Pete Rose would have paid for hitting Jerry Moses

This guy was not afraid to get hurt.

Athomeatfenway.com had the opportunity to do a Q & A with Jerry Moses, Red Sox catcher from 1968 to 1970.

Some remember Jerry as the Yazoo City, MS gridiron star who chose Baseball over Football but was sidetracked by injuries.  Others recall Jerry as the 1970 All Star who had a ringside seat on the collision between Pete Rose & Ray Fosse.

When you meet him today, he is a friendly, soft spoken man with a kind countenance that hides his toughness.

He trained with Ted, cheered for Mantle and ran with the Hawk & Frank Howard.

You were a big bonus baby.  How did injuries effect your career ?

Three times I broke my middle finger, I did it even though I put my hand behind the glove.  Anytime the ball went below my glove I flipped it and the hand automatically opened up.  I couldn’t stop it.  I was out 6 to 8 weeks each time I broke it.  The one that really got me was in 1970 when Bert Campaneris was batting in Oakland, and he came around on his swing and hit my glove hand, crushing the network of nerves in my hand.  I tried to play about two weeks with it being that way, but finally the manager said what’s wrong with you ? I said “Nothing’, and he said, ‘Well, you’re not even swinging the bat.”  I said, “I can’t”.  I was bunting for base hits.  I was trying to get walks.  The injury  caught up with me.  I didn’t play the rest of the year.  I got traded the next year. 

The 1970 All Star Game:  Pete Rose & Ray Fosse

I think Ray Fosse and I should have been the only two catchers on the team.  But it didn’t work that way.  Bill Frehan was hitting around .240, but all the fans voting decided Bill should be there, even though Fosse and I were hitting about .310 a piece.  I didn’t get in the game.  When Fosse got in, there was no shot for me because they have to keep somebody as a backup if someone gets hurt.  So, when the collision happened, I was in an open area where the pitchers were getting ready.  We’re in Cinncinati and it’s the 14^th inning, and here comes Rose around 3^rd.   Ray tried to block the plate without having the ball.  Rose came in shoulder first, and Fosse didn’t know Rose was going to hit him like that.  He came in full bore.  That’s the way Rose played.  He played hard.  I don’t think he had to do that.  I don’t think he should have.  And I don’t think Fosse should have tried to do what he did because that game didn’t mean anything at the time like it does now.  But I will say this, and I’ve said it my whole life:  I had a football mentality, not necessarily a baseball one, and I don’t believe he would have ever gotten to the plate and run over me like he ran over Fosse.  If he did, he would have felt it.  I played a lot of football and I didn’t mind getting hurt.

What do you recall about Gibson and Satriano – the late 60’s Sox catchers ?

In 1970, Satriano was the back up.  He got to catch some because Sonny Siebert and I didn’t see eye-to-eye. Siebert nibbled too much and he didn’t want to challenge the batters. Satriano ended up catching Siebert every time.  The other catcher was Russ Gibson.  Gibby had come up in ’67, playing that year with Elston Howard and Mike Ryan.  In ’68, Gibby caught a good bit of the games and Elston was only there a little that year.  Then in ’69, Gibby was the starting catcher and I was his back up.  In 1970, Eddie Kasko named me as his starting catcher, and Gibby ended up going to the Giants.

Did you recall Hawk Harrelson’s famous psychedelic wardrobe, Nehru jackets, racks of designer shoes and boots?

I loved Hawk.  He was a character.  He swung the bat pretty darn good.   He was unique in so many ways.  I loved him.    He may not have had all the tools, but he had enough.  I saw his Nehru clothing and his cowboy hat and boots, and that was just him.  I was with him a few times on the road, we’d go out to dinner and have a few drinks together, if we were in Washington, he and Frank Howard and a bunch of us would get together and go night clubbing.  These were high profile guys and I was just getting to the majors, so I enjoyed it.  Hawk took me along.  He was somewhat older than me, he had his own group, but he was good to me.

What was Frank Howard like to spend time with ?

The best.  Everytime he came up to bat, the first thing he would do was to greet the catcher, “How you doin’ ?”.  I’m doing fine, how you doin’?”  He was the nicest guy.

He was a guy we listened to.  We were playing Washington at Fenway one day, when Siebert, Reggie Smith and a Senator ended up in an exchange with somebody hitting somebody else, and all of a sudden we started fighting.  And Howard ran in from left field and gets in the middle of it, and says, “Boys, cut this out.”.  And we did.  We listened to him. No one could hit a ball as far he did.

Did you spend time with Ted Williams ?

Yes, actually.  7 years with Bobby Doerr and Ted Williams, both as hitting instructors.  Ted worked a lot with me.  I was a bonus kid that came out early.  This was pre-draft.  I guess they babied me through my time coming in.  It was really an awful situation in that you had two great hitters, great players, great HOF’ers, and what they did they did well, but they had two different ideas of how you should hit.  Doerr wanted you to hit on top of the ball, not necessarily swing down on the ball, but swing close to it.  And Williams wanted you to swing up…and I heard that difference of opinion year after year after year.

There was this wonderful video that Bobby did with Ted, and Bobby gave it to me because he knew I loved both of them.

Bobby was so neat…and Ted was John Wayne, you know, that’s what they called him.

It hurt my hitting to work with both of them.  The first year I hit 13 HR’s in 8 weeks in single-A ball.  I had no problem getting the ball out of the park.  Hitting HR’s was one of the reasons that the Red Sox outbid everyone else for me.  And then once I got into the organization, I tried to do what Ted told me and what Bobby told me.  Before you knew it I became a line drive hitter.  Hitting line drives isn’t a bad thing, but I never hit more than 7 HR’s a year.

Did you find Ted the hitting instructor to be overly technical ?  Mantle once said that Ted confused him.

Ted expected everybody to be as good as him.  And nobody was.

