They don't chatter it up anymore

I coach a 12 year old boys baseball team.  I have noticed that kids don't "chatter it up" like we did when I was a kid.  When we played, we chattered non-stop.  We urged on our teammates, we insulted the opposing team.  Heck, parents even joined in.  These days?  There is no chatter.  None.  I don't like that.

I was discussing this issue with my son last night.  I told him about all the stuff we used to say to the other team.  How we would insult the opposing batters and just say some of the rudest stuff.  He looked at me like I was lying.

It was no great stretch for me to understand what happened to all the chatter on the baseball diamond.  I knew it's disappearance had to be due to communist kickball loving liberals.  My instincts were correct.  Consider this story from 2007:

A rule prohibiting the hollering of standard, even relatively mild, baseball taunts was put into effect after a brawl involving adults last year. The Knothole Club of Greater Cincinnati only allows chatter from the bench and field that is supportive of teammates. 

The president of the Knothole Club explained why the rule was implemented: "If you're saying, 'Swing, batter,' and this poor little kid is swinging at everything, he feels bad and maybe he turns to the catcher and gets mad. Honest to gosh, I didn't have any trouble doing this."

This is Derek Bell.  He played little league baseball for the Belmont Heights  All-Star team from Tampa, Florida.  He went on to play in the major leagues.  He was a good player and even received some MVP votes one year.

In 1981, when I was 12 years old, we played against Derek Bell's team in the Southern Regional Tournament.  The tournament was in St. Petersburg, Florida, the backyard of that Belmont Heights team.  The winner of our game would go on to the Little League World Series.  As state champions from North Carolina, we had obliterated the opposition we had faced in the tournament.  We beat Georgia 11-0, we beat Texas, 9-0, and we had beaten West Virginia 11-1.  We pretty much thought we were invincible.  And then we faced that team from Florida

During the game, as part of his chatter, he called me a "rudy poo pansy pants".  A "rudy poo pansy pants".  Chatter like I had never heard.  Caught off guard, I responded with "your momma".  A weak response, I know, but it was all I could come up with on such short notice.  Derek responded by giving up only 1 hit the entire game and striking out 13 batters in just 6 innings.  We lost 6-0 and we were sent home crying.  I hated Derek Bell for this, and I hated the fact that in addition to beating me on the field, he beat me with his chatter.  It has stuck with me to this day.

Out of curiosity, this morning, I googled Derek Bell to see what had become of him.  I found this on Wikipedia:

On April 25, Bell and pitcher Scott Sanders were arrested in New York City before a game against the New York Mets, as police claimed that the pair had offered undercover policewomen $20 in exchange for oral sex.

On April 20, 2006, Derek Bell was charged with felony cocaine possession and possession of drug paraphernalia, after police found a warm crack pipe in the back seat of his car during a traffic stop.  He was arrested again on December 2, 2008, facing three counts of possession of drug paraphernalia and one count of failure to appear in court on another charge of possession of drug paraphernalia from earlier in the year.  

This is Derek Bell in 2008.  Interesting.  It seems Derek Bell's life took a turn for the worse, and although I do not wish such troubles on any man, I feel compelled to say...Hey Derek!...What's up you rudy poo pansy pants?


I WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Was Baseball Invented in the Middle Ages?

I can't answer that question.  But the answer is not as obvious as you might think.

‘Found in the margins of a calendar in a 14th-century Flemish book of hours. Various historians of sport have identified this as a version of “stool ball” or “stump ball”, which was baseball played with only one base’

h/t Retronaut

Opening Day

It's opening day for a lot of folks.  If you're heading out to the ballpark today, have fun, drink beer, and salute America.

Here's a pic of The Big Red Machine.  The most potent offensive lineup I've ever seen in my time.  Clearly the best infield ever assembled (Pete Rose, Dave Concepcion, Joe Mrogan, Tony Perez and Johnny Bench).  And the outfield was no slouch (George Foster, Cesar Geronimo and Ken Griffey).

For the Captain

This should help you hit one out of the backyard.

Priceless!

Babe Ruth was a Magnificent Bastard

This has all the makings of a regular series entitled, what else, Magnificent Bastards.

Babe Ruth was, by any measure, a magnificent bastard. And he was a significant bastard too. Check out this video of game footage. Watch close at the 2:05 mark. Wow! He swung the bat with awesome power!



And of course, the story would not be complete without something about the most legendary moment in baseball history.

