Notes from the Shadows of Cooperstown
Observations From Outside the Lines |
Carney's newest book,
Burying the Black Sox: How
Baseball's Cover-up of the
1919 World Series Fix Almost Succeeded, will be available soon.
Pre-order your copy today.
Click to subscribe to 1919BlackSox Yahoo Discussion Group
RAGE FOR THE (TIME) MACHINE
Last issue, I rode my trusty time machine back through the last
century, picking one baseball game in each decade to visit. I asked readers to
share their picks with me, and some of those responses are reprinted here.
This exercise in imagination and history was fun, and maybe you found
it more fun to do over the Hot Stove -- which these days might mean the copier
at the office, the school cafeteria, or on the internet -- wherever folks chat.
I am reminded that if time travel is ever perfected, there could be problems --
for example, the Polo Grounds will be crammed full of visitors from the future
to see Bobby Thomson's Shot, or Willie's Catch. I suspect there will be long
lines to get aboard to see certain famous events. Travel would be necessarily
restricted, or else I would hardly be alone at the other end of Mark McGwire's
62nd HR, I'd be in a Times Square mob scene. So make a note, get your
reservations in early.
This issue visits the past a few other ways, ways accessible to all of
us today. Via the trusty book, or rather, book review. Via the
time-tested photograph, audio tape, and then the humble home
movie, which is easily converted to video.
I believe it was Adam Gopnik who pointed out in a recent New
Yorker, that communication has been moving steadily in the direction of
more visual media -- as newspaper readership has dwindled, we have progressed
from still photography to movies, then to sound and color film, TV, DVD. But
the internet, the giant leap forward in the past decade (and its future looks
bright, too), seems to be a also step backward: when we surf the net, we
basically read and write. Words are at least as important as images again (and
they take 'way less time to download!)
NOTES has always been mostly about words, past and present. (I
dislike predictions.) And I think that will not change any time soon. Your
words are important, to keep NOTES alive; I thank those who shared their
words with us here, and invite you all to make this thing conversational.
Please write me at carneya6@borg.com (I sampled another service in
December, but dropped it, but check if I wrote you recently.)
OFF TO KILL THE WIZARD is the name of the latest short story
I've written -- a few of you have seen it. If it is not yet in the NOTES
archive (at baseball1.com), it will be soon.
PLAY OF THE DAY REVISTED by DAVID MARASCO
For years and years my grandfather claimed to have seen "the Catch"
live. We always figured that he was just making things up. The old man moved to
New York City after the war mainly to be in a baseball city (his address prior
was an internment camp in Colorado, where he was responsible for the
construction of a ballfield), and he saw a lot of games, but somehow we never
quite believed him when he started talking about the '54 series. Afterhe died,
my grandmother snuck a look at his diary. And, lo and behold, there was an
entry on the proper date saying that he had gone to the game with a pair of
friends!
If I had a time machine I'd go back to the mid-70's and sit behind my
father and the 5-year-old version of me at my first ballgame. Cheesy? Yes, but
it's the first game I'd see if there was in fact the chance.
I'm not sure just why, but David's story reminded me of my
father-in-law's. Alf, not a baseball fan, was given tickets to a game at Yankee
Stadium late in the 1961 season, and went to the game with his two sons in tow.
He could not understand the wild reaction, when a home town player named Maris
homered. Yes, it was #61. For some years, I had the impression that this was
the ONLY game Alf & Sons ever saw, but when I brought it up again, he had a
different version, it wasn't the ONLY, but it was the last. NOTES readers may
recall that this prompted me to wonder what visitors to the Country of Baseball
would conclude, if the FIRST or ONLY game they saw was -- you fill in the
blank. The double-no-hitter? A twenty-something-inning marathon? Or a game made
famous by some milestone, like Cal's passing Gehrig? Toss it on the Hot
Stove!
A FELLOW PIRATE FAN TAKES AIM AT THE PAST by Fr John
HISSRICH
Oh, my, what a challenge. I've got my time machine warming up outside
(with the gearshift lever firmly set to "P," for either Park or Present, lest
it get away without me).
