Notes 216<\/TITLE> \n <\/HEAD> \n <BODY BGCOLOR=\"#FFFFFF\"> \n\t AROUND THE HORN<\/FONT><\/P> \n\t Longtime readers of Notes<\/B> know that I have, over the years, \n\t\tdeveloped a habit of connecting just about everything to baseball — even my \n\t\tvacations. A trip to Gettysburg last fall sparked a discussion on Baseball as \n\t\tWar (Ty Cobb batted leadoff there) … I even managed to work in my visit to \n\t\tScotland (and never mentioned Bobby Thomson!)<\/P> \n\t This issue’s roots are in Boston, and I wasn’t there for a Red Sox game \n\t\tat the Fen. No, the tall ships were in town, the weekend after the 4th of July \n\t\t(when they were televised in NYC), and there I was with my wife, boarding ships \n\t\tflying Pirate flags (OK, just one) instead of walking the planks of Three \n\t\tRivers (where, next summer, a ship will be anchored, flying Pirate flags, and \n\t\twelcoming kids — of all ages, I hope — as part of the new ballpark in The \n\t\t‘Burgh.)<\/P> \n\t Later, I made the comment to our hosts that this might yet tie in — \n\t\tafter all, isn’t the language of baseball full of nautical <\/I>terms? I \n\t\tthought so, but then blanked out. Back in my home library, I could look it \n\t\tup.<\/P> \n\t Around the horn<\/B>, baseballese for the old 5-4-3 double play, \n\t\tderives from the trip (tall ships took) around Africa (Cape Horn.) So that’s \n\t\tone.<\/P> \n\t Ducks on the pond<\/B>? No, not exactly nautical. Arch McDonald gets \n\t\tcredit for the term (meaning men on base), and I believe Arch also nicknamed \n\t\tJoe DiMaggio “the Yankee Clipper” — after tall ships, like The Flying \n\t\tDutchman<\/I>? No. After a swift Boston-to-New York TRAIN! Again, close, but no \n\t\tnautical cigar.<\/P> \n\t On Deck<\/B>? Yes! Here is a genuine nautical expression — be on \n\t\tdeck and ready! In How to Talk Baseball<\/I> by Mike Whiteford, the hitter to \n\t\tfollow the man on deck is “in the hole” which may come from “hold” — another \n\t\tnautical term, which means the interior of a ship. Whiteford adds that the rule \n\t\trequiring batters to be “on deck” (in that white circle) was adopted in 1960 to \n\t\tspeed up the games. Which at that time, trust me, were not that long!<\/P> \n\t Portsider<\/B>. Yup, the port side is the left-hand side of the ship, \n\t\tso all “southpaws” are also portsiders. <\/P> \n\t Of course, the manager is The Skipper.<\/B> Now, set sail into the \n\t\t218th issue of Notes from the Shadows of Cooperstown<\/B>!<\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t MISTER SHORTSTOP <\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t I believe there was a time when the title “Mr Shortstop” belonged to Mr \n\t\tCub, Ernie Banks. I got to see Ernie play some in his MVP prime, the late \n\t\tfifties, because his team was awful, and an easy ticket at Forbes Field, and, I \n\t\tsuppose, around the league. Ernie was as predictable an All Star at short for \n\t\tthe NL in those days as Cal was for the AL in recent seasons. <\/P> \n\t When I started reading baseball, I discovered that there must have been \n\t\tmany “Mister Shortstops” before Ernie Banks. There was the Cardinals’ Marty \n\t\tMarion, although he had two better nicknames that stuck tighter, Slats and \n\t\tOctopus. Honus Wagner was “Mr Shortstop” in an old Pirate yearbook, but that \n\t\twas long after he retired and settled into All-Time Cooperstown fame.<\/P> \n\t When I was researching my play (now a great hit musical waiting to be \n\t\tproduced), Mornings After<\/I>, I learned that Bobby Wallace was “Mister \n\t\tShortstop” in the 1900s, for the AL team in St Louis … the Browns were, of \n\t\tcourse, the ancestor of the Baltimore Orioles, and Ripken the heir to Wallace’s \n\t\ttitle.<\/P> \n\t What all these fine shortstops have in common is that they had long, \n\t\tproductive careers. Banks, Wagner and Wallace are in the Hall of Fame, Cal is \n\t\ten route; Marion? Borderline. None of them were dubbed “Mr Shortstop” until \n\t\tthey had been around some, shown their stuff, turned their leather gloves into \n\t\tgold.<\/P> \n\t So it would be premature and downright foolish for me to call the Utica \n\t\tBlue Sox’ model 2000 shortstop Josh Wilson, “Mr Shortstop.” But he’s off to \n\t\tthat kind of start<\/I> — hitting .416 in mid-July. <\/P> \n\t I haven’t seen Josh (yet) make plays like last summer’s SS, Luis Ugeto, \n\t\twho was just dazzling — in the field. He’s a Kane County Cougar now, and \n\t\thopefully learning to hit.<\/P> \n\t But Josh Wilson has dazzled at the dish. He’s rapped out 37 hits in the \n\t\tfirst 22 games, mostly line-drive singles, batting mostly third. His 14 RBI \n\t\tleads his team.<\/P> \n\t It’s still early, but I am starting to drop by Murnane Field just to \n\t\tsee if Josh can keep it up. One night, I found myself short on time, but stayed \n\t\tto see him bat one more time<\/I> (and he came through.) I recalled how my \n\t\tparents’ generation of fans stayed to see Ralph Kiner bat one more time<\/I> \n\t\t— the stands emptied soon after his last ups. Will Josh create that phenomenon \n\t\tin Utica?<\/P> \n\t Well into the season, I learned Josh is from Pittsburgh. So he has a \n\t\tshot not only at the NY-Penn batting record (Auburn’s Jack Maloof hit .402 in \n\t\t1971, a decade before Josh was born) — but the record for the best average by \n\t\ta Pittsburgh shortstop, too. Native Honus Wagner’s best was .381 in 1900, a \n\t\tnice even century<\/I> ago; Arky Vaughan (of Arkansas) hit .385 for<\/I> \n\t\tPgh in 1935.<\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t MARQUEE PLAYERS <\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t The term is not in Dickson’s Dictionary<\/I> (maybe it is more a \n\t\ttheater thing), but we all know what it means. These are the guys that fans \n\t\twant to see, that they will pay<\/I> to see, even if the rest of their team \n\t\tis awful (and not<\/I> worth paying to see.)<\/P> \n\t There have always been marquee players — even before marquees. Early \n\t\ton, it was obvious that fans turned out big for teams that were rivals, and if \n\t\tthose enemies featured a Goliath that was begging for a slaying by the hometown \n\t\tDavids, even better. Mike “King” Kelly was a box-office draw, and he knew it, \n\t\tand was paid accordingly. When Three Finger Brown and his Cubs took on Christy \n\t\tMathewson and his Giants, handbills plastered the streets heralding the coming \n\t\tduel in the sun. <\/P> \n\t A page toward the back of the 1959 Pirate yearbook carries the \n\t\theadline, “The PIRATES vs. the NATIONAL LEAGUE ALL STAR BASEBALL EVERY DAY!!” \n\t\t(One of the 1959 All Star games was in Pittsburgh that summer — hence the \n\t\ttheme.) The rest of the page contains photos of the best players from each of \n\t\tthe Pirates’ seven NL opponents. You might not get too excited about the \n\t\tCardinals coming to town, but hey! — Stan Musial!<\/I> <\/P> \n\t I’m not sure how the seven star marquee players were selected. Warren \n\t\tSpahn, over Aaron and Mathews. Duke Snider’s Cooperstown years were behind him \n\t\tin ’59, but who knew that? Banks and Mays, of course. The Phils’ boasted the NL \n\t\tbatting champ, Richie Ashburn. For the Reds, the nod went to Frank — nope, not \n\t\tRobinson, but Frank Thomas<\/I>, a native of Pittsburgh traded to Cincy the \n\t\tprevious summer. Drawing card.<\/P> \n\t Sometimes, the marquee player is eclipsed by a teammate, at least in \n\t\tthe stat department, but that doesn’t matter too much. Fame, reputation, past \n\t\tachievement is what the marquee sells. <\/P> \n\t Sometimes, the PR people get lucky, and teams feature two or more \n\t\tplayers that can share the marquee: Mantle and Maris (and Mays, McCovey and \n\t\tMarichal) were “the M & M (& M) Boys.” When the Cubs played the \n\t\tCardinals two summers ago, “Mark and Sammy” said it all — the other guys \n\t\treally did not need to show up, the fans would have been content to see the \n\t\tdueling sluggers take BP all afternoon or evening.<\/P> \n\t The marquee player is such a fixture, that every team has one — \n\t\twhether they have one or not. In other words, somebody<\/I> will be \n\t\tdesignated to fill the role. Sorry, it’s gotta be.<\/P> \n\t Expectations can be impossibly high for marquee players. And (as the \n\t\told Peanuts<\/I> saying goes, great expectations can be heavy burdens indeed. \n\t\tAsk Ken Griffey Jr, who is not leading the Reds to a runaway pennant this \n\t\tsummer — as expected. Just as Kevin Brown didn’t do it for the Dodgers last \n\t\tsummer. Marquee players need a supporting cast. Wins often go to the & \n\t\tCompany<\/I>.<\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t A FALSE SPRING <\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t We all know that baseball is all about failure. It is almost a cliche: \n\t\ta respectable hitter makes outs at a .700 clip, a pitcher can miss with three \n\t\tpitches every batter without any penalty, the best teams still lose four out of \n\t\tten games. Yet most baseball books are about success: players whose careers \n\t\tended at a shrine in Cooperstown, teams whose seasons ended with ticker-tape \n\t\tparades. A False Spring<\/I> by Pat Jordan is perhaps the best baseball book \n\t\tI’ve found that deals with failure in a candid way, so that the reader gets a \n\t\treal sense of how the careers of most players end.