When Christian Ziegler got the assignment to design a new stadium for Jersey City, he planned a voyage with Parks and Public Buildings Commissioner Arthur Potterton for a reconnaissance trip to Rochester, Cleveland, Montreal, Boston, and Philadelphia, according to the New York Times.
On June 5, 1929, Mayor Frank Hague made the announcement about the city getting a new stadium with a capacity to host 50,000 people. The Times reported, “Work can start in three months, it is expected, and the stadium should be finished by the Spring of 1930.”
It took a bit longer, as is the tradition with construction projects.
On December 10, 1935, groundbreaking began at the site, adjoining Newark Bay, and which formerly housed Jersey City Airport; the Jersey Observer noted, in particular, Hague’s positive proclamation after making the initial dig: “This is a great day for Jersey City. You must realize that all the money needed for the construction of the stadium was donated by the government. The city merely furnished the ground and pays the architect’s fees.
“This stadium has been the dream of the Jersey City officials for a number of years.”
Hague, a politician who exerted the right amount of pressure on the levers, switches, and buttons of Jersey City’s political machinery to get things accomplished, often colored outside the lines of the law to get things done.
Less than a year and a half later, the dream became reality—named for President Franklin Roosevelt, under whose aegis the Works Progress Administration governed the construction, Roosevelt Stadium débuted on April 23, 1937; the Jersey City Giants occupied home team status in the International League contest, losing a 12-inning game to the Rochester Red Wings. Final score: 4-3. In attendance were New Jersey luminaries, including Jersey City Hague and Senator A. Harry Moore, who was a former governor.
Future Dodgers skipper Walter Alston banged the pitching of Giants hurler Rollie Stiles like a southerner swats flies on a humid night in August—the Red Wings first baseman went four-for-five and drove in two runs, including the game winner.
Roosevelt Stadium’s architecture affected the crowd. “All who attended yesterday’s imbroglio gasped at the layout which Mayor Hague and the W. P. A. have provided,” reported New York Herald Tribune scribe Stanley Woodward. “The grandstand and bleachers are of yellow fire-brick and a wall of the same substance surrounds the whole layout. The end seats of each row are emblazoned on the aisle side with cast-iron shields, painted with ferryboats and square-rigged ships and bearing the motto, ‘Let Jersey Prosper.'”
Nine years after it opened, Roosevelt Stadium became the site of history—on April 18, 1946, Jackie Robinson played his first professional baseball game. It was a 14-1 pounding of the Giants by Robinson and the Montreal Royals. Robinson turned in an impeccable performance at the plate:
- 4-for-5
- 4 RBI
- 2 Stolen Bases
- 2 Putouts
- 3 Assists
There was, however, one blemish—Robinson made a throwing error to first base on a double play ball. In turn, the Giants batter, Clefton Ray scampered to second base and then home, when Bobby Thomson swatted a single.
In August of 1984, the Historic American Buildings Survey, an arm of the National Park Service, compiled a detailed history of Roosevelt Stadium, including, among other items, descriptions of the stadium’s interior, layout of seating areas, geographic location, flooring, and landscaping. Like other stadia lost to history—Mack, Navin, Ebbets et al.—Roosevelt Field marked a specific place in time, when men wore fedoras, newspapers in larger cities had evening editions, and generations of families stayed in the same area code. “In short, it was a meeting place for all the people of Jersey City and as such, the stadium embodies a time, an era, an overwhelming feeling of the essence of a city in its heyday in the 1930s and 1940s that simply no longer exists,” states the HABS report.
Roosevelt Stadium was demolished in 1985. Society Hill, a gated community, occupies the site.
A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on February 3, 2017.
Tags: 1929, 1930, 1935, 1937, 1946, A. Harry Moore, April 18, April 23, Arthur Potterton, Bobby Thomson, Boston, Christian Ziegler, Clefton Ray, Cleveland, December 10, Dodgers, Frank Hague, Giants, Herald Tribune, Historic American Buildings Survey, Jackie Robinson, Jersey City, Jersey City Airport, Jersey City Giants, Jersey City Observer, June 5, Mayor Frank Hague, Montreal, New Jersey, New York, New York Herald Tribune, New York Times, Newark, Newark Bay, Parks and Public Buildings Commissioner, Philadelphia, Red Wings, Rochester, Rochester Red Wings, Rollie Stiles, Roosevelt Stadium, Society Hill, Spring, Stanley Woodward, Walter Alston, Works Progress Administration
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Her smile turned the world on, her accessibility proved that love is all around, and her personality made nothing days worthwhile more suddenly than Marcia Brady saying something came up in order to break a date with nice guy Charlie for Doug Simpson, the big man on campus.
Mary Tyler Moore made it after all.
When the news broke that she died, we were reminded of a woman who championed diabetes research; reflected the modern woman of the 1970s in her eponymous situation comedy; led a television production company that brought landmark sitcoms and breakthrough dramas to prime time; changed Hollywood’s conception of her acting range with an Oscar-winning performance of a heartless, upper middle class mother in suburban Chicago; showed only her legs accompanied by a breathless voice as the secretary to a private detective; and brought television’s depiction of a housewife from the pearls-wearing stereotype in non-descriptive suburban to a three-dimensional template with a splash of sexuality in New Rochelle.
Moore was a 20th century heroine whose likability never fell victim to her success—or her struggles: alcoholism, Type 1 diabetes, two divorces, and the death of her 24-year-old son from a hair trigger on a sawed-off shotgun.
