HOF Vote: Macy’s-Like Parade of MLB Hypocrisy

January 10, 2013
Baseball Needs to Balance the Scales.

Baseball Needs to Balance the Scales.

It was a Macy’s-like parade, all right, complete with hot air balloon excuses for the process of righteously turning away, one more time, but in larger and newer numbers, some of the greatest players in the history of baseball from the residence they each deserve on the basis of their field performances in the so-called Baseball Hall of Fame.

The day of January 9, 2013 unfolded as a prescription for home-made/ho-made (take your pick) hypocrisy among most of the same writers who could not praise Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa enough back in 1998 for saving baseball from the stink of 1994 with their magical, somewhat mystical displays of record-breaking power. Time Magazine featured a glowing cover of Big Mac and Sammy. Sports Illustrated went so far as to dress out the same two players in Roman togas and laurel wreath head-dresses before spilling out their broadly smiling images on their cover as the saviors of the game.

It didn’t matter to the writers and the owners in 1998 that many of the “big boys” were getting there through the open use of steroids. I don’t recall anyone in 1998 writing about steroids as “performance enhancing drugs.” In fact, I don’t recall anyone writing or expressing their concerns about steroids in 1998. The performances of Big Mac and Sammy that year were rattling the soul and brain of baseball on a recording-breaking pace. Like real life action heroes, those two men almost single-handedly together, were spinning the big league park turnstiles far into the black and driving away the bad memories of that horribly lost season of 1994.

Memories are short.

Once Barry Bonds took things to a wholly higher level of achievement, breaking the HR record of the revered Hank Aaron, and once a proven liar accused Roger Clemens of PED use and the latter “mis-remembered” his actual experience into a case for branding him a liar to Congress on the Rafael Palmeiro-level, requiring a trial for Clemens to find legal exoneration, the witch hunt was on. Now players like Jeff Bagwell were falling under the shadow of suspicion for having developed “Popeye” biceps during the same era.

Now all you had to do was pander to the suspicions of the suddenly self-righteous members of BBWAA to lose any later support for the HOF. – And this has been how it’s been for the past 7-10 years.

So what actually happens when the big 2013 class of major suspects comes up for HOF consideration? The writer boys arrogantly turn their backs on all, explaining that it’s all part of the process of sorting out what needs to be done over time.

Oh really? Does that same “process” include not voting for the squeaky clean and sure-fire Hall of Famer Craig Biggio – just because it’s his first time on the ballot?

What arrogance!

I could not agree more with writer Jerome Solomon than I do this morning. In his Houston Chronicle criticism of the BBWAA today, he touches all the bases on why this vote, this year, stunk to high heavens. If you are a voting writer, and you think a man is good enough to go in “sometime,” he’s good enough to go in “now.” Any further delay for the sake of pro forma compliance with the historic rules of the good old boys’ and girls’ club is unacceptable.

Those players whose numbers speak for themselves should be inducted into the Hall of Fame, regardless of how much anyone thinks these players alone should be punished for the steroids era by banishment. We have to be vigilant here. There is no clear class of convicts in this matter. Some people used and some people lied in an attempt to cover up. Others just stood there like deer in the headlights and got smeared with the mud that got slung their way. The result is that we have allowed social network television to hawk the witch hunt and to smear guilt-by-suspicion to all who could not defend themselves from character assassination.

Meanwhile, the Commissioner, the owners, many of the writers and fans, and all of the sports print and broadcasting publishers sit back in the glow of bystander sanctimony and go about the business of making the players alone pay for the game of baseball’s embrace of steroids at our most recent turn of the century.

Yesterday’s HOF vote by the BBWAA was nothing more than a ritual exercise of the baseball culture’s hypocrisy. It’s time we all took responsibility for the fact it happened and move on with clear and severe consequences embraced and set forth about what shall happen to future abusers.

Then let’s get those field-deserving nominee people into the HOF from the era that were punished for being members of the fall guy group in this whole past, but still ongoing sad affair and make things right. Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, Rafael Palmeiro, and Mike Piazza, among others, all belong in the Hall of Fame. So do Craig Biggio and Jeff Bagwell, by the way.

It’s time to make it right by the next vote.

The fall guy group has taken the whole rap and suffered long enough for a sin that belongs to the whole baseball world. If our baseball world cannot see that much, then we all deserve whatever happens next.

The witch hunts of Salem never stopped the advent of new evil in Massachusetts.

A Brief Look at Baseball’s One Game Wonders

January 9, 2013
Joe Cleary189.00 ERA

Joe Cleary
189.00 ERA

Pitcher Joe Cleary of the Washington Senators established an MLB record back on August 4, 1945 that could be on the books for a very long time. Cleary came into a game from the bullpen to pitch one-third of inning against the Boston Red Sox and gave up seven earned runs before leaving. He never appeared again in another big league game, but his performance in that single contest career was statistically bad enough to leave him technically in possession of an ERA of 189.00, the highest ERA for any pitcher in MLB history. It remains too high for most second chance prospects, even for serious 2013 pitching candidates of the Houston Astros.