<\/P> \n\t A False Spring<\/I> is not an easy book to find; I got my copy thru \n\t\tBaseball America<\/I>, who publishes it along with a few others in their \n\t\t“Classic Books” series. And this is fitting, because A False Spring<\/I> is \n\t\tabout life in the minors. Not that there aren’t plenty of major league players \n\t\tin the book — there are. But Phil Niekro and Rico Carty are just as obscure as \n\t\tthe author Pat Jordan, they are breaking in, all potential, just on their \n\t\tway<\/I> to fame. <\/P> \n\t Jordan’s book is sobering, and one I would want my son to read before \n\t\theading off to his first pro baseball camp. It’s a story not so much about \n\t\tbeating the odds — opening one’s eyes to the facts of baseball life: many \n\t\tbegin the climb, few reach the summit — as about the whole experience of \n\t\tbecoming a professional ballplayer.<\/P> \n\t Pat Jordan was successful enough in high school and semi-pro ball in \n\t\tFairfield, Connecticut, that the Braves offered him a $45,000 bonus. Not much \n\t\tby today’s wacky standards, perhaps, but back in 1959 that was a lot of money. \n\t\tAccording to Paul Dickson, Pat Jordan defined the term “bonus baby” in this \n\t\tbook: “[the term] is usually applied to any player receiving more than $10,000 \n\t\tupon signing a contract. Naturally, whenever a team invests such money in a \n\t\tplayer they treat him more tenderly than they would a player in whom they \n\t\tinvested little money. A bonus baby had only to hint at improvement in order to \n\t\tadvance in the minors. But a non-bonus baby had to fashion a record of \n\t\tunquestionable success before he advanced.”<\/P> \n\t I think almost every team had bonus babies back in the fifties. Just \n\t\tbefore my time, the Pirates had invested a small fortune in a big left-handed \n\t\tpitcher from L.A. named Paul Pettit; he amassed a win total in the bigs of \n\t\texactly one game. I remember better a kid named Art Swanson, who spilled cups \n\t\tof coffee with the Pirates in 1955 and ’56, before finally<\/I> showing his \n\t\tstuff in ’57, winning three games. His last three, as it turned out. A False \n\t\tSpring<\/I> helped me understand, for the first time, what it must have been \n\t\tlike for Pettit and Swanson, and hundreds or thousands of other prospects who \n\t\t“had all the tools” but never figured out how to make them work quite \n\t\tright.<\/P> \n\t Jordan’s book is no diary, he instead looks back on his life in \n\t\tbaseball and reflects. The book is strikingly intelligent, but not in the way \n\t\twe are used to (Tim McCarver’s books come to mind.) I had expected A False \n\t\tSpring<\/I> to be a minor-league version of Ball Four<\/I>, and it does have a \n\t\tlot of the elements — well-drawn portraits of players, managers and pitching \n\t\tcoaches, warts and all. But Jordan is not out to expose anyone, he just tells a \n\t\tstory, his, with candor rarely found in any autobiography.<\/P> \n\t Jordan’s writing might almost be retitled Pitcher in the Rye<\/I>. He \n\t\tis Holden Caulfield, growing up. Away from home for the first time, he copes \n\t\twith loneliness as he struggles to find his control on the mound. Relationships \n\t\tare as elusive as the strike zone. McCook, Nebraska, becomes his new world, \n\t\twhere he works things out — with his boarding house, his fans, his team. \n\t\tSelf-centered and smug, he drifts between starts, as his dream melts away. Day \n\t\tby day, a cold reality sets in. <\/P> \n\t But Pat Jordan tasted success, too. There were days, weeks, when \n\t\teverything clicked, and a locker between Spahn and Burdette in Milwaukee must \n\t\thave seemed a phone call away. The most memorable character in the book is \n\t\tcoach Whitlow Wyatt, then in his fifties, who is part instructor, part \n\t\tphilosopher. Jordan clings to Wyatt in the depths of his pitching despair, and \n\t\tfor a while things look brighter.<\/P> \n\t A False Spring<\/I> is a puzzling book in some ways. How can a talent \n\t\tthis obvious, not succeed? We all know pitching mechanics are delicate, and are \n\t\tnot too surprised when a knuckler (take Tim Wakefield, for example) can be \n\t\tsuperb one summer and out of control the next — or up and down in the same \n\t\tseason, sometimes the same game<\/I>. But we rarely notice the mind \n\t\tconnection. So when Steve Blass wins 19 one year and three the next, with his \n\t\tERA spiking from 2 to 9, we shake our heads. Pat Jordan struggles to prove \n\t\thimself, then loses himself, then struggles all over again to find himself \n\t\tagain. And he fights hard, because there is no life after baseball, for bonus \n\t\tbabies like Jordan.<\/P> \n\t Readers may or may not find themselves rooting for Jordan (even though \n\t\tit is plain from page one that he will not make it), but I think they will get \n\t\ta glimpse of very ordinary heroism. He reflects on athletes who never start the \n\t\tclimb at all, who end their careers early instead of pursuing “a far riskier \n\t\tbut more gratifying success.” In Jordan’s view, “they lacked courage” and “Had \n\t\tbeen so afraid of losing that they lost more than any of those athletes who had \n\t\tgone away and been released and had come back home.” Blessed with talent, \n\t\tJordan is driven to try<\/I>, and cannot give up his dream as long as he has \n\t\tan ounce of effort left in his body. <\/P> \n\t And here is a bonus for readers: A False Spring<\/I> is very \n\t\twell-written. If thinking too much ruined Jordan’s delivery as a pitcher, it \n\t\tcontributes to his delivery as an author. The book is major league. Jordan made \n\t\tit after all. Now for his next<\/I> book.<\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t RARE COMMERCIAL MESSAGE <\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t Not really a commercial, not asking you to buy anything. But I do want \n\t\tto direct your attention to the new location of The Diamond Angle<\/I>, \n\t\tedited by James Floto out of Hawaii. You can now look it up at \n\t\thttp:\/\/hawaiibaseball.rivals.com\/<\/B><\/P> \n\t The Diamond Angle <\/I>is an ecumenical (not team-oriented), \n\t\tall-things-baseball publication that is now over a decade old. James was one of \n\t\tthe first editors to make up the mailing list of Notes<\/B>, back in March \n\t\t1993, and (along with David Nevard) has been one of the editors who best \n\t\tunderstood the purpose of Notes<\/B>: not just to entertain, but to submit \n\t\tmaterial to editors for their consideration. <\/P> \n\t James has reprinted many items from Notes<\/B> in TDA<\/I> over the \n\t\tyears, and it appears that he will continue to do so in his new venture with \n\t\tRivals<\/B>. I wish him much success — he will be under pressure to come up \n\t\twith new pages on a daily<\/I> basis! — and I hope that he directs many \n\t\treaders to The Baseball Archive<\/I> and Notes<\/B> in coming seasons. The \n\t\tbook review of A False Spring<\/B> (in this issue) made its debut at his site \n\t\taround July 23. <\/P> \n\t There are plenty of features and lots of links to explore at James’ new \n\t\tlocation — it’s not just for Benny Agbayani fans or Pineapple Leaguers. The \n\t\tDiamond Angle<\/I> address remains http:\/\/www.aloha.net\/~tdaflow\/<\/B> and \n\t\tJames will continue to publish the quarterly magazine as well. This rather \n\t\tchallenging effort should give a whole new meaning to “Go With the Flow!”<\/P> \n\t COMING NEXT ISSUE OF NOTES: REPORT ON NEGRO LEAGUES CONFERENCE \n\t\t<\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t On August 4-5, I will take the road trip south to Harrisburg, PA, for \n\t\tthe 3rd annual SABR Negro League Committee Research Conference. This event ends \n\t\twith a game at the Harrisburg Senators’ ballpark, which is located on an island \n\t\tin the Susquahanna River. I haven’t seen any new ballparks this season yet, and \n\t\tHarrisburg has been on my “Wantasee” List for some time.<\/P> \n\t I am not a member of SABR’s Negro Leagues Committee, and have not read \n\t\theavily in that area. Robert Peterson’s book, Only the Ball Was White<\/B> \n\t\t(reviewed in Notes #134<\/B>, 6\/3\/96) was a great introduction, and I’ve \n\t\tskimmed through several SABR publications, but I consider myself a raw rookie \n\t\tin knowledge of the Negro Leagues. That’s why I’m going, to fill in some \n\t\tgaps.<\/P> \n\t When I attended the 1995 SABR National Convention in Pittsburgh, I \n\t\treported this in Notes #106<\/B> (6\/26\/95):<\/P> \n\t <DIR> \n\t <\/DIR> \n\t <DIR> \n\t <\/DIR> \n\t Historian Rob Ruck introduced the morning panel, a tribute to black \n\t\tbaseball in Pittsburgh (the city was home to both the Crawfords and the Grays), \n\t\twith a super video, Kings on the Hill: Baseball’s Forgotten \n\t\tMen<\/I><\/B><\/I>. Forgotten? Maybe once upon a time, but no more. Willie Pope \n\t\tand Hooks Tinker were joined (unexpectedly) by Jimmy Dean and Slick Surratt. \n\t\tJournalist Frank Bolden was there, too, and did much of the talking — he’d \n\t\tstill be going, I think, if he wasn’t interrupted. These fellows played with \n\t\tand watched Satchel and Josh and Cool Papa — they been around<\/I> some — \n\t\tand their stories were as spellbinding as Buck O’Neil’s. Yes, they were! Part \n\t\tof the fun of the Negro Leagues was tall tales (“… Josh hit it over<\/I> \n\t\tthe mountain”), one-liners and zingers that scored points with opponents and \n\t\tfans, as sure as hits scored runs. Nearly three and a half hours after they sat \n\t\tdown, Hooks and Slick and the others were still signing autographs and chatting \n\t\taway, perhaps making up for lost time, perhaps enjoying their defiance of \n\t\tSatchel’s advice, Don’t look back<\/I>. The sweat and dust of their memories \n\t\ttastes too sweet.