Dreaming Of The Majors: Living In The Bush.

April 21, 2010

Lefty O'Neal Is A Rare White Veteran of the Negro Leagues.

Yesterday I heard from Lefty O’Neal, the rare white veteran of Negro League baseball who wrote a book last year on his improbable experiences in baseball. We have not been in contact for quite a while, but it was good to hear from the man again.I’ve never met the man face-to-face, but I did read his manuscript over the time he was searching for a publisher.

All I can really say is – Lefty writes honestly from the heart. His little book with the long, long title, “Dreaming of the Majors: Living in the Bush,” is a wide open testament to his faith, spirit,and ability to play the game. I won’t go into the details here of how a white guy came about playing in the Negro Leagues because that’s a big part of the book, but I will say that no gets to an accomplishment on that level without possessing the “miles and miles and miles of heart” that are described in the lead song from “Damn Yankees.” Dick “Lefty” O’Neal had all the heart one could hope to pump into the chase of such a dream and he got there – by the Grace of God and with the help of a legion of fairly earth-bound angels.

Houston Astros icon Larry Dierker put O’Neal’s journey in this perspective: “O’Neal will take you on an ironic tour of race relations on the diamond: as Lefty becomes the mirror image of Jackie Robinson, playing as the only white guy on a Negro League team.”

Former major leaguer and recent hitting coach of the Los Angeles Dodgers expressed these thoughts on O’Neal’s story: “His writings are a pleasure and a joy to read.” Merv Johnson, a former assistant  college baseball coach at both Arkansas and Oklahoma put it well for what it is: “This book is a must read for anyone who has a dream.”

You don’t read Lefty’s book for great literature. You read it as a clearly stated map on where the forces of faith, hope, and love can take us if we are simply willing to hear the call of the Holy Spirit and lean all the way into the job of doing our part to get there.

Dick “Lefty” O’Neal listened and then did what he had to do. Along the way, he met the earth-bound army of angels who helped him overcome doubt and complete the journey.

Who is Dick “Lefty” O’Neal? For starters, he’s a retired United States Air Force officer with twenty years past service to his credit. He is now an adjunct professor in the speech communication field,  part-time corporate training consultant, a motivational speaker, a board member for the San Antonio Chapter of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, and, last but not least, he is Vice President of the SOuth Texas Professional Baseball Negro League Players Association.

Lefty O’Neal and his wife Harriett have been married for more than 36 years and they have two adult children, Amy and Richard Adam. The O’Neal family makes their home in Universal City, Texas.

O’Neal’s inspirational book is available online through Amazon and by order from such booksellers as Borders and Barnes and Noble. You may also order from the publisher, WinePressBooks.Com. The cost is $14.99, plus tax and shipping.

Some people do great things for the sake of directly helping the human condition. Others serve as the objects of personal example to others. Some do both. Meet Dick “Lefty” O’Neal.

Historic Houston Streets: Just To Name a Few.

April 20, 2010

Gulf Freeway 1952: Two Lanes North. Two Lanes South. Who could ask for anything more?

A few light years ago, a fellow named John Churchill Chase wrote an entertaining book on the origins of street names in New Orleans. Entitled “Frenchmen Desire Good Children and Other Streets of New Orleans,” the book was a popular hit in the Crescent City, where colorful events and the names of its roads and avenues usually sparked of mystery and adventure. Heck! During the time I worked for Tulane Medical School in the mid-1960s, I lived in Pirate Alley. Hard to top that one for color anywhere.

Now a fellow named Marks Hinton has written a book about the history of Houston street names. It’s called “Historic Houston Streets: The Stories Behind the Names.” It’s not nearly as extensive or colorful as the New Orleans book, but so what? We’re Houston. We were never the home of famous buccaneers like Jean Lafitte. We are what we are – and it’s still interesting to know how we got some of the street names we still use. The book falls far short of explaining many that I personally would like to know about, but let’s take a quick look at some of the bigger ones it covers.

Crawford: Today this north-south downtown street is most famous as the namesake of the seats that sit perched a mere 315 feet down the left field line at Minute Maid Park. These so-called Crawford Boxes are all that stands between a right-handed batter’s home run swing and Crawford Avenue or Street that lays just beyond the Minute Maid Park exterior. It was always called Crawford Avenue when I was a kid, but today I hear and read a lot of references to it as Crawford Street. Pick which you like better, I guess. At any rate, Crawford was named for Joseph Tucker Crawford, a British agent who was sent to Houston to evaluate the developing situation in the newly formed Republic of Texas back in 1837. According to Hinton, Crawford’s mission wasn’t to explore ways of making Texas a British colony, but to see how Texas could usefully help block America’s expansion westward. So, what it comes down to is this: Crawford came here to try to get Texas to help England throw a monkey wrench into the American Manifest Destiny and our city’s pioneer leaders ended up naming a major downtown street for him. Go figure. Or else use this little known information as a part of a local parody of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.”

