Bill White: Freedom Fighter, All Star, Stand Up Guy

When you think of Bill White, do you think of a player that led integration of the Carolina League ?  A broadcaster who suffered & delighted in decades of cannoli talk in the Yankees broadcast booth with Scooter ?

 

How about the 4x all Star ?  The 6x Gold Glover ?  The announcer who had a good grip on (and kept a distance from) George Steinbrenner.  The N.L. President who was smack in the middle of the Pete Rose – Bart Giamatti pot boiler.  The guy who stopped the A.L. owners from blackmailing 50% of new franchise fees from their N.L. counterparts.

 

White is also the guy who watched from close range the self-destruction of Fay Vincent after Bart Giamatti’s sad passing, and the establishment of the Pseudo-Commissioner Era in which we currently live.

 

White’s life has been one successful string of accomplishments weaved through a sequence of important milestones for Our Game.

 

Uppity.  My life in Baseball.  My untold story about the games people play.  By Bill White with Gordon Dillow.  Grand Central, 2011.

 

Bill White titled his autobiography Uppity because as a black man that helped integrate Baseball, he carried an assertive attitude into the Carolina League in 1953 and maintained it until his playing career ended in 1969.  He was Uppity.  He likely still is.

 

In 1953, while batting on the road in Winston-Salem, he heard one obnoxious cracker chant, nigger ! nigger ! nigger !

 

White took his anger out on the ball, drilling it over the right field wall.

 

Then he heard the same cracker yell, “Well, Bill White, after that home run I guess I’ll have to call you Mister Nigger !”

 

The cracker crowd then chanted “Mister Nigger !  Mister Nigger !  Mister Nigger !”

 

Despite the ever present attempts at intimidation, White never backed down from a racist.  In fact, he found that every time he stood up for himself, the racists backed down.  Even on the road in the Carolina League.

 

White describes the impact that Jim Schoolboy Tugerson had on him as he suffered indignities in the minors. 

 

Tugerson, a 6’4” sidearm pitcher who roomed at one time with Hank Aaron in the Negro Leagues, signed with the Arkansas Bathers for the 1953 season.  The Cotton States League then kicked the Bathers out of the League for hiring black players.  The Bathers then moved to Knoxville in the Mountain States League. The Knoxville Smokies finished with a fine 70 – 55 record and Tugerson won 29 games.  He moved up to AA Dallas the next year, but he was already 31 years old and was destined to call it a career after 5 years in the Big D.

 

Tugerson’s advice was simple.

 

“Stay focused on the game.”, Jim would constantly tell me.  “Don’t react to those racist rednecks in the crowd calling you names.  They’re trying to sidetrack you, take your mind off the game.  Don’t let ‘em.”

 

It was good advice, from someone who had been there, and I took it.  I still heard the racist slurs coming from the stands, but I never let myself show any reaction to them.  I didn’t give the bastards the satisfaction.

 

XXXXXXXXX

 

In Uppity, White gives us more than his memories of racism and civil rights progress through which he lived.

 

Among the precious recollections is a trove of anecdotes from the 18 years he broadcasted Yankee games with the Scooter, Phil Rizzuto.

 

Here’s a great on-air exchange involving Scooter & part-time announcer Fran Healy:

 

They were in Seattle, and they and the team stayed in one of those tall, modern, cylindrically shaped hotels.

 

Healy (on-air):  What did you do last night, Phil ?

Rizzuto:  Well, I didn’t like the room I had.

Healy:  Why ?

Rizzuto:  Well, it was a round room and I couldn’t corner my wife.”

 

XXXXXXXXX

 

White shares how his family escaped poverty in the great black northern migration when he was a baby.  His mother insisted that African Americans came from a highly-evolved, even superior culture.  He was indifferent to a stingy contract offer by the NY Giants after Leo Durocher watched him whack home runs in Forbes Field during a private tryout.  (After 2 homers, Leo hustled White off the field in hopes that Rickey hadn’t seen him.)  But he signed after Leo OK’d a sweetener.

 

White developed into a strong hitter and slick fielder through a 4 year progression through Danville, Sioux City, Dallas and Minneapolis.  He arrived in the Polo Grounds for MLB duty under Bill Rigney in 1956, where he rang up a .256, 22, 59 season.  In addition to those rookie totals, White made the NL Top 10 with 15 SB’s and 4 HBP’s.  Not a bad start, but Uncle Sam would delay his sophomore year in the Bigs.

 

White served his Country in 1957 and 1958, then returned eagerly to the Giants, then just relocated to San Fran.  He got only 29 at bats.  He was now stuck behind future HOF’er Orlando Cepeda, who was having one of the greatest ROY seasons in history with .312, 25, 96.

 

More competition was on the way.  San Francisco had another 1^st Baseman killing it in AAA Phoenix with .319, 14, 89.   A 6’4” swatter named Willie McCovey.

 

In the Fall of 1958, Cepeda’s promise prompted the Giants to send White to St. Louis principally for Sam Jones.  McCovey would later inspire the Giants to trade Cepeda away, too.

 

The Giants thus played 3 young 1^st Basemen successively in 9 years, a cluster that would produce a combined .283 BA, 1,102 Homeruns, and 3,760 RBI over the course of their careers.  Boy, could the Giants pick ‘em .

 

 

White’s trade to St. Louis was a dream come true.  Despite that city’s reputation for racial bias, White was well treated and team ownership had his back.  There was an overt act of discrimination when White tried to buy a house in the suburbs, but the Cardinals pushed the sale through.  Once settled, White found his white neighbors sane and friendly.  (The developer was the dog.)

 

White put up great numbers in St. Louis, batting over .300 4x, named to the All Star Team 5x, and capturing 6 Gold Gloves.  Even better, after the Cardinals hoodwinked the Cubs out of Lou Brock in 1964, the Cardinals became a hot team, moving from the middle of the pack to capture the NL pennant on the last day of the ’64 season, and knocking off the Yankees in a 7 game series.

 

The wine was sweet.  The adulation intoxicating.  All was swell in St. Loo, until White publically corrected GM Bob Howsam at a team celebration.  White openly attributed the Championship to former GM Bing Devine.  Moments earlier, Howsam had stood up and taken all the credit for himself.

 

White was goose hunting in mid-October, ’64, when his car radio carried the announcement that he had been traded to the Phillies with Dick Groat and Bob Uecker.

 

The best part of his playing career was done.  White’s Cardinal stats totaled a .299 B.A., 140 Home Runs, and 627 RBI in 7 years.  Plus the All Star appearances and GG’s.

 

He would play 4 more MLB seasons but his numbers declined steadily.

 

White was uncharacteristically accepting of the end of his playing career.  “The game will tell you when it is time to leave, if you are willing to listen.”  So rare.