<\/P> \n\t The Conference will include no less than nine presentations, \n\t\tseveral<\/I> player panels, a banquet, a trivia quiz, and –an APBA \n\t\tTournament! I would smuggle in one of my all-time franchise APBA teams to \n\t\tcompete in this thing, but I don’t think they would fare very well. I’ve \n\t\tseen<\/I> those Negro Leaguer cards, and they are chock full of long home \n\t\truns and stolen bases — so much so that I decided it wouldn’t be fair to my \n\t\tHall of Famers to let these cards into my league (I do have Satchel, on the \n\t\tOrioles’ roster, and Monte Irvin on the Giants, but no Josh or Buck or Turkey. \n\t\tCool Papa Bell would<\/I> look great in center for my Pirates, but …. \n\t\twait’ll next year. (If I acquire a bunch of these cards — Lancaster, PA, the \n\t\thome of APBA is not far away — maybe I’ll let each of my teams draft a player \n\t\tfor the stretch run. Let’s see, who’ll I catch today … Jason Kendall, \n\t\tSmoky Burgess … nah, let’s see what this Gibson kid can do.<\/I><\/P> \n\t Robert Peterson is supposed to be at this conference, by the way, and \n\t\tI’m looking forward to meeting him. <\/P> \n\t One of the sessions (Amy Essington’s) will give us a look at the \n\t\t“little-known data sources” (forms) that living players are asked to fill out, \n\t\tafter they are elected to Cooperstown’s Hall of Fame. The program draft mention \n\t\tPaige, Bell and Judy Johnson, but there are others, too. I mention this here \n\t\tfor the benefit of anyone researching Hall of Famers — apparently this info \n\t\tcan be made available to you by the Hall’s excellent library.<\/P> \n\t There will also be a dramatic reading of the two-act play A Victim \n\t\tof the Line<\/B> by SABRite Sammy J. Miller. I do have a weakness for \n\t\thistorically-rooted baseball theater, which has only grown as my own play (now \n\t\ta great musical) Mornings After<\/B> continues its slow but steady march \n\t\ttoward the stage.<\/P> \n\t I wish I had made my decision about Harrisburg sooner, so I could have \n\t\talerted Notes<\/B>‘ readers to this Conference with time for them to plan to \n\t\tjoin me. <\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t WHAT ESPN MISSED ON HALL OF FAME WEEKEND <\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t It’s not their fault, the mainstream media, they have<\/I> to cover \n\t\tthe hoopla. The media moguls are all about ratings, and sure, reports on the \n\t\tannual Hall of Fame Induction give very deserved attention to the men (no \n\t\twomen, so far) inducted. But the fun part of the weekend for me is the Sunday \n\t\tnight meeting at Tillepaugh’s Funeral Home — the regional SABR gathering.<\/P> \n\t I recently saw the movie Trekkies<\/B> — well, the first half — and \n\t\tbelieve me, we baseball fanatics are by and large very, very conservative. Yet \n\t\tmany of us turn pilgrim every summer, and set out for Cooperstown, from the \n\t\tfour corners of the earth that surrounds this capital city of the country of \n\t\tbaseball. Happily, a bunch of them end up at Tillepaugh’s on Sunday night, \n\t\tafter the dust has settled and the traffic has slowed. (Actually, this time \n\t\taround, the pedestrian traffic on Main Street was still going strong, and I did \n\t\tnot pass the fleet of yellow Birnie shuttle buses, headed back north, until I \n\t\twas almost in town. Later I learned why, the ceremony ran long, with Carlton \n\t\tFisk getting some of the credit. I didn’t look it up, but apparently he \n\t\trecalled a pitch or two from every game he ever caught. And he holds the \n\t\trecord. (I was curious to see if he would wear one Red and one White sock, or \n\t\tif he would use his infamous body English to direct the cameras away from the \n\t\tpodium, perhaps to focus on dozing Commissioners.)<\/P> \n\t Bud Selig, someone at the meeting pointed out, is a member of SABR (but \n\t\twas a no-show at Tillepaugh’s) … this made me reconsider my own membership \n\t\tfor a minute, recalling the old Groucho line, “I would never belong to an \n\t\torganization that had me as a member.” That doesn’t quite fit, but it was \n\t\tstartling, to learn that Bud and I were card-carrying, if not T-shirt wearing \n\t\tmembers in the same organization. It was sobering.<\/P> \n\t HOWEVER, Bud’s notable absence was more than made up for by the \n\t\texcellent turnout and interesting roster of speakers, put together, I believe, \n\t\ton short notice, by Bill Deane and Cliff Kachline. Bill is a resident of Fly \n\t\tCreek, “a suburb of Cooperstown” (it turns out there are many such suburbs — \n\t\tyou had to be there to get this joke) and a frequent contributor to the daily \n\t\tSABR-L internet digest; he is practically a reason to join SABR and subscribe. \n\t\tCliff has been known to Notes<\/B> readers since February 1996 (NOTES<\/p>\n\t\t#122<\/B>) as a “Biblical Author” — he once wrote for The Bible of Baseball, \n\t\tThe Sporting News<\/I> — and I had the pleasure of interviewing him for \n\t\tSABR’s Oral History Committee; the HOF Library has a copy of the tape.<\/P> \n\t I hadn’t seen Cliff since the announcement last summer (see Notes \n\t\t#194<\/B>) about Hack Wilson’s 1930 record for RBI’s being changed officially to \n\t\t191, and so I had to ask him how he celebrated the event. Cliff must be \n\t\tcredited with an assist on the project, even though he did not initiate it or \n\t\tcomplete it himself. He did not directly answer my question, so I never got to \n\t\task him what kind of champagne<\/I>, but he did describe the phone calls he \n\t\treceived, quite unexpectedly, from The Powers That Be (Jerome Holtzman and \n\t\tSeymour Siwoff.)<\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t Jim Riley and Dick Clark (no, not that<\/I> one), two of SABR’s top \n\t\tnames, were on hand (they were a factor in motivating me to go to Harrisburg \n\t\tnext month) and talked with the group of about forty. They mentioned the recent \n\t\tgrant by Major League Baseball, of $250,000, to the Hall of Fame’s Library, to \n\t\tstudy baseball in the Negro Leagues — a field in which both men are experts. \n\t\tTim Wiles (Director of Research at the HOF Library) later addressed this topic, \n\t\ttoo, explaining the process that will be used to determine how this grant will \n\t\tbe spent.<\/P> \n\t Greg Bond, a SABRite from Wisconsin, had expressed some concerns about \n\t\tthe study on the SABR-L digest, and I had forwarded his post to Tim earlier, \n\t\tand brought it to the SABR meeting (July 23) in Cooperstown. I thought Tim did \n\t\ta super job in addressing every question, and later wished that I had taped his \n\t\tresponse (because I do not wish to misquote him here.) This is a first for the \n\t\tHall — it has not been in the business of doing<\/I> research, but has \n\t\tassisted mightily, as no other institution can, for many decades. I will \n\t\tsummarize things here all too briefly by stating that SABR — whose business \n\t\thas been baseball research since 1971 — seems like a logical starting point \n\t\tfor any project attempting to synthesize the research already done and to fill \n\t\tin the big gaps. To ignore the mountain of research by the Negro League \n\t\tCommittee members over the years would seem to be a huge mistake. On the other \n\t\thand, we are dealing here with Major League Baseball, the same organization \n\t\tthat did not<\/I> bring you the 1994 World Series. So, we’ll see.<\/P> \n\t Scott Fiesthumel, a SABRite who lives here in the Shadows of \n\t\tCooperstown — he’s the local historian on Utica baseball — gave an \n\t\tinteresting show-and-tell presentation on the Ken-Wal Equipment Company. \n\t\tOriginally (since 1916) Kennedy Sporting Goods of Gloversville, NY (best known \n\t\tas the hometown of my wife), Ken-Wal turned out bats, gloves, catcher’s gear, \n\t\tand all sorts of sports equipment (for football, hockey, lacrosse, skiing, \n\t\tboxing — you name it) right here in the Shadows (Utica) between 1927 and 1960. \n\t\t<\/P> \n\t Scott brought, and passed around, a bat, catcher’s and first baseman’s \n\t\tmitts, an old pancake glove, as well as boxing gloves and a small pair of \n\t\tfootball trousers (always laced in front, for some reason) … seems Scott has \n\t\tdiscovered E-bay, and has started acquiring things which surely will lead one \n\t\tday to his foundation of HOF-North here in the Shadows. We’ll see.<\/P> \n\t Two fellows from Chambersburg, PA, were in Cooperstown and talking \n\t\tabout the book they co-authored about that famous resident of their town (altho \n\t\the was born in St Thomas, PA) — Nellie Fox. They had a great collection of \n\t\tNellie stories, and looking at things through my own Black-and-Gold lens, \n\t\tNellie seemed to me to be, in real life, back home, a lot like that second \n\t\tbaseman perched on Cooperstown’s doorstep (he missed by one vote, one absentee \n\t\tballot, this time around) — Bill Mazeroski. Humble, candid, almost shy (does \n\t\tanyone understand the word “self-effacing” anymore?) … and in my mind, I see \n\t\tboth Nellie and Bill with a huge wad of tobacco in their cheeks. (Hey, tell the \n\t\tkids it was Big League Chew, Jim Bouton’s marvelous contribution to the health \n\t\tof ballplayers.) <\/P> \n\t Then there was Gabe Schecter<\/B>, who has been obsessed for twenty \n\t\tyears with a fellow I only met in the last decade — Charles “Victory” Faust. A \n\t\tSABRite from California, Gabe has written a book about Faust — a character \n\t\tabout whom I’ve only managed to write a poem and a short satire. And yes, Faust \n\t\tis book-worthy, despite having only pitched in two MLB games.