Babe Ruth's called shot was the home run hit in the fifth inning of Game 3 of the 1932 World Series, held on 1 October 1932 at Wrigley Field in Chicago. During the at-bat, Ruth made a pointing gesture, which existing film confirms, but the exact nature of his gesture is ambiguous. Although neither fully confirmed nor refuted, the story goes that Ruth pointed to the center field bleachers during the at-bat. It was supposedly a declaration that he would hit a home run to this part of the park. On the next pitch, Ruth hit a home run to center field.

A picture of Ruth calling his shot.


And here's a picture of Ruth hitting the called shot and then rounding the bases afterward. Notice he is talking trash to the Cubs bench. The man was a stud.

THE WAY WE WERE: WHEN BASEBALL CARDS WERE 15 CENTS A PACK

It's October and the World Series got me thinking about baseball cards. I have two sons, so I stopped in the store to get them a pack of baseball cards. $3.00 friggin' dollars for a pack! And it only had 6 cards in the pack. And no gum! I passed on the baseball cards behind the counter which are apparently made out of plutonium or something. I can't imagine where they come off charging that much. When we got home I just drug out a shoe box from the closet and me and the boys re-lived my childhood, since I can't afford to give them their own childhood. Remember some of these?

HOT DOGS FORCE EVACUATION AT PHILLIES GAME: FEAR OF TERRORIST ATTACK

No one covers, pole dancers, Islamic rat people, or hot dogs better than we do here at The Big Feed.

Fans are being allowed back into the stadium after several suspicious packages were detonated by bomb squad members. The contents of the packages are now believed to be hot dogs.

Officials found three suspicious packages this afternoon at Citizens Bank Park and a police bomb squad was called in, according to media reports.

The stadium went into lockdown mode two hours and was partially evacuated before the scheduled start of tonight's game between the Phillies and Braves.

The devices reportedly were found along the first base side on the exterior of stadium in South Philadelphia.

The area being affected is along Pattison Street between Darien and 11th Streets near the first base entrance.

Police indicated they were concerned about the devices and decided to call in the bomb squad to investigate.

At this time, tonight's game is still on schedule to take place.

AMERICA'S PASTIME

The Library of Congress has recently made available some amazing old baseball photos. Here are few (Click to enlarge):

IN 1976, "BIRD" WAS THE WORD

One of my earliest baseball memories...

"He's like the little boy that's thrown into a pile of horse manure and he's bobbin' up and down and they say how can you be so happy and he says there has to be a pony in here somewhere. His glass is always half full," says former Boston Red Sox pitcher Bill Lee about Mark Fidrych, the darling of baseball in 1976 on ESPN Classic's SportsCentury series.

It was over almost before it began. The phenomenon that was Mark Fidrych lasted only one year. But what a season 1976 was for the charismatic Detroit Tigers pitcher known as "The Bird."

Andy Messersmith's challenge to the reserve clause had led to a spring-training lockout and the end of the traditional structure of teams' contractual relationships with their players. The future was uncertain. Fans were confused. But along came Fidrych -- wiggling and jiggling on the mound, talking to the ball, discarding balls with which opposing batters had managed a hit, chasing away groundskeepers so he could landscape and groom the mound himself, shaking hands with teammates after outstanding plays. And winning.

The Tigers were the worst team in the majors in 1975, going 57-102. Fidrych, a non-roster player, made the team the next spring training even though he lost his only decision and his ERA was 4.66. With Fidrych's wardrobe consisting of T-shirts and cutoff jeans, general manager Jim Campbell bought his 21-year-old pitcher several suits.

For the first five weeks of the season, Fidrych languished in the bullpen, being called to relieve only twice. Then on May 15, manager Ralph Houk gave the 6-foot-3, 175-pound righthander his first major league start -- but only because Fidrych's roommate, pitcher Joe Coleman, had to be scratched because he had the flu.

Fidrych responded brilliantly, retiring the first 14 Cleveland Indians and flirting with a no-hitter until the seventh inning. He finished with a two-hitter and a 2-1 victory.

After losing to the Boston Red Sox, 2-0, 10 days later, he reeled off eight straight wins, including back-to-back 11-inning complete games. (He added another 11-inning game later in the season.) The Tigers responded admirably, winning four of Fidrych's first five starts in their last at-bat, while the rest of the American League scratched its collective head.