On September 19, 1970, America met her alter ego, Minneapolis television news producer Mary Richards at WJM on Mary Tyler Moore—not the often used but incorrect label The Mary Tyler Moore Show. When her name in Peignot font scrolled vertically in multiplicity across the America’s television screens, audiences settled in for a half hour of a sensible, smart, and sophisticated woman trying to balance a career and a social life. And she did it with style—Moore’s outfits reflected the fashions that a cosmopolitan woman would wear and could afford.
Football played a role on Mary Tyler Moore, most notably during the show’s theme Love Is All Around, which showcases Mary doing everyday activities, including washing her car while wearing a Fran Tarkenton jersey. Lou Proposes, an episode in the show’s seventh and final season, mentions Tarkenton, a Minnesota Vikings icon. When Mary’s Aunt Flo—an acclaimed journalist and, in actuality, a distant cousin, on Mary’s mother side, who spent only 26 nights in her apartment during the past year—visits the Twin Cities, she takes a liking to Lou Grant, the Executive Producer of WJM’s 6 o’clock television newscast. And vice versa.
Lou is about to propose marriage, but he gets sidetracked when Flo mentions that she heard a rumor about the Vikings trading their quarterback while she did research on a story about the team’s offense. Ultimately, Flo turns down Lou’s proposal. Gently.
Ed Asner played Lou Grant, the gruff newsman with a guarded sentimental side. A picture of Asner from his high school football days is visible in every scene that takes place in Lou’s office—it hangs prominently nearby a National Geographic poster titled The Earth’s Moon, which shows the near and the far sides of the Moon.
In the fifth season episode The System, Lou buckles to the success of a betting system created, somewhat arbitrarily, by Ted Baxter, WJM’s clueless but harmless news anchor. Ted’s system consists of betting the underdog in every NFL game with a point spread of 11 points or more. He chooses 11 for a simple reason—it’s his lucky number.
Lou and Ted become partners, a bond that Lou breaks on Super Bowl Sunday. Without telling Ted, he bets all their winnings—$2,000—on the Pittsburgh Steelers covering the point spread in Super Bowl IX. He discloses this in a scene taking place in Mary’s apartment after the two-minute warning sounds; WJM news writer Murray Slaughter, Ted, Ted’s girlfriend Georgette, and WJM sportscaster Andy Rivers watch the game, after a brunch that Mary prepared. When Ted walks away from the group, Lou confesses his sin to the others and, with a combination of frustration and somberness, that he made the bet out of ego—he wanted to prove that he was better than Ted’s goofy though successful system. Lou then explains that Steelers need to score 12 points in the last 26 seconds of the game.
It is deductible, therefore, that the point spread was greater than 11 points and the Steelers were the underdogs. When Lou owns up to his actions and tells Ted, the news anchor sobs. In the hands of skilled two-time Emmy winner Ted Knight, his alter ego inspires pathos, friendliness, and laughter.
According to sitcomsonline.com, the episode was produced on December 13, 1974, a month before the Super Bowl. So, the producers took an educated guess that the Steelers would be the AFC champions. It was on the mark—the Steelers won Super Bowl IX 16-6. Their NFC opponent? The Minnesota Vikings.
This episode aired the night before Super Bowl IX, prompting Moore to record an announcement that played during the closing credits noting that the story is fictional but, in case the Vikings win, “You heard it first at WJM.”
Rest in peace, Mary.
A version of this article appeared on ww.thesportspost.com on January 26, 2017.
Tags: 1970, 1974, 6 o'clock television newscast, AFC, AFC champions, alcoholism, Andy Rivers, Aunt Flo, Chicago, December 13, divorce, divorces, Doug Simpson, Ed Asner, Executive Producer, Football, High School, high school football, Hollywood, Lou Grant, Marcia Brady, Mary Richards, Mary Tyler Moore, Minneapolis, Minnesota, Minnesota Vikings, Murray Slaughter, National Geographic, New Rochelle, news, news producer, NFC, Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh Steelers, September 19, Steelers, suburban Chicago, Super Bowl, Super Bowl IX, Super Bowl Sunday, Ted Baxter, Ted Knight, television, Television news, television news producer, television newscast, The Earth's Moon, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Twin Cities, Type 1 diabetes, Vikings, WJM
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Professional athletes are forced to live up to legacies. Retired uniform numbers, highlight films, and statues of icons from past eras remind them of the giant footprints to fill. Or at least in which they must tread. Such was the burden for the Miami Dolphins on December 2, 1985 in a Monday Night Football game against the Chicago Bears. The former had a legacy of perfection to protect—the 1972 Dolphins squad had 17-0 record; the latter compiled a 12-0 record, theretofore.
During the same year that Marty McFly went back to the future, the Bears had an aura of celebrity transcending popular culture. A spat concerning quarterback Jim McMahon wearing an Adidas headband became a matter of national debate—NFL Commissioner Pete Rozelle fined McMahon $5,000 for endorsing a product during a game. McMahon responded the following week—during the NFC Championship—by wearing a headband with Rozelle’s name written on it.
William “Refrigerator” Perry transformed from a defensive back into a fullback—but only with the end zone in sight. This tactic may have seemed to be a gimmick because of Perry’s size, but it did result in touchdowns, as well as guaranteed prominence on national and local sportscasts.