“…Buy me a seat in the Crawford Box; that guy came here an American Pox.”

Cullen Boulevard. It is the main street at the University of Houston and it once served as the main drag beyond the right field line at Buff Stadium on the Gulf Freeway. Most people know this one, but it bears repeating for the sake of remembering one of Houston’s greatest philanthropists. Hugh Roy Cullen is the namesake person here. Cullen was the wildly successful oil man who gave millions to Houston charities over the years – and especially to the University of Houston, Baylor University, and most of Houston’s major hospitals. They threw away the mold for generosity when Mr. Cullen departed this world years ago.

Kirby Drive. Named for John Henry Kirby, a very successful 19th century Houston lumberman and capitalist, this is the street that runs directly beside the Reliant Stadium-Astrodome complex in a very appropriate way. In 1895, when professional baseball was struggling for a breath of fresh sustaining life in Houston, Kirby headed up a small group that established the “Houston Baseball Association” to keep the city on its feet in the new Texas League. The “HBA” capitalized the Houston baseball club with $3,000 in operating funds and installed Kirby as its first president. Because of Kirby, early professional baseball in Houston survived the turn of the 19th into the 20th century and set all in motion for the long banner life of the Houston Buffalos through 1961.

Westheimer Road. Named for Michael Lewis Westheimer, who immigrated from Germany to Houston in 1859, the namesake here was a diversified buusiness entrepeneur who bought and developed a 640-acre tract of land west of Houston. If you know Houston, you’ve already heard enough to get where this is going. Most famous locally for his Westheimer Transfer and Storage Company, Westheimer Road followed from here where Mr. Westheimer went, becoming to this very moment the other major artery alternative to Memorial Drive and the Katy Freeway as the major corridor to  Houston’s forever expanding western growth. Memoril, of course, is assigned as a name to honor all men and women who have given their lives in defense of this nation; Katy Freeway and old Katy Road before it were named for the little city they once approached to the west of Houston.  That same Katy, Texas was swallowed long ago as one of Houston’s present and major bedroom communities.

Gessner. August Gessner also migrated from Germany to the United States in 1886. He fought in the Spanish-American War with Teddy Roosevelt and later built a monument to the Rough Riders in Puerto Rico before coming to Houston and establishing himself in business as a cabinet-maker. Years later, when Harris County built a north-south way that covered a lot of ground on the then unincorporated west side, they needed a name. Longtime Commissioner Squatty Lyons raised his hand and offered something like the following, “Hey! I went to school with this nice guy named Gessner. We could name it for him. His family are all good people.”

Sometimes it is who you know that matters, but I would like to see us do more to name our city streets for people who have made some particular contribution to the city. Holcombe Boulevard was a great pick, deriving its name from longtime former Mayor Oscar Holcombe, a politician who stood up to the Ku Klux Klan back in the 1920s, loosening their hate-mongering control of things and freeing Houston for future growth. We’ve also named a number of streets for Houstonians who served in World War I. The later wars could use a little better presence on the naming list.

Hey. All that’s good. I’d just like to see us make better use of street-naming as a way of remembering the many others who have made significant contributions to the history of the city.

For example, Allen Russell, the 1946-1952 President of the Houston Buffalos who really put our city on the map for major league baseball expansion, tops my list of people who are most deserving of a  significant street name. I’m sure we have others in the fields of sport, education, business, space, and the arts who are just as deserving too. In fact, if you have a favorite candidate for a Houston street name, please list it below with a brief statement of why you think that person deserves the mention.

At any rate, the little reference book on local street nmes is a fun read for Houstonians. One of its sidebar features is a display of interesting street intersections. Someplace in town, the streets of “Mutiny” and “Bounty” intersect. We may not have much of a local histroy in piracy (excluding mention of some closely similar practices in the oil industry), but we do apparently have some recollection of major conflict on the high seas, even if quite a bit of it was fictional in content.

The least we might do is to get rid of that practice of allowing developers to build new neighborhoods with all those cute-sounding similar names that just make it easier for our postal service to fail us. Know what I’m talking about? Try sorting the mail for a neighborhood that includes Westwick, Wickwild, and Wild West, for example. I think I made up the “Wild West” street, but you get the idea. We do have a Wilcrest, a Wickchester, and a Wilchester  that are all  pretty near each other. Maybe it’s time to finally simplify the things that can be simplified.

1948 Buffs Photo: Many Pictures in One.

April 19, 2010

1948 Houston Buffs: Zooming In, A Photo May Raise More Questions than it Answers.

The 1948 Houston  Buffs had a tough act to follow. They had to take the baseball stage on the heels of the 1947 Buffs, a tenacious club that won both the Texas League pennant and the Dixie Series championship. As it turned out, the ’48 Buffs, also playing under ’47 Manager Johnny Keane and with several players from their championship year, could only make it to third place and a full ten games back of the first place and eventual pennant-winning Fort Worth Cats. The ’48 Buffs lost to Tulsa in the first round of the Shaughnessy Playoffs.