Mantle was my idol, as a kid growing up.  Down in Missisippi, the only guys we could see were the Yankees on Saturdays.

Anyway, I apologized for not being as good as Ted Williams wanted me to be.

Favorite guy to catch ?

Oh, I loved Lonborg.  I didn’t get to catch him as much as I wanted to.  Lonborg and Ray Culp were great. I think Ken Brett would have been a HOF’er had he not hurt his shoulder.

I caught Gaylord Perry with the spitball.  He was a master, a pro’s pro, a tough guy, not always gentle with guys he did not think were hustling.

Favorite pitcher to hit ?

I hit Nolan Ryan pretty good…I went 1 for 3…He K’d me once, I popped out once, and in the third at bat I bailed out on a curveball and broke my bat with the ball going over the shortstop’s head for a single.  God, Ryan could throw the ball.  I didn’t have to face him often.  You didn’t have a chance to tell if there was a tail on the ball because it was coming so quick.

I thought Rollie Fingers was one of the toughest guys coming out of the bullpen.  He had a ball that would sink and a slider that would go the other way.  If you didn’t guess right you weren’t going to come close to it.

It seemed like I hit the better pitchers better than I hit the guys who didn’t pitch so good.  I’m not bragging about any of it.  I hit fairly good off Bert Blyleven, and Jim Palmer, but not so well against the two Baltimore lefthanders, Cuellar and McNally.

I didn’t hit Catfish Hunter well, a guy who never let anybody hit a HR when there were men on base.   He’d wear you out inside and then come outside, and then with the slider.  I faced Hunter 30 or 40 times and always wanted to bat against him because I thought I could hit him, but I never got a hit…..

The good pitchers all pitched inside.  I knew a lot of guys who wouldn’t throw inside because they were afraid of giving up a home run.  You have to have the confidence.

The pitcher is going to pitch whatever he wants to pitch.  The catcher just makes the signs.  But if you have that chemistry, they won’t shake you off more than 3 or 4 times a game.  That’s what made guys like Bill Lee so good.  He’d pitch to you inside.   Bill didn’t throw the ball over 90 or 91 mph, but he would throw strikes….he was a little crazy, but he could pitch.

+++++++++++++

Gerry Moses came straight out of Baseball into the Food business where he has stayed for 40 years.  Among other successful ventures, he is the founder of Ann’s Boston Brownie Company.

He is in good health, is still working and having fun.  He works out and makes it a habit to eat healthfully.  He credits his wife of 41 years, Carolyn, for keeping him in line.  “If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know what I’d have done; she’s the strength of our house.

Gerry says the present BoSox owners “have been fabulous.  They embraced us and involve us…they seem to understand marketing better than most…..they get us (retired players) into Fenway despite the sell outs…I am lucky and proud to still be in the Red Sox family.”

Moses also added that the Sox he played with were multi-talented.  “We thought after ’67 we were going to have a good run there, but Lonborg got hurt, Santiago got hurt, Mike Andrews got hurt.

Those are the BoSox I remember so well.  Moses, Yaz, Reggie, Harper, Andrews, Rico, Boomer, both Conigliaro’s, Peters, Nagy, Romo, Lee, Lyle, Culp, Siebert and John Kennedy, the super sub.

That pre-Rice era of BoSox played its heart out and won more than it lost.

Gerry Moses fit right in.

Fosse's shoulder injury may have cancelled his ticket to stardom.

Dustin to Dylan Pedroia: It’s not the size of the dog in the fight.

Dustin and Kelli have something better than a Championship.

You delivered a Championship and the ROY Award in your first year.

You won the A.L. MVP Award in your second.

What do you do for an encore  ?

If you are Dustin Pedroia and your wife, Kelli, you top it all and have a little baby on August 18.

You go immediately on a tear, batting .476 with 5 runs, 4 RBI and 2 stolen bases in the next 5 games.  You prove the continuum of life itself will drive you.

Maybe Dustin’s streak foreshadows good things for Dylan’s own baseball career.

No doubt, Dustin is even now thinking about what he will teach Dylan, what words he will use to inspire him, push him.

There are many reasons for optimism here.

Little Dylan Pedroia has the same birthday as  Roberto Clemente.

Forgetting for a moment that Denis Leary, Fat Lever and Masta Killa also were born on August 18, I would say that Dylan’s birthday definitely improves his chances of going pro.

And Dylan’s gene pool is up to the challenge.  Grandpa was a fine ballplayer.

Grandma, who was an amateur tennis champion in her teens, is the genetic map to Dustin’s tremendous eye-hand coordination and competitiveness.

Dylan may have a shot.

The precedents of multi-generation MLB’ers are multiple.

There have been over 100 Father-Son combinations, including, but not limited to:  Max and Hal Lanier, Todd & Randy Hundley, Jim & Queenie O’Rourke, Connie & Earle Mack, Tito & Terry Francona, Jim and Mike Hegan, The Bagbys, The Armas men, The Stottlemyres, The Alomars, The Alous, The Barfields, and The Bannisters, The Sislers and The Gwynns.

Then there are the ones you know by their first names.

Barry and Bobby. They combined for 1,094 HR’s, 4,891 hits, 975 stolen bases and 10,000 tons of ego.  Not counting  Barry’s cousin, Reggie Jackson.

Cecil & Prince. Will they challenge the Bonds family ?  They sit at 466 HR’s and are in no way related to Fielder Jones of the 1906 White Sox.

Yogi & Dale.  One’s a chortler.  The other’s a snortler.  One’s got MVP’s, the other has  DUI’s.  One snaps off the quick lines, the other snarfs up the white ones.

Sorry, Yogi.  You’re 84.   You don’t need to hear this.

Junior and his Dad. They combined (to date) with 776 HR’s, 4,892 Hits, and 2,664 RBI.  They are friends with Stan Musial.  Ken, Sr.  all but invented the infield hit.    They’ve never offended anyone.  And they have one more hit than the Bonds family.  I love these guys.