Head Coach Mike Ditka had Bears blood running through his veins—he played for the team in the 1960s; Walter Payton’s graceful running garnered cheers from and catharsis for Chicagoans; Buddy Ryan’s 46 Defense alignment protected leads; and Mike Singletary’s single-mindedness set a model for defensive players to be aware of every twitch, movement, and indicator of their opponents.
There was a scent of destiny surrounding these Monsters of the Midway. With each victory came a certain inevitability that the Bears would go to their first Super Bowl. When pre-game shows mentioned Chicago, eyes and ears narrowed their focuses to ingest the latest information about the personalities, performances, and progress of the Bears.
Marching towards perfection, the Bears took the field at the Orange Bowl on December 2nd; a perfect season was a sustainable reality. Miami would not allow that to happen. Tension tighter than a prospector’s clutch on his gold pervaded the stadium. And it pored through television screens tuned to the game, from Puget Sound to Passaic, New Jersey.
Larry Csonka and other members of the ’72 Dolphins stood watch on the sidelines, with arms folded and sober visages. Theirs was a mission of intimidation, steadfastness, and pride—Miami’s perfect season will not be matched. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever. It was an event made for the moment—ABC’s Monday Night Football was the only national telecast of NFL games; CBS and NBC aired games regionally.
The Dolphins beat the Bears 38-24. Dolphins quarterback Dan Marino had an outstanding game:
- Completed 14 of 27 passes
- Threw for three touchdowns
- Total yards: 270
Chicago Tribune sports columnist Bernie Lincicome tried to put things in perspective.
“So much for immortality,” wrote Lincicome.
“Not to underrate history, but the Bears did not lose a season in the Orange Bowl Monday night, they merely lost a game, and they already have so many.”
The day after, the Bears recorded “The Super Bowl Shuffle”—this rap song became a signature of the Bears’ brashness. When the music video aired, it showed the Bears wearing their jerseys and singing in a studio. If cockiness bled through the song’s lyrics, confidence poured. Perhaps it was the right time for a diversion; the Bears won the remaining games in the schedule, dominated the playoffs, and beat the New England Patriots 46-10 in Super Bowl XX.
A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on January 25, 2017.
Tags: '72 Dolphins, 1972, 1972 Dolphins, 1985, 46 Defense, ABC, ABC's Monday Night Football, Adidas, Bears, Bernie Lincicome, Buddy Ryan, Buddy Ryan's 46 Defense, CBS, Chicago, Chicago Bears, Chicago Tribune, Commissioner Pete Rozelle, Dan Marino, December 2, Dolphins, Head Coach Mike Ditka, Jim McMahon, Larry Csonka, Miami, Miami Dolphins, Mike Ditka, Mike Singletary, Monsters of the Midway, NBC, New Jersey, NFC, NFC Championship, NFL, NFL Commissioner, NFL Commissioner Pete Rozelle, Orange Bowl, Passaic, Pete Rozelle, Puget Sound, Super Bowl Shuffle, The Super Bowl Shuffle
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For fans of the Boston Bruins, there are two types of hockey players—Bobby Orr and everyone else. A product of Ontario—Parry Sound in Georgian Bay, to be precise—Orr ignited his hockey destiny the moment he laced up his first pair of skates. Bostonians, fiercely loyal, welcomed Orr in 1966 with a storm of applause, adoration, and acclaim. Hockey writers, too, noted Orr’s excellence with the Calder Memorial Trophy—the award for the “most proficient in his his first year of competition in the National Hockey League.”
Orr, he of the destructible knees and indestructible fortitude, soon became a legend. When #4 took the ice, the Boston Garden shook with promise of victory; in his first season, Orr helped lead the Bruins to the Stanley Cup against the Philadelphia Flyers. It resulted in a loss; nevertheless, the Bruins won hockey’s greatest honor twice during the Orr era, which ended after the 1975-76 season. Orr shot the winning goal in overtime against the St. Louis Blues to capture the Stanley Cup for the 1969-70 season.
After two seasons with the Chicago Blackhawks, Orr retired after the 1978-79 season with 264 career goals, 624 career assists, and a collection of trophies marking excellence. Orr’s boyish grin off the ice and steely exterior on it imprinted the kid from Parry Sound with a stamp reading “legend” in hockey annals.
When a legend gets injured, fans worry.
When a legend gets disparaged, fans defend.
When a legend gets mistreated on the field of play, fans react. Violently, sometimes. Such was the case on January 24, 1974 in a Bruins-Blackhawks game. With less than a minute to go, defenseman Bill White stuck out his stick, tripped Orr, and began a wave of protest not seen since the nation’s forefathers dumped tea into Boston Harbor. White’s action was purposeful, as clear as a cloudless sky on a spring day at Fenway Park. At least it was, according to the Boston Garden crowd.
Orr, in a protest that could be heard in the parking lot, confronted referee Wally Harris, who acted promptly—he ejected Orr from the game for a 10-minute misconduct penalty. White received no penalty. Bruins fans, in turn, showed their displeasure by throwing garbage onto the ice—it took a little more than 30 minutes to clean the ice, cool tempers, and resume the game. “I’ve been through a few things like that,” said Blackhawks centerman Stan Mikita, whose views were documented in the media, including, of course, the Chicago Tribune and the Boston Globe. “But never as bad as this. I never thought it would happen in Boston. But it shows how people can get when the big man (Orr) gets flattened. They want blood.”