 

He listened.  And he didn’t mind leaving.  He had things to do.

 

XXXXXXXXX

 

You get so much value in this book.  The player memoir.  The broadcaster memoir.  The Baseball Executive memoir.  13 years playing.  18 years broadcasting.  5 years as League President.

 

The 40 pages on his time with Rizzuto are a hoot.  The chapter on Steinbrenner confirms (once again) that George was a sociopath.   The Executive story shows how an honest man can hang on, barely, in the shark tank with billionaires proficient in the art of gain.

 

 This book is a pleasure to read and packed with history.

 

Don’t miss it.

 

Go Sox.

Hot Stove Pairings: Morgan-Bagwell, Lucchino-Valentine & Santo-Larkin

On November 28, the man who stabilized the Dysfunctional Sox came to Hartford.  Joe Morgan, the Red Sox  Manager who lifted the Sox from 4^th  to 1^st Place and won the first 12 games of his tenure, appeared  with current Sox game announcer Joe Castiglione at the World Series Club of Hartford County.

Castiglione acted as Morgan’s straight man.  Rather than make a prepared speech, the announcer threw questions to the manager in an easy, rehearsed manner.

And Walpole Joe was very entertaining.  He has that old New England accent heard in Eastern Mass. and Rhode Island.  He’s a down to earth wit.

Morgan spoke about the infamous Bagwell-Anderson trade of 1991 and how he tried to alter history.  When Joe attended a management meeting at which the boss, i.e. Lou Gorman, proposed Bagwell for Anderson, Morgan realized this was a clear mistake. He argued that Scott Cooper was a better bargaining chip; Cooper was young and highly ranked and the Astros would find him acceptable. Joe was poo pooed.  The group went with Gorman.  The Sox missed out on Bagwell’s career .297, 449, 1529.  They got Cooper’s career .265, 33, 211. 

A few years later, the Sox would let Wade Boggs leave Boston via Free Agency.  As Boggs would tell an interviewer in 1996, the Sox made him expendable because they thought they had a budding star in Cooper.  Cooper would be out of Baseball after 1997, while Boggs and Bagwell played on – and completed HOF careers.

Out of left field came a Morgan story about how he made a buck in the off seasons when he was the Paw Sox Manager.  He didn’t make much more than minimum wage driving a snowplow for the Commonwealth.  But he did figure out people were losing dollar bills at the toll booths when the winter winds whipped along the Mass Pike.  Morgan said he found hundreds of dollars along the Pike, pulling off the road and scampering down the banks to claim the lost bills, finding $100 in one spot alone.

Guys like Francona or Valentine, both bonus babies in their day, never hustled like that to make a buck.  Joe never made more than $7,000 a year as a player or a modest salary as a MLB Manager. 

He did get a few things right though.  One of them was his prediction at the WSC on Nov. 28 that Bobby Valentine would be the next Red Sox Manager.

SPEAKING OF BOBBY V,

Jeff Jacobs wrote in The Hartford Courant that the spontaneous combustion of Bobby Valentine in a Red Sox uniform is a future certainty.  Valentine will go up in flames, says Half Baked Jake.  Just a matter of time.

Not sure about that prediction, but Jacobs also says the Valentine candidacy for Manager began here in Hartford on Nov. 5 when Bobby Valentine and Larry Lucchino headlined a charitable dinner at World Affairs Council at the Hartford Club.  I was there.

I  spoke with Lucchino and Valentine at the function.  I made a bee line for Larry.  He was great to chit chat with and he signed a nice white Selig official ball for me. 

Soon enough I was standing near Valentine.  I contemplated getting his autograph as well.  I did not want this former Mets manager and disguise-wearing narcissist to ruin my Lucchino ball with his signature.  I decided to ask him to sign a program instead.  I half heartedly asked what he thought his chances were of getting the Manager job, a question I really felt was meaningless and specious.  He chuckled and said, “Yeah, right !” and strode away.  Truly, his vibe was that even he didn’t think he had a shot.

And that would help to explain his tears of joy and noted speechlessness when he got the job.

Good luck, Bobby.

Hey, Ron & Barry.

Sorry everyone.  I can’t appreciate Ron Santo.  I have tried.  I look at the stats and I see a good player.  He’s a local legend in Chicago.  If his 342 HR’s and 1331 RBI came with a .305 B.A. he’d have been a HOF selection 40 years ago.  But he batted .277.  The 9x AS and 4x Gold Gloves help, but there are no batting titles, RBI or HR crowns, either. Few stolen bases.  Led the league in walks four times.   This much loved Cub comes close.  But he doesn’t make it.

Santo’s BA/HR/RBI totals are similar to Dwight Evans, one of the best fielding right fielders ever.  Putting Santo in will inspire some people to make the case for Evans.  But, unfortunately, neither player should be in the HOF.  They are very good but not All Time Greats.

Barry Larkin’s .295, 198, 960 are terrific for a shortstop.  Ozzie Smith won 7 Gold Gloves in Larkin’s first 7 years, precluding the Cinci-born Barry from copping the award until he was 30 years old.  Still, Barry nailed 3 GG’s.  A 12x AS with 9 Silver Sluggers and 379 SB’s, I’d say the guy was the complete package.

Only 7 other shortstops in history have more RBI’s than Larkin — Hans Wagner, Joe Cronin, Miguel Tejada, Vern Stephens, Luke Appling, Alan Trammell and Ripken.  4 are in the HOF.

Hit.  Hit with power.  Speed.  Arm.  Field.  He had it all.

Congrats to Barry Larkin & to the late Ron Santo, and the families of both men.

Wild About Harry 4 Ever

 

The imperfectly perfect life of Harry Kalas was a non-stop show.  He was the man in the bar that draws a crowd and stays until last call.  The man who never uttered a disparaging word about anyone.  A drinker and an addicted smoker.  A force of nature with a marvelous baritone voice.  He loved everyone. He followed the fun where it led him, which in Harry’s case was into the hearts of nearly everyone he ever met, including ballplayers, bartenders and pop icons.

HARRY THE K, the remarkable life of Harry Kalas.  Randy Miller.  2010.  Running Press.

He was a young man that wanted a degree but got the boot after freshman year from Cornell College, then subsequently graduated on time after partying through 3 more years at IOWA.

He was a man who never wanted to hurt anyone but somehow dumped his wife at age 49 for a younger woman, choosing a Partier (like himself) over a classic Mom and Wife.

Harry was born in 1936, the son of Harry Sr., at the time the Minister at Trinity Evangelical Church in Chicago.  His first home was three blocks from Wrigley Field.  But it was a certain Washington Senator that made Harry into a hard core baseball fan.  Under a drizzling sky at Comiskey Park in 1946, 10 year old Harry was seated next to the visiting Washington dugout.  Batting Practice was rained out.  Senator first baseman Mickey Vernon noticed the boy and pulled him into the dugout.  Vernon, a 7x AS and 2x batting champion, entertained little Kalas for 10 minutes, introducing him to players and giving him a ball.

