a trial, after the grand jury material was found to be missing (in December, Ban says).
Also in the Trib account, Johnson recalls the "impenetrable wall" (of the cover-up) being "first pierced" by a pair of affidavits that turned up in the grand jury hearings. Huh? Well, here's how he explains it. Rube Benton had testified early on about a Cubs-Phillies game that was fixed -- not the August 31 game, that caused the grand jury to convene in the first place. No, a game played in September 1919, and Benton named names.
Of the names he named, the one that made a difference was that of a Chicago third baseman nicknamed Buck -- no, not Weaver, it was Buck Herzog of the Cubs. Benton did not know that Herzog had been cleared of any wrongdoing by NL Prez John Heydler in June 1920, partly because Herzog produced a couple of affidavits from two Boston Braves' players, given in May 1920. Heydler had kept this incident neatly under wraps -- it was standard procedure. So all Benton's charges did was open up a big can of worms that showed Heydler had some knowledge, if not evidence, of the Fix of October 1919, the previous spring (1920). Oops.
Herzog's answer to Benton brought Rube back to the grand jury a second time, and this time he had more names, including Hal Chase, and hey, why not ask Eddie Cicotte what he knew? (Benton also mentioned a Pittsburgh gambling syndicate that he thought was involved, but near as I can tell, nobody pursued that possibility -- not in 1920, not since. The Pittsburgh connection apparently was superior in covering-up. Being from Pittsburgh, I take some pride in this.)
So Johnson sees Benton as the key in the grand jury hearings. If Benton did recommend hauling in Cicotte -- that detail is from Victor Luhrs, by the way, not Ban Johnson -- then maybe the Maharg interview and his mention of Cicotte was the double-barrelled blast that cracked Eddie, and moved him to go to his team, who sent him to the grand jury. Maybe.
From NOTES #38, October 24, 1993
WORLD SERIES EDITION
RINGS
You can never forget
How you felt
When your old Series ring
Was new
Feelings from a former life
Connected more to childhood
Than to the seasons
After the Game was over
Slides on loose
Over wrinkled spotted skin
The supple fingers of then
Slowed by the arthritis of now
You used to wear it everywhere
That golden circle from
Once upon a time
Lately you ease it on
Only in October
It's become a ritual
Like raking leaves
Into small heaps that will
Perfume the neighborhood
With autumn
Rocking gently
In front of the first heat
Of your fireplace
In the cool of the night
That the Series opens
You polish it one more time
While you listen to the Game
And prepare for winter
The band of gold
Has become as precious
As another ring
Slipped on by your wife
In that same fairy tale
She's long gone now
And with the kids scattered
You are left with your memories
Fading in the mist
But brought back to life
In the smells of October
And the sound
Of the Game
**************************************************
"The only reason I don't like playing in the World Series is I can't watch myself play."
-- the modest Mr October, Reggie Jackson
CLASSIC FALLS
Before I knew baseball, I knew the Series. Dad brought home a funny-looking grid, filled with abbreviations, from 1B-AL to RF-NL. He explained that one of the lines in the grid was "ours" ... so today, for example, we all needed to root hard for the American League shortstop to get hits. Tomorrow, the NL catcher was our man. If, at the end of the Series, our guys racked up more hits than the guys on any other line, we'd be -- well, not rich, but the early fifties' equivalent, I guess. More secure. It was all sheer luck, of course, no skill involved in the numbers game. Pure fun. An ancestor of rotisserie ball, in one sense. Who cares who wins the games, as long as our guys get their hits. My intro to boxscores!
From about the same era, I remember my Dad buying sports highlight films, for our mute 8 mm movie projector. (We never had a movie camera, just a noisy, bulb-scorching monster that was great for shadows on the screen, while Dad fiddled with the movies.) We didn't have many, so I became abnormally familiar with the 1946 Series, and Slaughter's race home.
By the fifties, the Series was the baseball event, and I suppose the sporting event of each year. The Super Bowl was a galaxy away. Kentucky Derbys and heavyweight-championship fights were perhaps rival events. But they were over quick. The Series lasted a week, so it seemed bigger. Like "cinemascope," the Series was BIG.
REFLECTIONS ON OCTOBER'S GAME
October's Game happens to be the title of a dandy volume edited by Paul Adomites, one a series of 20 called World of Baseball, published since 1989 by REDEFINITION (PO Box 10638, Des Moines, Iowa 50381-0638.) As far as I know, only 11 are available, but even if the last 9 never make it into print, these are great books, which I recommend as foundation for any BB library.
Pressure Pitchers: While I cheered Danny Jackson's effort in this year's Playoffs, I found it hard to keep from thinking, one year too late. For the Pirates, I mean. Jackson was so tough against the Bucs in 1990's end games, and for the Royals back in '85 ... I was counting on him for the same stuff last year. But nobody's perfect.