Chicago sportswriter Bob Verdi posed a whiff of indictment against Orr in the Tribune. “On the particular play, White dropped to the ice and knocked the puck away from Orr with a reaching stick sweep,” wrote Verdi. “Orr’s momentum then carried him into contact with White’s right arm and stick. There’s no way to prove it, but it looked as tho [sic] Orr was trying to force the penalty; he looked like Stan Mikita taking one of his famous swan dives. Mikita, tho [sic], is more convincing.”
Alas, the Boston press felt differently about the penalty. A Globe editorial stated, “Television reruns of the play made it clear what ignited the violence, but surely no one can believe that it was worth endangering the physical safety of the men on both teams or the officials to vent that fury.”
If a game has less than 10 minutes before completion, the player’s time off the ice for the 10-minute misconduct “Orr’s momentum then carried him into contact with White’s right arm and stick. There’s no way to prove it, but it looked as tho [sic] Orr was trying to force the penalty; he looked like Stan Mikita taking one of his famous swan dives. Mikita, tho [sic], is more convincing.”
If a game has less than 10 minutes before completion, the player’s time off the ice for the 10-minute misconduct penalty amounts to time served—the outstanding time will not be carried over, either to the next game on the schedule or the next game against the opponent.
The Blackhawks beat the Bruins 2-1. But it was not the score that exhausted the crowd wearing Bruins paraphernalia to indicate their chosen team of worship, a trait designed by geography during one’s formative years, except in occasional instances. It was treachery against a favorite son responsible, in Jupiterian fashion, for two Stanley Cups—treachery that pierced the hearts of college students in Cambridge; of cultured millionaires on Beacon Hill; of nature lovers in Boston Common; of civil servants at the Massachusetts State House; of gardeners in Brookline; of contractors in South Boston; of cab rivers ushering passengers to and from an airport named Logan; and of MBTA subway conductors.
A victory unites Bostonians of every stripe in society. A betrayal, even more so.
A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on January 24, 2017.
Tags: 1966, 1974, 1975-76 season, Beacon Hill, Blackhawks, Blues, Bob Verdi, Bobby Orr, Boston, Boston Bruins, Boston Common, Boston Garden, Boston Globe, Boston Harbor, Bruins, Calder Memorial Trophy, Cambridge, Chicago, Chicago Blackhawks, Chicago Tribune, Fenway Park, Flyers, Georgian Bay, January 24, Jupiter, Logan, Massachusetts State House, MBTA, National Hockey League, Ontario, Parry Sound, Philadelphia, Philadelphia Flyers, South Boston, St. Louis, St. Louis Blues, Stan Mikita, Stanley Cup, Wally Harris
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It was the best of baseball. It was the worst of baseball.
On the 9th day of the 10th month of the 66th year of the 20th century, it ended—the subject being the World Series between the Baltimore Orioles and the Los Angeles Dodgers. Baltimore emerged as champions, triggering elation throughout the metropolis named for Cecil Calvert, Second Lord Baltimore—the first Proprietor and Proprietary Governor of the Province of Maryland. It was not supposed to happen. At lest it was not supposed to happen the way it did, with the Orioles blanking the vaunted Dodgers squad for a 4-0 sweep—three games were shutouts:
- Game 1: 5-2
- Game 2: 6-0
- Game 3: 1-0
- Game 4: 1-0
In turn, the Orioles elevated their status in Baltimore’s sports hierarchy. “This season’s feats of the Orioles, who leaped from crisis to crisis and still won the pennant, and who brought the exciting Frank Robinson to the city as a counter attraction to the demigod Johnny Unitas, balanced the ledger more than a bit. The Colts may not have lost their eminence, but the city’s fans and newspapers have learned that there is another team in town,” wrote Shirley Povich, whose words in the Washington Post started the day for sports fans in the Baltimore-Washington corridor.
Ushered to Baltimore in a trade with Cincinnati after the 1965 season, Robinson swatted his way through American League pitching in his first year as an Oriole:
Led Major Leagues
- Runs Scored (122)
- Home Runs (49)
- Slugging Percentage (.637)
- On-Base + Slugging Percentage (1.047)
- Total Bases (367)
Led American League
- RBI (122)
- Batting Average (.316)
- On-Base Percentage (.410)
- Sacrifice Flies (7)
Robinson won the American League Most Valuable Player Award and the World Series Most Valuable Player Award. It was a vindication, of sorts. “I wanted to have a good year especially to show the people in the front office there [in Cincinnati] that I wasn’t washed up, and I wanted to show them by having a good year,” said Robinson in an Associated Press article published in the Baltimore Sun on October 10th.
“And I wanted to show the people, the officials, the city of Baltimore they were getting a guy who still could play baseball.”
For the Dodgers, blaming and shaming arrived with gusto. Los Angeles Times sports columnist Jim Murray, for example, lobbed verbal grenades spiked with sarcasm, as was his wont. Murray’s piece titled “The Dodger Story: A Classic Case of Ineptitude” brought forth a wheelbarrow full of bon mots.
On the Dodgers’ hitting woes: “Their batting average cannot be seen with the naked eye or figured under the decimal system. Guys who weigh that little get to ride horse races.”
On Don Drysdale: “He deserved better, but the Dodgers’ invisible attack, the worst exercise in offensive futility since Mussolini’s invasion of Greece, left him like a guy who thinks his whole platoon is crawling through the brush with him until he whispers and gets no answer back. The Dodger ‘attack’ would have to be twice as loud to be dignified as ‘whispering.’ They hit the ball as if it was a cantaloupe.”