<\/P> \n\t Most of us, if we heard at all about Victory Faust, ran into him first \n\t\tin The Glory of Their Times<\/I>, the classic oral history by Lawrence Ritter \n\t\t(it is now on CDs and cassettes.) Ritter interviewed Fred Snodgrass, fifty \n\t\tyears after Faust joined the NY Giants of John McGraw, as their Good Luck Charm \n\t\tand comic relief pitcher. Faust was interesting enough to make Ken Burns’ film, \n\t\tbut on further review (by Gabe), it appears that of the nine sentences about \n\t\tFaust in Burns’ Baseball<\/I>, only three are correct. Three of nine is good \n\t\tin baseball, not so good in history.<\/P> \n\t But how can I come down hard on Ken Burns and his fact-checkers? I \n\t\taccepted Snodgrass’ tale, too. Gabe Schecter did not, he took that dirty, \n\t\tunder-handed route to the truth … he looked it up. Thank goodness. I bought \n\t\this book on the spot.<\/P> \n\t I’ll review it here later. For now, suffice it to say that Faust was \n\t\twith the Giants not three years, but just under twelve months. (He is credited \n\t\tby Snodgrass with three pennants.) A number of other details in Snodgrass’ \n\t\trecollections do not check out, but I won’t go into that, lest Gabe’s book \n\t\tsales be cramped. I enjoyed Schecter’s characterization of Charlie Faust as a \n\t\t“Forrest Gump” who contributed a bit more than comic relief to the \n\t\tMcGraw-driven Giants. And to the fans, who didn’t have to go to vaudeville to \n\t\tsee Faust warm up, shag flies, pitch BP (Honus Wagner stood in against him), or \n\t\tshow off his variety of slides.<\/P> \n\t Even demythologized, Faust was a good luck charm. Charlie apparently \n\t\talso could jinx, and when the Giants drained him of his power to bring them \n\t\twins, he put a hex on McGraw’s men. Did it work? Ask Rube Marquard, who lost \n\t\tthree straight games after Faust left the team, after nineteen straight W’s (in \n\t\t1912.) When Faust was admitted to an asylum a few years later (and died there \n\t\tin 1915), he listed his occupation as “professional baseball player.” <\/P> \n\t There were a couple of other short presentations at Tillepaugh’s, then \n\t\tlots of time to talk baseball among friends.<\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t MISTERS <\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t When I started out this issue with “Mister Shortstop,” I thought for a \n\t\tfew minutes about trying out a theme. I didn’t get any farther than that, but a \n\t\tvisit to Dickson’s Dictionary<\/I> gave me a few ideas.<\/P> \n\t For example, who is “Mr Baseball”? “For decades,” Dickson reports, \n\t\t“this is what they called Connie Mack.” He also notes that more recently, Bob \n\t\tUecker has claimed the title, but not seriously. I suspect that when Cal Ripken \n\t\tenters Cooperstown in bronze, we’ll hear him dubbed that more than a few times, \n\t\tno?<\/P> \n\t I’ve done a few player poems on Misters — “Mr Cub” (Ernie Banks) and \n\t\t“Mr Tiger” (Al Kaline) — and I wonder if every team has their own “Mister”? \n\t\t(Mr Marlin? Sounds like a Madison Ave. relative of Charlie the Tuna. “Mr Rocky” \n\t\tbrings to mind an image of Sylvester Stallone in a tux. Teams really need to \n\t\tthink ahead better when they pick nicknames.) “Mr October” is the title of my \n\t\tReggie Jackson poem … I could have called Rudy York “Mr August,” I suppose \n\t\t(for that month he sizzled in 50 RBIs.) I have heard players called “Mr April” \n\t\tas a kind of put-down — “always starts out great, then fizzles.” <\/P> \n\t Dickson explains “Mr Guess” with a single word: Umpire.<\/P> \n\t “Mr Kodak” is a nickname for any player who fakes — not takes, \n\t\tfakes<\/I> — his time getting into the batter’s box. I have read that agents \n\t\trecommend this to their clients — more time on TV, more recognizable. (See \n\t\tMarquee Player, above.)<\/P> \n\t “Mr Mustard” is not a nickname for the vendor, but for the player also \n\t\tknown as a hot dog. I read somewhere that Hispanic players (going back to Vic \n\t\tPowers’ day) complained about being called hot dogs, when a white player who \n\t\tfielded or ran with similar flair would not be so labeled. Good point, I \n\t\tthink.<\/P> \n\t So what “Misters” are left for us? How about “Mister Tim” (after \n\t\tprofessor McCarver) for the broadcasters who spend a bit too much time \n\t\tanalyzing things? <\/P> \n\t Or “Mr Cliche” for the managers, players, and others who reply to \n\t\tquestions from reporters with a dazzling lack of originality or thought. \n\t\t(Reporters are eligible for this nickname, too, when they ask only the \n\t\tpredictable, “How did you feel when ….”)<\/P> \n\t Then there is the mysterious “Mr Later” — you know, the Player to be \n\t\tNamed Later?<\/P> \n\t I better stop there, but if you come up with your own “Misters” send \n\t\tthem my way. Best contribution will earn the right to put a sign in their \n\t\tdriveway, “Parking Reserved for Suggester of the Month,” authorized by Mister \n\t\tTwo Finger Carney.<\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t THE BIG STORIES <\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t That was the title of a kind of sidebar in the July 24-August 6 issue \n\t\tof Baseball America<\/B>. I like BA<\/B>, but mostly for its columnists \n\t\t(including SABR’s own Jayson Stark); I rarely read all the team reports, and \n\t\ttheir stats lag too much.<\/P> \n\t But when I see a column with the title “The Big Stories,” I start \n\t\twishing that NOTES<\/B> was a weekly again — that forced me to pay closer \n\t\tattention to current events in the country of baseball. And to columnists or, \n\t\tin this case staffs, who decide on exactly what “the big stories” are. Because \n\t\tsometimes they need perspective, like that from the Shadows of Cooperstown.<\/P><\/p>\n\t 1. Fresh Faces in High Places.<\/B> BA<\/I> is happy that the Yanks \n\t\tare not running away from all of the other teams, again. So am I, and I look \n\t\tforward to a post-season without the usual suspects. “Anyone but the Yankees \n\t\tand Braves” is the cheer outside New York and Atlanta. I bet that would sell on \n\t\ta T-shirt.<\/P> \n\t 2. More Balls Go Bye-Bye.<\/B> This is hardly news, it’s a trend of \n\t\tover five years — at least. And it will continue, methinx.<\/P> \n\t 3. Superstars on the Block.<\/B> Juan Gonzalez, Sammy Sosa, even \n\t\tJunior Griffey. This is a ho-hum issue for most fans, whose teams cannot afford \n\t\tthese guys. Save this hype for the superstations.<\/P> \n\t 4. Can’t We Just All Get Along?<\/B> John Rocker is now called \n\t\tmeathead and bonehead in BA<\/I>, which actually makes him sympathetic, \n\t\tinstead of just pathetic. See Gray vs Rose.<\/P> \n\t 5. Alive on the South Side<\/B>. Ah, the glorious exception, the team \n\t\twith the 25th highest payroll, the ChiSox, have the best record. How do I know \n\t\tthis? Don Fehr said so, in the next issue of BA<\/I>. Uh, oh. It is not good \n\t\tto see his name in the news.<\/P> \n\t 6. They Can Still Pitch.<\/B> Pedro and Randy have been super, and my \n\t\tregret of the summer thus far is missing the duel between Pedro and Rocket. \n\t\tMaybe if an October game is rained out, this will be replayed in its entirety. \n\t\tI have a blank tape waiting.<\/P> \n\t 7. Junior Goes Home.<\/B> BA<\/I> rightly points out that the big \n\t\tstory here is not, as we all guessed, Junior leading the Reds to a title — but \n\t\tthe Mariners doing so well without Junior!<\/P> \n\t 8. More New Ballparks.<\/B> I think I’ve seen them all on TV by now, \n\t\tthe new playgrounds in S.F., Detroit and Houston. Again, this is a trend, and \n\t\tsure enough, it will continue.<\/P> \n\t 9. Bottom Falls Out in Houston.<\/B> The Astros may be the first team \n\t\tto christen a new park with a last-place finish. Good grief.<\/P> \n\t 10. Baseball’s New Top Cop.<\/B> Frank Robinson, unarmed, is Mr \n\t\tDiscipline, and good hatchet men are needed to keep kids in line.<\/P><\/BODY> \n<\/HTML><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Notes 216 AROUND THE HORN Longtime readers of Notes know that I have, over the years, developed a habit of connecting just about everything to baseball — even my vacations. A trip to Gettysburg last fall sparked a discussion on Baseball as War (Ty Cobb batted leadoff there) … I even managed to work in […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":29,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11346","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11346","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/29"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=11346"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11346\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11346"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11346"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11346"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}