I read the first page [of NOTES 205] just before lunch, saving your
choices while I worked on my lasagna, and giving me a chance to think about
what games I'd pick before reading yours. Since we share a love of the Pirates,
I figured that we would mention many of the same games. I just didn't think
that the Toney-Vaughn double no-hitter would be one of them.
I'm going to mention several games, but only one (which you, to my
surprise, passed up) in detail.
Game one: October 13, 1960. Not only would I choose to be in Forbes
Field for game seven of the 1960 Series, I would want to arrange it so that I
was sitting between a Pirate fan (I'll call him Pittsburgh Pete) and a Yankee
fan (New York Nick). I may egg the two of them on at some point, but I would
mainly enjoy the ebb and flow of the game with the knowledge that I alone have
of the ending. (They will never discover that the real me, in reality, was at
home in my crib, not yet eight months old.)
Pete would be pretty confident about having Vern Law starting, although
I might drop a hint. "I dunno, Pete, I heard that his ankle is bothering him. I
hope that doesn't affect his delivery." But as the Buccos take a 4-0 lead, Pete
will be grinning and confident while Nick is wringing his hands.
Certainly, Nick knows that his team can overcome a 4-0 deficit. I can
feel the tension pass from him to Pete as the Yanks come back. With the score
7-4 in favor of the Bronx Bombers, I suspect that it would be hard for me to
give some of my confidence to Pete. But I hope that Nick isn't getting
obnoxious or rubbing it in. For the Bucs get a lead-off man on base. As much as
I want to watch the game, it's going to be hard not to watch Pete's expression
as Bill Virdon hits a tailor-made double-play ball right to Tony Kubek. Watch
out, Tony, for the bad bounces you can get on the Forbes Field infield. And
neither Nick nor Pete would imagine Hal Smith as the home run hero.
Now for the ninth-- two Yankee runs, but Haddix gets out of it. I'd
want to savor the between-innings conversation with my seat-mates as Ralph
Terry warms up. Can Maz get on base? Watch out for Dick Stuart as a
pinch-hitter for Haddix. ("Sure," says Nick, "But the Bucs have to bring in
Mizell for the tenth, and we've handled him pretty well this Series.")
And then, the one ball, no strike pitch. No more conversation-- Pete
(and I) will be too busy screaming while Nick stares straight ahead in stunned
disbelief.
Game two: [October 10], 1924. I was sure I'd pick game seven from the
1925 Series to see my Bucs complete a comeback against the Washington Senators.
But instead, I'm going back one year earlier. You once wrote about a rock in
the infield whom you charged with throwing himself in front of a couple of
grounders. (I defended that rock, if you'll remember.) Wouldn't it be great to
watch that twelve inning battle? People were talking this October about Roger
Clemens' finally winning a Series. Sorry, but the Rocket has nothing on the Big
Train. I'd love to see Walter Johnson's great [Game 7 WS] victory.
Game three: [October 16] 1909. I can't resist game seven of the 1909
Series. Some game with Honus Wagner has to be on this list just so I can say
that I saw him play. But I'd also like to keep an eye on that Babe Adams kid on
the mound for Pittsburgh.
That's all for now. It's not that I can't think of any more, but I
can't narrow them down. I might write again with some of my other choices: I'd
love to see Rapid Robert Feller picking off Phil Masi in the 1948 Series (and
I'd be yelling at the umpire along with everyone else) or Harvey Haddix's May
26, 1959 battle in Milwaukee. ("No, Harvey, pitch to Aaron. That Adcock'll kill
you.") Or perhaps a game in Philly in late 1964 to see a tired Bunning trying
to drag his team across the finish line. (Maybe the game where the Reds' Chico
Ruiz stole home to beat the Phils 1-0.) Or how about that day in Wrigley in
1975 when Rennie Stennett went seven for seven. No, I can't narrow it down any
further, but I reserve the right to send more later.
Multiple contributions are welcome, I set the limit at ten games. Fr
John is correct, I failed to mention one of my all-time favorite games, but it
wasn't Game 7, 1960 -- I passed up that "obvious choice" because I've given
Maz' HR so much space here in NOTES already. No, the game I blew is Harvey
Haddix' 1959 "perfect loss" -- which I have also written about extensively here
and elsewhere. Every May 26, I re-celebrate. Sorry, Harvey.