Whatever the future holds, a few things are certain.

Barry Bonds will not hear from his Dad again.  Bobby passed in 2003.

Prince and Cecil no longer speak, either.  Prince cut off Dad when he took $200,000 of his $1.4 Million signing bonus in 2002.

Whatever Yogi might say to Dale, you can trust that it will be said with  humor and honesty.

It’s impossible to know what Dustin may say to Dylan one day.  But one thing is certain.

Dylan will never hear his father say, “Sorry, son, but you’re too small to do that.”

Don’t blame Selig for Manny & David. It’s the Money, honey.

We don't need a scape goat. We need disinfectant.

This is an up and down week for loyal Red Sox fans.

 

Tears of joy fell over the enshrinement of Jim Rice 4 days ago.

 

Anguish and anxiety struck today. Big Papi and Manny Ramirez tested positive in 2003.

 

There is a stark contrast about which to be spoken.

 

Rice averaged one HR every 21.5 AB’s.  He never touched PED’s.

 

Papi & Ramirez combined to average a HR every 15.2 AB’s.

 

It’s no surprise, really.  If you saw Rice play you know he was just as terrifying to face (if not more) than David or Manny.

 

The differences between the Dominican Dandies and the Boston Strong Man are about cheating and honesty, shortcuts and work ethic, popular culture, the relativity of talent, and M-O-N-E-Y, baby.

 

Can’t help but think of my friend who once ended up at a Florida cocktail party with Wakefield, Varitek and Mirabelli.  The talk was all about money.  Real Estate.  Business.  Opportunity. 

 

The MLB is a Money Machine.   It is a pathway to the riches of a lifetime.

 

What would you do to stay on that pathway ?

 

How many of us would do whatever is legal to stay there ?

 

How many of us would stop taking steroids after 2002, when they became illegal ?

 

These are hard questions. 

 

90% of us would cheat if they had company and the protection of the MLBPA.

 

The money is just too hard to resist.

 

So, Papi and Manny should now pay the price.

 

The BBWA and Old Timers should forever keep Manny out of the HOF, along with A-Rod, McGwire, Clemens, and every other “immortal” who would otherwise be enshrined.

 

The Red Sox should forever keep David out of the Red Sox HOF, and never retire his number.  (His heroics, tarnished or not, would not have made him a Cooperstowner anyway.)

 

We may all look at David’s 2009 struggles and 2008 decline a little differently knowing he was PED-fueled.

 

It’s a sad day.  And we must face the music.  The MLB must be cleaned up.

 

Let’s get off our asses and stop blaming Bud Selig.  Let’s insist on the release of all 103 names that tested positive in 2003.  Let’s agree to ban every one of them from the HOF.

 

Let’s get clean and stay that way.

Hall of Fame greets Rickey Henderson, Jim Rice, Joe Gordon…and Dorkus White

It was a paradise for Fans

Long after we sat down in our folding chairs facing the induction stage and jumbotron, Dorkus White of Bennington, Vermont bared his spooky grin.  “Mind if we pull up next to you ?”

I nodded affirmatively.  A light aroma of body odor wafted in the air.  He plunked into his seat.  “You don’t mind since I’m not wearing any of that YANKEE SHIT !”, he snarled.

Then…he spat.

Wow.

I am no Yankee fan for sure, but my hackles were up.

I am too old to fight.  I am too smart to fight.  But I cannot tolerate those who begin a conversation by disrespecting the traditions of other fans.  I was pissed.

My anxiety level was up from spending 4 hours in a car with nothing but prunes, coffee and peanuts in my belly.

I was ornery.

I clenched my left hand into a fist and drew it back, positioned to thwock this boob and lead with my wedding ring.

Then  I thought about the resultant civil suit and relaxed, so as to preserve my home, my 401K and all other small assets so that they may be picked over by my children, and their future generations to come.

XXXXXXXX

We met all kinds this day, Sun., Sept. 26, 2009 in Cooperstown.  Without even trying, we spoke with 30-odd fans who flew in from the Oakland area, others from St. Louis, Kansas, Virginia, Staten Island, Connecticut, Massachusetts and Maryland.  As expected, Baltimoreans made their presence felt during the national anthem by Shouting “O !”  instead of “Oh, say can you see?”

These were baseball loving people from all over the States.  They treated each other well, and showed their loyalty is expected and curious ways.

The streets of Cooperstown were populated with young and old, trim and fat, Black, White, Hispanic and Asian.

They were decked out in mustard green, baby blue, Redbird red, road greys, home whites and the multi-colored Houston horizon.

We were at The United Nations of Baseball.  20,000 of us sat comfortably in our lawn chairs on a great field.

A delegate from Alexandria testified on the greatness of Stan Musial, he with 3,630 hits – exactly half of them on the road.  A delegate from St. Louis railed against the unbearably high cost of All Star Game tickets.  A delegate from Mississippi invoked State birth rights and claimed ownership of one Jonathan Papelbon, who currently resides in Boston.

Secret languages were being spoken.  Everyone understood every word of it.  Those who confessed to ignorance became learned.

On this field and in the village, 20,000 hard-wired Baseball fans, age 2 to 92 walked, sprinted, sat and leisurely strolled through Cooperstown, engaged in conversation.

The talk was unrelenting.

20,000 pilgrims expressed a baseball thought every 15 seconds for 10 hours, resulting in 480,000,000 baseball opinions.

Not one positive thing was said about Bud Selig.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Dorkus was a sinner.  This runt of a man was given to excess.  Excess eating, and by his smell, excessive sweating.  5 ft., 5 inches tall and 260 lbs., he wore non-matching green cargo shorts and a yellow-and-white checkered shirt from the mark down table at Ocean State Job Lot.  His gnarly toe nails stared up at me from a pair of open toed flip flops.

As he skootched his chair so close to me that our armrests interlocked, I swear I heard him fart.