Vernon touched Kalas’ heart.  Incredibly, they reconnected 25 years later in 1971 and remained in contact for the rest of their lives, speaking on the phone and visiting regularly.

Baseball was Harry’s #1 sport.  His true love.  He would become one of the hardest working and best prepared Baseball announcers in the U.S.. But he was also damn good at announcing football and hoops.

Harry’s career must rank as one of the most productive in history.  He broadcast collegiate sports at Iowa, simultaneously working high school basketball for a Quad Cities radio station.  He did play-by-play for High School Football & Hoops on KGU Radio in Hawaii, and later announced PCL AAA Hawaiian Islanders games from 1961 to 1964.  In 1965, he arrived in Houston to broadcast MLB games from the spankin’ new “5^th Wonder of the World”, the Houston Astrodome, and worked University of Houston Football games as well.  In 1971, Harry joined the Phillies broadcast team, first picking up Eagles Games in the offseason, and then traveling widely to do NFL games from San Francisco to New York, plus Notre Dame Football & Basketball games. He also broadcast Philadelphia Big 5 Basketball (LaSalle, Penn, St Joseph’s, Temple & Nova.) 

And he was continuously busy with commercial work.  Beginning in 1975 Harry became the #2 voice to John Facenda at NFL Films, where he worked until his death in 2009 on such programs as NFL Review and Preview, Pro Magazine, NFL Films Presents, and This is the NFL.  His gigs included work for General Motors, Campbell Soup, Coors Light, Animal Planet, movie trailers, narrated self-guided tours at the U.S. Mint, character profiles on the Cartoon Network and much more.

His resonant voice, keen intelligence, and social graces magnetically drew work to Harry just as they enchanted new friends.

His national identity will always be linked to his work with the Phillies and NFL Films, but it was in the  Philadelphia market where his fame first grew.  It is where his family took root, where he melded with the community and where Harry came to represent Philadelphia itself. 

He came to the Phillies in 1971, when they were a last place team in the NL East.  That’s where they stayed until 1974, when they rode Carlton, Schmidt & Luzinski to the start of 9 consecutive winning seasons, including 5 NL East Flags. Harry saw the transformation. The opening of The Vet. The firing of Frank Lucchesi.  The hiring of Danny Ozark.  The arrival of Pete Rose and the first world championship in 88 years of Philly baseball.   The Pennant in ’93.  The World Championship in 2008.

But it wasn’t all sunshine.  Far from it.

1993 was a sandwich year.  A Pennant, preceded by 6 losing seasons and followed by 7 more of them.  Those Kruk-Dykstra-Schilling Phils won at a .599 clip.  But the 13 years adjacent years carried an average winning percentage of .444, including 6 last place finishes.

Harry was the heart and voice of Philly baseball through bad and good.

After Harry’s sudden death in April 2009, his wife, Eileen received a poignant sympathy card that spoke to Harry’s ability to carry Phillienation through the ups and downs.  It came from 13-year-old Tyler Fortna.

“His voice always gave me inspiration.  I always wanted to be like him when I grew up, but I know I will never be like him.  When I watched Phillie games, Harry made me feel like they were winning when they were losing.”

The Man never stopped working, even as he aged.   He stood in stark contrast to Vin Scully, 9 years older than Harry, who premeditatedly cut down his gigs to select Dodger home games as he aged. Meanwhile, Harry almost never said No.  He continued with his weekly work with NFL Films, the commercial work  and the March-to-October Baseball grind.  He would NOT allow himself to miss any of it, not even after developing heart problems in 2007.

After learning that he had suffered 4 silent heart attacks and that he needed vascular surgery to compensate for dead heart tissue, Harry postponed the surgery for 14 months.  During those months, the Phillies won the 2008 Series, celebrated, and prepared to defend their title.

Harry was the Master of Ceremonies at the celebration but dropped dead just 6 games into the title defense. He passed in the broadcast booth at Nationals Park while filling out his scorecard.  He wrote in the first 4 names in the Nationals lineup and suffered a massive fatal heart attack. The fourth name he filled out was Adam Dunn.  Ironically, he wrote Dunn, and was done.

Harry couldn’t stop working.  He couldn’t stop living and he couldn’t stop giving. 

Miller notes that Harry taught his children, sons Todd, Brad and Kane, to befriend people of all races, religions and classes….Harry kept an emotional keel and never lashed out in anger….Harry always went out of his way to help strangers while expecting nothing in return.

He was a special guy.

As young Tyler Fortna wrote in that sympathy card, “I met him when I was 7….I told him that I wanted Baseball.  And he said, ‘Long drive, deep to center, that ball is outta here !  Home Run, Tyler Fortna ! Thank you for all of Harry’s memories, the great calls.  He’s the best broadcaster ever.  He’s up in Heaven now and still calling the Phillies.”.

Asides & Nuggets:

Harry’s Frat at IOWA, Phi Delta Theta, votes annually to give the Lou Gehrig Award, one of Baseball’s highest honors.  The award was started in 1955 by Phi Delta Alum and sportswriter Grantland Rice.  Harry was President of the Iowa Chapter and served for many years after graduating on the committee that did the selecting.

HOF anxiety.  The author refers to 3 or 4 broadcasters and journalists as having been inducted into the HOF.  He refers to the Writers and Broadcasters Wings in Cooperstown.  No such wings exist.  These folks are not inducted.  They receive the Frick and Spink Awards and are recognized for one year in an exhibit called “Scribes & Mikemen” at the Hall.  Much as I revere Pete Gammons & guys like him, calling these talented folks HOF’ers and referring to them as “inducted” is marketing talk.  It’s just wrong.

Speaking of Spink winners, 2011 winner Bill Conlin is widely quoted in this book.  The Hall is now struggling with whether to remove Conlin’s photo from the Scribe & Mikemen display due to the multiple pedophile charges lodged against him.  Only the current winner is displayed and it stays up for one year.  They can leave Conlin up for 6 more months, take it down now, or discontinue the practice for all Spink/Frick winners in the years to come.

HOF’er Richie Ashburn, a.k.a Whitey, or, His Whiteness, was Kalas’ on-air partner for 27 years until his sudden death by heart attack in 1997.  Whitey was the color man.  He got off a million solid gold lines.  Ashburn, who logged a .308 lifetime B.A. & two batting crowns often said, “I never would want my daughter to marry a pitcher.  You can’t trust ‘em.”  He and Ted Williams certainly agreed on that.  J

Reading into things

If you are a Philly phan you’ll likely love every scrap and morsel in this book.  I enjoyed it greatly but struggled with some of the minutiae.  It seems like the author had access to the key people in Harry’s life such as former wife Jasmine and current wife Eileen.  He interviewed an endless cast.  Broadcasters, Players, Journalists, businessmen, friends, highschool and college pals, neighbors, the cop who rode with Harry’s casket on the way from D.C. to Philly.  It is almost too much.  After finishing this book I jumped 100 pages into UPPITY, the autobiography of the outspoken and plain speaking Bill White.  A refreshing change.

