Getting a fastball past Smokey was like throwing a pork chop past a guard dog.
It’s that wonderful time of year again. Pitchers and catchers are about to report to spring training. Every team is tied for first place. Somewhere in the arriving group of players is a highly touted rookie, who is destined to disappoint or the veteran, whose bat speed has slowed a notch. On the other side of the coin, of course, is the unheralded rookie, whose name will be splashed across headlines as he accomplishes feats no one ever thought he could. There is a veteran, who everyone has counted out, who will have a year like he hasn’t had in a decade. Yes, it is a wondrous time of year.
In years gone by, there was uniformity to the game of baseball that somehow died with free agency. You used to be able to sit down over the winter and talk about each team’s possibilities in the upcoming season based on the nucleus of the team, as we knew it. Most teams had one or two question marks. Part of the fun was offering opinions as to what veteran might be traded for or what minor leaguer might move up to fill the void. That all ended with free agency. Now when a man is pitching game seven of the World Series, we are told of the short list of teams who are bidding for his services for the following season. “Here’s Krenwinkle, out to start the seventh inning. He has thus far allowed two hits, no walks, struck out seven and has a $16 million per year price tag”.
In days gone by, there were players who changed teams with some frequency. It was nothing like the yearly game of musical chairs now being played. They would stay in one place a couple of years or so, and then be traded to a team who needed their particular skill to make a move toward the pennant. Such a player was Forrest “Smokey” Burgess. He was a fireplug of a catcher, who could hit a line drive in a blizzard wearing snowshoes. Yes, Smokey moved around some. He played for the Cubs, Reds, Phillies, Pirates and White Sox. He spread those five teams, however, over an eighteen-year career. His skills were as solid as his physique.
Burgess was an outstanding defensive catcher, leading National League catchers in fielding three times. He was the catcher in two of the most unique games in baseball history. In 1956, he caught a no-hitter, while with the Reds. The unique thing about that no-hitter was that it was the combined effort of three pitchers: Johnny Klippstein, Herschel Freeman and Joe Black. He was also Harvey Haddix’s battery mate with the Pirates the night “The Kitten” pitched twelve perfect innings and lost. He finished his eighteen year career with a .988 fielding average. Smokey was selected to the All Star team four times.
What he is best known for is his prowess as a pinch hitter. Coming into games, in key situations, Burgess would stride to the plate and always seemed to deliver. When he retired in 1967, he had made 507 plate appearances as a pinch hitter. He delivered on 145 of those occasions, which stood as the record for many years Burgess was a left handed hitter, but that was of no consequence to his managers. There was no “lefty-righty” switching to be done with Smokey. He hit all pitchers, irrespective of what hand they threw with. When he was with the Reds, he was benched in favor of a younger catcher named Ed Bailey, who, like Burgess was a solid player. Also like Burgess, Bailey batted left-handed. Bailey, however, never played against left-handed pitching. The Reds would do in essence lefty-lefty swap with their catchers. In 1964 the Pirates sold Burgess to the White Sox, who were making a run at the pennant. In his first plate appearance, as a pinch hitter of course, Smokey hit a home run of Detroit’s Dave Wickersham. Smokey caught only seven games for the White Sox in his last three seasons. But, he delivered many timely pinch hits. He’d lumber up to the plate and hit a line drive. He’d get himself to fist base and, being that it was at the end of a long career, be replaced with a pinch runner.
Smokey Burgess lasted 18 years in the major leagues. He played in both leagues on five different teams. He ended his career with a lifetime .295 batting average and a .988 fielding percentage. One can only imagine, in this current market, what his price tag would read.
Back from the war...Spahn in his first full major league season - 1946
SPAHNIE
It was late season and I was watching the Atlanta Braves play on TBS. Chipper Jones stepped into the batters box, and I saw it.On the shoulder of his uniform was a home plate shaped patch with the number “21” in it. It was the type of tribute franchises pay to recently deceased players. The problem with this tribute was that I had no idea number 21 had died. And that is really too bad. With players coming and going in the revolving door of free agency, there is little to identify someone long term with any given team. But when you see a”21” on a patch of a Braves’ uniform you immediately think of Warren Spahn. As unlikely looking, yet, supremely gifted, an athlete as the major leagues have ever seen.