He pushed back his oily hair with one hand, then followed it with the other, snugging a Red Sox cap, a 1946 Cooperstown Collectible repro, above his greasy brow.

This pig of a man……like me…..was a Red Sox fan.

Dorkus White, on a one-day parole from his trailer park, scanned the crowd of 20,000, observing the stage and Baseball circus before us.

He smiled broadly.

XXXXXXXXXX.

Judy Gordon is a lean, lion-maned, energetic woman who conjures the intellect and grace of a PBS historian.  She stood up for her family and accepted the HOF plaque for her Father, Joe Gordon.

Gordon, a second bagger, clouted 253 HR’s, a remarkable total for a keystoner.  He batted .278, beat Ted Williams for the 1942 MVP, played the field acrobatically.  He won FIVE World Championships with the Yankees and Indians in an 11-year war-interrupted career.

Judy was the first speaker to draw emotions.  Although the day was marked by lusty cheering and standing ovations from fans of Rickey & Jim, it was Joe Gordon’s girl who compelled thousands to choke up.

As Judy Gordon closed her summary of Joe Gordon’s life and career, she explained how personal humility stopped him from allowing a funeral to be conducted.

There had been no service for Joe Gordon upon his death in 1978, Judy said.

Her voice shut down with emotion.  She breathed silently, trying to gather herself.

In that instant, all realized that Gordon had passed from this Earth without a celebration of  his life.  No gathering.  No chit chat about his exploits and loves.  No public recognition of the impact he had on others.

Until today.

Judy explained that on this day, July 26, 2009, the family considered this induction ceremony to be Joe Gordon’s funeral celebration, and his eternal resting place to be the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Tears flowed.

XXXXXX.

Jim Ed Rice is many things.  Put your arm around the “Boston Strong Man” and feel the shoulder muscles that writhe like a barrel of snakes.  Stick a microphone in front of him and hear him elaborate like an Emerson graduate.  Take him off camera and hear him talk about the importance of family, love, and teamwork.

Rice’s speech dragged a finger across the arc of human life.  Youthful days enjoyed.  Finding the love of your life.  Earning what you own.  Bringing children into the world.  Experiencing many, many pleasures, and then knowing the confounding joy of grandchildren.

The man who once allegedly deposited a reporter upside down in a locker room garbage can made his induction speech about family, love, marriage, teammates.

He honored Johnny Pesky, his personal batting coach and BP pitcher in Jim’s rookie season.  He honored Celcil Cooper, his roommate.

He did not back away from his denial that war with the media had hurt him.  Instead, he pointed out the irony that he had become one of them.

Jim Rice.  Ed Rice.  Poppa.  Uncle Jim.  Jim the Friend Who Never Calls You Back.

Jim Ed said that he is all of the above.

He said he is also Jim the Grateful.

Though massive talents and achievements prevented Jim’s words from resonating with humility this day, the cocky confidence that marbled his words was not unbecoming.

He knows what is important.  And he knows he belongs in Cooperstown.

XXXXXXXXXX.

The High School Baseball Coach brought ice cream to Rickey’s home to recruit him.

His Mom told him to stop with the Football, and concentrate on the diamond.

A teacher offered him 25 cents for every hit, run and stolen base he made.  He made cash money.

Rickey’s life has turned on small things.

As the entire baseball world waited for Rickey to float into a eubonic-plagued “Rickey-says-this and Rickey-says-that” soliloquy, Rickey Henderson instead carefully enunciated a well constructed speech of gratitude.

He recognized Billy Martin as a great manager.  He pointed to his best friend, Dave Stewart.  He allowed that his wife of 30 years, Pamela, has supported him in all that he has done.

Rickey hit every consonant.  (And a few that do not normally get hit.)

He spoke carefully, making every syllable heard.

He had prepared his ass off.

What else would you expect from the man who scored more runs than anyone (2,295), stole more bases than anyone (1,406), and led off more games with a HR than anyone (81)?

As Bill James once said, he’s so good you could split him in half and get two HOF’ers.

Rickey was not going to be embarrassed at his celebration.

And, oh the numerous A’s fans did rejoice.  They played banjo, danced, shouted and screamed.  They let out their Rickey Love, their A’s Ardor.  They represented the Bay Area impressively.

They may have outshined Red Sox Nation, which interrupted Rice with a loud “Let’s Go Red Sox” chant just as he started, and earlier gave Yaz a long and loving ovation.

You just had to tip your hat to the many from Oakland who traveled 3,000 miles.  Decked in splendor, elephants on their sleeves, mustard on their jerseys, they soared on the achievements of a player the likes of which we will never see again.

XXXXXXX

Dorkus White of Bennington, Vt. had impressed me.

There were his loathsome characteristics, sure.  But his heart seemed to be in the right place.

Dorkus had jumped to his feet and cheered 92-year-old patriot, Bob Feller.  He had hollered for Yaz, Yogi, Koufax and Reggie.  He had applauded Rickey when the speedy one paid respect to Roberto Clemente.

I had observed that a small, yet warm, heart was radiating from his unwashed and ill-clad breast.

Still, I didn’t want to get too close to Dorkus as the wife and I pulled up stakes.  I moved silently and avoided eye contact.

Then the filfthy, decent little Dorkus reached out to me with a friendly shake and a warm goodbye.

I realized that Dorkus White, Red Sox fan of Bennington, Vt., had had a pretty good day.

He is overall, it seems, a pretty damn good baseball fan.

Like Rickey, A's fans were untoppable this day.

Francona & Varitek have Golden Spikes

 

 

 

 

 

1980 Golden Spikes Winner in his '78 Goldpanners uni.

One of the best Red Sox trivia stumpers I know goes like this:  Who are the five current Red Sox that won the Golden Spikes Award in college ?  

 

The Golden Spikes is like the Naismith Award, going to the best college player in the nation.