Writer David Margolick of the New York Time wrote an entertaining article back in 1999 on Joe Cleary and a few other one-game wonders in baseball history. They were players who all had only one game shots at the big time and they each celebrated the occasion in the best and worst ways.

Here’s a link that will take you that nice little contact with the Moonlight Graham Club:

http://www.nytimes.com/1999/04/04/sports/new-season-for-stars-and-one-game-wonders.html?pagewanted=all&src=pm

Remember Moonlight Graham? He was the guy characterized by Burt Lancaster in the movie, “Field of Dreams.” Graham got into one game with the 1905 New York Giants, but never got to bat. He supposedly spent the rest of his life mourning the fact that he had failed to reach the batter’s box at least once.

As for Joe Cleary, he died in 2004 at the age of 85. No chance now to search for any change in the rotten feelings Cleary expressed five years earlier to writer Margolick. According to Cleary, he and his manager, Ossie Bluege, almost came to blows after he returned to the dugout from his one-third inning of disaster delivered. “The short, unhappy life of Joe Cleary in the big leagues” was over, according to the battered 27-year old native of Cork, Ireland, Joe Cleary.

Think about it: the young man has one bad day, but like Bill Buckner much later, it becomes the only thing that’s remembered by most people about his baseball career. The difference here is obvious. Buckner actually had a career and, those who follow it haven’t forgotten that he was normally a good hitter and a slick fielder.

Joe Cleary, on the other hand, like all others who played only one game, had only a technical career. On day does not a career make. If it does, many of us are prepared to put in similar claims. i.e., As a young teenager, I once had a one-day career as a door-to-door advertising circular distributor. My only job instructions were to keep working until I had placed all 500 circulars given me on the doors of the houses in the neighborhood where the boss dropped me off. I finished in half the time expected by placing two circulars at each front door I approached. At the end of the day, the boss didn’t think much of my methodology so he cut my expected pay in half and fired me on the spot.

End of career. Start of a valuable work lesson: In honest work situations, do what the boss pays you to do. If you don’t like the work, do something else, but always take responsibility for clearly understanding what the boss wants – and just do it.

john paciorek card Back to baseball’s one-game wonders.  As David Margolick notes, over sixty one-for-one 1.000 BA hitters exist on the books, but only John Paciorek of the 1963 Houston Colt .45’s ever celebrated a perfect 3-for-3 day in his only game as a big leaguer. For Paciorek, it happened on the last day of the season, September 29, 1963, in a game against the hapless New York Mets. Paciorek collected three singles and two walks in that game, but he never played again because of a severe back problem he developed prior to the next season. It’s nice to know that someone from Houston once achieved perfection, if only for a day.

 

Awaiting Tomorrow’s Biggio Decision

January 8, 2013
Just a tribute reminder on another day of saluting Mr. Biggio: Do you remember what MMP looked like before the Astros hung all the sponsorship signs?

Just a tribute reminder on another day of saluting Mr. Biggio: Do you remember what MMP looked like before the Astros hung all the sponsorship signs? This is how the park appeared on the day that Craig Biggio collected his 3,000th hit in 2007.

With 24 hours to go before the 2013 Hall of Fame induction results are announced, some polls of “talking voters” show Craig Biggio leading, but in the “close, but no cigar” range near the required 75% approval. If that holds, we may be looking at a rare year in which there are no recently active inductees. If it works out that way, I will hold to the position I took of two days ago – to be among those who are disappointed, but not surprised.

In the meanwhile, those of us fans who care about the HOF vote are left to think about all the things that our man Biggio did to carve his name into the company of the greatest ball players in baseball history.

I’m speaking of one category today. Just look at his career doubles tally. Friend and SABR colleague Mark Wernick reminded me of it in his comment upon the first Biggio article I wrote two days ago. That is, to state, the position of Craig Biggio on the most career doubles list. Pay attention to this current list from Baseball Almanac and where Craig Biggio is located on the list of the 100 Greatest MLB Doubles Hitters of All Time. – And please note the identities of those keeping company with Mr. Biggio near the top of the chart.

Some Brief Notes:

Of the seven players at the top of the list who have garnered a minimum of 650 career doubles, Craig Biggio is 5th from the top of the list with 668.

Craig Biggio had more career doubles than any other man who played primarily as a second baseman. WIth 746 doubles in 2nd place, Pete Rose had more career doubles than Biggio, but Pete played far fewer games at second base than he did in the outfield and elsewhere.

Look at the bold-type names of active players on the list. There isn’t anyone there now that’s a “probable” on catching and passing Craig Biggio any time soon, if ever.