Warren Spahn is the winningest left-hander in baseball history. He won 363 games, 356 of those wins came as a Brave, in both Boston and Milwaukee.He had an incredible 13 seasons where he won at least 20 games, accomplishing that feat six years in a row. He led the National League in wins eight times and in complete games in nine different years.
Spahn pitched for twenty-one years. For seventeen years of that time he was the rock on which the Braves’ pitching staff was built. His career began on an auspicious note. During an exhibition game, a twenty-one year old Warren Spahn refused manager Casey Stengal’s instruction to throw at Dodger captain Pee-Wee Reese. That refusal led to hard feelings between the young pitcher and his manager, which culminated in Spahn’s return to the minor leagues. Stengal, a Hall of Fame manager always said farming Spahn out was “…the biggest mistake of my professional life”.
At the end of the 1942 season, Spahn entered the military. He was in the Army, in the European theatre, for three years. Spahn earned the Purple Heart and Bronze Star in that time. He returned to the major leagues in 1946, with a new outlook on life and an eagerness to begin this new challenge.
He will forever be linked with his Braves teammate Johnnie Sain. The Braves were not rich in starting pitchers, but these two were as good as any in the game. So the solution for Braves fans was summed up in the now famous slogan “Spahn and Sain, and pray for rain." Spahn was the Braves most celebrated player until the arrival of the great Henry Aaron. One fact frequently mentioned is that on the day the Braves signed Aaron, Spahn tied the National League record of 18 strikeouts in a game. In a 15-inning, 3-1 loss to the Cubs, Hal Jeffcoat's two-run triple won the game for the Cubs. The only Braves run that day came courtesy of a Warren Spahn home run.
That underlines yet another facet of the complete player Warren Spahn was. He was a natural hitter. Often used as a pinch hitter throughout his career. Spahn holds the National League record for most career home runs by a pitcher with 35.
The ageless Spahn was a 14 time all star and won the Cy Young Award in 1957. In 1960, at the age of 39, Spahn had his 11th 20-win season. The 20th win was a no-hitter against the Phillies. It was a classic Spahn performance featuring 15 strikeouts in the victory. Then, right after his 40th birthday, on April 28, 1961, Spahn became the 2nd-oldest pitcher (after Cy Young) to hurl a no-hitter. He beat the Giants 1-0. It was Spahn's 290th win and an amazing 52nd shutout. Later that year, Spahn beat the Cubs by a score of 2 to 1, giving him his landmark 300th win. Spahn was only the 13th pitcher to accomplish that feat. Two years later, at the age of 42, Spahn became the oldest 20-game winner in history. That season was his 13th 20-win season, which tied him for the record with Christy Mathewson.
1961 - National League All Star
A peerless command of pitches and an intimidating leg kick spelled doom for many National League hitters.
Those of us who saw him play, with his high leg kick, his ready smile and obvious love of the game will never forget him. Years after his career ended, I attended a seminar moderated by Warren Spahn. He was a textbook example of what every sport wishes their representatives might be. His incredible athleticism was more than matched by the charm, wit and wisdom that was evident in that seminar. Warren Spahn played the game with a sense of pride and an appreciation of what an opportunity he had been given.
Sadly, that is in stark contrast with the sense of entitlement and disdain that many far less talented players bring to arenas in all sports today. Warren Spahn is an athlete whose accomplishments and whose life should be remembered, cherished and celebrated.
THE RACE IS NOT ALWAYS TO THE SWIFT
It was your typical, every day athletic endeavor, Brazil's Vanderlei De Lima was leading the Olympic Marathon in Athens, when a defrocked Irish priest emerged onto the course and pushed DeLima into a crowd of spectators. De Lima pushed his way out of the crowd and rejoined the race. Italy’s Stefan Baldini was the ultimate winner, with Lima holding on for a bronze medal.