{"id":11346,"date":"2000-07-30T00:00:00","date_gmt":"2000-07-30T00:00:00","guid":{"rendered":""},"modified":"2011-02-02T21:57:57","modified_gmt":"2011-02-02T21:53:18","slug":"11346","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/2000\/07\/30\/11346\/","title":{"rendered":"NOTES #218"},"content":{"rendered":"

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\n\t Notes 216<\/TITLE> \n <\/HEAD> \n <BODY BGCOLOR=\"#FFFFFF\"> \n\t AROUND THE HORN<\/FONT><\/P> \n\t Longtime readers of Notes<\/B> know that I have, over the years, \n\t\tdeveloped a habit of connecting just about everything to baseball — even my \n\t\tvacations. A trip to Gettysburg last fall sparked a discussion on Baseball as \n\t\tWar (Ty Cobb batted leadoff there) … I even managed to work in my visit to \n\t\tScotland (and never mentioned Bobby Thomson!)<\/P> \n\t This issue’s roots are in Boston, and I wasn’t there for a Red Sox game \n\t\tat the Fen. No, the tall ships were in town, the weekend after the 4th of July \n\t\t(when they were televised in NYC), and there I was with my wife, boarding ships \n\t\tflying Pirate flags (OK, just one) instead of walking the planks of Three \n\t\tRivers (where, next summer, a ship will be anchored, flying Pirate flags, and \n\t\twelcoming kids — of all ages, I hope — as part of the new ballpark in The \n\t\t‘Burgh.)<\/P> \n\t Later, I made the comment to our hosts that this might yet tie in — \n\t\tafter all, isn’t the language of baseball full of nautical <\/I>terms? I \n\t\tthought so, but then blanked out. Back in my home library, I could look it \n\t\tup.<\/P> \n\t Around the horn<\/B>, baseballese for the old 5-4-3 double play, \n\t\tderives from the trip (tall ships took) around Africa (Cape Horn.) So that’s \n\t\tone.<\/P> \n\t Ducks on the pond<\/B>? No, not exactly nautical. Arch McDonald gets \n\t\tcredit for the term (meaning men on base), and I believe Arch also nicknamed \n\t\tJoe DiMaggio “the Yankee Clipper” — after tall ships, like The Flying \n\t\tDutchman<\/I>? No. After a swift Boston-to-New York TRAIN! Again, close, but no \n\t\tnautical cigar.<\/P> \n\t On Deck<\/B>? Yes! Here is a genuine nautical expression — be on \n\t\tdeck and ready! In How to Talk Baseball<\/I> by Mike Whiteford, the hitter to \n\t\tfollow the man on deck is “in the hole” which may come from “hold” — another \n\t\tnautical term, which means the interior of a ship. Whiteford adds that the rule \n\t\trequiring batters to be “on deck” (in that white circle) was adopted in 1960 to \n\t\tspeed up the games. Which at that time, trust me, were not that long!<\/P> \n\t Portsider<\/B>. Yup, the port side is the left-hand side of the ship, \n\t\tso all “southpaws” are also portsiders. <\/P> \n\t Of course, the manager is The Skipper.<\/B> Now, set sail into the \n\t\t218th issue of Notes from the Shadows of Cooperstown<\/B>!<\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t MISTER SHORTSTOP <\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t I believe there was a time when the title “Mr Shortstop” belonged to Mr \n\t\tCub, Ernie Banks. I got to see Ernie play some in his MVP prime, the late \n\t\tfifties, because his team was awful, and an easy ticket at Forbes Field, and, I \n\t\tsuppose, around the league. Ernie was as predictable an All Star at short for \n\t\tthe NL in those days as Cal was for the AL in recent seasons. <\/P> \n\t When I started reading baseball, I discovered that there must have been \n\t\tmany “Mister Shortstops” before Ernie Banks. There was the Cardinals’ Marty \n\t\tMarion, although he had two better nicknames that stuck tighter, Slats and \n\t\tOctopus. Honus Wagner was “Mr Shortstop” in an old Pirate yearbook, but that \n\t\twas long after he retired and settled into All-Time Cooperstown fame.<\/P> \n\t When I was researching my play (now a great hit musical waiting to be \n\t\tproduced), Mornings After<\/I>, I learned that Bobby Wallace was “Mister \n\t\tShortstop” in the 1900s, for the AL team in St Louis … the Browns were, of \n\t\tcourse, the ancestor of the Baltimore Orioles, and Ripken the heir to Wallace’s \n\t\ttitle.<\/P> \n\t What all these fine shortstops have in common is that they had long, \n\t\tproductive careers. Banks, Wagner and Wallace are in the Hall of Fame, Cal is \n\t\ten route; Marion? Borderline. None of them were dubbed “Mr Shortstop” until \n\t\tthey had been around some, shown their stuff, turned their leather gloves into \n\t\tgold.<\/P> \n\t So it would be premature and downright foolish for me to call the Utica \n\t\tBlue Sox’ model 2000 shortstop Josh Wilson, “Mr Shortstop.” But he’s off to \n\t\tthat kind of start<\/I> — hitting .416 in mid-July. <\/P> \n\t I haven’t seen Josh (yet) make plays like last summer’s SS, Luis Ugeto, \n\t\twho was just dazzling — in the field. He’s a Kane County Cougar now, and \n\t\thopefully learning to hit.<\/P> \n\t But Josh Wilson has dazzled at the dish. He’s rapped out 37 hits in the \n\t\tfirst 22 games, mostly line-drive singles, batting mostly third. His 14 RBI \n\t\tleads his team.<\/P> \n\t It’s still early, but I am starting to drop by Murnane Field just to \n\t\tsee if Josh can keep it up. One night, I found myself short on time, but stayed \n\t\tto see him bat one more time<\/I> (and he came through.) I recalled how my \n\t\tparents’ generation of fans stayed to see Ralph Kiner bat one more time<\/I> \n\t\t— the stands emptied soon after his last ups. Will Josh create that phenomenon \n\t\tin Utica?<\/P> \n\t Well into the season, I learned Josh is from Pittsburgh. So he has a \n\t\tshot not only at the NY-Penn batting record (Auburn’s Jack Maloof hit .402 in \n\t\t1971, a decade before Josh was born) — but the record for the best average by \n\t\ta Pittsburgh shortstop, too. Native Honus Wagner’s best was .381 in 1900, a \n\t\tnice even century<\/I> ago; Arky Vaughan (of Arkansas) hit .385 for<\/I> \n\t\tPgh in 1935.<\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t MARQUEE PLAYERS <\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t The term is not in Dickson’s Dictionary<\/I> (maybe it is more a \n\t\ttheater thing), but we all know what it means. These are the guys that fans \n\t\twant to see, that they will pay<\/I> to see, even if the rest of their team \n\t\tis awful (and not<\/I> worth paying to see.)<\/P> \n\t There have always been marquee players — even before marquees. Early \n\t\ton, it was obvious that fans turned out big for teams that were rivals, and if \n\t\tthose enemies featured a Goliath that was begging for a slaying by the hometown \n\t\tDavids, even better. Mike “King” Kelly was a box-office draw, and he knew it, \n\t\tand was paid accordingly. When Three Finger Brown and his Cubs took on Christy \n\t\tMathewson and his Giants, handbills plastered the streets heralding the coming \n\t\tduel in the sun. <\/P> \n\t A page toward the back of the 1959 Pirate yearbook carries the \n\t\theadline, “The PIRATES vs. the NATIONAL LEAGUE ALL STAR BASEBALL EVERY DAY!!” \n\t\t(One of the 1959 All Star games was in Pittsburgh that summer — hence the \n\t\ttheme.) The rest of the page contains photos of the best players from each of \n\t\tthe Pirates’ seven NL opponents. You might not get too excited about the \n\t\tCardinals coming to town, but hey! — Stan Musial!<\/I> <\/P> \n\t I’m not sure how the seven star marquee players were selected. Warren \n\t\tSpahn, over Aaron and Mathews. Duke Snider’s Cooperstown years were behind him \n\t\tin ’59, but who knew that? Banks and Mays, of course. The Phils’ boasted the NL \n\t\tbatting champ, Richie Ashburn. For the Reds, the nod went to Frank — nope, not \n\t\tRobinson, but Frank Thomas<\/I>, a native of Pittsburgh traded to Cincy the \n\t\tprevious summer. Drawing card.<\/P> \n\t Sometimes, the marquee player is eclipsed by a teammate, at least in \n\t\tthe stat department, but that doesn’t matter too much. Fame, reputation, past \n\t\tachievement is what the marquee sells. <\/P> \n\t Sometimes, the PR people get lucky, and teams feature two or more \n\t\tplayers that can share the marquee: Mantle and Maris (and Mays, McCovey and \n\t\tMarichal) were “the M & M (& M) Boys.” When the Cubs played the \n\t\tCardinals two summers ago, “Mark and Sammy” said it all — the other guys \n\t\treally did not need to show up, the fans would have been content to see the \n\t\tdueling sluggers take BP all afternoon or evening.<\/P> \n\t The marquee player is such a fixture, that every team has one — \n\t\twhether they have one or not. In other words, somebody<\/I> will be \n\t\tdesignated to fill the role. Sorry, it’s gotta be.<\/P> \n\t Expectations can be impossibly high for marquee players. And (as the \n\t\told Peanuts<\/I> saying goes, great expectations can be heavy burdens indeed. \n\t\tAsk Ken Griffey Jr, who is not leading the Reds to a runaway pennant this \n\t\tsummer — as expected. Just as Kevin Brown didn’t do it for the Dodgers last \n\t\tsummer. Marquee players need a supporting cast. Wins often go to the & \n\t\tCompany<\/I>.<\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t A FALSE SPRING <\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t We all know that baseball is all about failure. It is almost a cliche: \n\t\ta respectable hitter makes outs at a .700 clip, a pitcher can miss with three \n\t\tpitches every batter without any penalty, the best teams still lose four out of \n\t\tten games. Yet most baseball books are about success: players whose careers \n\t\tended at a shrine in Cooperstown, teams whose seasons ended with ticker-tape \n\t\tparades. A False Spring<\/I> by Pat Jordan is perhaps the best baseball book \n\t\tI’ve found that deals with failure in a candid way, so that the reader gets a \n\t\treal sense of how the careers of most players end.