 

Answer:  J.D. Drew, Mark Kotsay, Jason Varitek, Dave Magadan and Terry Francona.

 

Surprised about Francona ?  The injury prone manager batted .401 in 1980, was College World Series MVP, lead his team to the National Title, and left the University of Arizona in the Top 8 all time in RBI, Hits, Extra Base Hits, and Total Bases among all Wildcat players.

 

His bench coach, Brad Mills, wasn’t half bad either, with a .515 career OBP, third on the Cats’ all time list.

 

Francona batted .274 with just 10 HR’s in 16 gimpy MLB seasons, but his 900 – 525 WL record as Sox Manager burnishes his image.

 

J.D.  Drew starred at Florida State University (1997), and .now sports a career .282 BA w 202 HR’s in 12 (part time) MLB seasons —  very respectable.

 

Mark Kotsay won when at Cal State Fulleron (1995).  His career MLB .282 BA and 1542 Hits in 13 campaigns is a workmanlike line.

 

Sox Batting Coach, Dave Magadan, University of Alabama (1983), had an MLB career .288 BA and squeezed out 1197 hits over 16 seasons.  Certainly qualifies him to teach.

 

Jason Varitek won when at Georgia Tech (1994).  Considered altogether, the two World Championships, .261 BA and 174 HR’s over 13 years are very respectable.  Add in the 4 no-hitters he has called with 4 different pitchers, and you understand why he has earned a special place in the hearts of baseball fans, and baseball history.

 

These five Sox pretty well represent all GS winner when it comes to position players.  Plenty of long MLB careers among the winners, but no MVP’s or Batting Champs. And, of course, no Hall of Famers.

The Sox Golden Spikers beat out some fine competitors in college, including  Nomar Garciaparra, Todd Walker, Todd Helton, Troy Glaus and Lance Berkman, to name a few.

 

Since the award’s inception in 1978, a lot of matriculated MLB superstars were not selected — Barry Bonds (Az. State), Roger Clemens (Texas), Ryan Howard (Mo. St.), Jeff Bagwell (Hartford), Frank Thomas (Auburn), Jason Giambi (Cal-Longbeach), Dustin Pedroia (Az. State), Tony Gwynn (San Diego St.), Kirby Puckett (Bradley), and Randy Johnson (USC).

The award has produced a steady supply of starting pitchers like Ben McDonald, Alex Fernandez, Jim Abbott, Darren Dreifort, Jason Jennings, Mark Prior, Jered Weaver…..and Tim Lincecum.

 

++++++++++++++++

 

32 winners.  20 position players.  12 pitchers.

 All but 4 of the 32 players reached the majors.

 Nice players, yes. 

 It’s a roster of talent, but the big guns signs out of high school. 

College has not been, since the Class of 1978 at least, a path to the Hall Of Fame.

But that could change.

Mark Prior and Tim Lincecum are the only Golden Spikes winners who pitched themselves to the MLB All Star game.   The similarity should end there. Young Lincecum projects to have a long and fruitful career, unlike the injury prone Cub, who hung it up after just 5 seasons.

++++++++++

 At the All Star Break, USA Baseball’s Executive Director Paul Seiler announced that the 2009 Golden Spikes Award winner is Stephen Strasberg of San Diego State.  He had a 13-1 WL record this year, with a 1.32 ERA, and 195 K’s in 109 IP. 

To learn more about the award and its history, go to www.goldenspikesaward.com

+++++++

A herd of future pro’s go for the sheepskin at Arizona State, which alone has sent 91 players to the major leagues since 1961, including the player-of-the-century (in his own mind) Reggie Jackson (’66), the durable Gary Gentry & Larry Gura (’67), ’86 BoSox keystoner Marty Barrett, the loveable ’69 Met Duffy Dyer, and the first Golden Spikes winner ever, Bob Horner.  Just part of what makes Arizona a FANTASTIC Baseball state.

 

Young Tek won The Spikes at Tech in '94.

I hope Tim Wakefield pitches until 2022

"Under Rated" is Wake's middle name.

Some members of The Nation are already calling for Wakefield’s banishment from the rotation.

 

They have a complaint, simple and unqualified:  HE STINKS.  The charge is based on how badly he performs when he has a poor outing.

 

They have a point.   When Tim is bad, he’s really bad.  It’s hideous.

 

On balance, the good outweighs the bad, 4-to-1.

 

In 2008……….

 

Wake pitched 19 quality starts in 30 total starts.

 

By comparison, Dice-K had 20 quality starts in 29 total.

Lester had 21 quality starts in 33 total. 

Beckett:  18 quality in 27 total.

 

The #5 spot yielded 9 quality starts in 30 totals (Byrd,Buch & Colon.). 

 

Masterson also had 6-Q’s in 9 total.

 

In Wake’s 19 quality starts, his ERA was 1.99.  We lost 8 of those 19 goodies, 3 of them by 1 run.  With 3 big blow outs not counted, the Sox averaged less than 4 runs of scoring in 16 of Wake’s 19 quality starts.

 

In one extended streak of excellence from May 28 to July 12, Wake reeled off 9 consecutive quality starts.  That’s 4 more than any BoSox starter had in a row in ‘08.

 

So, Wake is right up there with Lester, Beckett & Matsuzaka.

 

“Under Rated” is his middle name.

 

But — he also had 5 horrific starts with a 17.54 ERA.  The Sox lost all 5 games by a combined score of 52-24.

 

OK, by comparison Beckett had 6 stinkers.  Lester sucked in 9 starts.  Matsuzaka was poor only twice.

 

5 stinkers isn’t so bad.  What upsets his detractors is a 17.54 ERA in stinkers.  When Wake was quaked, he was significantly worse than the other top starters when they were also poor.  But you have to look beyond that.  Look at the good.  Imagine where we would be without those 19 goodies.

 

Ed Cicotte may or may not have once said about the knuckleball, “You can’t make it do what it don’t want to do.”