On the Dodgers’ post-season Japan trip: “They are now taking the act to Japan where, when the Japanese get a load of them, they may want to reopen World War II.”
Stocked with blue chips nearly as strong as the Dow 30, the Dodgers suffered a downturn that was unavoidable, arguably—Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Tommy Davis, Ron Fairly, Maury Wills, Wes Parker et al. faced an opponent that needed to be quashed before taking on the O’s. In his 2006 book Black and Blue: Sandy Koufax, the Robinson Boys, and the World Series That Stunned America, Tom Adelman posited that exhaustion—or something close to it—affected the Dodgers after a merciless pennant race. “Unlike the Orioles, they’d [sic] had no chance to adjust to the idea of a post-season contest—to catch their breath, raise their sights, and ready themselves for a fight,” wrote Adelman, who interviewed several players from both squads. Ron Fairly, among others, confirmed the toll created by the quick turnaround from the end of the season to the beginning of the World Series.
That is not to take anything away from the Orioles, managed by Hank Bauer, who knew a thing or two thousand about winning—he played for the Yankees during the Mantle era, which saw World Series titles in:
- 1949
- 1950
- 1951
- 1952
- 1953
- 1956
- 1958
American League pennant flew unaccompanied in the Bronx in 1955 and 1957.
Bauer won the Associated Press Manager of the Year Award and the Sporting News Manager of the Year Award in 1966.
A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on January 23, 2017.
Tags: 1949, 1950, 1951, 1952, 1953, 1955, 1956, 1957, 1958, 1965, 1966, 2006, 20th century, American League, American League Most Valuable Player, American League Most Valuable Player Award, Associated Press, Associated Press Manager of the Year, Associated Press Manager of the Year Award, Baltimore, Baltimore Orioles, Black and Blue, Cecil Calvert, Cincinnati, Colts, Dodgers, Don Drysdale, Dow 30, first Proprietor and Proprietary Governor of the Province of Maryland, Frank Robinson, Greece, Hank Bauer, invasion of Greece, Jim Murray, Johnny Unitas, Los Angeles, Los Angeles Dodgers, Los Angeles Times, Manager of the Year, Manager of the Year Award, Maryland, Maury Wills, Most Valuable Player, Most Valuable Player Award, Mussolini, Oriole, Orioles, Province of Maryland, Ron Fairly, Sandy Koufax, Second Lord Baltimore, Sporting News Manager of the Year Award, Tom Adelman, Tommy Davis, Wes Parker, World Series, World Series Most Valuable Player, World Series Most Valuable Player Award
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They say the third time’s a charm. And so it was with Lefty Grove’s 300th victory, which occurred on July 25, 1941, against the Cleveland Indians. “Here the hundreds of fans who had been waiting for this moment ever since it became possible for Grove to reach his goal here in Boston refused to be denied,” wrote Gerry Moore in the Boston Globe. “They rushed onto the field and undoubtedly would have mobbed the veteran they have come to idolize except for half a dozen policemen who finally managed to escort Lefty into the runway leading to the clubhouse.”
Grove’s landmark achievement—which was also his last victory in a 17-year major league career—reflected output that defined excellence.
- Led the major leagues in ERA five times (four time consecutively)
- Led the American League in ERA nine times
- Led the major leagues in victories three times
- Led the American League in victories four times
- Led the major leagues in Win-Loss percentage five times
- Led the American League in strikeouts in his first seven seasons
- Led the major leagues in strikeouts four times
- .680 career Win-Loss percentage.
The Baseball Hall of Fame inducted Grove in 1947. His plaque highlights being an integral part of the Athletics’ squad that won three consecutive American League pennants—1929, 1930, 1931.
While Grove inched towards the pitcher’s plateau of 300 wins with a 7-7 record in 1941, Red Sox teammate Ted Williams slugged towards a hitter’s benchmark—.400 batting average. It was a lock on the last day of the season—with a .39995 batting average, Williams would have benefited from the simple mathematics of rounding up if he sat out the season-ending Athletics-Red Sox doubleheader. Instead, despite an endorsement from Red Sox player-manager Joe Cronin to lay low, Williams grabbed his bat, went six for eight, and marked .406 for the year. Nobody to date has hit .400 in the major leagues.
In a 1986 Sports Illustrated interview with Williams, Wade Boggs, and Don Mattingly about hitting, Williams explained his strategy at the plate. “Now, if I could give you any advice, it would be that the tougher the pitcher, the tougher the situation, the tougher the count, the worse the light, the worse the umpires, the tougher the delivery, the single most important thing to think about is hitting the ball hard through the middle. You’ll never go wrong with that idea in your mind. As long as you hit, and especially as you get older, hang in there and be quick.”
1941 was a solid year for the Boston Red Sox:
- Joe Cronin (Shortstop): .311 batting average, 95 RBI
- Jimmie Foxx (First Base): .300 batting average, 105 RBI
- Bobby Doerr (Second Base): .282 batting average, 93 RBI
- Jim Tabor (Third Base): .279 batting average, 101 RBI
Championship glory was not to be, however. With an 84-70 record, the Red Sox trailed the New York Yankees by 17 games. Joe DiMaggio—the Yankee Clipper—scored a 56-game hitting streak in ’41, another achievement that has not been matched since. The Yankees defeated the Brooklyn Dodgers in five games to win the 1941 World Series.
A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on January 22, 2017.