Look who else lives in this rarefied company. Former Astro Carlos Lee is No. 81 on the list with 469 doubles.

It’s probably no accident that Biggio was thrown out on his 3,000th hit trying to stretch a single into a double. How appropriately sweet  the safe-sign would have been under those circumstances on that special night at Minute Maid Park in 2007.

Enjoy perusing the list. And one more time: Good Luck, Tomorrow, Craig Biggio!

Doubles
All Time Leaders’Top 100′ – Baseball Almanac
Name Doubles Rank
Tris Speaker 792 1
Pete Rose 746 2
Stan Musial 725 3
Ty Cobb 724 4
Craig Biggio 668 5
George Brett 665 6
Nap Lajoie 657 7
Carl Yastrzemski 646 8
Honus Wagner 640 9
Hank Aaron 624 10
Paul Molitor 605 11
Paul Waner 605
Cal Ripken, Jr. 603 13
Barry Bonds 601 14
Luis Gonzalez 596 15
Rafael Palmeiro 585 16
Robin Yount 583 17
Wade Boggs 578 18
Charlie Gehringer 574 19
Ivan Rodriguez 572 20
Todd Helton 570 21
Bobby Abreu 565 22
Jeff Kent 560 23
Eddie Murray 560
Chipper Jones 549 25
Manny Ramirez 547 26
Tony Gwynn 543 27
Harry Heilmann 542 28
Rogers Hornsby 541 29
Joe Medwick 540 30
Dave Winfield 540
Al Simmons 539 32
Lou Gehrig 534 33
Al Oliver 529 34
Cap Anson 528 35
Frank Robinson 528
Dave Parker 526 37
Ted Williams 525 38
Derek Jeter 524 39
Ken Griffey, Jr. 523 40
Willie Mays 523
Garret Anderson 522 42
Johnny Damon 522
Ed Delahanty 522
Scott Rolen 517 45
Joe Cronin 515 46
Edgar Martinez 514 47
Alex Rodriguez 512 48
Mark Grace 511 49
Rickey Henderson 510 50
Babe Ruth 506 51
Tony Perez 505 52
Albert Pujols 505
Roberto Alomar 504 54
Andre Dawson 503 55
Goose Goslin 500 56
John Olerud 500
Rusty Staub 499 58
Bill Buckner 498 59
Al Kaline 498
Sam Rice 498
Frank Thomas 495 62
Heinie Manush 491 63
Mickey Vernon 490 64
Jeff Bagwell 488 65
Harold Baines 488
Mel Ott 488
Lou Brock 486 68
Billy Herman 486
Vada Pinson 485 70
Hal McRae 484 71
Carlos Delgado 483 72
Dwight Evans 483
Ted Simmons 483
David Ortiz 482 75
Brooks Robinson 482
Vladimir Guerrero 477 77
Zack Wheat 476 78
Jake Beckley 473 79
Larry Walker 471 80
Carlos Lee 469 81
Gary Sheffield 467 82
Frankie Frisch 466 83
Jim Bottomley 465 84
Adrian Beltre 463 85
Reggie Jackson 463
Miguel Tejada 463
Dan Brouthers 460 88
Orlando Cabrera 459 89
Sam Crawford 458 90
Jimmie Foxx 458
Omar Vizquel 456 92
Jimmy Dykes 453 93
George Davis 451 94
Paul O’Neill 451
Jimmy Ryan 451
Jim Thome 451
Steve Finley 449 98
Joe Morgan 449
Bernie Williams 449

Musical Musings on this Moment in Astros History

January 7, 2013
"Pardon me, Ford! Let's have a chat and choose your new shoes!" (from "A Day at The Oval Office" sung to the tune of "Chattanooga Cho Choo")

“Pardon me, Ford! Let’s have a chat and choose your new shoes!” (from a musical play idea I called “A Day at The Oval Office” and sung to the tune of “Chattanooga Cho Choo”)

For better, and mostly worse, I’ve been writing song parodies since I was a freshman at St. Thomas High School. They just seem to pop into my head at random moments, always pulling together something from my rather lengthy play list of songs from the 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s with some event or strong interest in my life.

I don’t really write them. They just show up. And I write them down as I hear them.