THE INSIDE GAME
Over the years, I have done a fairly good job of avoiding the pull of
video games. I confess to having been hooked a few times -- Q*bert and a couple
other games that we bought for our then-state-of-the-art ADAM computer. But I
have quite intentionally avoided any and all computer baseball games,
especially APBA (because I do not want to get hooked), and also the Nintendo
stuff.
I enjoy the challenge of a good game, but invariably, they all become,
once mastered, tiresome. (Not that I master them all, I do not!) However, I
have found one exception, and the unique quality of this game has been
confirmed by many friends and relatives. I would not mention it here, except
that recently I started finding points of comparison between baseball and -- a
deceptively simple game that comes with many computers these days, disguised as
another solitaire card game. I refer, of course, to FreeCell.
According to the version that came with my Windows 98, FreeCell was
copyrighted by Jim Horne of Microsoft in 1981. Its connection to cricket,
rounders, or baseball is not noted.
When I failed to get bored with FreeCell earlier this year, I began
wondering why. I decided it was because of the strategy the game employs,
comparable to chess, an all-time game. Also, each game is different (like
baseball), and all are winnable (altho a friend reports that one is impossible,
#11982; if anyone solves #11982, please let me know. Also, how did you do
it?!)
I was going to try to describe here how the feel of FreeCell compares
to any baseball game, but upon further reflection, I think the comparison
should be to one inning of baseball.
Because some games of FreeCell are very easy (1-2-3, no sweat), while
others are hard to navigate. I feel good winning about 80%, which is like the
league batting .200 against a pitcher, no? There is no question that winning at
FreeCell provides a great deal of satisfaction, and the harder the game, the
greater the reward -- just like getting out the heart of the enemy order, or
working out of a bases-loaded, none-out jam.
It pays, in FreeCell and baseball, to study the lineup some before
tossing the first pitch. Indeed, sometimes games are lost by a "wrong" first
move. But you can't take all day, sooner or later you have to throw the ball,
but (as in chess) the farther ahead you can think (plan), the better your
chances of eventually winning. Sometimes you gamble, take a risk, when you are
playing fast, but if you are bearing down -- say, you have a streak of 20-some
going, like a no-hitter, you do best to take your time.
Just as baseball fans are instant friends when they meet, so it is when
two people find themselves -- talkin' FreeCell. Yes?
ANOTHER KIND OF TIME MACHINE
While it is fun to imagine visits to the past, there is another way we
can go back in time and check things out. And that would be by reading.
For what seems like a year, I have been reading a book with a great
title, Baseball. It's a 1993 Sports Illustrated collection of
their "finest writings on America's favorite pastime" from SI's first
four decades. There are thirty entries in the SI journal, and while they
are roughly grouped into sections ("Spring," "Fall," "Players," "Milestones,"
etc.), each essay or article stands quite nicely all by itself.
And most of the writing is truly fine -- Robert Creamer on the '56
Yanks and then "The Mantle of the Babe"; Myron Cope on Clemente; Ron Fimrite on
the dynastic Oakland A's; Red Smith on Branch Rickey; several fine
contributions by Roy Blount, Jr and Steve Wulf, one by Pat Jordan. There's even
something by the poet Robert Frost, on hand at the 1956 All Star Game. I don't
recall skimming any chapter -- is there a higher compliment to be paid?
I marked more lines or paragraphs (sorry, Next Reader) than I can
mention here, but here are a couple:
Minor league manager Red Davis on Bruce Kison in 1971 (the same year
Kison saved a World Series game for the Pirates): "Bruce is a fragile piece of
property. If he gets hurt it will be my fault. If he were an organization man I
could take a chance. Often that is the only reason they have a job in the first
place, because we can do things with them that we would never do with a
prospect." Are you listening, Mr Fehr?
In the spring of 1956, Mickey Mantle was emerging as a true successor
to Ruth and DiMaggio, but it's curious that Robert Creamer compares Mick to
"slugging contemporaries" Yogi Berra and Dale Long. (Pittsburghers
wondered if Long was the Next Kiner.)