Spahn & Juan & the thrill was on

On the same day that the media made me smile by reporting that Hal Steinbrenner tried to cheat the I.R.S. out of $460,000, author Jim Kaplan made me doubly happy when I read in his book that the Evil ones buried Vic Power in the minors for 5 years because his skin was too black.

That’s the kind of Yankee dirt for which I’m always looking.

I came across this factoid in Kaplan’s well-researched and eloquent book, The Greatest Game Ever Pitched, Juan Marichal, Warren Spahn and the Pitching Duel of the Century.  (Triumph, 2011.). 

The subject is the 16-inning duel on July 2, 1963 at Candlestick between 42-year old Warren Spahn and 25-year old Juan Marichal.  The old man and the kid, future Hall of Famers.  Both men pitched a complete game.  Spahn threw 201 pitches.  Marichal threw 227.  Willie Mays beat Spahn with a solo homer in the bottom of the 16^th.  Final score Giants 1, Braves 0.

7 HOF’ers saw action.  Spahn, Marichal, Mays, McCovey, Aaron, Matthews and Cepeda.

There were 256 warm up pitches.  427 pitches thrown to batters.  Great fielding plays and errors.  Stolen bases and pickoffs.  Singles, doubles, and a final culminating confrontation between 2 All Time Greats, Mays and Spahn.

The game itself is a 16 inning delight.  But if the telling of the game were all the story, this book would be very short — or so stretched out it would be boring.

So Kaplan gives us much more than the game.  He intersperses Marichal and Spahn’s life stories.  He writes sidebars about other notable pitching duels, record games and other studies.  He recreates Jack Morris’ 10-inning complete game in the 7^th game of the 1991 World Series, Harvey Haddix’s 1959 13-inning perfect game loss to Lou Burdette & the Braves, the 1981 duel between Yale’s Ron Darling and St. John’s Frank Viola in which the former pitched a no-hitter for 11 innings while the latter pitched a shutout for 12.  He lobbies for Johnny Sain’s HOF-worthy career as a pitcher and a coach, and details the 33 inning game in 1981 between the Rochester Redwings (with Cal Ripken) and the Pawtucket Red Sox (with Wade Boggs).  All of these diversions are crisp and riveting.

One thing that Kaplan does singularly well is to meld in germane insights from other authors to illuminate a point — or render one poetic.

For instance, Kaplan first compares the MLB crowds of today to those of 1963.   In 2011, they rock to rap music, semi-aware a game is being played.  In 1963, they are focused on play completely.  Kaplan borrows a line to transport us:  “Immersed as they were, the fans reflected Paul Gallico’s description of baseball onlookers.  ‘The crowd as a whole plays the role of Greek chorus to the actors on the field below.  It reflects every action, every moment, every changing phase of the game.  It keens.  It rejoices.  It moans.’”.

Seamless.  Smooth.  Brilliant.

Bullpen

There were many golden nuggets.  Here are two of my favorites.

Willie Mays hit 22 extra inning HR’s in his career.  He is the only player to have homered in every inning from 1 through 16.  I say, with everything else we know that makes Mays worthy of the title “Greatest Player of All Time”, these two additional facts help to make the case complete. 

When Spahn entered the post-game locker room, his team mates applauded.  There were tears in his eyes and everyone else’s.  His mates lined up to shake his hand.  After the game, Carl Hubbell, Hall of Fame screwballer and minor league supervisor for the Giants, remarked, “Here is a guy 42 years old who still has a fastball.  He just kept busting them in on the hands of our guys and kept getting them out….He ought to will his body to medical science.”

Last thoughts

One thing stopped me in my tracks.  Ken Burns’ 1994 landmark Baseball documentary is breathtaking in its scope, arresting with its images, and fascinating through its use of historians, writers and artists.  Kaplan makes the point that Burns all but ignored Latino ballplayers in that 10 volume work.  That seems undeniable.  Think about it.  Burns shined the light briefly on Clemente.  Marichal was absent.  Tiant.  Aparicio.  Cepeda.  Carew.  Perez.  All largely MIA or without emphasis.  This absence in the Burns’ work is ironic given how important the film maker positions race in Baseball history.  I suspect most of us watched the documentary and never even noticed.

Howard Bryant’s fine recent biography of Henry Aaron brings to life the extraordinary Braves teams of 1956 to 1959, among others.  Because Spahn’s MLB timeline starts fully 8 years before that of Aaron, Kaplan gives us the other end of a talented Braves continuum that stretched from Spahn/Sain/Holmes to Aaron/Matthews/Spahn.  I hope Atlantans appreciate the majesty of the bloodline that connects to Maddux/Glavine/Smoltz. They should read both books.

I heartily recommend Greatest Game to you. 

And if you have any good Yankee dirt, a la Vic Power, by all means send it my way.

Go Sox.

Farewell Pap, Hello Heffers.

 

I’m going to miss Papelbon.  I’ll miss his insane behavior, like the 2007 underwear dance on the Fenway diamond with cameras rolling and fans agog.  I will miss the personality transformation he frequently effected after fist bumping Captain Porky at the BP gate, striding to the grass aside the pitching mound where he would be still and silently transform into a glaring, fire throwing mounds man.  

Awards eluded Pap in Beantown.  Pap failed to take the Rolaids AL Relief Award even once.  The honors went to K Rod (twice), JJ Putz, Mo Rivera (twice), Rafael Soriano and Jose Valverde.  Rolaids or not, there were 3 or 4 years in which batters feared no one more than Papelbon.  He relieved hitters of their bats.  He extinguished them.  Made them look hapless.

Pap finished 2^nd to Justin Verlander for the 2006 ROY, a year in which Verlander’s 17 wins trumped Pap’s .092 ERA and 35 saves.

Awards or not, Pap was the Man in Boston.

Pap posted a 2.33 ERA with 219 Saves in 6.5 Red Sox seasons.  If he can continue to do what he has been doing for the next 7 years he will finish with the 5^th most saves in history.

Yankee fans suggest that Pap wasn’t really that effective anymore.  I say he is what he has always been:  one of the top 5 closers in Baseball.

Moving On

The Sox Bullpen has shaped up very nicely with Melancon hired for the 8^th and Andrew Bailey for the 9^th. 