Tags: 1929, 1930, 1931, 1941, 1941 World Series, 1947, 1986, Athletics, Baseball Hall of Fame, Bobby Doerr, Boston, Boston Red Sox, Brooklyn, Brooklyn Dodgers, Cleveland, Cleveland Indians, Dodgers, Don Mattingly, Gerry Moore, Globe, Hall of Fame, Indians, Jim Tabor, Jimmie Foxx, Joe Cronin, Joe DiMaggio, July 25, Lefty Grove, New York, New York Yankees, Red Sox, Sports Illustrated, Ted Williams, Wade Boggs, World Series, Yankee Clipper, Yankees
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1975 was a year of shocks in popular culture. M*A*S*H killed off Henry Blake, the lovable, goofy, and semi-competent lieutenant colonel in charge of Mobile Army Surgical Hospital 4077; Jaws injected fear into filmgoers thinking about going to the beach for summer recreation, lest they be shark attack victims like the ones portrayed on screen; and the Boston Bruins traded Phil Esposito to the New York Rangers.
Esposito going to New York was not, to be certain, a global event. Or even a national one. For Bostonians whose devotion to sports knows no boundaries of faith, though, it was an upset of the natural order of things. Sure, Esposito started his career with the Chicago Blackhawks, but he flourished in Boston—milestones include two Stanley Cup wins, a perennial NHL All-Star selection, and two-time winner of the Hart Memorial Trophy, which honors the player most valuable to his team. Not since the Red Sox traded Babe Ruth to the Yankees after the 1919 season had betrayal pervaded the city, from Beacon Street to Boston Harbor.
“I’m crushed. I thought I had found a home in Boston,” lamented Esposito, quoted by Tom Fitzgerald in the Boston Globe.
Esposito emerged as a New York City icon, much like his fellow Boston transplant.
Boston sent defenseman Carol Vadnais to the Rangers with Esposito, who played center. In return, New York let go defenseman Brad Park, center Jean Ratelle, and Joe Zanuss—a defenseman for the Providence Reds, the Rangers’ American Hockey League affiliate.
Boston Globe sports columnist Leigh Montville ascribed the term “garbageman” to Esposito because he scored goals that were neither flashy nor dramatic, thereby igniting a touch of scorn. But when Esposito journeyed down I-95 toward his new home, scorn gave way to unease. “One difference already has surfaced here,” wrote Montville. “The people—the same people who were cold toward Esposito and his records—now seem worried. They see a big hole in the scoring totals. They see a lot of goals that aren’t going to be scored. They see a lot of things that might not be done.
“That is the way it is with a garbageman. You never miss him until he’s not around.”
Esposito led the Rangers to the 1979 Stanley Cup—the marauders of Madison Square Garden lost to the Montreal Canadiens in five games.
Still, decades later, the trade causes angst for Esposito. Toronto Sun sports columnist Steve Simmons chronicled Esposito’s viewpoint in 2013: “I didn’t choose to leave Chicago. I didn’t choose to leave Boston. I signed a contract in Boston for less money than I could have gotten from going to the WHA. I could have made millions doing that. And you know how they repaid me? Three weeks later, they traded me (to the New York Rangers).”
Retiring after the 1980-81 season, Esposito transitioned to being an assistant coach for the Rangers—his post-retirement duties also included general manager, head coach, and analyst for televised games on MSG Network.
Esposito spearheaded the founding of the Tampa Bay Lightning, along with his brother, Tony, a fellow NHL standout; in 1992, the Lightning débuted in a 7-3 victory against the Blackhawks. Phil Esposito and Tony Esposito are members of the Hockey Hall of Fame, inducted in 1984 and 1988, respectively. Notably, the former’s biography page on the Hall of Fame web site depicts him in a Boston Bruins uniform. And so it is in the memories, imagination, and Bruins lore for fans of a certain age.
A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on January 18, 2017.
Tags: 1919, 1975, 1979, 1979 Stanley Cup, 1984, 1988, 1992, 2013, Babe Ruth, Beacon Street, Blackhawks, Boston, Boston Bruins, Boston Globe, Boston Harbor, Canadiens, Chicago, Chicago Blackhawks, Hall of Fame, Henry Blake, Hockey Hall of Fame, Jaws, Leigh Montville, Lightning, M*A*S*H, Madison Square Garden, Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, Mobile Army Surgical Hospital #4077, Montreal, Montreal Canadiens, MSG Network, New York, New York City, New York Rangers, NHL, NHL All-Star, Phil Esposito, Rangers, Red Sox, Stanley Cup, Steve Simmons, Tampa Bay, Tampa Bay Lightning, Tom Fitzgerald, Toronto, Toronto Sun, WHA, Yankees
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Baseball—like any other living organism—evolves, adjusts, and adapts with beauty emerging from minutiae, memory, and, in some cases, masochism reinforced by decades of unrequited love. See Red Sox Boston; 1919-2003. See Cubs, Chicago; 1909-2015. On January 11, 1973, baseball’s overseers added what New York Times scribe Joseph Durso called “a radical step…to put more punch into the game.” The Designated Hitter.
The American League embraced the idea. The National League, not so much. Quoted by Durso, Commissioner Bowie Kuhn extolled, “Pitchers bat around .120 collectively and pinch-hitters around .220. That’s automatically going to raise team batting averages. Besides, if you decide to rest a Willie McCovey or Harmon Killebrew and use him as the designated pinch-hitter one day, he’s going to be better than the average pinch-hitter. And he’ll go to bat four or five times, and that’ll improve his eye, too.”