Robert Frost's take on the '56 Midsummer Classic is a treat. He recalls
meeting Ed (Ted) Lewis, "a Welshman from Utica" who pitched in the majors (and
left a promising career for a teaching college job -- he rose to a college
presidency. With Giamatti's luck, he might have been Commish.)
Mark Kram's portrait of Cool Papa Bell and the Negro Leagues appeared
in SI a year before Bell streaked into Cooperstown -- the pen a mighty
influence? Kram notes that Bell was once timed circling the bases on a mushy
field in 13.1 seconds ("two-fifths faster than Evar Swanson's major league
record"), and Bell claims he once did it in 12 flat, on a dry field.
Enough, enough, I am recommending this book, even though it took me
forever to finish. Fact is, I held back, stretched it out, didn't care if I
ever got back -- from visits to the past.
WHO'S THE FASTEST OF THEM ALL?
If Evar Swanson holds the major league record for the fastest time
circling the bases, how come no one evar heard of him?
When I run across an offhand remark -- as I did in Mark Kram's
SI 1973 interview of Cool Papa Bell (think of him when you hear about
the new park in San Francisco) -- I get curious. So I looked up Mr Swanson.
Turns out he played three years in the NFL as an end for the Chicago Cardinals
(1925-27) before turning to a career in baseball. His "record" was set between
games of a doubleheader on September 15, 1929, and it was apparently 13.3
seconds.
Contests between ballplayers -- throwing, running, catching balls
dropped from heights, and so on -- are fairly foreign to today's fans. About
all we have left is the annual Home Run Derby. But in the old days -- when the
players would risk their arms and legs for a few extra bucks (and had no agents
to advise otherwise) -- contests were common. They were "a drawing card" --
pulling in fans who have given up on the pennant races in mid-September. And of
course, they were something on which fans could wager.
But contests are gone, like doubleheaders. Evar Swanson's record may
stand forever. Or, it may not.
NEW YORK BASEBALL POEMS
That's the title of the latest chap book by Robert L. Harrison, a
fellow baseball poet who lives in the Shadows of New York City (East Meadow.)
One thing unique about NYBP is that it was published as a fund-raiser by
the Huntington Suffolks baseball team to raise money for their charity
games.
If the idea of contributing to baseball and charity is foreign to you
-- check to see if you are in the right country. Just kidding. But really, who
could resist sending a check for six dollars to someone named Minnie "the Lip"
Tangel? Mail to 11 King Arthur's Court; St James, NY 11780.
OK, here's a sample of what you'll find in NYBP. This is a poem
with the title 1953 and the subtitle Young Mantle Hits
One. My hunch is that Robert was describing a home run he heard
on the radio, which is the best way to see a home run.
It was a shot like no other / tearing into the breath of God / leaving
earth and grass and fans.
A sphere for the ages racing along / casting no shadow in frozen space /
finally arching for the great fall.
Described on the radio as a great new star, / a stellar moment of
freedom expressed / bright and clean as a summer's dream.
GRANDFATHERS AND GRANDSONS
Last issue, when I made my pick of games from the first decade of the
20th century to visit in my time machine, I was not at all objective about it.
I passed up Addie Joss' perfect game, that terrific duel against Ed Walsh in
Cleveland, 1908, to spend a day at Forbes Field with my grandfather.
Over the years, I have met more than a few fans who have stories (but
not personal memories) of their grandfathers, some of them ball-players. Notes
reader Dick Hunt recently shared his -- while responding to a recent reprint,
"The Trouble with Triples" in Notes 200.
Dick's grandfather, Eugene Madden, appeared in exactly one major league
game. If Dick traveled back to witness the event, he'd set the dial for
Thursday afternoon, April 20, 1916, and the site would be Forbes Field,
Pittsburgh.
The Cardinals were in town, with a mostly undistinguished lineup -- but
keep your eye on that rookie at shortstop, he might develop into a hitter
someday. Made his debut last September at the age of 18. In the spring of 1916,
Rogers Hornsby was batting seventh for St Louis.