I used the featured team photo of the ’48 Buffs to crop and display an individual picture of Jim Basso in yesterday’s article on the Buff who knew Hemingway. Remember this one? It shows up pretty darn crisp and clear:

Jim Basso Never Came To Bat for the '48 Buffs.

Before Jim Basso ever came to bat for the 1948 Houston Buffs, he was dealt away, ending his three season status (1946-48) as a member of the club. Based upon his length of time with five other clubs in 1948, it is fairly safe to assume that this photo of Basso in the team photo of the Buffs was taken in the spring or very early part of the season.

What else is in the photo, however unintentional it may have been?

The fan isn't smoking; it's a print negative scratch.

When I first saw the fan second from right in the photo, I thought we had a live photo of someone actually smoking in the grandstands, which many fans did in wild abandon back in 1948. It turns out that it was simply a scratch on the negative that had created this illusion.

What’s not an illusion is that all these young guys were there early to see a game, we presume. It could be that fans or family members were allowed into Buff Stadium just to watch the team photo shooting, but that isn’t likely. The issue that throws e off here is the casual attire of team President Allen Russell. He usually went suit and tie on game days so we can’t really be sure if maybe it was an off-day or just early enough in the day for Russell to change later. Still, if Russell dressed formally for games, you would think he would have done the same for the team picture. It’s possible to think ourselves into a corner on mysteries at this level.

Sporty Allen Russell in 1948 Team Photo Corner.

The sporty shot of Buffs President Allen Russell also reveals more seated civilians over each shoulder. Based on their youthful appearance and body language, I’m guessing they are “kids from the ‘hood” who came early for Knothole Gang seating who got to roam the better seats prior to the start of each game. We did that all the time back in the day.

It must be a long while prior to game time. Otherwise, Allen Russell wouldn’t be smiling that broadly with all those empty seats lurking behind him.

Somebody had a game date this day.

Way back there in the stands, we see a young couple seated, with a lonely lurking twerp seated sort of glumly behind them. The couple’s presence adds more weight to the possibility that this photo was taken early on a game date. As I recall our culture in that era, one didn’t usually get a date to simply go watch  practice or a team photo shoot at Buff Stadium.

The silhouette of these buffalo medallions confirm that Buff Stadium, indeed, is the site of our 1948 Houston Buffs team photo.

A total of eighty 36″ in diameter steel buffalo medallions once rimmed the exterior walls of Buff Stadium from 1928 to 1961. Two of these medallions hang today in the Houston Sports Museum at Finger Furniture. A few others are scattered among individual owners and I have one that was given to me by former Buff Jerry Witte and his family for historical safekeeping. It will eventually go to a place yet to be determined which can guarantee its preservation and display for history in perpetuity.

For now, here’s how this unmistakable symbol of Buff Stadium looks this morning in the space above my head where I write each day:

Eighty of these beautiful medallions once rimmed the exterior walls of Buff Stadium.

There is much in a photo. This one starts out showing us the faces of a team. It then ends up raising the question we all have to answer for ourselves: How much part are we each willing to play in the preservation of history.

Think about it. Then get out there and give the world your answer. No contribution can be too large or too small. If you do nothing more than join SABR, the Society for American Baseball Research, you will be helping all the rest of us take a giant leap forward – and this is not a commercial. It’s simply a fact. SABR works for baseball.

For more information about SABR in general, check out the national organization:

info@sabr.org

For more information about the Houston-based Larry Dierker Chapter of SABR, contact group leader Bob Dorrill at

E-Mail:

bdorrill@aol.com

Phone:

281-361-7874

Meanwhile, enjoy your old photos even more. And have a nice day.

Jim Basso: The Old Man and The Baseball Sea.

April 18, 2010

Jim Basso, Houston Buffs, 1946-48.

Jim Basso lived as the personification of the career minor leaguer back in the pre and post World II years. He loved baseball, he played the outfield well, he hit with some punch, he didn’t really have much education or a lot of skills that gave him a good or passionate alternative to the game, and he always dreamed of breaking into the big leagues with some team, somewhere along the way by just hanging in there long enough, showing up every spring, whether he was hurt or not, and giving it his best, no matter where he was playing.

The big leagues never happened for Jim Basso. Sadly, he went to his grave, forever regretting the fact that he never got so much as a single time at bat with any big league club in a regular season game.

“It would’ve meant a  lot to me,” Jim once told me. “Just to know that I had gotten into into the big record book as one of the few players who made it to the big leagues would’ve meant everything to me.”