Once I wrote a whole musical song and dance number to dramatize the resignation plan of Richard Nixon to appoint Gerald Ford as his vice-president in exchange for an agreement from Ford that he would pardon Mr. Nixon for any wrongdoing in the Watergate affair after the former had assumed the powers of office to do so. The whole thing parodied on the words and music from the song, “Chattanooga Choo Choo” and it went like this, with Nixon first singing to Ford in the oval office before the former leads the latter on a lively jitterbug out the oval office door as if it were stage exit right:

“Pardon me, Ford! ~ Let’s have a chat and choose your new shoes! – I will resign! ~ Then everything will be fine! ~ There’s gonna be ~ a Watergate investigation! ~ But it won’t be fair ~ ’cause Johnny Dean will be there! ~ They’ll have the votes for my impeachment ~ so I might as well go! ~ Then you can be the president ~ and they’ll never know – if I have conceded – (expletive deleted) ~ if I knew or didn’t know ~ they just can’t read it! ~ I’ll never roam ~ away from my own ~ tax-free ~ San Clemente Home! ~ And you can wear the new shoes ~ that go along with the throne! ~ Pardon me, Ford! ~ Pardon me, Ford! ~ Get on board, Ford! ~ Get on board! ~ And you can wear the new shoes ~ (da-da-da-dum) ~ that go along with the thro00000000ne!!!”

Today it happened with the Astros rebuilding program. Here are the first six parodies to break loose as a playlist of songs that fit the meter and tune to the original songs, but now match up with the subject of this great change moment in Houston Astros history. Except where indicated, most are simply written to fellow Astros fans:

Feel free to read, endure or delete. Or submit your own as comments. It’s a wonderfully cathartic experience.

Prisoners of Love

“Alone from year to year, you’ll find us; ~ Too weak to break the ties that bind us; ~ We cannot pitch, ~ no bats behind us;  ~ We’re just the prisoners of our love!”

It’s Gonna Be A Great Day

“When you’re down and out, ~ Lift up your head and shout: ~ Root. Root. Root.”

Pick Yourself Up

“Nothing’s impossible, we have found, ~ for when our “Stros – are on the ground, ~ we trade ’em all off, ~ sign some kids up, ~ and start all over again.”

What’s New?

(as sung to the 2013 Astros roster)

“What’s new? ~ How is the world treating you? ~ You haven’t changed a bit! ~ To tell the truth, ~ you still look like spit!”

So Young

(as sung to Astros GM, Jeff Luhnow)

“You made the team so young! ~ And now they play like ~ dung that’s been slung! ~ Bells must be rung ~ So a flag can be hung ~ one fine day! ~ We’re hangin’ with you, Jeff ~ hoping for that really ~ one fine day, but ~ this team still plays ~ like ~ dung! – Like Frankie says, mister! ~ Yeah! ~ This team still plays ~ like ~ dung!”

 A Kiss To Build A Dream On

(ibid, Jeff Luhnow – to help us get through the pine green dung years)

“Give us ~ a star to build a dream on ~ and our imagination ~ will make that moment live! ~ Astros, ~ we ask no more than this ~ a star to build a dream on!”

Craig Biggio and The Hall of Fame

January 6, 2013
Craig Biggio: Work of Art by                Opie Otterstad

Craig Biggio:
Work of Art by Opie Otterstad

If it were up to the people like me who watched him play for twenty years, Craig Biggio would be going into the Baseball Hall of Fame on the first ballot opportunity when the 2013 class results of the Baseball Writers Association of America (BBWAA) poll are announced on January 9, 2013.

But it isn’t up to everyday lifelong fans like you and me. It’s up to a national group of sportswriters who may or may not have seen Craig Biggio play, people who have achieved their right to decide based on their choice of professions and, hopefully, some considerable study of the game and its history. I would hope too that they each voter has had some experience playing the game, even if it was only kid ball or sandlot, so that they may, at least, possibly own a deeper personal appreciation for how hard baseball is to play brilliantly at any level.

What I’m saying is that history tells us the voters are governed by factors that are far more subjective than the stats generated by the HOF candidates during their careers. Selection here is not as easy as the everyday test for “is the sun hot?” The BBWAA is filled with some arrogant human beings who wouldn’t vote for the sun on the first ballot if the question was “what is the cause of sunburn?”

No one, no matter how obviously great he was as a player, has been voted into the HOF with 100% of the votes on the first ballot and few have gotten the 75% they need to be elected their first rattle out of the box.

Craig Biggio is not the kind of candidate who would be expected to be everyone’s choice for a number of good reasons. For example, some voters who never really saw him play over some of his best stretches may look only at the bottom line to see that he collected 3,060 hits, but hit only .281 over twenty years. These will conclude that his hit totals are simply a product of his playing durability over time and that he doesn’t deserve the HOF, at least, not on the first ballot, because he didn’t post a plus .300 batting average for his career. Others will take the “nobody gets in on the first ballot” approach and not even waste time on something as frivolously simplistic as the previously offered consideration.

As Brian T. Smith noted in his article in today’s Sunday Houston Chronicle article of 1/06/13, Jackie Robinson and Joe Morgan are the only two primarily second basemen to be inducted into the HOF on the first ballot, but that Robinson’s case was boosted by his role in breaking down the color line and Morgan was riding the wave of the Big Red Machine dynasty in Cincinnati. Biggio, another primarily second baseman, was neither a civil rights trailblazer nor a member of any dynasty in Houston. Biggio’s only trip to the 2005 World Series resulted in his Astros getting swept in four games by the Chicago White Sox. Historical precedence by position weighs in on the side of “wait ’til next year, Bidge.”