 

This applies to Wake, also. When he doesn’t have it, he just doesn’t have it.   So let’s move on.

 

Wake’s poor outings should not obscure the fact that he is as solid as the Sox best starters, and sensational in longer stretches than the others.

 

I hope he pitches until he’s 55 years old.  I’ll take the good with the bad.

 

Wake is expected to register his 2,000 career strikeout this year.  It should happen around August 10, when the Tigers visit the Nation.

 

Let’s sell that one out, Soxaholics.

 

Wake:  He’s havin’ a career

 

W 178 – 157 L

4.32 ERA

400 career starts

141 career relief appearances

362 HR’s

1907 K’s

2699 Hits

2802 IP

1992: Sir Mix A-Lot & Right Said Fred singing somewhere

THE ESSENTIAL BRAD PENNY FOR RED SOX FANS

11 Keys to understanding Brad

No doubt, this guy is a double-wide.

Brad is the new Booty King.  Brad is 6 ft 4 inches tall and 260 pounds.  Same height as Ortiz — and 30 pounds heavier.

 

Welcome to New England.  Brad Penny is from Blackwell, OK., where Katharine Hepburn was stopped for speeding in 1950.  Hepburn told the cop that he was a moron, and that if she ever came across a car with Oklahoma plates in Connecticut she would let the air out of its tires.

 

Penny clichés will be everywhere.  Penny Wise and Pounded Foolish.  Posada Pinches Penny.  A Pretty Penny.  A Bad Penny.  A Penny Saved, a Penny Spurned.  Bad Penny Comes Back.  In for a Penny, In for a Pounding.

 

Brad Penny is single:  Brad has dated Alyssa Milano and Eliza Dushku.  He is going to like Boston.  The Irish landed there, you know.

 

Brad has no kids:  “One guy (from the 2003 Florida Marlins) gets up and votes a (playoff) share for the baby-sitter. They already get paid to baby-sit. And I don’t have any kids. No way, no chance, no share. That got shot down real quick.” – Brad Penny in The Miami Herald (February 28, 2004)

 

Brad can surprise you:  He struck out 4 batters in one inning (dropped 3rd strike).  He also gave up a Homer, a double and 3 runs in the same inning.

 

Everybody thinks Beckett was the Big Fish:  Actually, Brad beat the Yankees TWICE in the 2003 World Series, winning Games 1 & 5.  Jack McKeon had a feeling about Brad.  When Aaron Boone delivered the Yankees to the Classic, McKeon started Penny instead of Dontrelle Willis. 

 

He really does throw hard.  Brad hit Umpire Kerwin Danley with a 96 mph heater when he missed Russell Martin’s call for a curve.  Danley was knocked out for 18 minutes. He likened the impact to a left hook that he could see coming but could not dodge.  A week later, Danley lay in his Arizona home trying to stop the headache. 

 

His Draft Day could have been worse.  Brad was picked 155^th by the D-Backs in the 1996 Draft.  That was well after Kris Benson, Travis Lee, and Eric Chavez.  But ahead of Jeremy Giambi (#169), Shea Hillenbrand (#301), Ted Lilly (#688), and well ahead of Roy Oswalt  (#684), and the very patient Aron Amundson (#1,739).

 

Brad is colorful.  He’s been interviewed ringside making predictions at Ultimate Fighting Championships and has great respect for Kimbo.  There is also a lovely You Tube video of Brad in a Hollywood donnybrook in which you hear a concerned partier asking, “Are you going to taze me ?”.

 

Brad at the #5 is a gift.  This is the real key.  Brad is a great upgrade.  I mean I liked Paul Byrd.  He was to 2008 what John Burkett was to 2003.  But Brad will be a blistering  fifth starter following Beckett, Lester, Matsuzaka and Wakefield.  Are you kidding me ?  Let Masterson be the bridge to Oki and/or Pap.  Let Buchholz find his Wa in peace.  I’m glad this Penny turned up.

Brad and his pal, Eliza.

 

2 PEAS IN A POD ? BOBBY MURCER & CARL YASTRZEMSKI

Both 5 ft 11" tall & 180 lbs.

A QUICK ANALYSIS: MURCER & YAZ

Bobby Murcer’s physical attributes are uncannily like those of  Carl Yastrzemski.

Baseball-reference.com has Murcer at 5’11”, 180 lbs. and Yastrzemski at 5’11”, 182 lbs.  Both are left handed hitters.

Though not identical in their statistical totals, they were VERY similar in stats-per-at-bat.

 

Yaz homered every 26.5 AB’s.  Murcer tatered every 26.7 AB’s.

Yaz got a hit every 3.5 AB’s.  Murcer did so every 3.6 AB’s.

Yaz scored a run every 6.6 AB’s.  Murcer — every 6.9 AB’s.

Yaz drove in a run every 6.5 AB’s.  Murcer got an RBI every 6.45 AB’s.

Yaz struck out every 8.6 AB’s  — Murcer K’d every 8.0.

 

Look at the comparison of some offensive totals –

HR’s:     Yaz 452       Murcer 252

2B’s:      Yaz 646       Murcer 285

Hits:       Yaz 3,419    Murcer 1,862

At Bats:  Yaz 11,988  Murcer 6,730

Yaz had 78% more at bats than Murcer.

Had Murcer had as many at bats as Yaz, this is what his totals could have been:

HR’s:                          Murcer 448

2B’s:                           Murcer 507

Hits:                            Murcer 3,314

At Bats:                       Murcer 11,988

Could be that Murcer had the make up and tools to achieve Hall of Fame numbers.  He would be right with Yaz, given the missing at bats.

The objective is not to simplify Yaz’s career.  Yaz received MVP votes in 14 seasons, was an 18x All Star, won 7 gold gloves, 3 batting titles, one MVP.   He substantively helped, or drove, the Red Sox to two AL Pennants.