<\/P> \n\t A False Spring<\/I> is not an easy book to find; I got my copy thru \n\t\tBaseball America<\/I>, who publishes it along with a few others in their \n\t\t“Classic Books” series. And this is fitting, because A False Spring<\/I> is \n\t\tabout life in the minors. Not that there aren’t plenty of major league players \n\t\tin the book — there are. But Phil Niekro and Rico Carty are just as obscure as \n\t\tthe author Pat Jordan, they are breaking in, all potential, just on their \n\t\tway<\/I> to fame. <\/P> \n\t Jordan’s book is sobering, and one I would want my son to read before \n\t\theading off to his first pro baseball camp. It’s a story not so much about \n\t\tbeating the odds — opening one’s eyes to the facts of baseball life: many \n\t\tbegin the climb, few reach the summit — as about the whole experience of \n\t\tbecoming a professional ballplayer.<\/P> \n\t Pat Jordan was successful enough in high school and semi-pro ball in \n\t\tFairfield, Connecticut, that the Braves offered him a $45,000 bonus. Not much \n\t\tby today’s wacky standards, perhaps, but back in 1959 that was a lot of money. \n\t\tAccording to Paul Dickson, Pat Jordan defined the term “bonus baby” in this \n\t\tbook: “[the term] is usually applied to any player receiving more than $10,000 \n\t\tupon signing a contract. Naturally, whenever a team invests such money in a \n\t\tplayer they treat him more tenderly than they would a player in whom they \n\t\tinvested little money. A bonus baby had only to hint at improvement in order to \n\t\tadvance in the minors. But a non-bonus baby had to fashion a record of \n\t\tunquestionable success before he advanced.”<\/P> \n\t I think almost every team had bonus babies back in the fifties. Just \n\t\tbefore my time, the Pirates had invested a small fortune in a big left-handed \n\t\tpitcher from L.A. named Paul Pettit; he amassed a win total in the bigs of \n\t\texactly one game. I remember better a kid named Art Swanson, who spilled cups \n\t\tof coffee with the Pirates in 1955 and ’56, before finally<\/I> showing his \n\t\tstuff in ’57, winning three games. His last three, as it turned out. A False \n\t\tSpring<\/I> helped me understand, for the first time, what it must have been \n\t\tlike for Pettit and Swanson, and hundreds or thousands of other prospects who \n\t\t“had all the tools” but never figured out how to make them work quite \n\t\tright.<\/P> \n\t Jordan’s book is no diary, he instead looks back on his life in \n\t\tbaseball and reflects. The book is strikingly intelligent, but not in the way \n\t\twe are used to (Tim McCarver’s books come to mind.) I had expected A False \n\t\tSpring<\/I> to be a minor-league version of Ball Four<\/I>, and it does have a \n\t\tlot of the elements — well-drawn portraits of players, managers and pitching \n\t\tcoaches, warts and all. But Jordan is not out to expose anyone, he just tells a \n\t\tstory, his, with candor rarely found in any autobiography.<\/P> \n\t Jordan’s writing might almost be retitled Pitcher in the Rye<\/I>. He \n\t\tis Holden Caulfield, growing up. Away from home for the first time, he copes \n\t\twith loneliness as he struggles to find his control on the mound. Relationships \n\t\tare as elusive as the strike zone. McCook, Nebraska, becomes his new world, \n\t\twhere he works things out — with his boarding house, his fans, his team. \n\t\tSelf-centered and smug, he drifts between starts, as his dream melts away. Day \n\t\tby day, a cold reality sets in. <\/P> \n\t But Pat Jordan tasted success, too. There were days, weeks, when \n\t\teverything clicked, and a locker between Spahn and Burdette in Milwaukee must \n\t\thave seemed a phone call away. The most memorable character in the book is \n\t\tcoach Whitlow Wyatt, then in his fifties, who is part instructor, part \n\t\tphilosopher. Jordan clings to Wyatt in the depths of his pitching despair, and \n\t\tfor a while things look brighter.<\/P> \n\t A False Spring<\/I> is a puzzling book in some ways. How can a talent \n\t\tthis obvious, not succeed? We all know pitching mechanics are delicate, and are \n\t\tnot too surprised when a knuckler (take Tim Wakefield, for example) can be \n\t\tsuperb one summer and out of control the next — or up and down in the same \n\t\tseason, sometimes the same game<\/I>. But we rarely notice the mind \n\t\tconnection. So when Steve Blass wins 19 one year and three the next, with his \n\t\tERA spiking from 2 to 9, we shake our heads. Pat Jordan struggles to prove \n\t\thimself, then loses himself, then struggles all over again to find himself \n\t\tagain. And he fights hard, because there is no life after baseball, for bonus \n\t\tbabies like Jordan.<\/P> \n\t Readers may or may not find themselves rooting for Jordan (even though \n\t\tit is plain from page one that he will not make it), but I think they will get \n\t\ta glimpse of very ordinary heroism. He reflects on athletes who never start the \n\t\tclimb at all, who end their careers early instead of pursuing “a far riskier \n\t\tbut more gratifying success.” In Jordan’s view, “they lacked courage” and “Had \n\t\tbeen so afraid of losing that they lost more than any of those athletes who had \n\t\tgone away and been released and had come back home.” Blessed with talent, \n\t\tJordan is driven to try<\/I>, and cannot give up his dream as long as he has \n\t\tan ounce of effort left in his body. <\/P> \n\t And here is a bonus for readers: A False Spring<\/I> is very \n\t\twell-written. If thinking too much ruined Jordan’s delivery as a pitcher, it \n\t\tcontributes to his delivery as an author. The book is major league. Jordan made \n\t\tit after all. Now for his next<\/I> book.<\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t RARE COMMERCIAL MESSAGE <\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t Not really a commercial, not asking you to buy anything. But I do want \n\t\tto direct your attention to the new location of The Diamond Angle<\/I>, \n\t\tedited by James Floto out of Hawaii. You can now look it up at \n\t\thttp:\/\/hawaiibaseball.rivals.com\/<\/B><\/P> \n\t The Diamond Angle <\/I>is an ecumenical (not team-oriented), \n\t\tall-things-baseball publication that is now over a decade old. James was one of \n\t\tthe first editors to make up the mailing list of Notes<\/B>, back in March \n\t\t1993, and (along with David Nevard) has been one of the editors who best \n\t\tunderstood the purpose of Notes<\/B>: not just to entertain, but to submit \n\t\tmaterial to editors for their consideration. <\/P> \n\t James has reprinted many items from Notes<\/B> in TDA<\/I> over the \n\t\tyears, and it appears that he will continue to do so in his new venture with \n\t\tRivals<\/B>. I wish him much success — he will be under pressure to come up \n\t\twith new pages on a daily<\/I> basis! — and I hope that he directs many \n\t\treaders to The Baseball Archive<\/I> and Notes<\/B> in coming seasons. The \n\t\tbook review of A False Spring<\/B> (in this issue) made its debut at his site \n\t\taround July 23. <\/P> \n\t There are plenty of features and lots of links to explore at James’ new \n\t\tlocation — it’s not just for Benny Agbayani fans or Pineapple Leaguers. The \n\t\tDiamond Angle<\/I> address remains http:\/\/www.aloha.net\/~tdaflow\/<\/B> and \n\t\tJames will continue to publish the quarterly magazine as well. This rather \n\t\tchallenging effort should give a whole new meaning to “Go With the Flow!”<\/P> \n\t COMING NEXT ISSUE OF NOTES: REPORT ON NEGRO LEAGUES CONFERENCE \n\t\t<\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t On August 4-5, I will take the road trip south to Harrisburg, PA, for \n\t\tthe 3rd annual SABR Negro League Committee Research Conference. This event ends \n\t\twith a game at the Harrisburg Senators’ ballpark, which is located on an island \n\t\tin the Susquahanna River. I haven’t seen any new ballparks this season yet, and \n\t\tHarrisburg has been on my “Wantasee” List for some time.<\/P> \n\t I am not a member of SABR’s Negro Leagues Committee, and have not read \n\t\theavily in that area. Robert Peterson’s book, Only the Ball Was White<\/B> \n\t\t(reviewed in Notes #134<\/B>, 6\/3\/96) was a great introduction, and I’ve \n\t\tskimmed through several SABR publications, but I consider myself a raw rookie \n\t\tin knowledge of the Negro Leagues. That’s why I’m going, to fill in some \n\t\tgaps.<\/P> \n\t When I attended the 1995 SABR National Convention in Pittsburgh, I \n\t\treported this in Notes #106<\/B> (6\/26\/95):<\/P> \n\t <DIR> \n\t <\/DIR> \n\t <DIR> \n\t <\/DIR> \n\t Historian Rob Ruck introduced the morning panel, a tribute to black \n\t\tbaseball in Pittsburgh (the city was home to both the Crawfords and the Grays), \n\t\twith a super video, Kings on the Hill: Baseball’s Forgotten \n\t\tMen<\/I><\/B><\/I>. Forgotten? Maybe once upon a time, but no more. Willie Pope \n\t\tand Hooks Tinker were joined (unexpectedly) by Jimmy Dean and Slick Surratt. \n\t\tJournalist Frank Bolden was there, too, and did much of the talking — he’d \n\t\tstill be going, I think, if he wasn’t interrupted. These fellows played with \n\t\tand watched Satchel and Josh and Cool Papa — they been around<\/I> some — \n\t\tand their stories were as spellbinding as Buck O’Neil’s. Yes, they were! Part \n\t\tof the fun of the Negro Leagues was tall tales (“… Josh hit it over<\/I> \n\t\tthe mountain”), one-liners and zingers that scored points with opponents and \n\t\tfans, as sure as hits scored runs. Nearly three and a half hours after they sat \n\t\tdown, Hooks and Slick and the others were still signing autographs and chatting \n\t\taway, perhaps making up for lost time, perhaps enjoying their defiance of \n\t\tSatchel’s advice, Don’t look back<\/I>. The sweat and dust of their memories \n\t\ttastes too sweet.