Except maybe Dave Stewart! If Reggie is Mr October, we'll have to call Dave simply Mr O. Was anyone else reminded of another pitcher who enjoyed glaring and staring, Bob Gibson? Which suggests a good hot stove question: you're the manager -- who do you want on the hill for Game 7? Connie Mack liked Chief Bender. But then, he never saw Bob Gibson and Dave Stewart. (He was familiar with Mathewson.)
I mentioned the 1960 Series elsewhere. I was thinking how the Series in those days was, compared to today's, like a battle fought on the high seas. There was no ESPN, no Baseball Weekly or half the daily/weekly/monthly publications we graze on. The games were on TV, but much of the nation was at work or in school, and relied on radio. So many of our best Series memories involve smuggled and clandestine transistors. (There was a day when that invention, along with the earplug, ranked higher than indoor plumbing, for baseball fans hooked on the Series.)
Last issue, I drug out (as Dizzy might put it) my bias about New York as Center of the Baseball Universe. I confess that I sometimes lump in Boston, too -- so many baseball books have roots in those two cities. But I had my calculator out the other day, and when you recall that five of the 16 original franchises were based in those two towns for so long (till the Braves moved to Milwaukee in '53) -- that's 31.25% of all ML baseball experience! And then, between 1921 and 1964, the Yankees appeared in 29 of 44 World Series! Color October's Game pinstripes!
PHILLIES OVER BRAVES: WERE THEY LUCKY OR GOOD?
LUCK: Is it the "residue of design" (Branch Rickey) or the "residue of luck" (sportswriter Steve Ostler) -- or "the by-product of busting your fanny" (Don Sutton)?
"I'd rather be lucky than good," said Lefty Gomez -- and I think Gordy Coleman said the same thing when his Reds won the NL flag in 1961. (Some of the quotes get around.)
A case might be made that all season long, the Braves were lucky: their front four starting hurlers didn't miss a turn (except I think Maddux took a 3-day delay?) Of all the stats that have fallen (like snowflakes: starting slow, then a flurry as the season ends) this time around, that one startles me the most.
In 1938, Lou Gehrig talked about luck, and this was the year before that disease struck, and he made the more famous speech. Lou was speaking at a tribute to Johnny Neun in Newark: "When I tell people I'm just a big lucky guy they don't seem to believe it. They put it down to modesty ... but I'm not trying to be modest or anything like that; I've been lucky. You must be lucky to last a long time in the majors."
Gehrig continued, "I remember Ty Cobb had told me the same thing shortly after he retired. `I was lucky,' he said, `in the sense that I never was seriously hurt.'"
Stan Musial: "You have to be lucky and stay healthy. And since my retirement, I've decided you have to be pretty darn good, too." Tim McCarver: "Bob Gibson's the luckiest pitcher I ever saw. He always pitches when the other team doesn't score any runs."
By now, you must have guessed that I'm not about to call the Phillies lucky, or the Braves unlucky. The Phils got some calls, no question there -- but in the last few summers, my gut feeling has been that the Braves got the benefit of some bad calls, and I'm not just thinking of Cabrera's Last Stand in '92 (a close pitch by Belinda called a ball, forced him to throw something hittable?)
Why do fans bother to talk about luck? Perhaps because we want to believe the game, The Game, is influenced at least a little bit by outside forces ... like our incessant rooting! Athletes feel lucky simply to have avoided illness and injury, to have the chance to play. I like Don Sutton's definition best, make your own breaks, seize the opportunities.
I have a friend who annually reads Tom Boswell's Why Time Begins on Opening Day, each April. For those who have not yet discovered Boswell, both Time and How Life Imitates the World Series are treats waiting for you (in paperback, too), along with The Heart of the Order. I am amazed that I haven't raided my Boswell books for NFSC more often this summer.
Boswell mentioned the "truncated" Playoffs, which were best-of-five when he wrote it. I've heard a nasty rumor that "best-of-five" might return next Fall, for the first round. I sure hope that's wrong. Playoff is a seven-letter word. (While we re-structure, let's dump LCS!)
NOVEMBER'S GAME, TOO?
Something in me shivers at the mention of the extra layer of Playoffs. Lately, I've had this vision of the Series winding up in November ... a terrible image ... but then again, some fans would get to wear costumes to the ballpark for that game on Halloween! Umpires as vampires?