Murcer had one Gold Glove, no batting titles, was a 5x All Star and received MVP votes in 4 seasons.

Still, Murcer may very well have put up Yaz-like plate numbers had he played in Boston, with the Pesky Pole 302 feet away, where coddling ownership & fans cling to star players.  (I speak with self-admittance, as a Red Sox National.)

Bobby Murcer’s career numbers suffered from a lack of playing time before age 23 and after age 33.  He was short changed by two years of military service.  He was cheated by new ownership that cut his playing time and looked for new answers after the Yanks’ temporary move to Shea cut Bobby’s power totals. He became a platoon DH at an age when Yaz still had 5,000 at bats to come.

Given that Murcer was never on the D.L. from 1969 to 1983, the argument is plausible.

He certainly believed he had more to give.

The passing of Bobby Murcer in June, 2008 at age 62 was a tragedy.  He certainly had more to give to family and fans, too.

Rest in Peace, Bobby.

Review: DEEP DRIVE Mike Lowell

DEEP DRIVE, A long journey to finding the champion within.  By Mike Lowell with Rob Bradford.  Foreword by Josh Beckett.    256 pages.  2008.  Celebra books.

 

This book is a great baseball story and an even better human one.

 

In Short – Lowell’s family are refugees from Castro, and he grows up a scrawny kid near Miami.  He works his ass off, turns the skinny build into a productive one.  599 guys are drafted in front of him, but he grows into the Yankee Organization Player of the Year before being traded to the Marlins.   Cancer interrupts his life TWICE.  Steroid rumors swirl but do not prevail.  He loses his swing.  He is betrayed by money grubbers.  He overcomes it all.

 

Lowell wins the World Series twice.  Lowell becomes a World Series MVP. 

 

Great Player.  Great Teammate.

 

It’s a great read and you should pick it up.

 

*******************

 

 

Lowell’s Dad, Carlos, at age 11, escaped from Cuba to Puerto Rico.  Carlos played baseball on the San Ignacio H.S. team.  He played his college ball at St. Joseph’s in Philly, where he tossed a no-hitter and won the MVP Award.  Carlos competed for the Puerto Rico National team.

 

Mike Lowell was raised in Florida where he changed High Schools when it became apparent he wouldn’t get adequate playing time while studying with the good Brothers at Christopher Columbus High School.  The last two spots in the batting order of the Christopher Columbus freshman team were historic.  Batting 8^th and playing SS was Alex Rodriguez.  Batting 9^th and playing second base was Lowell.

 

A-Rod transferred to Westminster H.S. due to a lack of playing time and Lowell left for Coral Gables H.S. for the same reason.  Imagine what Brother Herb Baker might say today about not having foreseen the potential of these future MLB All Stars.  According to this book, Baker was pretty stoic about it.

 

Before going to Florida International with close to a full ride, Lowell was recruited by Notre Dame assistant Coach Pat Murphy, who would later coach Dustin Pedroia at Arizona State.

 

After developing as a second baseman throughout High school and College, Mike was selected by the New York Yankees in the 20^th round of the 1995 draft.  He was shocked when the Yankees informed him they intended to convert him to a catcher.

 

They didn’t stick with that decision after seeing what great hands he had at third.

 

Mike had little power at first.  He was underweight at Oneonta (NY Penn League) and Greensboro (A).  But in 1996 and 1997 he gained 25 pounds of muscle, batting .344 for half a season in Norwich (AA) and hitting 15 Homers in half a season in Columbus (AAA).  In 1998, he played 126 games for Columbus, batting .311 with 25 HR’s.  Mike made his MLB debut on 9-13-98 at Yankee Stadium in front of 47,471 fans.  He singled in his first at bat.  Although he was the starting 3^rd baseman that day, he was behind Scott Brosius on the depth chart.  Still, he was the Yankees 1997 Organization Player of the Year and had a terrific 1998.  Thus, before the post-season, Lowell was told he would be the 1999 starting third baseman on the Yankees, unless Brosius won the World Series MVP, an unlikely possibility…..

 

……and that is exactly what occurred. 

 

Lowell was traded to his hometown Marlins on Feb. 1, 1999. 

 

He had no objection to playing in hometown Miami.

 

But within a month of the trade he was diagnosed with cancer.

 

1999 was a rollercoaster.  Traded, then diagnosed, he underwent surgery and chemo, was sent down to AAA to rehab, and was required to prove he was still major league capable in May. 

 

By Oct. 1, 1999, Mike had batted .253 with 12 home runs in 97 games and was informed he would be a starter for the 2000 squad.

 

“Surviving cancer was, and always will be, my toughest battle. I laugh when people talk about how tough it is to deal with the boos of fans….when cancer comes calling, baseball takes a backseat…having 40,000 people at Yankee Stadium tell me I suck is a nice diversion.”

 

 

NUGGETS

 

 

THE STORY OF “PAM”:  Lowell clarifies why MLB players might be wary about people pretending to be friends.  The story of “Pam”, a BFF of Bertica, his wife, makes the point.  Friends since they were age 15, “Pam” was injured in a car accident with Bertica at the wheel during Lowell’s rookie year.  At first unconscious, “Pam” recovered pretty quickly and all was well.  Some months passed, and then “Pam” stopped speaking with Bertica.  Suddenly, the Lowells were hit with a $1.2 Million law suit alleging pain and vision issues for “Pam”.  At that point, Lowell had made $60,000 total playing 4 years of pro ball and had $7,000 in the bank.  “Pam” and her attorney were stunned when Mike showed them his IRS returns.  The money grubbers slunk away.  They were not heard from again under after Mike signed a major contract the following year.  Ultimately, they sued for $600,000 and Lowell settled for half of that to put it behind them.  Unfortunately for Bertica, the emotional injury cast a shadow for two years.