With one out in the 2nd, Tommy Long tripled to left-center off the
Pirate starter Al Mamaux. Bruno Betzel followed with another triple, also to
left-center, and that brought up Hornsby. The teen-ager yanked one down the
left field line, and -- you guessed it -- pulled into third with a triple. In
case you are curious, triple-triples has been accomplished many times; four in
a row, the record, only once (by those speedy Red Sox of 1934.)
If you were an aficionado of triples, you would set your time machine
dial for September 3, 1894, to watch Baltimore and Cleveland pound out eleven
in a the first game of a doubleheader. (They hit none in the nightcap.) If you
had jitters (the Y1.9K bug) about going back farther than 1900, you would have
your choice of three different dates to see ten in a day.
And if you were Dick Hunt, that trifecta display would not even have
been the highlight of the inning. Because in the bottom of the second,
pitcher Al Mamaux, down 3-0, was lifted for a pinch hitter. Lefty-swinging,
25-year-old Gene Madden, from Elm Grove, West Virginia, was sent up to the
plate. He grounded out to second, 4-3, the final out of a 1-2-3 inning. Who
knows what Madden might have done, with his grandson on the Pirate bench? A
hit, sparking a ten-run rally? Who knows?
For the play-by-play, modern expanded box score, and conventional box
score of this game, Dick had contacted Retrosheet last summer. Retrosheet is a
dazzling resource of ball games past, dedicated to accumulating as many
play-by-plays of major league games as they can. Yet another sort of time
machine!
PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORIES DEPT.
My friend Jerry Gregory recommended a web site to me just before I
received the January 2000 Minor Trips newsletter, which
also carried the information. Anyone wishing to visit ballparks, by letting
their mouse clicks take them there, can try this:
http://pacer1.usca.sc.edu/~stadiums
There you will enter the wonderful world of Gary Jarvis, who has spent
a good chunk of the past eight summers visiting parks scattered about the
countryside of baseball. He has eighty-four-and-counting different photographs,
and a short review was attached to all of the ones I've looked at so far, along
with basic information. Obviously, most are minor league parks, but they are
more fun anyway.
Minor Trips is in its tenth season, and has over
five thousand subscribers. For any fans planning a minor (or major) trip
themselves, MT is worth checking out. Lots of tips for
visiting fans, book reviews, and features, and MT includes
the independent leagues, too. Write to them at P.O. Box 360105, Strongsville,
Ohio 44136; or visit their web site:
http://members.aol.com/minortrips/index.html
Call me Chicken, but it seems I do more of my shopping for presents
these days via catalogs, than at the malls. This past holiday season, I tried
Baseball Direct (P.O. Box 7563, Charlottesville, VA
22906), and came up with a few things for myself as well -- Tim McCarver's
Baseball for Brain Surgeons and Other Fans, which I am having a hard
time putting down (I'll review it here later); and an audio tape of a baseball
game.
Yes, one more way to visit the past -- listen to it. The game I bought
was the last game at Forbes Field. I wish that was the title, but no, some
idiot included the final score, too, which removed some of the drama. I was not
living in Pittsburgh on June 28, 1970, and missed this game.
So I had a few hours with Bob Prince & company on KDKA. Roberto
Clemente was interviewed prior to the game, which was the second of a
doubleheader. He talked about playing at least a few more summers. Roberto
received a $25 gift certificate for his time. He'd autographed baseballs for
his friends up in the booth, including a personal message on each, something
which was either too personal or too emotional to be shared on the air.
Early on, the broadcasters noted that "old Lady Forbes" had never
yielded a no-hitter, and when Al Oliver homered in the bottom of the first, the
perfect record was secured. The tape included all the commercials. I started
feeling guilty for not being hooked long ago on Iron City beer, like a real fan
would be. Ah well. Anyway, it was a terrific listen, and I was sorry that I
couldn't hear the next game, next day, from Shea.
ANOTHER LOOK
"I would land my time machine in Chicago, October 1,
1932, Game Three of the Series. ... I would be sure to get a seat right beside
or behind the Cubs' dugout. I would smuggle in from the future, a videocam or
at least a tape recorder. No, officer, it's not a gun. And I would wait
for Babe Ruth to step to the plate, with two on in the second
inning.