A Wishing Well Thought. Maybe the voters will catch the virus that inundates Houston’s need to feel good about something in 2013. After two consecutive 100-loss seasons and prospects for another coming this year as the largely unpopular move of the Astros to the American League unfolds on the heels of a roster purge of established big league talent, perhaps the HOF voters will be affected by the city’s in-the-air need to have something to feel good about now.

Maybe the voters will get such a bad case of this Houston Sympathy virus that they will vote Jeff Bagwell into the Hall along side of his Astros “salt and pepper” partner, Craig Biggio.

My Final Take. Wishing never makes anything happen. I think Biggio has a chance of going in this first time, but the odds are against it. If he misses this time, which will disappoint, but not surprise, I think he will be close enough to 75% this year to make it next time. Those 3,060 hits scream too loudly to be ignored for long. Just as importantly, Craig Biggio possesses the character cachet that HOF voters would prefer for the faces of both the HOF and the first true-blue Astros inductee.

As for Bagwell, I’m less hopeful. I don’t see him going in this year and I will not be surprised to see him register fewer votes this time. His negative weights are his association by physical appearance and production during the ‘roids era with some of those who’ve come closer to actual conviction of abuse who are now on the ballot to bring that issue back to the public mind. Also, I think the shortfall impact on his career home runs total that was caused by the shoulder damage that brought about his early retirement will now hurt him. “449” and his record for the disastrously lost 1994 season aren’t enough power noise to carry him over the hill with many voters.

The Truth. We’ll all find out in three days.

Goodbye Macy’s/Foley’s Downtown

January 5, 2013
Foley's Downtown at 1110 Main in Houston opened on October 20, 1947.

Foley’s Downtown at 1110 Main in Houston opened on October 20, 1947.

The closing of Macy’s Department Store downtown is the final nail in the door of an era that got hammered shut a long time ago. The place wasn’t even Macy’s back in the day. It was Foley’s, a department store started on Main Street in 1900 by James and Pat Foley, and one that grew under corporate ownership in the 1940s to build and add the current site of the store at 1110 Main Street in 1947. It was Foley’s until 2006, when it was re-branded under new major ownership as Macy’s.

When the new Foley’s opened on October 20, 1947, Sears on South Main, smaller and away from downtown, was the only other store in Houston that offered its range of products and services.

Downtown was centrally important to Houston shoppers in the immediate post-World War II era. There were no shopping malls in 1947 and most people lived within ten miles of downtown. The first of its kind, Gulfgate Mall, would not open until 1956 – and it only got there because of the new Gulf Freeway (today’s I-45 S from downtown) that opened in 1948, the year following the start of the big Foley’s store downtown.

So, there was a premium period for downtown Houston shopping at Foley’s that ran roughly from its big store opening in 1947 to the fuller expansion of suburban freeways and malls by 1962. By 1962, Sharpstown Mall was up and running as Houston’s population was growing west and southwest and moving away from the old town center. By 1965, the Katy Freeway was up and running and Memorial City Mall and others were handling much of the western consumer shopping attraction.

By 1970, for sure, Foley’s downtown and downtown in general were hurting, but this isn’t an article on the failed effort to revitalize the area by resurrecting Market Square as an entertainment area in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Those who ventured downtown for the fun were soon enough put off by the dangers of criminal assault in the area as well as the inconvenience and risk of driving back to the suburbs under the influence.

Market Square failed. The movie theaters moved out. The musical art and dramatic theater programs improved, but there still wasn’t a significant consumer population living in the area to support downtown as a shopping area. The 21st century movement of baseball, basketball, and soccer to downtown in the form of new venues seems to have helped some, but competitive efforts in places like Sugar Land, Town and Country, and The Woodlands make it doubtful that downtown will ever again be the shopping mecca it once was.

Goodbye, Foley’s, We know you’re really the guy behind the Macy’s mask.

 

 

Haenel’s, Redwood @ Myrtle, Pecan Park

January 3, 2013
The building that once housed Haenel's corner grocery store in Pecan Park still stands.

The building that once housed Haenel’s corner grocery store in Pecan Park still stands.

They can take down the buildings, but that still doesn’t erase the memories of what life was like in Houston during the Post World War II years. Sometimes they accidentally leave the buildings intact, only helping the memory and nostalgia process features of the human mind.

Such has been the case with Haenel’s, one of two little corner grocery stores located across the street from each other on Redwood at the Myrtle Street intersection in Pecan Park. Haenel’s actually faced Myrtle, while Graves’, the other little mom and pop place situated more clearly on Redwood, the street that separated the two stores. Graves’ no longer remains in physical form.