At the end of the season, Fidrych had a 19-9 record, league-leading figures in ERA (2.34) and complete games (24), a Rookie of the Year award, and the uncommon distinction of having started the All-Star Game as a rookie.

The Tigers, who finished fifth with a 74-87 record (.460), were 55-78 (.413) in games in which Fidrych wasn't involved in the decision. If Fidrych's 250 innings were removed, the team ERA of 3.87 would have soared to 4.19. And, perhaps most gratifying of all to the front office, "The Bird" was a financial godsend

Fidrych, in his 18 pitching starts at Tiger Stadium, drew 605,677 paying customers, more than 40 percent of the year's total.
for a franchise that was otherwise hard put to persuade fans that climbing out of the cellar was an endeavor worth watching first-hand.

In his 29 starts, Fidrych drew 901,239 fans. At Tiger Stadium, his 18 pitching turns drew 605,677 paying customers, more than 40 percent of the year's total. According to one Wall Street Journal analyst, Fidrych was personally responsible for $1 million of team revenue. And he was fully aware of his impact, posting on his locker a running total of the crowds that attended when he pitched.

But, for the fans, it was his style that was most appealing. The stories are innumerable. At first, no one knew what to make of his antics. Initially resentful over what they thought was an effort to show them up, opposing batters came to realize there was nothing false or calculating about Fidrych. (The best response came from Cleveland outfielder John Lowenstein who said that the next time Fidrych talked to the ball, he was going to ask the umpire to confiscate it and find out what the pitcher had said.)

And it wasn't just his on-field antics that appealed. He habitually stuck his finger in the coin return slot of the pay phone in the clubhouse just in case someone had neglected to retrieve his dime. He spit tobacco juice all over his uniform to show he was one of the boys. When he forgot his own and needed identification so he could buy a drink, he borrowed teammates' IDs, whether he shared even a remote physical likeness with the lender.

He shared a hometown friend's affection for a dance called the Fried Egg, in which he would lay down on the dance floor and roll around. He worried aloud that his major league minimum salary ($16,500) wouldn't be enough for him to buy stamps to answer his fan mail. He reminded everyone that, if he weren't in the majors, he would be pumping gas back in Northboro, Mass.

Despite his protestations to the contrary, most people simply described the manic, lanky righthander with the Harpo Marx haircut as a bona-fide flake.

Fidrych was born on Aug. 14, 1954, in Worcester, Mass. Trained by his father Paul, an assistant school principal, Fidrych was a pitcher in the pickup games among his friends but a shortstop in his first year of American Legion ball. It wasn't until his second season, when a friend took his position away, that he asked his coach, Ted Rolfe, if he could pitch.

Amazed at the boy's skill and poise on the mound, Rolfe asked why he hadn't said he was a pitcher.

"Because you didn't ask," Fidrych replied.

At Algonquin Regional High and Worcester Academy, where he spent his senior year in 1974, Fidrych pitched and played first and the outfield, but neither Rolfe nor Worcester coach Tom Blackburn viewed him as a major league prospect. On weekends during the school year, Fidrych pumped gas at a Sunoco station.

His break came when the Tigers selected him in the 10th round of the draft following his senior season. Signed by Detroit scout Joe Cusick for a $3,000 bonus, which he spent on car payments and unpaid tuition, Fidrych reported to Bristol of the Rookie Appalachian League. In 23 games, all in relief, he went 3-0 with a 2.38 ERA and struck out 40 in 34 innings.

In 1975, he mostly started and worked his way through three teams in three classifications - Lakeland in the Class A Florida State League (5-9, 3.77), Montgomery of the Double-A Southern League (2-0, 3.21 as a closer), and Evansville of the Triple-A American Association (4-1, 1.59) -- and improved at each level. It was Lakeland coach Jeff Hogan who nicknamed Fidrych "Bird," because he reminded him of Big Bird on Sesame Street.

Then it was off to the majors, where everything his father had taught him paid off in 1976, when his fastball and slider tamed American League hitters. After this phenomenal season, the Tigers gave Fidrych a $25,000 bonus and signed him to a three-year deal worth $225,000.

About his antics, Fidrych said he wasn't talking to the baseball; he was actually talking to himself, reminding himself of what he wanted to do with each pitch.

And then, before you really got to know The Bird, his career was over.

Fidrych went 19-9 and was named an All-Star in his rookie season of 1976.
During spring training in 1977, he tore cartilage in his knee and went on the disabled list until May 24. Then in July he tore something in his shoulder because he had altered his pitching motion. He went on the DL for the rest of the season with his 6-4 record and 2.89 ERA.