It wasn’t meant to be, but it surely wasn’t because Jim Basso didn’t have the tools or performance record to at leat earn a trial in the bigs. He simply played in the era of great major league club exclusivity. With only sixteen total big league clubs in both major leagues until expansion started in 1961, Jim Basso belongs to a large, not-so-exclusive legion of lost opportunity. A lot of ball players who would at least get a playing look today never even got there back then. With the reserve clause governing all player movements prior to free agency, a lot of players also missed the majors because the parent club either couldn’t find roster room or didn’t want certain players from falling into the hands of their big league rivals. We will never know for sure how many players actually had their MLB careers denied by a parent club that may have been hoarding talent in the minors in self-defense.

James Sebastian (Jim) Basso (BR/TR, 6’0″, 185 Lbs.) was born in Omaha, Nebraska on October 5, 1919. Signing with the St. Louis Cardinals, but eventually winding his way into the systems of the Reds, Braves, and White Sox, Basso compiled a 13-season minor league record (1941, 1946-57) and a three-season stint as a member of the Houston Buffs (1946-48). Jimmy didn’t even get into a game from the roster of the ’48 Buffs before he was dealt away, but he stayed long enough to make the Houston area and his place in Pearland a permanent residence beyond baseball.

Jim Basso was a pretty fair country hitter. His career batting average was .297 with a slugging average of .464. He racked up 1,815 total hits that included 335 doubles, 57 triples, and 191 home runs. Wow! Do you think a guy with Basso’s stats might have gotten an AB or two in the big leagues somewhere in 2010?

For better, but mostly worse, Jim Basso played hurt.

“You had to play hurt back then,” Jim often said. “If you took a day off to nurse an injury back in my day, you knew that you just might wake up the next morning to find somebody else wearing your jock strap. You couldn’t let that happen. You had to play, even if it made things worse on your injury.”

Jim Basso also played a few winters in Cuba during his career. He even managed to meet Ernest Hemingway when the great American writer invited Basso and some of his teammates over to the house for drinks in the evening.

One day, late in Jim’s life, I drove out to Pearland with former Buff Jerry Witte to visit. During our stay, Jim said he wanted to show me his workshop in the garage so we walked out in the back to see the place in the detached building that held it all. It was quite nice, but the summer heat had turned the place into a boiler room.

It was then that I looked over to a work shelf and spied a single book in place. Since it was a book, I had to walk over and see what it was.

It turned out to be a first edition copy of “The Old Man and the Sea” and it had been personally autographed “To my good friends, Jim and Connie Basso! Affectionately, Ernest Hemingway.”

Ernest Hemingway & Jim Basso in Cuba, 1952, (center); unidentified ballplayers on flanks.

“Jim,” I cried out a little too school marmishly. “You’ve got to get this book inside and out of this light and heat right away!”

“Yeah?” Jim asked.

Yeah!” I affirmed.

Once I explained the problem, Jim jumped on it himself. He picked up the book and took it inside. Then he told me the story of how he and his wife Connie had met Hemingway in Cuba, and how he and his fellow ball players had enjoyed drinking and talking baseball with the great author in the Cuban evenings at Hemingway’s home.

Jim Basso passed away on May 21, 1999 in Pearland, Texas at the age of 79. He took with him so many good stories, a heart of gold, an unending passion for the game of baseball, and that awful nobody-could-take-it-from-him regret that he never got that time at bat in the majors.

Since the Hemingway book discovery, I’ve thought of Jim Basso as the living baseball symbol of the old fisherman in Hemingway’s book. For many years, Jim Basso went down to the Sea of Baseball every morning, always hoping to catch the big fish of big league opportunity. He never even hooked his dream monster, but he never gave up. It was not within his heart to do so. He kept going back to the sea each day for as long as he could. And then he went home each night to sleep. And to dream again of the lions. And to wake up later and read the box scores in the newspapers. And to learn the  latest stories of the great DiMaggio.

Goodnight, Jim Basso, wherever you may now be. To those of us who knew and loved you, you will always be one of our major leaguers. No matter what.

Ticket to Yesterday.

April 17, 2010

Excerpt from 1919 Houston City Directory, Part One.

Excerpt from 1919 Houston City Directory, Part Two.*

* The small print above reads: “Take it home with you and do away with the dust, the worry, the grime.  Make it pleasant for your wife.” Houston Lighting & Power Company (now Reliant) was located at San Jacinto & Capitol back then and their telephone number was Preston 4140.

This 1919 advertisement for the Houston Lighting & Power Company goes on to extol the modern  conveniences of those new applainces that were then available, but only to those businesses and families that subscribed to the provision of electrical power for the office and home. Such items as vacuum cleaners, irons, toasters, sewing machines, fans, and grills were all then listed as items that any family should want to have live and running back in the post World War I days of life in Houston, There was no mention of radio and air conditioning, Those luxuries were an eye blink and another world war away from widespread popularity and dependency – and forget television, microwave ovens, and the Internet. Those convenient consumer addictions were several amusement and comfort-hungry generations down the road.