While conventional wisdom highlighted the possibility of more runs with a slugger at the plate instead of a pitcher, White Sox skipper Chuck Tanner pointed out that a DH benefited a team’s defense. In the Chicago Tribune, Tanner said, “Part of the game is forcing the other club to put that relief pitcher in the game after a pinch hitter replaces a pretty good starter in a low-scoring game. But now the Angels, for instance, will be able to keep Nolan Ryan in there all the way. Or, we can let Wilbur Wood go the route without sending him to the plate. And this should keep the score down, too.”
Ron Blomberg earned the distinction of being the first Designated Hitter when he batted in a Yankees-Red Sox game in April. Of his 338 plate appearances in 1973, that first one in the DH slot secured his name in the annals of baseball trivia. Blomberg walked in his first time at the plate, went 1-for-3, and notched one RBI; Red Sox hurler Luis Tiant pitched a complete game, leading his fellow Bostonians to a 15-5 victory.
New York Times sports writer Murray Chass showed the irony of Blomberg’s output: “He broke his bat on the single, which means the first two bats he used today wound up in contrasting places—the first in the Hall of Fame, the second in the trash can.”
Purists argued against the DH, as they had argued against a 162-game schedule, Astroturf, and domed stadia. It was an argument against quantifiable evidence showing the cause and effect of the new position. In the May 7, 1973 issue of Sports Illustrated, William Leggett wrote, “In three short weeks the DH has put more punch and excitement and scoring into the game—a hallowed game, agreed, but one that was being smothered by the excellence of the pitching. Heavily criticized by some before it was given a chance to see the sunglight—a phony rule it was called, desperate, Mickey Mouse, a rewriting of Beethoven—the designated hitter is doing only what it was intended to do.”
A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on January 11, 2017.
Tags: 1909, 1919, 1973, 2003, 2015, American League, April, Astroturf, baseball, Beethoven, Boston Red Sox, Bostonians, Bowie Kuhn, Chicago, Chicago Tribune, Chuck Tanner, Commissioner Bowie Kuhn, Cubs, Designated Hitter, DH, domed stadia, Harmon Killebrew, January 11, Joseph Durso, Luis Tiant, May, May 7, Mickey Mouse, New York, New York Times, Nolan Ryan, Red Sox, Ron Blomberg, Sports Illustrated, White Sox, Wilbur Wood, William Leggett, Willie McCovey, Yankees
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As San Francisco morphed into the headquarters for counterculture, with the intersection of Haight and Ashbury becoming as well known to hippies as that of Hollywood and Vine to fans of show business, Juan Marichal fired fastballs for the Giants, a team transplanted from a ballpark approximately 3,000 miles eastward. The “Dandy Dominican” constructed a Hall of Fame career, boosted by a lineup of fellow Cooperstown-bound teammates Willie McCovey, Willie Mays, and Orlando Cepeda.
In a Hall of Fame Strat-O-Matic matchup of pre-1960 American Leaguers and post-1960 National Leaguers, Marichal notched nine strikeouts in a 9-5 victory for the senior circuit players. The lineups were:
Pre-1960 American League
Ty Cobb, LF
Goose Goslin, CF
Hank Greenberg, 1B
Babe Ruth, RF
Home Run Baker, 3B
Charlie Gehringer, 2B
Joe Sewell, SS
Bill Dickey, C
Walter Johnson, P
Post-1960 National League
Lou Brock, LF
Joe Morgan, 2B
Hank Aaron, RF
Willie Mays, CF
Johnny Bench, C
Ernie Banks, SS
Eddie Mathews, 3B
Frank Chance, 1B
Juan Marichal, P
Each team was allowed to have one player from outside the time parameter. The American League kept within it; the National League used Frank Chance.
Marichal gave up solo home runs to Gehringer and Johnson, respectively, in addition to a Greenberg two-run dinger with Goslin on base, courtesy of a rare error by Mr. Cub. And the pitcher known as the “Dandy Dominican” helped his own cause, singling in the bottom of the second inning, moving to second when Morgan walked after Brock flied out to right, and scoring on an Aaron double.
On July 19, 1960, Marichal first appeared in a major league game, scoring 12 strikeouts in a two-hit, 2-0 victory; the righty’s initial three games—against Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, and Milwaukee—contributed as many wins to the Giants’ 79-75 season record. Milwaukee skipper Charlie Dressen lobbied the umpires during the third inning of the Braves-Giants game, complaining that Marichal broke the rule regarding a pitcher’s position on the mound. Marichal planted himself on the rubber’s location closest to first base, though he told Curley Grieve of the San Francisco Examiner that umpires had never raised the issue. “I’m used to that position and I think it helps my curve ball, especially against right-handed hitters,” said Marichcal in Grieve’s article “Marichal Delivery Illegal?”
Dressen wanted Marichal to pitch from the middle of the rubber, insisting after the game that his argument was sound.
Marichal, all of 21 years old in his rookie year, received accolades from teammate—and fellow Dominican—Felipe Alou after the troika of games indicating future greatness: “Juan used to throw harder. We played for the same team. Escogido in the Dominican winter league, and he burned them in. Every year he learns a little more, he gets a new pitch. Now he’s more clever with curves and sliders to go with his fast ball.” Art Rosenbaum of the San Francisco Chronicle quoted Alou in his article “Juan Marichal a Baseball ‘Phee-nom,'” which also encapsulated Marichal’s minor league career in Class D (Midwest League), Class A (Eastern League), and AAA (Pacific Coast League).