The crack, ever vigilant security staff had somehow missed father Horan, a drunken Irish priest wearing a kilt with the Star of David on it and a sign reading: "The Grand Prix Priest. Israel Fulfillment of Prophecy Says The Bible. The Second Coming is Near."Upon his arrest, Horan told officials, "Greece has a long tradition with Saint Paul and Alexander the Great," the priest told police officers after his arrest. "Christ deserves a greater honor. I am not a Jew but I love them." That went a long way to clearing things up for everyone.
Brazil’s Olympic contingent was outraged and demanded De Lima be awarded a gold medal. De Lima was far more reserved than that. "If that spectator didn't jump in front of me in the middle of the race, who knows what would have happened? Maybe I would have won. It disturbed me a lot," he said. The International Olympic Committee gave De Lima a special medal named after the founder of the modern Olympics, Pierre De Coubertin, in recognition of an “…exceptional demonstration of fair play and Olympic values".
Horan was not willing to let everyone perceive him as a delusional nut case. He offered this sound retrospective on his actions. He told police, “…I grabbed De Lima to prepare for the second coming of Christ”.One police official, obviously with some training as a detective said of Horan, "He seems to be suffering from psychological problems.”
There is something about a marathon that attracts strange people. Maybe it is the easy access. There is no stadium or arena, except at the start and end of some races. The actual event is held on public thoroughfares among the populace. This can lead to all kinds of fun and games.
At the Munich Olympics in 1972, the marathon was coming to an end. The lead runner entered the stadium to tumultuous applause, which grew as he rounded the track. Behind him, in “second place” was the American, Frank Shorter. There was only one small thing wrong. The man leading Shorter into the stadium was a West German, wearing a number he stole off the cart of a soft drink vendor on the street. Security ultimately dragged him away.
Distance running can change a man. The winner of the Brussels Marathon in 1991 was a man named Abbes Tehami of Algeria. It was more than interesting to observers that, apparently, Tehami had the chance to shave during the race. He had a full moustache at the start of things but was clean-shaven as he crossed the finish line. “Upon further review”, as they say in the NFL, it was determined that the race had been started by Tehami’s coach, Bensalem Hamiani. This gave a new meaning to team effort.
Hamiani, had run the first seven-and-a-half miles of the race for Tehami at full speed, and then disappeared into the woods to pass race number 62 on to Tehami. A well-rested Tehami then ran the rest of the race and was an easy winner. Later, race officials with a profound sense of the obvious commented, “They honestly looked the same, except one had a moustache.'
Of course no mention of marathon mayhem is complete without Rosie Ruiz’s story. Rosie Ruiz, was a 23-year-old New Yorker, who crossed the finish line in the 1980 Boston Marathon with the third fastest time ever recorded for a female runner (two hours, thirty-one minutes, and fifty-six seconds). It was apparently a tribute to her strict conditioning routine that she looked like she could go another 26 miles after completing the race. Her appearance was what led race officials and men’s division winner Bill Rogers to question the authenticity of her win. “No salt streaks”, Rogers said. Meaning that there were no signs that she had sweated enough to leave the tell tale signs on her running clothes.
In checking it was determined that no one could remember having seen her during the race. Monitors at the checkpoints hadn't seen her, and neither had any other runners. Numerous photographs taken during the race were checked and they contained no sign of her. Her absence was evident throughout the race.
Finally, several spectators came forward to reveal that they had seen her jump into the race during its final half-mile. Apparently she had then simply sprinted to the finish line.
Ruiz’s mistake was that she didn’t watch the race before she committed her deception. She watched several runners go by and thought that she was free to arrive as a respectable member of the upper echelon of runners. Her mistake was that all the runners she observed were men. It never occurred to her that she was the first woman to finish. That put her on top of all the other female competitors and unable to“hide in the crowd”.
It got worse for Rosie Ruiz in subsequent days. Her boss, who was duly impressed with her finish in the earlier New York City Marathon, had paid for her trip to Boston. However, evidence was made public that she had also cheated during that race. In the New York Marathon, she earned a time that qualified her to run in the Boston race. That time was achieved by bypassing some of the race riding the subway. Finally, Rosey Ruiz was stripped of her Boston Marathon victory and the title was awarded to the real winner, Jackie Gareau of Canada.