Over the next three years, Fidrych appeared in only 16 games, going 4-6. His major league career ended in 1980 with a record of 29-19 and a 3.10 ERA.

He tried a comeback with the Red Sox's top farm club in Pawtucket in 1982 and 1983; it didn't work out. He had his rotator cuff operated on in 1985 by Dr. James Andrews. But while his enthusiasm never waned, the 93-mile-an-hour fastball never returned.

Fidrych lives with his wife Ann, whom he married in 1986, and their 13-year-old daughter Jessica on a 107-acre farm in Northboro. Aside from fixing up his farmhouse, he works as a contractor hauling gravel and asphalt in a ten-wheeler.

MOST BIZARRE BASEBALL INJURIES

Adam Eaton was trying to remove that annoying security tape on a DVD with a paring knife and wound up stabbing himself in the stomach.

Glenallen Hill, who suffers from a morbid fear of spiders, was snoozing on the couch when he had a nightmare about the eight-legged creatures. While trying to get away, he rolled off the couch and fell through a glass coffee table, suffering deep cuts to several parts of his body.

Charlie Hough broke his pinky finger while shaking hands.

Mickey Tettleton went on the DL with a severe case of athlete's foot - caused by tying his shoes too tight.

Jose Cardenal missed a game in 1972 because he was kept awake all night by crickets chirping in his hotel room.

Jose Cardenal missed a game in 1974, because he couldn't blink. He swore his eyes were stuck open.

Bob Feller scalded himself with 200-degree water after he lost control of the hose in a whirlpool. He scalded himself from the waste down, and couldn't do anything for a week.

Russ Davis missed a game after he slept wrong and awoke with a sore shoulder.

David Cone missed a start after getting bit by his mother-in-law's dog, a Jack Russell Terrier.

Jim Corsi slipped coming out of the shower and sprained his wrist. Corsi has poor eyesight, wasn't wearing contacts, and misjudged his step.

Bob Stanley missed a couple of games slipping down the stairs while taking out the trash.

Carlos Perez broke his nose in a car accident....as he was trying to pass the team bus.

Brian Anderson suffered nerve damage in his elbow after a cab ride.

Rickey Henderson missed several games because of frost- bite. In August.

Vince Coleman missed the 1985 World Series when he got rolled up in the tarp machine.

Pascual Perez missed a start in Atlanta when he circled the city for more than two hours searching for the exit ramp from Highway 285 to Fulton County Stadium.

Kevin Mitchell strained a muscle while vomiting.

Twins farmhand David Foster was knocked out for the season when a lightning strike through a phone line zapped him while he was making a call.

Pitcher Steve Foster injured his shoulder knocking over milk bottles during a segment with Jay Leno on "The Tonight Show."

Wade Boggs missed several games after straining his back while pulling on his cowboy boots.

Paul Molitor dislocated a knuckle when it got stuck in another player's glove.

Milwaukee's Dave Nilsson missed part of this season with Ross River Fever, a mosquito-borne virus that annually affects 200 out of Australia's 17 million residents.

Twins general manager Terry Ryan required dozens of stitches when he was scouting a game and a bat flew out of the hitter's hands, sailed through a space in the backstop and struck him in the forehead.

Pitcher Jeff Juden had a start early in the 1994 season pushed back after getting an infection from a tattoo.

Outfielder Bret Barberie missed a game when he accidentally rubbed chili juice in his eye.

Ken Griffey Jr. missed a game after his protective cup slipped and pinched a testicle.

Pitcher Steve Sparks dislocated his shoulder while tearing a phone book in half, as he was trying to emulate a motivational speaker.

Reliever Larry Anderson strained a rib muscle getting out of a Jucuzzi.

Florida's Randy Veres hurt his hand pounding on a hotelroom wall trying to get the people in the next room to quiet down.

Dennis Martinez injured his arm tossing his luggage onto the team bus. He was diagnosed with Samsonitis.

Chris Brown missed a game with a strained eyelid after sleeping on an eye a funny way.

Former Seattle shortstop Rey Quinones was unavailable as a pinch-hitter because he was in the clubhouse playing Nintendo.

Terry Harper (Atlanta, OF) injured his shoulder after giving another player a high five.

Greg Harris (Texas, pitcher) injured his shoulder trying to flick sunflower seeds into the stands from the bullpen.