Marichal ended his rookie year with a 6-2 record. Inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1983, Marichal compiled a 243-142 win-loss record in his 16-year career. An ignominious mark on an outstanding career occurred when he came to bat in a 1965 contest against the Dodgers, highlighted by Sandy Koufax and Marichal hurling brushback pitches; when Dodgers catcher John Roseboro threw the ball back to Koufax, it came too close for comfort—Marichal claimed it nicked his ear. Retaliation erupted with Marichal bashing Roseboro’s head with his bat. Roseboro left the game with several stitches and Marichal received a 10-game suspension, a $1,750 fine, and a settlement of litigation with Roseboro amounting to $7,500.
A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on January 7, 2017.
Tags: 1960, 1965, 1983, American League, Art Rosenbaum, Ashbury, Babe Ruth, Bill Dickey, Braves, Charlie Dressen, Charlie Gehringer, Curley Grieve, Dandy Dominican, Eastern League, Eddie Mathews, Ernie Banks, Felipe Alou, Frank Chance, Goose Goslin, Haight, Haight and Ashbury, Hall of Fame, Hall of Fame Strat-O-Matic, Hank Aaron, Hank Greenberg, Hollywood, Hollywood and Vine, Home Run Baker, Joe Morgan, Joe Sewell, John Roseboro, Johnny Bench, Juan Marichal, July 19, Lou Brock, Midwest League, Mr. Cub, National League, Orlando Cepeda, Pacific Coast League, San Francisco, San Francisco Chronicle, San Francisco Examiner, Sandy Koufax, Strat-O-Matic, Ty Cobb, Vine, Walter Johnson, Willie Mays, Willie McCovey
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Victory, it is said, has a thousand fathers. Baseball, too.
Daniel Lucius “Doc” Adams is, for reasons passing understanding, without tangible recognition in Cooperstown, despite being a highly significant contributor to baseball’s genesis. It is not an uncommon tale, of course. The specter of Gil Hodges, an evergreen topic for debate about Hall of fame inclusion, stands on the sidelines of 25 Main Street as thousands trek yearly to this bucolic village in upstate New York, pay homage to baseball’s icons, and gander at plaques honoring Jackie Robinson, Pee Wee Reese, and several other boys of summer. This, regardless of membership on seven consecutive National League All-Star teams, seven consecutive years of 100 or more RBI, and a managerial career noted for turning around the woes of the New York Mets—his efforts culminated in the 1969 World Series championship.
Charles Ebbets, the Brooklyn Dodgers owner who conceived Ebbets Field—and sacrificed half his ownership to finance the ballpark—does not have a plaque at the Hall of Fame. Quincy Trouppe, a standout from the Negro Leagues, often occupies a spot in Hall of Fame debates.
Adams’s denial, to date, contrasts the honor given to some of his 19th century brethren. In his 2011 book Baseball in the Garden of Eden: The Secret History of the Early Game, John Thorn, Major League Baseball’s Official Historian, wrote that the Mills Commission’s report, which, inaccurately, credited Abner Doubleday with a primary role in baseball’s creation, failed to highlight “William Rufus Wheaton or Daniel Lucius Adams, recently revealed to be larger figures in baseball’s factual beginnings than either [Alexander] Cartwright or Doubleday.”
Adams has been “recently revealed to be larger figures in baseball’s factual beginnings than either [Alexander] Cartwright or [Abner] Doubleday.”
Indeed, Adams’s role in baseball’s ur-phase, emerging through the dedication of Thorn and other baseball archaeologists, remained, until the latter part of the 20th century, mostly obscured by Cartwright’s vaunted position as the father of the National Pastime and the legend, long since debunked as myth, that Doubleday designed the game’s blueprint.
It was Adams, however, who set the 90-foot length between bases.
It was Adams, however, who helped shape baseball’s rules as president of the Knickerbockers, a team with historical prestige for playing in what was, seemingly, if not concretely, the first organized baseball game—it took place in Hoboken in 1846.
It was Adams, however, who set the number of players at nine.
It was Adams, however, who conceived of a game lasting nine innings.
Teetering on the edge of Cooperstown, Adams is becoming decreasingly enigmatic and increasingly valuable in determining baseball’s genesis, evolution, and governance. In 2015, the Hall of Fame’s Pre-Integration Committee disclosed that Adams received 10 votes of 16—two votes short of the 12 needed for membership; the Society for American Baseball Research Overlooked 19th Century Base Ball Legends Committee named Adams its 2014 legend.
Adams’s effect manifested in a 2016 auction for his handwritten “Laws of Base Ball,” which SCP Auctiosn sold for $3.26 million.
A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on January 3, 2017.
Tags: 1969, 1969 World Series, 25 Main Street, Abner Doubleday, Baseball in the Garden of Eden, Brooklyn, Brooklyn Dodgers, Charles Ebbets, Cooperstown, Daniel Lucius Adams, Doc Adams, Dodgers, Ebbets Field, Gil Hodges, Hall of Fame, Jackie Robinson, John Thorn, Main Street, Major League Baseball, Major League Baseball's Official Historian, Mets, Mills Commission, Negro League, Negro Leagues, New York, New York Mets, Pee Wee Reese, Quincy Trouppe, upstate New York, William Rufus Wheaton, World Series
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