Now, with the addition of the good ex-father Horan, the marathon mystique continues.
Hockey hall of famer “Terrible” Ted Lindsay was once asked what effect expansion had on the National Hockey League. “There is one big difference”, Lindsay answered, “Thanks to expansion there are guys playing in games now, who would have been watching the games on television before”. The National Hockey League was made up of six franchises in the old days. There were: the Boston Bruins, the New York Rangers, the Detroit Red Wings, the Chicago Black Hawks, the Montreal Canadians, and the Toronto Maple Leafs. The undiluted league was, to say the least, talent intensive.
It was interesting, however, that the most critical position sometimes was filled by the least talented players. Each team only suited up one goalie. Each arena had a house goalie, who could play for either team if their goalie was hurt during the game. Beyond that, there were actually cases of high school or college players being forced into duty if there was more than one goalie related injury. There were many cases of actual announcements being made in arenas asking if there were any experienced goalies in attendance.
In the early 1940’s World War II took its toll on all sports, hockey included.In 1942 the New York Rangers brought a young goaltender named Steve Buzinski onto the team as a free agent war time replacement for Ranger netminder "Sugar" Jim Henry. Buzinski is a legend in New York Ranger history to this day. He had a very short but memorable NHL career. In nine games Buzinski had a goals against average of 5.89 goals per game. But that is not all that made him a legend.
One particular night against the Chicago Black Hawks, the first 4 shots on goal went in against Steve. The fifth shot taken toward him was a full three feet wide of the goal. That didn’t stop Buzinski, who dove and caught the puck, sliding into the corner. Ranger teammate Alf Pike skated over and sarcastically said, “Nice stop”. With total sincerity, Buzinski replied, “Easy as pickin’ cherries”. It was Pike who later gave Buzinski the classic nickname Steve “The Puck Goes Inski” Buzinski.
Buzinski was, if nothing else, a fun teammate. He was very entertaining. He kept things light and he had a disarming personality. Ranger coach Frank Boucher called him “A nice little fellow and a fine gentleman”. Beyond that, and his questionable goaltending skills, he was an honest to goodness character.
One incredible moment for “The Puck Goes Inski” came against the Toronto Maple Leafs.
Buzinski moved toward a Leaf player making a move for the puck. As a goal was scored the Ranger goalie was seemingly knocked unconscious. The Rangers contended the stick of a Toronto player hit Buzinski in the crease, which would have nullified the goal. The Leafs said the puck knocked him out. When the officials were leaning toward the Toronto argument, Buzinski, who until this point was lying motionless, sat upright and yelled, “It was a stick!!!!!” He then lay back down on the ice and closed his eyes.
The end came for Steve Buzinski, when Lester Patrick, the Ranger general manager asked him to do the team a favor. There was a minor league game being played in upstate New York and the Ranger farm team needed a fill in goalie for the night. Buzinski’s response in the team meeting was, “I’d love to help out Mr. Patrick but I have some letters to write”. That was it for “The Puck Goes Inski”.
As I said he is a Ranger legend. He gave up 55 goals in 9 games. A guy that bad is as memorable as a hall of famer. They represent the extremes. Steve Buzinski was no mediocre face in the crowd.
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The "Kitten"
The Night the Kitten
was
Almost PURR-FECT
Joe Adcock - his 3 run home run became a 1 run double overnight.
After the New York Giants and Brooklyn Dodgers left the “Big Apple” for California, the Yankees were the only game in town. The Giants tapped into the city's longing for National League baseball, by having veteran sportscaster Les Keiter recreate games from California on the radio in New York. The way it worked was that Keiter would be in a studio in Manhattan reading a teletype of the action in the Giant game. There were prerecorded background noises and, as we later found out, a Louisville slugger hanging from the ceiling that Les would bang with a hammer to duplicate the sound of bat hitting ball. It was an interesting broadcast to listen to. Regular listeners knew that every minute and forty-two seconds someone in the prerecorded crowd could be heard shouting “Ya---hoo!!” In addition, not being bound by the real time action on the field, Keiter’s descriptions of plays were, to say the least, dramatic. “There’s going to be a play at the plate! Here comes Mays, here comes the ball. Here comes Mays, here comes the ball, Here comes Mays, here comes the ball. He beat the ball, he beat the ball”. It was Matrix Reloaded meets Field of Dreams.