Did he call his shot that day? ... We have a silent, home movie of this
event, which does little to settle things. But imagine having it on video, with
enhanced sound. Here's something to ponder: would the Babe have gotten into a
shouting match with the Cub bench, if the game was on national television?
Think of all the kids watching, Babe. Safely back in the present, I
would auction off my tape to the highest bidder (Steinbrenner?) and get ready
for my next trip.
-- from NOTES #205
Well, it appears that we now have two silent home movies of the
event known as "Ruth's Called Shot." When ESPN aired its "Fifty Greatest
Athletes of the Century" segment on the Bambino, they included this
newly-discovered footage.
(Ruth finished second to Michael Jordan in the ESPN series, but I think
he was being punished for his association with major league baseball, which had
been threatening ESPN with a lawsuit since last summer. One SABRite pointed out
that while Jordan's talent is unquestionable, basketball itself was not a major
sport for the century's first half, and still ranks third.)
Anyway, I taped the Ruth segment, and I taped it again when NBC ran it
on their Today show. I looked at it in slo-mo. My conclusion was that we
still need an audio tape.
The new footage seems to have Ruth pointing at the Cub bench, but he
could have gestured to center, too, and not been caught. As Ruth swats the old
horsehide and rounds the bases, he gestures several times to the Cub dugout.
Matt Lauer suggested that Ruth said, after the game, that he called it, but I
believe even Babe took some convincing about the story. Once he realized the
value of going along (with writer Joe Williams and gradually the rest of the
day's media), Ruth defended the myth.
That the "Called Shot" still excites people, sixty-some years later, is
perhaps not so surprising. Remember, I recently had my hands in Loch Ness,
where tourists have been flocking since the thirties (coincidence?) Babe Ruth
has but one museum that I know of (not counting Cooperstown); Nessie has two --
and a web site. Yes, Virginia, people believe in the unseen all the time, and
that's OK. For them. I guess.
I could be wrong, but I think it's healthier to recognize the truth or
lesson in a myth, than to defend its historicity. Because some day we might
have a home movie that can be decoded by a lip-reader. And the truth should not
diminish Ruth.
THE CURIOUS CASE OF JOHN ROCKER
After interviewing Marge Schott in Notes 131 (May 11, 1996) --
she wisely chose to remain silent throughout -- I wrote about her a few more
times. In 133 (5/28/96) I defended her as an unlikely champion of
women's rights ("Taking a Schott at Sexism"), when she talked about signing a
young lady to play for the Reds. In 136 (6/17/96), an issue I titled
"One Woman Out," I devoted a few pages to "The Margian Chronicles," in which I
wrote:
June 14. I am also disappointed in MLB, but this is nothing new.
In the act of silencing Marge (for 2½ years), the Executive Committee
has sent out a terrible message. Ironically, Hitler was intolerant and
repressive of dissenting viewpoints. Can we say that the Exec-Comm "was good at
the beginning" -- when they clearly distanced MLB from Marge's dimwitted
offensive looniness -- but "went too far" by denying her free speech? I think
so.
The politically correct celebrate Marge's passing. I do not. I feel
like asking every baseball fan who protests, to somehow let MLB know that this
act is not "in the best interests of baseball" or democracy, even though it
seems to be. I want to see armbands supporting Marge's Mouth worn at the All
Star Game. I want to see the independent media rise up and stay up until Selig
and Company admit their mistake.
I am discouraged, reading AP writer Jim Litke on the Marge-Sacking. He
gloats over the silence that Marge has become, and pokes at "anyone who would
make her a martyr" to political correctness, because she "is not actually
suffering" and "will face no hardships." Excuse me? Being forever linked with
Adolph Hitler is pleasurable fun? How much is Selig paying Litke for this
spin-doctoring job?
Litke applauds the owners for showing "spine, resolve and a deft
touch." Pardon me for not clapping along. I thought one of the lessons of WW II
was that tolerance of repression, refusing to rescue the defenseless, is very
costly, in the long run. I make a mental note to look up the poem The
Hangman.
In looking this up, I noticed that around the same time, I was
defending Albert Belle against what I perceived as unjust treatment by the
media. MLB could beat up on Marge and Albert all they wanted, with "the media"
as more-than-willing accomplices, because, well, it was good for ratings. It
sold copies.