Now, in 2010, it’s only possible for me to be sharing this story because of our ready and taken-for-granted-until-Rita-and-Ike dependency upon the everyday  availability of electricity here in Houston. Boy! Did those two monsters of nature ever take us quickly back instantly to the everyday realities of our steaming hot and humid way of life in Houston back in General Sam’s day!

All of this commotion here too is just my way of sharing the news with those of you who don’t already know that our wonderful Houston Public Library system has now made several ancient Houston city directories available to all of us online for the first time. Now we are helped again with our local research by the library’s constantly moving efforts to make our work easier and freer of physical trips downtown to the archives for everything.

For those of us involved in local baseball research, the availability of these sources dating back to the Civil War era are a monumental gain for all of us non-funded research people who would otherwise have to schedule time for going downtown, and paying for gas and parking, simply to look up an antiquated street address. Now we shouldn’t have to do that on many occasions.

The danger of these ready resources is similar to the risks we all face in local reasearch. You will find so many items of distraction from your original purpose that you will need to stay focused on why you are doing a particular search. (One of these days, I’m going to have to go back and try to learn more about that bar I found in downtown Houston back in the 1890s. They called it the “Two Orphan’s Saloon.” What a great name for a turn of the 20th century watering hole.)

Here’s the link that will get you to the general site where all the directories are online.

http://digital.houstonlibrary.org/cdm4/browse.php?CISOROOT=%2Fcitydir

Thank you, John Civitello, for letting me know about the availability of this incredible resource. And have a nice weekend, everybody – especially if you plan to spend it in search of Houston’s history.

Keppinger’s a Keeper!

April 16, 2010

Jeff Keppinger

Yesterday Houston Astro utility infielder Jeff Keppinger jumped in there one more time as a major contributor to his club’s need for offense. Now hitting .391, Keppinger went 2 for 4 with a double, a run scored, and 3 runs batted in to pace the Astros to a 5-1 win over the Cardinals in St. Louis. The victory halted an eight-game, out-of-the-gate losing streak by the club, saving the Astros from a franchise history tie with the 1983 team for most consecutive losses to begin a season.

Keppinger played shortstop in yesterday’s game, but he is perfectly capable of filling in adequately at second base, third base, or in the outfield. Teammates laud his attitude and preparation for all games on the schedule. His 2009 year with the Astros already had shown his ability to play clutch ball as a late in the game or last inning pinch hitter, sometimes being the guy whose final at bat produced the hit that won the game for the Astros.

What a grab he was when the Astros obtained him in a minor deal with the Reds prior to the 2009 season. As others have pointed out, Keppinger is exactly the kind of guy you need on a club that is committed to a 12-man pitching roster. That commitment leaves room for only five extra players and one of them will always need to be a catcher. With Keppinger, you get the kind of guy who possesses the attitude, the versatility, and the capability of filling in on offense or defense, in the infield or the  outfield, as needed. Who could ask for anything more.

If the Astros’ 2010 season had to end after only nine games, and there may be some gloomy souls out there who still wish that it could, the rest of us would be torn between choosing star center fielder Michael Bourn or steady backup Jeff Keppinger as the club’s most valuable player in 2010. Through games of April 15th, Bourn is hitting .394 and Keppinger is good for .391. No one else is close.

How did we get this guy? Give some credit to General Manager Ed Wade and the Astros scouts who touted him as a choice pick up when he became available in Cincinnati. Keppinger appears to be one of those talented guys who just seemed to slip through the cracks several times over as clubs dealt him away in trades that were governed by factors beyond his individual ability. It happens all the time.

Jeff Keppinger originally was drafted out of the University of Georgia as a shortstop by the Pittsburgh Pirates back in 2001. He was subsequently traded to the New York Mets in 2004, then to the Kansas City Royals in 2006, and next to the Cincinnati Reds in 2007. He was always the back up guy who played adequately, but not enough to distract from or compete with some other “starting” player at either shortstop or second base. At New York, current Astro second baseman Kaz Matsui was his obstacle to playing more often.

Then, when Keppinger landed in Houston last year, he wasn’t going to replace either Miguel Tejada or Kaz Matsui at the keystone bag, but he did prove to be a more than adequate platoon partner with Geoff Blum at third base and the go-to guy when it came to facing lefties. Through the 2009 season, Jeff Keppinger has built a .341 batting average against lefthanders. If that kind of production doesn’t buy a guy a few starts somewhere, I can’t imagine what else might move the participation level over what ordinarily falls to good glove men backup types over the long season. Keppinger earned more playing time in 2009 by virtue of his building offensive record as a producer and by his big moments in key games against Chicago and St. Louis.

In his six-season MLB career (2004, 2006-2010), to date, Jeff Keppinger is batting .281 with 20 homers in 358 games and 1,204 official times at bat. The other good news is that Keppinger only turns 30 on his April 21st birthday next week. With a little luck, and a few grains of destiny dust, Jeff Keppinger could be around Houston long enough to help the Astros build their way back into NLC  contention for years to come.