The 27 year old Bailey has a 2.07 career ERA, 75 Saves and, even better, a career 0.954 WHIP. He  doesn’t let put a lot of men on base.  He’s a 6’3”, 240 pound Hoss, but he doesn’t throw like one.  He’s a control pitcher.  This all sounds good to me.  If we had to lose Papelbon, at least we got a young and capable replacement.

You really have to like the trade for Mark Melancon.  Big Ben sent often injured Jed Lowrie and soft throwing Kyle Weiland to the Astros for the 26 year old former Yankee farmhand, who secured 20 Saves and a 2.78 ERA for Houston in 2011.

Melancon.  Bailey.  They have lots in common.  Both are young, right handed, with the size and build of a linebacker, and both are C-H-E-A-P.  They are each making less than $500,000 in 2012.  Melancon isn’t arbitration eligible until 2014.

The Bullpen moves are a feather in the Cherrington cap.  Put these guys together with “Everyday” Alfredo Aceves and the healing Bobby Jenks and one begins to feel optimistic about the 2012 relief corps.

And a meaty corps it is.  These 4 fellows weigh in at a combined 950 pounds.  Although they are all big guys, there is some disparity in price.  Andrew Bailey comes to us for just $1,937 per pound.  Bobby Jenks, on the other hand, costs $26,636 per LB.  And there is 275 pounds of him to go around.

I believe we’ve got more imported ham than bologna in this crew.

Go Sox.

See Baby ‘Tek & the Little Perfessor on Netflix !

I stumbled across a wonderful video trove of Baseball history on Netflix.  Because I have a Wii,  Netflix, and internet from my cable company, I can watch Netflix on my TV.    Anyone with a Netflix account, the internet, and a gaming system can do this.

The trove on Netflex I speak of is 60 episodes of Talking Baseball, a 30 minute program in which host Ed Randall interviews different stars of past and present days.

The galaxy of stars include Andre Dawson, Barry Larkin, Bill Virdon, Bob Gibson, Bob Murphy, Chuck Tanner, Clete Boyer, Curt Flood, Darren Daulton, Del Crandall, Dock Ellis,  Dom DiMaggio, Don Sutton, Dusty Baker, Ernie Banks, Ernie Harwell, Jenkins with Stargell, Frank Howard, George Foster, Greg Maddux, Harmon Killebrew, Harry Caray, Howard Johnson, Jack Morris, Jason Varitek, Jim Leyland, Joe Pepitone, Johnny Podres, Juan Marichal, Keith Hernandez, Larry Bowa, Lonnie Smith, Luis Tiant, Maury Wills, Mickey Mantle, Orlando Cepeda, Ozzie Smith, Phil Niekro, Phil Rizzuto, Branca with Thomson, Ralph Kiner, Richie Ashburn, Vera Clemente with Roberto, Jr., Robin Roberts, Rod Carew, Roger Clemens, Ron Darling, Ron Santo, Sparky Anderson, Ted Simmons, Ted Williams, Glavine with Justice, Tom Kelly, Tom Seaver, Tony Oliva, Tony Perez, Travis Fryman, Wade Boggs, Whitey Ford, Will Clark and Yogi Berra.

These shows were recorded between 1988 and 1995.

19 of these people have passed.  28 of them are in the HOF.  One day, 33 of them may be in the Hall if we see Larkin, Maddux, Morris, Tiant and Glavine go in.

There are some great nuggets for Red Sox fans.  Like these thoughts from Wade Boggs:

In an April of 1994 appearance,  a humble Boggs reveled in his opportunity to play for the Yankees.  He said he first felt anxiety while playing against former Sox team mates, but he “crossed the bridge” emotionally and left Boston behind.  “The Sox made a business decision, went with Scott Cooper at a low salary, and just let me go.  I watched them let Fisk, Lynn, Rice and Evans go.  If they can do it to them, they can do it to me.  I’m not special.”

Boggs says about his 6 Minor League seasons:  “I figured they thought I had something to work on.  I figured that whenever I finally got to the majors, I would be there to stay.  I was categorized as a poor fielder, and a hitter without power.  There are a lot of labels that are put on people.  I was told in the Minors by a top honcho with the Sox that I would never play 3^rd base at the major league level, but I could hit a little.”

And as for his credentials for Cooperstown, he said, “My place in the HOF is NOT assured.  The guys in the Hall have 3,000 hits.  3,000 hits is the pinnacle, an important piece of the puzzle.  5 batting titles will not do it.”

Boggs was inducted in 2005 with 91.9% of the ballots in his first year of eligibility.  He finished with 3,010 hits.

Jason Varitek’s interview is a Kodak moment.  The 23-year-old catcher spoke with composure beyond his years.  ‘Tek explained that he had not yet sign with the Mariners nearly a year after the 1994 draft because their $400,000 signing bonus offer was $300,000 to $800,000 below what peer draftees were getting.  The buzz cut, jowly faced, pre-rookie ‘Tek explained that with the advice of his agent Scott Boras, he was staying strong, in-shape, calm, and fully understanding that he could only control what he could, and would not worry about the things he could not control.  Asked about his greatest talent, he cited his ability to lead others.  Prescient.

Dom DiMaggio , coiffed and well put together, recounted how Ted Williams insisted on not taking a pass on the second game of the double header on the last day of the 1941 season.  And as for that unrivaled year of ’41, he said, “It was amazing that I was a team mate of the guy who hit .400 and the brother of the other one who had a 56 game hitting streak  – in the same season !!!”

When Randall put Dom’s feet in the fire by asking him to name the greatest batsman he ever saw, the Little Perfessor chuckled his practiced reply, “Oh, I’ve answered that question many times.  Joe was the greatest right handed hitter I ever saw.  And Ted was the greatest left handed hitter I ever saw.”

Dom shared memories of the great talent on the 1940 Sox, when ¾’s of the Sox infield were future HOF’ers (Foxx, Cronin, Doerr):  “Course I played behind Cronin and Doer and I could see how they operated.  Doer was the smoothest second baseman.  He was just so pretty to watch.  1940 was the end of Joe Cronin’s career, but I could see that the talent had once been there and how graceful he was at shortstop.  By the time I got there, some of the balls that Joe would have gotten as a younger man were trickling through, so I when they did get through I charged in hard and made sure the runners didn’t go from 1^st to 3^rd.”

Dom explained how his Dad didn’t initially think that BB was something adults should aim for as a career goal.  “When we reached our teens he wanted us to work rather than play games and wear out clothes and shoes doing so.  But then Vince started as a pro player and Dad realized you could earn a salary.  Later, when Joe went Professional, Dad thought that was nice and he was proud.  And when Joe reached the majors, Dad looked at me and asked, ‘When are you going to start getting paid to play Baseball ?’  He did a compete 180.”

So boot up your Netflix and browse for TALKING BASEBALL WITH ED RANDALL.  Randall is a serious Baseball man and a smooth interviewer.  You’ll dig it.