I have read the Sports Illustrated Rocker interview, and I have
read Rocker's apology, and I have visited the web site where fans are doing
verbal battle over Dear John.
And somehow, I find myself back where I was in 1996.
Do we want to live in a society where bigots are not allowed to spout
off, where the PC climate drives them underground -- to make bombs that do a
lot more damage than words? Don't think so.
The fan opinions on the rockersucks.com web site were scarier
than the SI interview. A lot of fans -- many from New York City --
agreed with Rocker 1000%. They live there, and agree that New York is hell. The
internet gives them a chance to chime in, anonymously, safely. Dear John is
hardly alone in his apparent intolerance. (Apparent? OK, this is being
over-kind, but I only phrase it this way because I've known individuals who
were verbal bigots, but that was it. They spoke in racial stereotypes, for
example, but related fine to black individuals whom they knew at work or in the
neighborhood. It's a kind of schizophrenia, I suppose. Thank goodness.)
I suspect that at one time or another, almost everybody has said,
"Well, everybody's entitled to their opinion." And they are, however looney it
may be. As long as he doesn't hurt anyone, who cares if John Doe thinks he's a
Martian? (Just keep that ray gun pointed away from me, Mr Doe. Thank you.)
It can be argued, I understand, that spouting stereotypes in the
national media can hurt people, or at least their feelings. What is
amazing to me is not that John Rocker has some serious biases, but that he so
willingly voiced them to SI, where they were certain to go national. The
same comments, if they had been taped during the heat of the Mets-Braves
playoff series, might be taken as piling-on hyperbole, in Rocker's personal
battle with the Mets' fans -- which was fun to watch, from a safe distance.
But now? Rocker has become the latest Archie Bunker of the media, and
will be hunted down. His career is now in jeopardy, certainly his future with
the Braves is in doubt. Pressure is building on MLB (and always claims a victim
before it eases off), and Hank is Hammering at the Braves.
Sometimes it seems that the minds of athletes, even Hall of Famers, are
like rocks. And it is best not to lift them, because underneath crawls some
pretty ugly things. We ought to know better, we should not believe an athlete
when he tells us he uses some product, they are paid to endorse. Neither
should we look for any sociological or historical insights under there. Just
throw the ball, man, let the fans do the talking.
What makes John Rocker's case more serious, I think, is that we are all
touchier than ever about "dumb jocks" (stereotype) beating up on (name your
favorite minority) in our schools. We are puzzled as a nation about how to end
the violence, the shootings. Muzzling bigots cannot be the solution. I say let
them speak, amplify their ideas so they can be challenged, changed. Methinx
that this is the American way. But I could be wrong.
LOOKING AHEAD
Besides finding a place for OFF TO KILL THE WIZARD, these are a
couple of projects in my On Deck Circle as the new year begins.
I have found someone interested in working with me on that old (1993)
play Mornings After -- we will be trying to see if it has a future as
the best baseball musical since Damn Yankees. I have lyrics for eight
songs, and need two more. I will be doing next to nothing with the music. "Good
text, no ear," the scout said.
I am also looking into editing a book that will likely be called
Notes from the Shadows of Cooperstown, and will in fact be all about
Cooperstown. I have a number of short stories in which the Hall has a
significant role -- Off to Kill the Wizard is just the latest. I also
have written much about the Hall and the village, over the years. If I can get
some assurance that the Hall's gift shop will carry this book, this project
will go full steam ahead.
I will be making some NOTES at some spring training games in
Florida in a few months -- a first. (I came close, visiting some camps in
February '97; saw some workouts, no games.) If anyone out there will be in
Florida (west coast) March 14-21, let me know.
COMING NEXT ISSUE
Well, I have no idea. I think I might want to say more about the John
Rocker thing -- I'm not satisfied with the comments in this issue, and I expect
it will be in the news again soon, too. Maybe Pete Rose will, too.
But look for an index to past issues in #207 -- I haven't done one in a
while, and you may have had a hard time keeping track, the last months of the
'99 season.
Things I'm not looking forward to in 2000:
broadcasters getting excited about the "first HR of the millennium," the first
everything. Right now, e-mail Bud Selig to ban this.