From NOTES #39, October 25, 1993
THE DARK SIDE OF THE CALENDAR
Between the last
October shout
And the first
Anthem of April
Lies the deep valley
Of hot stove time
Its sounds are ugly:
Obscene clamoring
Over agents
Who are anything but
Free
Its awards are dim:
Honors won
Outside of time
Inside the season
Its activity is muted:
Trading of
Analyses for forecasts
Pitchers for hitters
And cards (in former days)
Just for fun
Its fruits are unripened:
Florida grapefruit leagues and oranges
Palm balls and trees
Farm phenoms dueling
Yesterspring's aces
For the limited lines
In the boxes of summer
Discontented winters
Melt away too too slowly
The only real question
Is why nature
Wasted hibernation
On redpolls and hamsters
[This is the final poem in ROMANCING THE HORSEHIDE, McFarland & Co, 1993]
HI YO, SILVERCARD ... OR IS IT HIJACK?
From my Sports Fans United connection, comes a flyer on Shoeless Joe Jackson & Ragtime Baseball, a book by Harvey Frommer that Taylor published last year. The flyer is not just selling a book, it's a campaign piece: "By now it should be pretty clear that all of us at SILVERCARD(tm) have joined the many fans of Joe Jackson who believe that `Shoeless Joe' belongs in the Hall of Fame." Apparently this flyer went out to those who already bought a Shoeless Joe Silver Card, and they are being offered a deal on Frommer's book. Boy, if you hesitate before donating to the United Way these days, how would you feel sending off your check to The Money Company in Tarzana, CA? Yup, they make the Silver Cards!
FIVE FGs BEAT TWO TDs
Maybe fans out west will someday be asking each other, "Where were YOU when the Jays beat the Phillies 15-14 in that wild WS Game 4?" But in the East, the questions will be, "How long did YOU last that night?" and "Did you have your VCR going?"
If the die-hard, really rabid fans are bailing out early, you know all the borderline, and future fans are, too. We can only hope that CBS was the problem, and the other networks are the answer. If the late start time was an irritation in recent years, then this year, it has been a major pain.
When I left my living room, the Phils were up 13-9 (I think), but I knew I'd miss an ending that won't be reproduced any time soon. I couldn't sleep much, but couldn't get up, either, without risking waking up my wife. No doubt, she was slumbering happily in the knowledge that just a few more baseball nights remained, maybe even just one more.
So I listened to the Toronto rally through the single earplug of my transistor, wondering if the noise of the game was passing through and coming out my other ear. Just like the old days, but I wasn't in a classroom or at work. It was kinda fun.
AN UNPRONOUNCEABLE P.S.
David Nevard (A Red Sox Journal) sent me the item below, which is an excerpt from a piece Lardner wrote for the Chicago Examiner, 7/21/12. Eddie Cicotte was traded to the Chisox that year, and this was Ring's way of introducing him. (He added that it was properly pronounced "See-cot.") This is also the first documented association between Cicotte and gambling.
EDDIE CICOTTE by Ring Lardner
This pretty name of mine is not
As some folks claim,
just plain Si-cot;
Nor is it, as some have it, Sic-ot,
Although I'm sure
I don't know why not.
And furthermore, take this from me,
I don't pronounce it Sick-o-tee;
And you can also make a note
That it is surely not Si-cote.
You stand to win some easy cash
By betting it's not succotash.
From NOTES #40, November 1, 1993
LET'S WIN TWO, EH?
Now we know how Canadians feel when the Stanley Cup goes south of the border. Last year I was pulling for the Jays -- they had come so close, so often ... like Dave Steib and those 8-inning no-hitters. But this year, I found fans who had been bitter opponents over the NL Playoffs, were united behind the Phils. America's Team.
The Gashouse Gang was 'way before my time, but apparently this Phillie club was a kind of reincarnation. Of course, once the media decided on the image, the Phils had to play the part, they wouldn't dare shave or be caught without at least one swollen cheek. It will be interesting to see how long that lasts.
I think I rooted for the Phils more because they were the best of the NL East, my division -- for the last time. And I was hoping for a new World Champion. We are all anti-dynasty, unless of course, it's our team that is the dynasty!
Mitch Williams now faces a Belinda Winter, and we can only hope that he survives it as well as Stan did. Seems to me Stan did a lot of growing up last winter, and this season past he was really a much stronger closer. The Wild Thing. If Carter grounds into a DP, he's a hero. A game of centimeters, eh?
I know what you're all wondering: am I upset because Maz' Homer is no longer the only homer to end a Series? Not at all. I am delighted that another generation has such a great event, soon to be memory. (And Maz' HR happened in the 7th Game.) For some reason, I was happy for Joe Carter. He reminds me of another fellow from Oklahoma, Willie Stargell. Wouldn't be surprised to see him wind up "Pops" as an aging Blue Jay. They wouldn't dare trade him now, would they?
My final word on the Series: I thought it was one of the best ... maybe better than the Playoffs, and I can't remember saying that in a long while. And fittingly, unpredictably better!