Ed Randall continues to host TALKING BASEBALL on WFAN-AM Sunday mornings and on Sirius XM Radio’s Home Plate Channel on Saturday mornings.  He has called television play-by-play for the Brooklyn Cyclones and the Staten Island Yankees.  He is a survivor of Prostate Cancer and founder of Bat for The Cure, which is a charitable foundation dedicated to the prevention of Prostate Cancer.  You can learn more at www.batforthecure.com/.  You can read Ed Randall’s blog at http://www.edrandallstalkingbaseball.com/

Go Sox !

UConn Men will roll on as Drummond learns

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Little Lee and I watched pre-game warmups before the UConn-Wagner game from the 8^th row of the end zone. Most of the Huskies were shooting around, massed in front of the UConn bench. That is where most of the Gampel crowd focused their attention.

 

On the far side, two players engaged alone. Jeremy Lamb stood behind the 3 line, guarded by another future NBA draft pick, Andre Drummond. Lamb leaned right-right-left and, feeling he was clear, attempted a shot that Drummond swatted back with an easy smile. The ball fell back into Lamb’s calm hands.

 

Mr. Lamb was relaxed, almost tranquil, even though his defender was 5 inches taller and 90 pounds heavier. Though well on his way to a Shawn Kemp-like body, Drummond has quick reflexes and instincts.  Most of us would be nothing approaching calm in his court presence.

 

What Drummond of course lacks is Big East experience.  So Lamb gave him some.

 

This time, Lamb leaned right and then freely fired left, leaving Drummond one full step behind him awaiting another fake that did not occur.  Swish.  All net.

 

Drummond smiled again.  Lamb showed not one iota of emotion.  And then, they danced on, two exceedingly tall colts, frisky and jubilant in their well matched game. One the teacher, the other a rookie.  Two friends.

 

 

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Mr. Drummond did not start.  Calhoun put Olender, Oriaki, Napier, Lamb and Roscoe Smith on court first.  He came in soon enough, though, looking a half step behind everyone else.  No doubt, he was adjusting to the game being played at a pace and level with which he was unaccustomed.  Although he is big, strong and fast, he had little impact until the light went on toward the end of the first half.  Suddenly aroused, Drummond blocked two shots in 6 seconds and then came flying across the lane like an acrobat at the other end in an attempt to jam a team mate’s miss in what would have been a sensational play.  Soon, he showed us this superior speed and coordination again.  Although Mr. Drummond did not score on these plays he did  cause a sensation to ripple through a crowd.  They had gotten a glimpse of his pure athleticism.

 

Drummond would toss down 8 points in the game.  He scored his first UConn points on a put back and next 2 on a sweet reverse layup executed beautifully on the run.

 

This team is loaded with talent.  Deandre Daniels had 11 points and looked like a pure shooter, an assassin.  Tyler Olender looks 100% improved and could become a solid D I player.  Napier is confident with the rock and is scoring when needed.  Lamb looks like a bona fide Naismith candidate.  Add Drummond and Boatwright and you’ve got a team that can beat anyone.

 

That said, beating Columbia by 13 and Wagner by 12 does not instill confidence.  Nor does beating Maine by 20 and Coppin State by 17.  Cupcake season should be called Preseason.  These foes are record fatteners, helping the team get nearer the 20 wins that credential NCAA Tournament teams.  If you don’t beat the cupcakes by more than 30, you aren’t really ready for Pittsburgh and Syracuse.

 

The Huskies will be no worse than 9-2 (and no better than 11 – 0) when the confront USF in their Big East opener on Dec. 28, a game quickly followed by one against the Johnnies on Dec. 31.

 

Can Calhoun channel them into a team by that time?

 

Time will tell.

Jerry Markbreit: Born to Referee

A football officiating crew is a band of brothers.

My work colleague, Jim, displays a group photo of his crew on his office desk.  He hasn’t seen his desk in a few weeks, though.  He is currently at home on his back where he will remain for 6 weeks, nursing a femur that was fractured when a tackler leg-whipped him in the end zone.  As you can tell, Jim isn’t a football player.  He is one of a select group of driven individuals that officiates  Division I College Football games.  Jim is a member of a crew. 

These are fastidious and disciplined men.  The work is exacting and demanding.  There is a right way and a wrong way to weight your penalty flag with a few washers, or else it will flutter without being noticed when you whip it into the air from your pocket.  You must always pack both long and short sleeved uniform shirts, or risk the outrage of your crew mates when you force them to match what you chose to wear.  You must mentally record the number of the player committing an infraction when you call a penalty, or be prepared to make one up to avoid looking incompetent.

You’ve got to do the job the right way.  You’ve got to get every call right.  Mess up and be marked down by the officiating supervisor.  Risk lowering your chances of officiating in the post season.

Ridicule and physical danger come with the job.  But these men love football.  Officiating in the NFL is their dream.

Jerry Markbreit’s book, BORN TO REFEREE (with Alan Steinberg, Morrow, 1988), illuminates the trade of Referees, Line Judges and Back Judges.  The reader may start with the impression that referees are the luckiest football fans on the planet, flying around the country to exotic stadia and seeing the NFL up close.  In reality, it is a grueling sacrifice, but one rewarded with brotherhood, power, fame and satisfaction.

Of course, men do not rise to the NFL without having excelled in D I football.  And they do not reach D I without having excelled in Schoolboy football.  It is much in the same way for the officials as it is for the players.

In Markbreit’s case, you could say the pro league attempted to get him to leave college early.  (Perfectly legal with officials.)  After 3 years of Big 10 experience, the NFL offered him a back judge position.  He turned it down and spent 7 more years calling college while earning the white cap of the D I Referee, the glamour job.  The Referee is the guy whose face and voice are on TV explaining penalties and other calls.  Markbreit knew he’d never rise to be an NFL Referee if he accepted the NFL back judge position in 1968, at which point he had not earned the white cap in D I.  He was right.  He came to the NFL 8 years later with Referee experience and earned the white cap at the pro level in just his second year in the NFL.

An official is regarded by his tenure, and more importantly, by how many championship games he is selected to judge.

From 1965 to 1975, Markbreit was a Big 10 zebra.  From 1976 to 1998, he officiated in the NFL.  He was the Referee at the 1972 Rose Bowl.  He is the only NFL Referee to have called four Super Bowls (XVII, XXI, XXVI and XXIX.)