Haenel’s was special to many of us kids at the north end of Pecan Park for one major reason. – A lot us got our introduction to baseball cards at Haenel’s, first through the Bowman Company series in 1949-50 and then through the Topps collection from 1951 forward through whatever future year we each variably changed or stopped our collection habits. I always preferred Bowman because they were each like little close up works of art that really showed what the players looked like. The Topps series was more action oriented and, given the small size of each picture, they did not always help you get a clear idea of what each player looked like on his own.

It didn’t matter that much. The price was right.

For a nickel, you got five new cards and a flat stick of gum. The game among us came down to being the first to buy into newly arrived shipments of new cards we had not previously seen. Sometimes new shipments were no more than repeats of cards we already had seen in gazillion numbers. I got tired of all the O’Brien twin shortstop cards that I acquired, but they made good bicycle spoke noise makers with the help of a clothes pin.

The Stan Musial, Ted Williams, and Ralph Kiner cards were the Holy Grail before Mickey Mantle came along, and I now still wonder what really happened to my copies of each? Did Dad really throw them out, as he always said he “thought” he did? Or did he stick them up in the attic of our former home on Japonica Street? And are they still there?

My lone surviving baseball card from my Pecan Park sandlot days.

My lone surviving baseball card from my Pecan Park sandlot days.

I ended up with one card from my original collection. It was one that ended up in a box of mementos that I had put away for about a millennium until our last house move nearly 28 years ago. I just opened it up and there he was among old report cards, scout badges, and the like, but he wasn’t Mickey Mantle. It was Clyde Vollmer.

Why Clyde Vollmer was my only surviving baseball card, I’ll never be sure. Perhaps, he was on his way to the bicycle spoke spot and simply never got there.

New Year 2013 Brings Doses of Old, New, & Same

January 1, 2013

happy new year 2013

It didn’t take long for the old to get here. The Democrats and the Republicans held us all over the “Fiscal Cliff” until the very last-minute before finally approving some steps to save the day in some politically face-saving way. We’ll see how much difference these elusive moves actually make, but let’s not hold our collective breath.

The Houston Texans now hang precariously over another familiar cliff to local teams. After establishing themselves in the 2012 NFL race as the odds on favorite for home field advantage in the AFC, they now hang sputtering in a heap, just waiting for a club like the Cincinnati Bengals to come to town and hit them with a fatal feather. – We’ll see, but it makes you wonder: How long is it going to take beyond the end of this football season for the fans to start crying for a new QB or coach? Matt Schaub is already showing that he’s as good as he’s going to get – and that he’s not good enough. Old news again.

Here’s something new: The Houston Astros move to the American League and the DH-rules version of baseball in 2013. – Wait a minute. – What’s new in Houston MLB history about losing over 100 games a season for the third year in a row?

Hey! This is new! – The State of Texas has adjusted certain sections of I-10 West beyond Kerrville on the way to El Paso with new speed limits of 80 and 85 mph, but there’s a touch of old attached to this practical concession to the boredom and impatience of West Texas travelers: All of the little town Justice of the Peace courts along the way and their “cahootie” buddies in the DPS black & whites have made the adjustment from 70 mph to the higher legal speed limits. I have it on anonymous testimony from a conservative driving friend who thought that cruise control at 80 MPH would protect him from a ticket. A DPS officer pulled him over, alleging that his speed actually had been 90 MPH. If he disputed the charge, he had the option of staying in this little town a couple of days and going through a trial – or else – he could plead guilty, pay the fine, and continue on his way. Since it was Christmas, my buddy elected to plead guilty, even though he later checked his speed at 80 MPH under cruise control by the official highway mileage posts and found his car’s rate to have been accurate.

The cost of sacrificing a long-shot chance at justice for the sake of avoiding inconvenience doesn’t come cheap.

The fine for going a pleaded-out 90 in an 80 was $198 in court costs, plus $248 as the fine for exceeding the pleaded out speed at “90 in an 80.” He was also told that an “81 in an 80” would have been $108, plus the aforementioned court costs. – Some things just stay old. – I wish the heck we could catch more drinking and reckless, lane-weaving speeders and stop chopping up our salt-of-the-earth types, but what else is new?

Dancing “Gang-Nam” style is still new, but bound to get old with our young people soon. The inventor of that chiropractor’s dream dance looks too much like the President of North Korea on a “Gang-Nam” style aerobic diet to actually remain popular for too much longer.

Oh yeah. There’s me. The Pecan Park Eagle guy turned 75 yesterday. Nothing new about that, but I do try to keep my mind fresh to what’s new in the world and to embrace the new digital technology for all of its good reasons.