At any rate, Jeff Keppinger’s contributions to stopping the season-start tailspin of 2010 will not be soon forgotten.

Eight is Enough (We Hope)!

April 15, 2010

Has the Astros' Losing Streak Gone Far Enough?

Question (1): Are the Astros really  in danger of tying  the club’s 1983 record of nine lost games to start the season? Answer (1): Say it 8 so, Joe!

Question (2): Can you give me one good reason why the Astros losing streak should not extend to nine losses and open the door for going beyond? Answer (2): 8 is enough.

Question (3): In the middle of all this frustration, what can the Astro hitters do about all the batted balls that are now being caught? Answer (3): Hit ’em where they 8!

Question (4): How did the Astro losing streak even reach this point? Answer (4): Maybe it was something they 8!

Question (5): How would you assess the Astros’ pennant chances in view of this horrendous start? Answer (5): That’s easy. The boys are behind the 8 ball.

Question (6): What are the odds that the Astros will now suddenly turn this thing around and run away with the National League Central division championship? Answer (6): 8 going to happen.

Question (7): How far do you plan to go with this ridiculous probe? Answer (7): In this case, unless you guys have something to add along these same lines, 8 questions and answers should be more than enough. (Your own Q&A “8” parlays are encouraged as comments on this article.)

Question (8): Has the Astros’ Losing Streak Gone Far Enough? Answer (8): We Astros fans are hoping it has, but the truth is: “It 8 necessarily so!”

Today’s afternoon getaway game from St. Louis should be most educational on the subject of where we go from here with this unwanted Astros flirtation with new season infamy. It’s so educational, in fact, that they ought to move the telecast to PBS on Channel 8!

An Ode to the End of Our Losing Streak Curse

Eight ain’t great,

When you stumble out the gate,

On a most important date with sweet destiny.

But it’s better than nine,

With the slaughter pen swine,

That’s a thought that really makes a fine mess of me.

… Go Astros. Stop at 8 – Before it’s too Late!

UPDATE: 3:14 PM CDT, April 15, 2010: IT WORKED! THE ACCURSED STREAK IS DEAD AT 8 AND AIN’T THAT GR8!

THE HOUSTON ASTROS DEFEATED THE ST. LOUIS CARDINALS, 5-1, AT BUSCH STADIUM TO END THEIR 8-GAME LOSING SLIDE TO START THE 2010 SEASON! CONGRATULATIONS TO BRAD MILLS ON HIS FIRST WIN AS A MAJOR LEAGUE MANAGER!

Kids Today and Baseball.

April 14, 2010

Former Astro Norm Miller, 2010.

Former Astros outfielder spoke to our Larry Dierker Chapter of SABR last night. His speech lit a fire that almost burns by spontaneous combustion for most of us elder folk. The topic, put simply, is the subject of kids and baseball today. It’s a  much bigger subject than baseball alone.

Miller began his talk with the disclaimer that he knows nothing about baseball’s history or the rules, claiming to be just a guy who played the game. As most of you know, you need to watch out when you hear that kind of opening disclaimer by a public figure in a public talk. It usually means you are about to take “a good old country lawyer” spraying of the speaker’s thoughts on the topic at hand. As per thesis, Norm Miller proved himself capable of delivering a ton of words on the subject he sort of chose for himself: Baseball Today.

Norm began with his opening question to the audience: “How do you feel about baseball today?”

Miller proceeded to take us through the facts that he was an old school Southern California guy who participated in baseball, football, basketball, and surfing during their appropriate seasons and times of day, but that baseball today is more about kids being controlled into playing baseball 24 hours a day, twelve months per year, and all in the parents’ invested hopes that the training experience will lead to a successful professional career in the big leagues. He mentioned the Select Baseball program as an approach that panders to that exalted expectation.

Norm also talkeed about his brief experience coaching in Select before he fully realized what he was getting into and being blown away by the attitude of so many kids he tried to coach. These kids on Norm’s watch resented being told what to do and some had the kind of sailor-vocabulary mouths to express themselves on the subject. One kid walked away from a practice order from Miller. When Miller then tried to stop him, the kid just looked up at Norm and said something like, “Get out of my way, you blankety-blank old man!”

Norm says it took all he had within him to keep from whacking the kid, but it proved to be the incident that led Norm to getting out. In general, he now feels that the pressure there to win and get better is so relentless that the kids can’t stand it, even though the parents seem to be buying into the hope that their child’s participation is going to lead to a big breakthrough career in baseball.

To me, it all simply sounded like too much baseball for all the wrong reasons. Those of us from the sandlot generation played the game all day during the season because we chose it for ourselves. We weren’t playing the game for the purpose of becoming big leaguers, even though we dreamed a lot about that sort of thing. There was no pressure to get better or die.

We simply had the good fortune back in the day to have grown up in a world in which it was still safe for kids to play in the neighborhood on their own without any over-the-shoulder supervision from all the adults in our lives. Because we did live in that safer world, parents didn’t feel so much that they had to control and supervise our time and guide our activities as preparations for the adult world to come.