He is also remembered for some flashpoints.  Woody Hayes charged Markbreit and spewed upon him a profanity laced tirade in 1971, Hayes chucking a flag and a down marker in the process.  7 years later, Markbreit made the touchdown call when Ken Stabler fumbled the ball 14 yards forward into the end zone where Dave Casper recovered it for the winning touchdown, all with 10 seconds left.  Markbeit also blew and then corrected the coin toss on television in Super Bowl XVII, suffering from nerves in his first pro title game.  Markbeit invented the term “Stuffing the Quarterback” when he ejected Charles Martin from a 1986 game for throwing Jim McMahon to the ground in a completely unnecessary hit, later inspiring officiating supervisors to name “Stuffing” The Markbreit Call.

Beside writing about all of the above, Markbreit goes carefully into the ordinary but fascinating aspects of being a Referee.  The off season training.  The study of the rulebook.  The Friday travel.  The Saturday game film screening (of the crew’s last game), followed by dinner.  The crew’s mandatory attendance at Catholic Mass, even for the Jewish Markbreit.  The pregame, which includes rubbing down of the footballs, quick meetings with the Head Coaches, and with the TV officials for coordination of TV spots, and inspection of the field.  The limping home after the game.  Every step and process is regulated or structured by tradition, even the assignment of lockers.

A crew becomes a band of brothers.  They mentor, support, lambast and tease each other.  They shoot for perfection and quietly accept near perfection.  They risk life and limb.  They are enjoined as a group for 5 to 10 years, giving to each other huge chunks of their lives.

I enjoyed BORN TO REFEREE and recommend it to you.  With the growing awareness and action taken in the NFL over violence and concussions, Markbeit’s memoir about the officiating piece of the game seems well ordered and civilized by comparison to the slaughter transacting all around them. 

Joe & Marilyn, the impossibilities

“Joe and Marilyn”, by Roger Kahn.

I picked this book off the sale rack for 50 cents.  The second book in a 2 for $1 sale.  I didn’t want to have the cashier make change for a $1.  I wasn’t expecting much.

Wrong again.

It is a great book from the start.  The Clipper is reclusive but polite, defensive but uninhibited with his friends; a lady hound but one who wants to be a one woman man.

It’s a sad story about an impossible love between two impossible people.

Joe and Marilyn are two people to whom it would be difficult to remain married by the most tolerant of us.  Marilyn was a depressive.  She was unceasingly flirtatious, even when married. She had mental illness in her gene pool, and it became manifest.  DiMaggio had a thing for pretty showgirls, liked to spend every night socializing with the boys, was unskilled in the ways of friendship.  He moodily and silently moved only within a sphere of trusted family and friends.  Neither one of them was a day at the beach.

Joe’s father, Giuseppe Paolo DiMaggio, emigrated from Western Sicily, near Palermo, where only 1 in 10 natives could read.  He took a ship to New York and a train to the San Francisco area in 1898, travelling 7,300 miles alone.  Giuseppe got a job, learned to read and write, saved enough money to send for his wife Rosalee & daughter Nellie in 1903, and raised 9 kids in a two room cottage.  In the DiMaggio family, the Father was all powerful and the Mother called the shots within the home.

Joe was #8 in the birth order, 3 years younger than his predecessor, Vince, and 3 years older than baby Dominic.

The DiMaggios came from a long line of fisherman and Giuseppe continued in that line.  He bought a boat and pressed his sons into service.  One of them did not cooperate.   Joe had no interest in fishing.  No interest in Fishing.  No interest in school either.  He was a drop out.  Had Baseball not come to Joe so easily, his family would have been shocked had he ever amounted to anything.

Young Joe D. lived in a world bounded by neighborhood, family and friends.  He trusted the familiar.  He inherited his father’s skepticism. He was hyper vigilant about being cheated.  After all, uneducated Dagos could be an easy mark for the unscrupulous.

Joe took a defensive edge with him to New York.  Writers got one chance to prove they were trustworthy.  The first time they misquoted him they went on the permanent shit list.

He arrived in New York City reserved, insulated, yet stable.  He came from a supportive family that stuck together.  And he certainly was arrogant about his baseball prowess.

He was the opposite of Marilyn.

She was born to a Mother that didn’t want to raise her.  Mom suffered from mental and emotional challenges.  Soon after birth, Norma Jean was in the care of her Grandmother.  The Grandmother, also with emotional challenges, soon delegated care of Madeline into a foster home, for which Marilyn’s mother paid a monthly fee of $25.  Marilyn stayed in this fairly stable environment until she was 9, at which time she began to live in a succession of foster homes where she was groped, perhaps assaulted, and denied the benevolent love of a Mom & Dad.  She married her neighbor to get out of foster care when she was 16 and he was 21.  She was soon left behind when her husband joined the Merchant Marines.  Soon, an independent, young & beautiful Marilyn began to work around Los Angeles as a calendar and photographic model, ultimately gaining an entrée into a series of film studios and contracts.

Kahn recounts that Marilyn was loose, rumored to be a prostitute and posed nude to pay her rent. She denied sex to studio executives who were obnoxiously forward, but gave it freely to execs who treated her like a friend.  Kahn sources say that Marilyn not only had the greatest bottom in Hollywood, but was also the most able at performing fellatio.  I kid you not.

Joe and Marilyn came from very different places, yes.

Joe was guarded and touched by arrogance.  He was strongly motivated by money, just like his contemporary, Ted Williams.

Marilyn was possessed with a desire to be rich and famous and acclaimed and was determined to use her sexuality to accomplish these things.

Joe had a wife before marrying Marilyn.  Dorothy Arnold and Joe DiMaggio met on the set of Manhattan Merry-Go-Round.  She was delighted to become famous by marrying the most famous ballplayer in America.  Although Joe & Dorothy fell in love at first sight, it was doomed.  “He wanted to live in San Francisco.  She preferred Los Angeles or New York.  He wanted a hausfrau, but picked a woman who had rejected domestic life for show business.  He wanted a pliant pinup.  Instead he found someone with strong ideas of her own.”  This would all resurface with Marilyn.

After giving us Joe and Marilyn’s childhood backgrounds, the author describes their ascendant careers, recapping the MVP awards he won, the pictures she made, the affairs in which they indulged. His hitting streak.  Her seduction of America.  Her studio contracts.  His contract holdouts.

Kahn takes us quickly through their courtship, a teeter totter of fixation by Joe, and resistance by Marilyn.  Resistance to marrying again, that is.  There was zero resistance to immediate sex with the Slugger.

The marriage lasted just 9 months, exploding along with DiMaggio’s temper on a Manhattan Street where MM was filming the “7^th Year Itch”, at the very moment they recorded that iconic scene in which a subway wind blows Marilyn’s skirt up to her navel.

The divorce was only a matter of time.

Through it all, he loved her.

He could not tolerate her public sexuality.  But he cared for her deeply, taking control of her funeral plans upon her death in 1962.

As I said, It’s a sad story about an impossible love between two impossible people.

I hope you find the time read this book.  Kahn gives a view of Joe untainted by fan ardor.  The reader will find Joe to be both selfish and honorable.  The reader will find Marilyn to be a lost cause.