WordPress tells me that my blog here had over 300,000 hits in 2012 from over 157 countries. Most were from the USA, of course, but some were from England and a lot of other countries around the world. I wasn’t sure in advance that there were 157 countries in the world that contained English-speaking people, but that just goes to show again how much I need to still learn about our social planet.

What was new about birthday celebration yesterday? My 28 year-old son Neal picked up the tab for our steak dinners at Taste of Texas restaurant. That was a pretty neat little experience in itself.

1929: Coming Attractions

2029: Coming Attractions

Neal is also a very well-informed astronomical hobbyist. On a clear night anywhere, he can show us lesser informed observers of the universe some parts of the heavens that we may not have even realized were a part of the grand scheme of things, but yesterday, after our meal, he also had one of those popular “stick around, Dad” messages for me.

“Dad,” Neal said, “You really need to stick around for something that is going to happen in 2029. You will only be 92 by that time, but the wait will be well worth it.”

“So, what’s new about 2029?” I asked.

“It’s not actually new, Dad,” Neal answered excitedly. “It’s actually quite old, but, believe me, it’s really going to be something to see.”

What it is – is the coming of a giant meteor, Neal says, and it is predicted to be on a track that will carry it between the earth and the moon on its way back again into the infinite space beyond us.

Is that new and amazing? Or just plain scary for those who probably will be here? What if the projections for its passage arc past earth are just a tad bit off? – Why, a thing like that may be big enough to wipe out the whole 2029 baseball season if it actually hit the earth.

Wouldn’t you think?

Oh well, here’s another something old:

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2013, EVERYBODY!

The Pecan Park Eagle

The Houston Curse

December 31, 2012
1493 AD: Chief Notsuoh heads to Houston with his three four-legged friends and his iron rattler stick.

1493 AD: Chief Notsuoh heads to Houston with his three four-legged friends and his iron rattler stick.

By the second new moon of the year we know today as 1493 AD, the drums of wary change about the coming of the paleface from the waters of the Pond of the Morning Sun had beaten their way across the face of the land known to every native tribe as the Home of all Family Nations and had then faded quietly into a humming red mist across the Pond of the Evening Stars beyond the Great Rock Mounds of the far west.

 

Most human beings of that time were content enough to simply let the news be heard as an ominous message from the Great Spirit that further personal purification was essential for them all to one day take up residence in the Perennial Summer Forest of the Great Sky that awaits everyone beyond the Time of Endless Sleep that comes to all.

 

Not so much did Comanche Chief Notsuoh (pronounced Not*Sue*Oh) hold on to the idea that the drums intended to merely fall silent as an “ominous warning” about the need for reform and personal purification. Oh no. Chief Notsuoh heard the drums as a beckoning to organize and come forward as a tribal gathering of human beings and turn back the threat of invasion from the pale ones, should they soon decide to return to these sacred shores with greater numbers of their kind and an intent to pollute all that was then pure.

 

From his home region in the valley we know today as the Basin Prairie of the Big Bend, Chief Notsuoh set forth each morning toward the Sky of the Rising Sun in leadership of one thousand Comanche braves who believed in his cause.

 

Chief Notsuoh had in his possession three horses that had been captured from the first palefaces, but he did not understand their true purpose. He called them “My Four Legged Friends on Four Legs Who Listen Well and Never Talk Back.”

 

The chief also possessed a loaded late 19th century model Winchester rifle that one day on the journey fell through a time-warp black hole and killed a six-foot long rattler before it could strike the great leader. Again, Notsuoh failed to grasp the utility of the instrument that had befallen him, but he kept it as a friendly weapon, nonetheless, calling it “My Iron Stick for Killing Rattlesnakes in a Wahoo Whack.”

 

Armed with believers, good intentions, and much misinformation, Chief Notsuoh set forth each morning toward the sky of the rising sun. About sixty sunrises later, the chief and his native land crusaders had traveled a distance roughly equivalent of the space between present day Alpine, Texas and the banks of a muddy slow-moving stream in southeast Texas that back then was heavily populated by a herd of 10,000 bison or buffaloe.

 

Tired of the morning walks into the sun, and impressed by the abundance of buffaloe to eat. Notsuoh decided to settle the area until further notice. With the help of his one thousand warriors and the hundreds of camp-following squaws who had trailed their men east, Notsuoh established a far-reaching Comanche community in the areas of downtown present day Houston, and stretching southwest to the former site of the Summit, southeast from there to Rice Stadium, further south to Reliant Stadium and the Astrodome, east to the University of Houston and Buff Stadium, and back northwesterly, downtown to the areas covering all current sporting venues.

 

One day in 1494 AD, when the Notsuoh Braves were rocking along to a prideful lacrosse win over a tribe of barnstorming Apaches, the whole town, including the team, choked on some very bad buffalo meat, snatching the agony of defeat from the jaws of victory, causing a loss of the game, a loss of pride, and, in seven days time, a loss of life for everyone in the community.