Most of us got the message: It’s up to you to learn something that will allow you to support yourself when you’re grown. You have some talents inside, but it’s up to you to find out what they are and to then develop them by your own dedication to learning. College is a good way to go, but you’re going to have to help find a way to pay for it and, even if you get there through college, you are still going to have to decide what it is you want to do and make the most of your talents and opportunities. Not having an honest way to take care of yourself is the only unacceptable outcome of your childhood.

Pretty basic stuff was at play for us, but we got it.

Norm Miller, MLB, 1965-74.

Now the combination of an unsafe world and the additional discretionary resources of ambitious parents seem to be taking over the lives of many kids. And that’s really too bad. Way beyond the loss of the sandlot itself, kids have lost the relatively safe opportunity to simply work things out on the street with other kids without adult involvement. It’s really too bad.

Parents today can’t buy the kind of healing childhood experiences that our post World War II generation got for free.

Thank you, Norm Miller, for reminding us on the larger plane of what was so important about the sandlot. It went way beyond baseball alone to everything we did and tried to become.

By the way, Norm Miller has written and self-published a book recently on his big league experience. It’s entitled “To all my fans…from Norm Who?” You may purchase the book over the Internet or through your local bookstore.

Eagle Memories: The Way We Were.

April 13, 2010

The culture of field behavior changes forever.

Unless you are one of us ancients, you may not have noticed the wide range of change in field behavior that has taken place in baseball over the past half century. The game remains the same, of course, but player behavior on the field has mutated considerably from what it used to be. I’ll try to cover some of the major things I see here. Feel free to add, refresh, or comment on this subject below as a response to this subject.

Changes in Baseball Field Behavior Since 1960:

(1) Baseball Gloves on the Field When Your Team is Batting. We used yo copy the pros on the sandlot, throwing our gloves on the outfield grass while our club was at bat. I never played in a game or saw a Buffs game in which a tossed fielder glove interfered with a batted ball or a running fielder. The practice disappeared about 1959-60. I can’t recall exactly how or when it came about.

(2) Pepper Games. Prior to games, players in groups of two to five used to play pepper near the stands almost every time in spite of the “No Pepper Games” signs that prevailed in the interest of fan safety from errantly batted balls. A pepper game was simply a gingerly batted ball at close range to a group of three or four fielders standing back about six ro eight feet from the batter. I haven’t seen a pepper game in ages now.

(3) Infield Practice. It used to be as routine a pre-game ritual as batting practice still is. And what a thing of grace and beauty it was to watch too, but no more. I guess infielders must have gotten so good at what they do that the practice of fielding became unnecessary.

(4) Infield Game Chatter. Infielders used to keep us this hum of chatter on defense. It was there as a voice of distraction to hitters and runners and a show of support for the pitcher. At some point, it became un-cool to do – and infielders stopped. When they did, they seemed to lapse into stone-cold expressions and a more tranquil face on the subject of game conflict in action.

(5) Bench Jockeys. These guys were the original trash talkers. A baseball bench jockey worked on pitchers and batters of the other team. When one of the Detroit Tiger pitchers Schoolboy Rowe went on the air to do a radio show prior to the 1934 World Series, he finished his radio remarks by asking his wife, “How am I doin’, Edna?” And that’s exactly what he got from Leo Durocher, the St. Louis Cardinals’ chief bench jockey in his first pitching assignment. Every time Rowe walked a man or gave up a hit, Durocher let fly with a deriding cry of “How am I doin’, Edna?” It unnerved Rowe and helped the Cardinals beat him in the Series. Somewhere along the way, the bench jockeys of baseball either all died, retired, or shut up for all time. Too bad. The loss of bench jockeys leaves the world of baseball a slightly duller place to be.

Gloves on the ground were common. Gloves with balls in a tree were rare.

(6) Indifference to Opposition. Baseball used to enforce its rule about players not “fraternizing” on the field with players from the other team. Today players disregard that rule as though it were no longer on the books and, who knows, maybe it isn’t. Lance Berkman stands out in my mind as a guy who treats every enemy runner who makes it to first base as though he were a long-lost friend. And who knows again, maybe they are. Lance is a pretty sociable guy.

(7) Pitchers as Pinch Runners. Clubs, especially the minor league clubs with their small rosters, used to use pitchers as pinch runners in late innings. I guess that baseball finally figured out that it wasn’t worth the risk to a pitcher’s arm or general welfare to put him out there under those circumstances of potential harm, doing something he ordinarily doesn’t do very often.

(8) Players (especially visiting team players) Often Began Day Games with Dirty Uniforms from the Night Before. We have better, faster washer dryers today and a little more support help on uniform maintenance.

(9) You used to be able to see the major spots on the field where the fielders spit their tobacco juices. Less chawing has led to a cleaner look in most ballparks today.