<\/P> \n\t The Conference will include no less than nine presentations, \n\t\tseveral<\/I> player panels, a banquet, a trivia quiz, and –an APBA \n\t\tTournament! I would smuggle in one of my all-time franchise APBA teams to \n\t\tcompete in this thing, but I don’t think they would fare very well. I’ve \n\t\tseen<\/I> those Negro Leaguer cards, and they are chock full of long home \n\t\truns and stolen bases — so much so that I decided it wouldn’t be fair to my \n\t\tHall of Famers to let these cards into my league (I do have Satchel, on the \n\t\tOrioles’ roster, and Monte Irvin on the Giants, but no Josh or Buck or Turkey. \n\t\tCool Papa Bell would<\/I> look great in center for my Pirates, but …. \n\t\twait’ll next year. (If I acquire a bunch of these cards — Lancaster, PA, the \n\t\thome of APBA is not far away — maybe I’ll let each of my teams draft a player \n\t\tfor the stretch run. Let’s see, who’ll I catch today … Jason Kendall, \n\t\tSmoky Burgess … nah, let’s see what this Gibson kid can do.<\/I><\/P> \n\t Robert Peterson is supposed to be at this conference, by the way, and \n\t\tI’m looking forward to meeting him. <\/P> \n\t One of the sessions (Amy Essington’s) will give us a look at the \n\t\t“little-known data sources” (forms) that living players are asked to fill out, \n\t\tafter they are elected to Cooperstown’s Hall of Fame. The program draft mention \n\t\tPaige, Bell and Judy Johnson, but there are others, too. I mention this here \n\t\tfor the benefit of anyone researching Hall of Famers — apparently this info \n\t\tcan be made available to you by the Hall’s excellent library.<\/P> \n\t There will also be a dramatic reading of the two-act play A Victim \n\t\tof the Line<\/B> by SABRite Sammy J. Miller. I do have a weakness for \n\t\thistorically-rooted baseball theater, which has only grown as my own play (now \n\t\ta great musical) Mornings After<\/B> continues its slow but steady march \n\t\ttoward the stage.<\/P> \n\t I wish I had made my decision about Harrisburg sooner, so I could have \n\t\talerted Notes<\/B>‘ readers to this Conference with time for them to plan to \n\t\tjoin me. <\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t WHAT ESPN MISSED ON HALL OF FAME WEEKEND <\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t It’s not their fault, the mainstream media, they have<\/I> to cover \n\t\tthe hoopla. The media moguls are all about ratings, and sure, reports on the \n\t\tannual Hall of Fame Induction give very deserved attention to the men (no \n\t\twomen, so far) inducted. But the fun part of the weekend for me is the Sunday \n\t\tnight meeting at Tillepaugh’s Funeral Home — the regional SABR gathering.<\/P> \n\t I recently saw the movie Trekkies<\/B> — well, the first half — and \n\t\tbelieve me, we baseball fanatics are by and large very, very conservative. Yet \n\t\tmany of us turn pilgrim every summer, and set out for Cooperstown, from the \n\t\tfour corners of the earth that surrounds this capital city of the country of \n\t\tbaseball. Happily, a bunch of them end up at Tillepaugh’s on Sunday night, \n\t\tafter the dust has settled and the traffic has slowed. (Actually, this time \n\t\taround, the pedestrian traffic on Main Street was still going strong, and I did \n\t\tnot pass the fleet of yellow Birnie shuttle buses, headed back north, until I \n\t\twas almost in town. Later I learned why, the ceremony ran long, with Carlton \n\t\tFisk getting some of the credit. I didn’t look it up, but apparently he \n\t\trecalled a pitch or two from every game he ever caught. And he holds the \n\t\trecord. (I was curious to see if he would wear one Red and one White sock, or \n\t\tif he would use his infamous body English to direct the cameras away from the \n\t\tpodium, perhaps to focus on dozing Commissioners.)<\/P> \n\t Bud Selig, someone at the meeting pointed out, is a member of SABR (but \n\t\twas a no-show at Tillepaugh’s) … this made me reconsider my own membership \n\t\tfor a minute, recalling the old Groucho line, “I would never belong to an \n\t\torganization that had me as a member.” That doesn’t quite fit, but it was \n\t\tstartling, to learn that Bud and I were card-carrying, if not T-shirt wearing \n\t\tmembers in the same organization. It was sobering.<\/P> \n\t HOWEVER, Bud’s notable absence was more than made up for by the \n\t\texcellent turnout and interesting roster of speakers, put together, I believe, \n\t\ton short notice, by Bill Deane and Cliff Kachline. Bill is a resident of Fly \n\t\tCreek, “a suburb of Cooperstown” (it turns out there are many such suburbs — \n\t\tyou had to be there to get this joke) and a frequent contributor to the daily \n\t\tSABR-L internet digest; he is practically a reason to join SABR and subscribe. \n\t\tCliff has been known to Notes<\/B> readers since February 1996 (NOTES<\/p>\n\t\t#122<\/B>) as a “Biblical Author” — he once wrote for The Bible of Baseball, \n\t\tThe Sporting News<\/I> — and I had the pleasure of interviewing him for \n\t\tSABR’s Oral History Committee; the HOF Library has a copy of the tape.<\/P> \n\t I hadn’t seen Cliff since the announcement last summer (see Notes \n\t\t#194<\/B>) about Hack Wilson’s 1930 record for RBI’s being changed officially to \n\t\t191, and so I had to ask him how he celebrated the event. Cliff must be \n\t\tcredited with an assist on the project, even though he did not initiate it or \n\t\tcomplete it himself. He did not directly answer my question, so I never got to \n\t\task him what kind of champagne<\/I>, but he did describe the phone calls he \n\t\treceived, quite unexpectedly, from The Powers That Be (Jerome Holtzman and \n\t\tSeymour Siwoff.)<\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t Jim Riley and Dick Clark (no, not that<\/I> one), two of SABR’s top \n\t\tnames, were on hand (they were a factor in motivating me to go to Harrisburg \n\t\tnext month) and talked with the group of about forty. They mentioned the recent \n\t\tgrant by Major League Baseball, of $250,000, to the Hall of Fame’s Library, to \n\t\tstudy baseball in the Negro Leagues — a field in which both men are experts. \n\t\tTim Wiles (Director of Research at the HOF Library) later addressed this topic, \n\t\ttoo, explaining the process that will be used to determine how this grant will \n\t\tbe spent.<\/P> \n\t Greg Bond, a SABRite from Wisconsin, had expressed some concerns about \n\t\tthe study on the SABR-L digest, and I had forwarded his post to Tim earlier, \n\t\tand brought it to the SABR meeting (July 23) in Cooperstown. I thought Tim did \n\t\ta super job in addressing every question, and later wished that I had taped his \n\t\tresponse (because I do not wish to misquote him here.) This is a first for the \n\t\tHall — it has not been in the business of doing<\/I> research, but has \n\t\tassisted mightily, as no other institution can, for many decades. I will \n\t\tsummarize things here all too briefly by stating that SABR — whose business \n\t\thas been baseball research since 1971 — seems like a logical starting point \n\t\tfor any project attempting to synthesize the research already done and to fill \n\t\tin the big gaps. To ignore the mountain of research by the Negro League \n\t\tCommittee members over the years would seem to be a huge mistake. On the other \n\t\thand, we are dealing here with Major League Baseball, the same organization \n\t\tthat did not<\/I> bring you the 1994 World Series. So, we’ll see.<\/P> \n\t Scott Fiesthumel, a SABRite who lives here in the Shadows of \n\t\tCooperstown — he’s the local historian on Utica baseball — gave an \n\t\tinteresting show-and-tell presentation on the Ken-Wal Equipment Company. \n\t\tOriginally (since 1916) Kennedy Sporting Goods of Gloversville, NY (best known \n\t\tas the hometown of my wife), Ken-Wal turned out bats, gloves, catcher’s gear, \n\t\tand all sorts of sports equipment (for football, hockey, lacrosse, skiing, \n\t\tboxing — you name it) right here in the Shadows (Utica) between 1927 and 1960. \n\t\t<\/P> \n\t Scott brought, and passed around, a bat, catcher’s and first baseman’s \n\t\tmitts, an old pancake glove, as well as boxing gloves and a small pair of \n\t\tfootball trousers (always laced in front, for some reason) … seems Scott has \n\t\tdiscovered E-bay, and has started acquiring things which surely will lead one \n\t\tday to his foundation of HOF-North here in the Shadows. We’ll see.<\/P> \n\t Two fellows from Chambersburg, PA, were in Cooperstown and talking \n\t\tabout the book they co-authored about that famous resident of their town (altho \n\t\the was born in St Thomas, PA) — Nellie Fox. They had a great collection of \n\t\tNellie stories, and looking at things through my own Black-and-Gold lens, \n\t\tNellie seemed to me to be, in real life, back home, a lot like that second \n\t\tbaseman perched on Cooperstown’s doorstep (he missed by one vote, one absentee \n\t\tballot, this time around) — Bill Mazeroski. Humble, candid, almost shy (does \n\t\tanyone understand the word “self-effacing” anymore?) … and in my mind, I see \n\t\tboth Nellie and Bill with a huge wad of tobacco in their cheeks. (Hey, tell the \n\t\tkids it was Big League Chew, Jim Bouton’s marvelous contribution to the health \n\t\tof ballplayers.) <\/P> \n\t Then there was Gabe Schecter<\/B>, who has been obsessed for twenty \n\t\tyears with a fellow I only met in the last decade — Charles “Victory” Faust. A \n\t\tSABRite from California, Gabe has written a book about Faust — a character \n\t\tabout whom I’ve only managed to write a poem and a short satire. And yes, Faust \n\t\tis book-worthy, despite having only pitched in two MLB games.