SUPERFRO: OSCAR GAMBLE SURE COULD "PICK" IT

Not sure why, but this morning, I woke up thinking of Oscar Gamble. So I figured I'd write this. Lest he be forgotten.

Oscar Gamble was a former outfielder and designated hitter in Major League Baseball. He played for 17 seasons, from 1969 to 1985, on seven different teams: the Chicago White Sox and New York Yankees on two separate occasions, as well as the Chicago Cubs, Philadelphia Phillies, Cleveland Indians, San Diego Padres, and Texas Rangers. Nicknamed the Big O by Yankees announcer Phil Rizzuto, Gamble was a relatively small man, listed at 5 feet, 11 inches tall and 165 pounds. He still hit 200 career home runs in just over 4500 major league at bats, an impressive ratio for the era he played in.

Despite his hitting prowess, however, Gamble is known more for what is, without question, the largest afro the game has ever seen.

Simply put, there was no batting helmet that contain it and no ball cap that could tame it. And for an entire generation of boys, Gamble's hair stands as a symbol for all that was right with the world. Of such awe was his fro, that it was not uncommon for Gamble's baseball cards to demand a hefty, if not skewed premium, on the trading market. Tales of a 1976 Topps Gamble card being traded for 2 Pete Roses, a Steve Garvey and a fro to be named later (usually Base McBride) were not at all uncommon.

To be sure, there were other great afros in the game. The aforementioned Bake McBride, Enos Cabell, Tito Fuentes and others, but none captured the imagination of Gamble's. Gamble's fro was like a living, breathing and thinking organism. Like a chia pet with a dream. Like pond algae with a statement to make. To boys of that generation, there were only three certainties in life -- Summer, School, and Oscar Gamble's afro.

The lure and intrigue of Gamble's fro has remained with many of those who grew up during that era of baseball. For many, Gamble's afro is one of their most vivid memories of the game. So much so that an "Oscar Gamble Society" has been formed in Chicago. As best I can tell, the "Society" consists of a number of middle-aged folks who like to get together, put on afro wigs, and drink beer. And I can't think of any greater legacy that can be left by a ball player.

THE GREATEST PLAY IN BASEBALL HISTORY: RICK MONDAY - A TRUE AMERICAN HERO

32 years ago today, Rick Monday makes the greatest play in Baseball history...

Monday was playing center field for the Chicago Cubs on April 25, 1976, at Dodger Stadium when he noticed two protesters kneeling on the grass in left-center, intending to burn the American flag. He immediately bolted toward them and snatched it away.

"I was angry when I saw them start to do something to the flag, and I'm glad that I happened to be geographically close enough to do something about it," said Monday, now in his 13th season as a Dodgers broadcaster.

"What those people were doing, and their concept of what they were trying to do was wrong. That feeling was very strongly reinforced by six years in the United States Marine Corps Reserves. I still think it's wrong to do that."

THE EDDIE GAEDEL EXPERIMENT

The most publicized stunt in baseball history took place August 19, 1951, at Sportsman's Park in St. Louis, when, to the surprise of 18,369 fans, 3'7" 65-lb midget Eddie Gaedel emerged from a seven-foot birthday cake between games of a Browns-Tigers doubleheader. Browns owner Bill Veeck concocted the idea to boost attendance, and to help celebrate the 50th anniversary of both the American League and the Falstaff Brewing Co., radio sponsor of the Browns.

Gaedel, a stage performer, was wearing a Browns uniform with the number 1/8, and little slippers turned up at the end like elf's shoes. In the bottom of the first, St. Louis manager Zach Taylor sent Gaedel to the plate to pinch hit for Frank Saucier. Veeck had instructed the diminutive Brownie to crouch low, and not swing his toy-like bat. Detroit skipper Red Rolfe protested Gaedel's presence, but Taylor produced a legitimate contract, filed with the AL and cleared by umpire Ed Hurley.

In his stance, Gaedel's strike zone measured 1-1/2 inches. Detroit pitcher Bob Cain walked the midget, throwing four straight balls. When Jim Delsing went in to run for him, the crowd gave Gaedel a standing ovation. The Browns lost, 6-2, despite Gaedel's instant offense. AL president Will Harridge was furious with Veeck's burlesque and unsuccessfully tried to strike Gaedel's name from the record books. Gaedel was paid $100 for his appearance, and was insured for $1 million by Veeck. In future years Veeck used him in a few other promotions.

Eddie Gaedel