(10) Night Spot Team Brawls. Teams like the Yankees of the 1950s or even the Mets of the 1980s are getting into fewer club arrests for drunk and disorderly behavior arrests in night clubs these days.  I’m not sure if this means that today’s players are more problem-free than their predecessors or that today’s players are simply more discrete in the ways they choose to stir up trouble as a form of entertainment.

Either way, it’s a different ballgame today. In baseball and in life.

Sandlot Wisdom: Things We Figured Out on Our Own.

April 12, 2010

Houston East, 1952. (I'm the kid kneeling at left and wearing the Hawaiian shirt.)

Back on the Post World War II Sandlot, we didn’t have the best coaching or equipment in the world. As a matter of fact, we hardly had any coaching at all beyond those things that we picked up from our dads by chance in games of catch in the backyard after our dads’ work was done, but that didn’t happen every day. Our dads in the Houston East End worked long hard blue-collar job hours and they weren’t always home or simply up to playing catch every day that they were there.

Out on the sandlot, of course, we did a lot of “my dad says this” talking with each other. “Get in front of the ball on grounders. If you can’t catch ’em, at least, block ’em with your body” stands out in my memory as the most universal lesson we all picked up as a dad throwaway message. We might never have picked that one up on our own. There was no such thing as a true hop on our Eagle Park field, but we still came around to blocking grounders at the risk of  broken teeth and black eyes. It was the thing to do. Our fathers told us it was.

So, let’s give dads the credit for that first wisdom of the sandlot and then hit upon some of the other things we pretty much figured out on our own by simply playing the game with each other from dawn to dusk during the summers.

Some Wisdom of the Sandlot:

(1)  Get in front of the ball on grounders. If you can’t catch ’em, at least, block ’em with your body. Kids who didn’t block grounders were at risk of being labeled as “dog catchers.” These were fielders who chased hot grounders like dogs chase cars. If they do catch up with the ball, they just run along beside it, barking all the way as the ball clears the lot and rolls on down the street.

(2) In making out a batting order, put the fast little guys who show they can get on base in there ahead of the bigger, slower-moving, but harder-hitting guys.

(3) If you’re pitching, throw strikes. If you can get that first one in there for a strike, you put the batter at a disadvantage that remains with him, unless you give it away by forgetting where the strike zone is located.

(4) If you’re pitching, “accidentally” throw one hard, inside, and wild every now and then. If a wild pitch  makes the batter fall back or down, it becomes easier to throw a strike with your next pitch, especially if you can put it on the outside corner.

(5) As an outfielder, throw the ball ahead of the runner. To learn this one, all we had to do was watch little kids in right field throw ground ball singles to first base, allowing the runner to safely move on to second base in the process. What we didn’t learn on our own in the sandlot is how to effectively set up and use cut-off men on balls hit deep to the outfield. I didn’t learn that one until I played organized ball with an adult coach.

(6) Play the game to win. If you don’t play to win, you may as well not be playing. (Sandlot Yoga would not have been very popular in Pecan Park back in the day. It probably still isn’t.)

(7) If your opponent has an obvious weakness, take advantage of it. This value taught us how to hit to all fields. In fact, Wee Willie Keeler’s credo, “Hit ’em where they ain’t” simply meant to us: “hit ’em where the other team doesn’t have somebody positioned who looks like they can catch or stop a hard-batted ball. And hey, if it looks like nobody out there can catch, go ahead and swing from the heels, Eagles! This is “track-meet-on-the-bases” day!

(8) Never let the other team back in the game because you feel sorry for them. (See Lesson 6 again.) Don’t confuse the absence of mercy with unsportsmanlike behavior. You play the game of baseball to win – or you don’t play the game at all. Good sports understand this creed. Bad sports are the crumb-bums who beg for mercy and then have a tantrum when you beat ’em fair and square.

(9) Always try to find your highest level of competitive ability. If the other players in your world are bigger, better, and older than you, making it impossible for you to compete successfully, there’s nothing wrong with you stepping back and finding your niche with players who are more at your own level. There’s a place for almost everyone who wants to play. I said “almost.” If you can’t play well enough at any level to keep from hurting your team, you can learn to live with it and still enjoy the game as a fan.

(10) Most of all, the sandlot taught us that we’d never figure out the game completely on our own. To understand baseball better, we need to be dedicated to a lifetime of learning about the game’s history, strategies, and techniques.  We still won’t walk away knowing as much about pitching as a Larry Dierker does – or as much about hitting as a Jimmy Wynn, but we will become more knowledgeable – and that just makes the game all the more fun.

If you picked up some special lesson from the sandlot, please post it below as a comment on this article. We’d all like to hear what it was, whether it was a lesson about baseball specifically or life in general.

Have a great week, everybody. Unlesss you’re a Cardinal fan, let’s hope this may be the day that our 2010 Houston Astros start learning something about how to win their first game of the new season.