NUGGETS……..

On the subject of money, Kahn recounts Joe’s remarkable holdout of 1938.  Only 23 years old and with 2 seasons under his belt, Joe demanded a salary increase from $15,000 to $40,000.  He had the stats to back up the request.  But he did not have the cooperation of his feudal lord, Colonel Rupert.  One of the delicious tidbits of that holdout is that although DiMaggio was ridiculed & criticized publicly by Ruppert, the Colonel turned down an offer of $150,000 cash from the Browns for Joe.  Ruppert was determined that if Joe wouldn’t sign, would not play anywhere.

9 years after The Colonel turned down $150,000 for Joe, Ed Barrow acted similarly, turning down a straight trade with the Nats of Joe for  Mickey Vernon, who had just won the AL batting title with a .353 average.  Barrow and Rupert both knew how critical Joe was to their financial success.

Should have known it would be good when I saw the author was Roger Kahn.  When I was 15, two books made me love Baseball history.  One was Ball Four, the other was Kahn’s Boys of Summer, a book I not only read, but re-read, and savored.

Through Kahn’s telling, Joe’s legend stands tall off the playing field as well as on it.  “As no young ballplayer before him, he had elected to challenge the Yankees and with them the full feudal power of organized baseball.”

I love that about Joe.  Marvin Miller would love that.

Many years after he lost the salary battle, Joe reflected silently about how the men who once had all the power now complained that their players had too much power.  And in Kahn’s memory, silent Joe wore a grim look that said “The Bastards did it to themselves.”

True that.

+++++++

It is 1939.  DiMaggio is betting .408 on Sept. 8.  He comes down with an eye inflammation.  A man of his times, Joe refuses to take time off.  His average plummets 27 points.  He posts a .381 B.A., highest of his career.  But if not for an allergy that led to an inflammation….who knows?

Ineluctable.  Sonorous.  Protean.  Hoydenish.  These are the words of Kahn that sent me to the dictionary.  A good book should do that at least 4 times.

Thanks for the inspiring read, Roger.

Round Up: Nelson “Heat Seeking” Cruz and the Boston Soap Opera

Photo: Dallas Morning News

It is 8:46 p.m. EST and Nelson Cruz is circling the bases on a walk-off grand slam ending a ballgame that began 4 hours & 26 minutes ago.  Nelson is immensely popular among the Arlington faithful.  Nelson is good.  Nelson is a masher.

This was news to me in April.  At the Rangers home opener, 167 games ago, I watched Texas spank Jon Lester and my Red Sox, 9 – 5, at the Ballpark at Arlington.  It was a treat to personally experience this marvel of a stadium on Opening Day, to take stock of Ranger Fans, their 3 foot tall Margaritas, their Nolan Ryan Aged Beef Barbecue, the nonsensical yet mind bending centerfield office condominiums, the raucous-yet-clean-mouthed fans, and a signs that said “WE LOVE YOU NELLIE !”.

Nellie ?  Nellie Who ?  Nellie Fox.  Nellie Figueroa.  Nellie Briles.  Nellie Rockefeller.  Who ?

Nelson the Masher.  Nuking Nellie.  The Arlington Assassin.  The Crucifier from Monte Cristi.  Thunderclap Nelson.  Heat Seeking Cruz. 

That Nelson Cruz.

31-year-old Nelson Cruz is not going to the HOF, but he has averaged 28 HR’s over the last 3 years, was an All Star in 2009, bats .270 lifetime, and has been an enduring bargain, making about $400,000 a year for the last 4 years until finally  jumping to $3.6 Million in 2011.

He has now hit three dramatic HR’s in this 2011 post season for the Texas Rangers.

Nellie significantly increased his free agent salary potential when he took Ryan Perry yard for the walk-off in the 11th, not to mention the game tying HR he belted off Max Scherzer in the 7^th inning, not to mention the game winner he hit off Verlander in Game 1 of this ALCS.

I should have known Nellie was a rain maker when I saw the Love You sign.  And when he hit a game tying HR on Opening Day.

Hats off to you Nellie.  May your post-season Free Agency also be a Big Blast and may they keep you in the Ranger outfield for years to come.

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The Boston Soap Opera continues to play every day on WEEI and everywhere else in Beantown.  Francona is gone.  Theo may be negotiating with the Cubs.  Ben Cherrington may be the next Boston GM.  Dave Martinez could be the new Manager.  All those who leave us are being run out of town with a stench for the ages and a cloud of shame following them.

Terry Francona was discharged after leading the Red Sox to a .634 record in May, June, July & August.  At that pace, the Sox could have won 102 games over a full season.  For those 4 superior months they lived up to their preseason billing.  The starters were good enough.  The bullpen was tight.  Bard didn’t allow a Run for 2 months.  Pap was better than expected.  Even the catchers did better than predicted.  The Sox were a dominating team.

Terry Francona was not a different manager in April & September than he was in the middle months.  The culprit is the damaging injury to Clay Buchholz, the fading of young Daniel Bard, the albatross of the Lackey contract, and an aging & nicked up roster. A 39 year old catcher got 40% of the games, and a 44 year old knuckler became a rotation regular. The Rays have the youngest roster in the A.L..  The Red Sox have the oldest. 

Francona deserved a Pitching Coach that could motivate the staff.  He did not  deserve a farm system devoid of starting pitching.   He deserved the backing of Henry & Werner.

Francona deserved better.  Period.

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Talk Radio Dudes repeatedly mention how plummeting ratings at NESN financially hurt Messrs. Henry and Werner.

I can explain how that works.

If Sports Authority, e.g.,  is told that a Sox game will pull a 7.0 rating, a rate is negotiated to reach that audience with a .30 second spot.  Using an estimate of $2,000 per rating point,   if Sports Authority purchases 3 spots during the broadcast at that rate, the per-game investment is $42,000.

The next day, the overnight ratings are received.   If the ratings are less than a 7.0, NESN owes Sports Authority the difference.  Let’s say the overnight rating turns out to be a 6.0.   NESN now owes Sports Authority $6,000 in the form of FREE .30 spots on the same kind of broadcast.

That’s how it works.

Thus, plummeting ratings dilute the monetization of TV spots.

This can be very hurtful.  Assuming a cost per point of just $1,000, and a total of seventy-two .30 second spots per 3 hour game, and a 1 point drop in ratings for 150 NESN games per season, the net effective loss in advertising dollars is $ 10,800, 000 per year.

That’s conservative.  NESN’s rating could be off several rating points, and ad revenues could be off in the multiple $10 millions since the bubble years of 2004 to 2007.

Someday, I hope, the public will get a thorough look at the insides of the Boston Baseball profit machine.   The stakes are huge.  The story will be riveting.

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