 

Before his own death, Chief Notsuoh blamed himself and the white man.

 

Blaming the tragic event upon his failure to continue his pursuit of the loathsome paleface menace in favor of mindless and unrewarding sporty pursuits in the area that is now modern Houston, Chief Notsuoh swore out this curse upon all future paleface settlers of this same geographical area:

 

“To all palefaces and all other non-native invaders of this land, by the power of our holy spirit in the sky, I henceforth place this curse upon you: Should you ever decide to settle this land as your own, building your personal paleface dreams upon the ground that covers our bones, may this special curse be visited upon you:

 

“May your athletic teams of any sport devised be doomed to inevitably break your hearts in the end. May they sometimes pull your hearts high into the sky and the land of hope, but may they always finish by dropping your dreams flat as a dead eagle, falling splat to earth from the mighty clouds of high aspiration.”

 

That’s my Chief Notsuoh story – and I’m sticking to it. Especially after today’s Texans game.

Oh, yeah. – Happy New Year!!! Things are about to get better because everything that really is important – already is OK.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Governor Good Ole Boy Meets Doctor Beard Man!

December 29, 2012
The Pecan Park EagleJune 7, 1975

The Pecan Park Eagle
June 7, 1975

Years ago, when yours truly looked a lot more like a Led Zeppelin wannabe than a 21st century docking version of the Hindenburg, it was time to take my doctoral degree from the University of Texas Health Science Center at Houston. The date was June 7, 1975. The location, ironically, was the Hofheinz Pavilion on the University of Houston campus. UTHSC Houston was still in their early years back then and petitioning useful space from UH for a UT function was both sought after and provided by the two schools.

To take the cake, conservative former Governor Allan Shivers was on site that evening to hand out diplomas and almost vigorously shake the hands of nearly every new matriculating UT graduate. In anticipation of the fact that I was about to become a UT graduate, things seemed a little surreal that evening to the old UH Cougar and Tulane Greenie and guess what? They still do. That being said, I will always be grateful to UT for having made that last formal educational opportunity possible. It cleared the way for me to spend the next thirty-five years of my life as a mental health clinician in private practice.

For a moment or so that evening in 1975, I almost thought it wasn’t going to happen.  As I went shuffling through the graduation line, watching all the fairly normal looking people ahead of me taking their degrees so vigorously, I noticed that Governor Shivers hardly ever looked up at each person until the moment he actually handed them their sheepskins – and then it was all fast smiles and speedy handshakes in a quickly passed nanosecond of congratulations.

Then the Governor got to me in the line – with me looking more like a waiver line gift from the Oakland A’s – or a fugitive from some late-showing Easter pageant than the good old Beeville and Houston,Texas boy that I was actually born to be. As Governor Shivers turned with my diploma to face me, I was almost certain that I saw his smile disappear at the same time that I felt his hand clamp down upon the degree document that was supposed to be mine.

I wrestled him for possession.

Smokin' cigarettes and watchin' Captain Kangaroo:No don't tell me, I got nothin' to do!"

“Smokin’ cigarettes and watchin’ Captain Kangaroo:
Now don’t tell me, I got nothin’ to do!”

Governor Shivers finally let go, saluting me dismissively with a wet fish handshake. It was our only face-to-face contact on this ride around the planet Earth.

Wonder not.

At various times in the late spring and summer of 1975, I also was four times invited to present the results of my work on the future epidemic of drug abuse in America to conferences in El Paso, San Francisco, New Orleans, and, finally, at a meeting in Washington, DC of the World Future Society. Even then, you really didn’t need a crystal ball or a doctoral degree to see the big wave that was coming, but what the heck. The WFS and others wanted to hear from me so I went all over the place to speak, even if most people also came to wherever so variously unprepared to listen.

Interesting to note: Not a single speaker at that 1975 meeting of the World Future Society saw or talked about the coming impact of the digital age and the already  incubating Internet that would change everything for everyone by the 1990s.

Nobody saw it coming even though it was already well underway by 1975. People just don’t like to see something coming that could be more powerful than their individual wills.

While I was there in Washington in 1975, I ran into Bob Keeshan, whom we all know better today and then as “Captain Kangaroo.” He was there too for a meeting of the National Association of Children’s TV Program Broadcasters in the same hotel.

As a shameless photo op hustler in my younger days, I talked with Bob Keeshan for a while before jumping on the opportunity for the enclosed picture with Captain Kangaroo. – Keeshan patiently and kindly obliged. I felt like one of the kids on his show.

Now don’t tell me I got nothing to do!

"These Are The Days, My Friend! - Use 'em 'fore you lose 'em!"

“These Are The Days, My Friend!                       – Use ’em ‘Fore you Lose ’em!”