<\/P> \n\t Most of us, if we heard at all about Victory Faust, ran into him first \n\t\tin The Glory of Their Times<\/I>, the classic oral history by Lawrence Ritter \n\t\t(it is now on CDs and cassettes.) Ritter interviewed Fred Snodgrass, fifty \n\t\tyears after Faust joined the NY Giants of John McGraw, as their Good Luck Charm \n\t\tand comic relief pitcher. Faust was interesting enough to make Ken Burns’ film, \n\t\tbut on further review (by Gabe), it appears that of the nine sentences about \n\t\tFaust in Burns’ Baseball<\/I>, only three are correct. Three of nine is good \n\t\tin baseball, not so good in history.<\/P> \n\t But how can I come down hard on Ken Burns and his fact-checkers? I \n\t\taccepted Snodgrass’ tale, too. Gabe Schecter did not, he took that dirty, \n\t\tunder-handed route to the truth … he looked it up. Thank goodness. I bought \n\t\this book on the spot.<\/P> \n\t I’ll review it here later. For now, suffice it to say that Faust was \n\t\twith the Giants not three years, but just under twelve months. (He is credited \n\t\tby Snodgrass with three pennants.) A number of other details in Snodgrass’ \n\t\trecollections do not check out, but I won’t go into that, lest Gabe’s book \n\t\tsales be cramped. I enjoyed Schecter’s characterization of Charlie Faust as a \n\t\t“Forrest Gump” who contributed a bit more than comic relief to the \n\t\tMcGraw-driven Giants. And to the fans, who didn’t have to go to vaudeville to \n\t\tsee Faust warm up, shag flies, pitch BP (Honus Wagner stood in against him), or \n\t\tshow off his variety of slides.<\/P> \n\t Even demythologized, Faust was a good luck charm. Charlie apparently \n\t\talso could jinx, and when the Giants drained him of his power to bring them \n\t\twins, he put a hex on McGraw’s men. Did it work? Ask Rube Marquard, who lost \n\t\tthree straight games after Faust left the team, after nineteen straight W’s (in \n\t\t1912.) When Faust was admitted to an asylum a few years later (and died there \n\t\tin 1915), he listed his occupation as “professional baseball player.” <\/P> \n\t There were a couple of other short presentations at Tillepaugh’s, then \n\t\tlots of time to talk baseball among friends.<\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t MISTERS <\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t When I started out this issue with “Mister Shortstop,” I thought for a \n\t\tfew minutes about trying out a theme. I didn’t get any farther than that, but a \n\t\tvisit to Dickson’s Dictionary<\/I> gave me a few ideas.<\/P> \n\t For example, who is “Mr Baseball”? “For decades,” Dickson reports, \n\t\t“this is what they called Connie Mack.” He also notes that more recently, Bob \n\t\tUecker has claimed the title, but not seriously. I suspect that when Cal Ripken \n\t\tenters Cooperstown in bronze, we’ll hear him dubbed that more than a few times, \n\t\tno?<\/P> \n\t I’ve done a few player poems on Misters — “Mr Cub” (Ernie Banks) and \n\t\t“Mr Tiger” (Al Kaline) — and I wonder if every team has their own “Mister”? \n\t\t(Mr Marlin? Sounds like a Madison Ave. relative of Charlie the Tuna. “Mr Rocky” \n\t\tbrings to mind an image of Sylvester Stallone in a tux. Teams really need to \n\t\tthink ahead better when they pick nicknames.) “Mr October” is the title of my \n\t\tReggie Jackson poem … I could have called Rudy York “Mr August,” I suppose \n\t\t(for that month he sizzled in 50 RBIs.) I have heard players called “Mr April” \n\t\tas a kind of put-down — “always starts out great, then fizzles.” <\/P> \n\t Dickson explains “Mr Guess” with a single word: Umpire.<\/P> \n\t “Mr Kodak” is a nickname for any player who fakes — not takes, \n\t\tfakes<\/I> — his time getting into the batter’s box. I have read that agents \n\t\trecommend this to their clients — more time on TV, more recognizable. (See \n\t\tMarquee Player, above.)<\/P> \n\t “Mr Mustard” is not a nickname for the vendor, but for the player also \n\t\tknown as a hot dog. I read somewhere that Hispanic players (going back to Vic \n\t\tPowers’ day) complained about being called hot dogs, when a white player who \n\t\tfielded or ran with similar flair would not be so labeled. Good point, I \n\t\tthink.<\/P> \n\t So what “Misters” are left for us? How about “Mister Tim” (after \n\t\tprofessor McCarver) for the broadcasters who spend a bit too much time \n\t\tanalyzing things? <\/P> \n\t Or “Mr Cliche” for the managers, players, and others who reply to \n\t\tquestions from reporters with a dazzling lack of originality or thought. \n\t\t(Reporters are eligible for this nickname, too, when they ask only the \n\t\tpredictable, “How did you feel when ….”)<\/P> \n\t Then there is the mysterious “Mr Later” — you know, the Player to be \n\t\tNamed Later?<\/P> \n\t I better stop there, but if you come up with your own “Misters” send \n\t\tthem my way. Best contribution will earn the right to put a sign in their \n\t\tdriveway, “Parking Reserved for Suggester of the Month,” authorized by Mister \n\t\tTwo Finger Carney.<\/P> \n\t <\/P> \n\t THE BIG STORIES <\/U><\/B><\/P> \n\t That was the title of a kind of sidebar in the July 24-August 6 issue \n\t\tof Baseball America<\/B>. I like BA<\/B>, but mostly for its columnists \n\t\t(including SABR’s own Jayson Stark); I rarely read all the team reports, and \n\t\ttheir stats lag too much.<\/P> \n\t But when I see a column with the title “The Big Stories,” I start \n\t\twishing that NOTES<\/B> was a weekly again — that forced me to pay closer \n\t\tattention to current events in the country of baseball. And to columnists or, \n\t\tin this case staffs, who decide on exactly what “the big stories” are. Because \n\t\tsometimes they need perspective, like that from the Shadows of Cooperstown.<\/P><\/p>\n\t 1. Fresh Faces in High Places.<\/B> BA<\/I> is happy that the Yanks \n\t\tare not running away from all of the other teams, again. So am I, and I look \n\t\tforward to a post-season without the usual suspects. “Anyone but the Yankees \n\t\tand Braves” is the cheer outside New York and Atlanta. I bet that would sell on \n\t\ta T-shirt.<\/P> \n\t 2. More Balls Go Bye-Bye.<\/B> This is hardly news, it’s a trend of \n\t\tover five years — at least. And it will continue, methinx.<\/P> \n\t 3. Superstars on the Block.<\/B> Juan Gonzalez, Sammy Sosa, even \n\t\tJunior Griffey. This is a ho-hum issue for most fans, whose teams cannot afford \n\t\tthese guys. Save this hype for the superstations.<\/P> \n\t 4. Can’t We Just All Get Along?<\/B> John Rocker is now called \n\t\tmeathead and bonehead in BA<\/I>, which actually makes him sympathetic, \n\t\tinstead of just pathetic. See Gray vs Rose.<\/P> \n\t 5. Alive on the South Side<\/B>. Ah, the glorious exception, the team \n\t\twith the 25th highest payroll, the ChiSox, have the best record. How do I know \n\t\tthis? Don Fehr said so, in the next issue of BA<\/I>. Uh, oh. It is not good \n\t\tto see his name in the news.<\/P> \n\t 6. They Can Still Pitch.<\/B> Pedro and Randy have been super, and my \n\t\tregret of the summer thus far is missing the duel between Pedro and Rocket. \n\t\tMaybe if an October game is rained out, this will be replayed in its entirety. \n\t\tI have a blank tape waiting.<\/P> \n\t 7. Junior Goes Home.<\/B> BA<\/I> rightly points out that the big \n\t\tstory here is not, as we all guessed, Junior leading the Reds to a title — but \n\t\tthe Mariners doing so well without Junior!<\/P> \n\t 8. More New Ballparks.<\/B> I think I’ve seen them all on TV by now, \n\t\tthe new playgrounds in S.F., Detroit and Houston. Again, this is a trend, and \n\t\tsure enough, it will continue.<\/P> \n\t 9. Bottom Falls Out in Houston.<\/B> The Astros may be the first team \n\t\tto christen a new park with a last-place finish. Good grief.<\/P> \n\t 10. Baseball’s New Top Cop.<\/B> Frank Robinson, unarmed, is Mr \n\t\tDiscipline, and good hatchet men are needed to keep kids in line.<\/P><\/BODY> \n<\/HTML><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Notes 216 AROUND THE HORN Longtime readers of Notes know that I have, over the years, developed a habit of connecting just about everything to baseball — even my vacations. A trip to Gettysburg last fall sparked a discussion on Baseball as War (Ty Cobb batted leadoff there) … I even managed to work in […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":29,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11346","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11346","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/29"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=11346"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11346\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11346"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11346"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11346"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}