None-the-less, each night I would listen to the games well into the early morning hours. This was no mean feat, given the fact that I was only an eighth grader at the time. I would listen to the games and inevitably fall asleep, waking up to the National Anthem, as the station would end its broadcast day.
The broadcast I most remember had nothing to do with the game he was describing at the time. It was May 1959; Les was recreating the San Francisco Giants game with the Los Angeles Dodgers. Periodically, Les would “…take a look at the scoreboard”. Since there were no network broadcasts of these games they started at their regular times. There was no need to start a night game at 5 o’clock so the east coast audience could see it at 8 o’clock eastern time. When the game started it was 11 o’clock in New York.
That meant that every other game in the major leagues was either over or nearing completion. On this night as Les gave the scores he mentioned that Harvey Haddix of the Pittsburgh Pirates had a perfect game going into the seventh inning. Haddix was what used to be referred to as a “crafty lefthander”. He originally came to the major leagues in 1952 as a member of the St. Louis Cardinals. The dean of that pitching staff was Harry Brecheen, like Haddix a lefthander. He became a pitching guru to Haddix. Brecheen’s nickname was “the Cat’, so, it made absolute sense that Haddix, his student, would be called “the Kitten”.
The early innings of the Dodgers and Giants were unfolding through the metaphoric malaise that was Keiter’s style, but between innings the real person emerged. “They are going into the top of the tenth, Haddix is still perfect”, he said, “I can see Harvey now saying – “How about a little help guys?” this is unbelievable”.
I didn’t fall asleep during this broadcast. I wanted Keiter to do a recreation of the Pirates and Braves. That was incredible drama. This was the kind of game networks now cut away to during slow periods of the main broadcast. Inning after inning, the Pirates couldn’t score. They had opportunities too. On the whole the Pirates would leave 8 men on base that night.
In the bottom of the 13th inning, Haddix was still pitching. This was in the era of starting pitchers going the distance. At this point in the evening, Les Keiter was doing play by play of the Haddix game and giving sporadic updates on the Giants. Felix Mantilla, the Braves shortstop hit a ground ball to Pirate third baseman Don Hoak. Hoak’s throw to first was in the dirt and couldn’t be handled by first baseman Rocky Nelson. Haddix had lost the perfect game but the no-hitter was intact. Eddie Mathews the great Braves’ third baseman flied out deep to left. Mantilla tagged and took second base. Henry Aaron got an intentional walk. There were men on first and second, one out and Braves first baseman Joe Adcock stepped up to the plate. This is where the game took a fittingly bizarre twist.
Adcock hit a rocket over the right centerfield wall – game over. No-hitter, shutout, decision all lost for Haddix on one swing of the bat. But what was the final score? Things aren’t always as they seem. At this point Les Keiter was breaking words in half, and making up new words to describe the action. He hadn’t even mentioned the Dodgers and Giants for half an hour. What actually happened was amazing. Mantilla trotted around the bases and scored the first run; Adcock also did his best “Cadillac” trot around the bases apparently scoring run number two. Aaron, however, had reached second and turned around running into the dugout. The final score was listed as 2 to 0.
The next day, National League President Warren Giles made what has to be considered one of the earliest examples of an “upon further review” call. It was determined that Mantilla scored, Aaron was out for leaving the field, Adcock was out for passing the runner ahead of him. The final score was 1 to 0.
It was a great game and a memorable night. The drama of 12 perfect innings; the tension, the great plays I saw it all on the radio – described by a reporter, who was sitting in a bare broadcast studio, 900 miles away from the game. Funny, if I close my eyes, I can still see Harvey Haddix pitching in that game.