 

 

THE IRON MAN  SONG:   Have you sat in Fenway wondering how the music dude selected Black Sabbath’s IRON MAN for Lowell’s at bats ?  Turn to page 161.  The story involves getting beaned in the noggin by Adam Loewen and then diving into the field boxes to make a catch in the top of the next inning.

 

BEING GROUNDED:  Mike Lowell is a grounded individual.  “I’ve always said that I play baseball but that is not who I am.  That’s part of who I am.  But I’d much rather be a good father, husband, friend and brother…the game is just what everyone sees, but there is so much more to me.”

 

As Jackie Kennedy said, “If you screw up raising your children, it really doesn’t much matter what else you achieve with the rest of your life.”

 

 

BE POSITIVE:   “You can choose to harp on negativity  – I certainly could have when cancer came calling, or when the hits were hard to find in 2005 – but if you choose the positive you’re going to get the most out of life.  It has worked for me, and I’m not about to stop now.”

 

 

 

AMERICA IS A PLACE TO START AGAIN:  Lowell’s family believed, achieved and overcame Communism & Cancer. 

 

The Seattle Mariners’ Don Wakamatsu today became the first person of Asian ethnicity to be a MLB Manager, rising above a different and regrettable form of oppression.

 

Lowell’s Dad and Father-in-Law were victimized by Castro. 

 

Wakamatsu’s grandparents were victims of the U.S. Government. 

 

They lost their home and were imprisoned in a World War II internment camp.

 

Baseball reflects America.  The good and the bad.

 

 

DEEP DRIVE is a story of family strength.   It’s a good read.  Tackle it and be rewarded.  Red My fellow Sox fans will be rewarded to know that though we lost Teixeira to the Yankees we have retained a man of singular character and skill.

MVP gets 2 cars & a Disney Parade !

Review: Reversing The Curse

REVERSING THE CURSE:  A Season in the Life of America’s Greatest Sports Rivalry.  By Dan Shaughnessy.  2005. 272 pages. Houghton Mifflin.

 

 

About 40 pages in, Shaughnessy lucidly recalls how young Theo submerged himself in professional baseball, postponing his driver’s license test for 7 years, living on McDonald’s, working 12 hour days, becoming a lawyer and climbing the ladder with preposterous speed.

 

At that point I thought, “This book is far better than I expected.”.

 

About 70 pages in, Shaughnessy quotes Halberstam’s summation of Red Sox fans, “It’s really very distinctive……I have maybe gotten into the artists and writers and poets of Red Sox Nation.  The fans are quite interesting and important and different……”

 

At that point, I started to feel like I owed Shaughnessy an apology for not reading his book sooner.

 

Should have known that the guy with total access to Theo and his minions would bring a book packed with inside stuff.

 

Should have known that the guy who can make about 800 words work three times a week would write one of the better books about the 2004 Red Sox.

 

Shaughnessy has serious writing chops.  On TV and in public he carries himself with reserve and courtesy.  He’s a polite guy.  Maybe even camera shy.  I am almost surprised he isn’t a little bit immodest.  He’s that good.

 

He has taken his hard shots at the Sox in the past, but not so in this book.

 

Nothing so cutting as the harpoon with which he speared Nomar on Aug. 1, 2004.  (As I remember it, he wrote that the clubhouse cancer had been removed.)

 

The sharpest criticism D.S. levels in REVERSING is to make it clear than Pedro Martinez did not attend team meetings, work outs or even arrive in the dug out for games he did not start  —– until the 7^th inning !

 

During one critical series against the Yankees, he didn’t even come down with the team.  He waited until his start before making the 200 mile trip.

 

So, why did Tim Wakefield make the same trip promptly ?

 

“Because I wanted to be with my teammates.”, said, Wake.

 

That’s the contrast Shaughnessy strikes.  Pedro the Hall Of Fame Prima Donna versus  Wakefield the Team Guy.

 

Pedro had a negative effect on Manny.  After Pedro took an outrageous 6-day vacation in the middle of the season, Manny reported tightness in his hammy and took a few days off, too.  There had been no indications that anything was wrong with Manny.

 

Two feakishly talented slackers.   Two players that find themselves outside of the organization’s circle of love at the moment.

 

************ 

The portrait of Larry Lucchino in the book is titillating.  LL emerges as a fearless, F-bomb dropping, Yankee hating leader.  With a mind like a steel trap.

And yet, Lucchino has moments of doubt.

 

Larry’s moments of vulnerability came in game 4 and game 5 of the 2004 ALCS when the Sox were within a few outs of elimination.  Lucchino began scribbling notes for a speech.  As much as losing hurt, he would say that they were not vanquished, not defeated, and would come back with passion and a singular goal in 2005.

 

But things kept happening.  With the Yankees leading 4-3 in the 9th, Millar walked and Roberts stole second.  Lucchino put his notes in the desk of his luxury suite.  He settled in until Ortiz hit a 12^th inning walk-off HR off Quantrill, making Larry’s speech at least temporarily moot.

 

The next night, down 4-2 in the 8^th and back on the brink, Lucchino retrieved his note pad to re-draft his concession-without-submission speech.  But then Ortiz homered off Tom Gordon, a rally ensued, and Tek sacrificed in the game tying run..  Again, Lucchino put his notes back in the drawer.  He settled in to watch the completion of the 14 inning Sox victory, won when David’s gork dropped into Centerfield for a single.

 

I don’t know about you, but I’d like to see that incomplete draft of Lucchino’s speech.  It marks a desperate moment in Sox history and shines light into Larry’s character.  The darkest night comes just before the Dawn.

 

Call me a sick Soxaholic, but I just feel gratified to know about that draft.  If and when I meet Larry, I’ll be sure to ask about it.

 

Reversing The Curse is filled with such gold, excavated and preserved by the author.  I won’t ruin it for you b revealing more now. 

Even if you are prone to bashing Dan,  I recommend you read this book this winter.

 

You’ll be glad ya did.

 

The Author