The HOF bar is set higher for Charlie Grimm

Grimm at work heckling the enemy.

Monday, Dec. 7 is an important day for Baseball Fans and historians everywhere.  The Veterans committee will announce which, if any, executives, umpires and managers will be inducted into the HOF in July 2010.

Billy Martin, a manager who won everywhere he went, may be elected.

Danny Murtaugh, a manager who directed the Pirates to STUNNING World Series Championships in 1960 and 1971 may go in.

Gene Mauch, who managed over more victories than 99% of all managers but did not win a Pennant or a World Series also stands tall on the ballot.

And then there is Charlie Grimm, a man with an outstanding record as a Manager, a professional hitter with 2299 hits, and 35 years in the Chicago Cubs organization.

Grimm took the Cubbies to three World Series, winning none, but establishing himself as the best Chicago pilot before or after Frank Chance.

He was in the dugout in the 1933 World Series when Ruth supposedly called his shot.  There are those who maintain that Ruth was pointing to Centerfield and telling pitcher Charlie Root that the next one was going to fly out of Wrigley Field.  Grimm maintained that the Cub bench had been riding “the big monkey”, insinuating a thing or two about Ruth’s heritage, and Babe was merely pointing his bat toward Root and telling him he would be out there soon to turn him inside out.

Charlie was also present in 1961 when the Cubs unveiled their College of Coaches, he being one of 11 Managers who sequentially rotated through Wrigley and the minor league outposts to develop the talent, one of the craziest episodes in MLB history.

Charlie was “traded” for a broadcaster in the 50’s, Lou Boudreau taking his place in the dugout while he ascended to the booth.

Charlie was tight with Bill Veeck, and was on hand as the Master Hustler planted Ivy on the Wrigley walls after the big bosses’ new shrubbery died.

Charlie was also on hand in 1933 when the Cubbies passed on picking up the PCL contract of a kid named Joe DiMaggio.  Can you imagine how the Cubs would have done with Joe D. on the roster ?

Joe DiMaggio played 13 years, registered a .325 BA, got 2,214 hits, 361 HR’s and had that 56 game hitting streak.

Joe went into the HOF in 1955, 4 years after he retired, with 88.5% of the vote.

Had Joe played for the Cubs, had he not won all those pennants and Championships, what year would he have made it into the HOF ?

1958 ?

1962 ?

Gee, Riggs Stephenson has a .336 career B.A. in 14 seasons and he isn’t in the HOF. Most of us do not know who he is.

Then again, Riggs didn’t play for the Yankees.  He played mostly for the Cubs.

We’ll never know how long Joe D. would have waited to go into the HOF had he been a Cub.

But what we do know is that the HOF is located just a three hour car ride from NYC, an international media capital.

When it comes to getting in, the bar is set a little higher if you played or managed in the Midwest.  And it’s set a lot lower if you played in NYC.

Grimm is an icon in Chicago Cubs lore.  We Easterners are largely ignorant of him.

Whether he goes in or not, he has three pennants in his back pocket and handled the most talented, and craziest, group of Cubs ever.

Don’t be surprised if he goes in.

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.

Lon Warneke is worthy !

 

Lon Warneke vs. Lefty Gomez

By Don Loveless

The National Baseball Hall of Fame is the pinnacle accomplishment for baseball players.  Less than one percent of the ball players reach this plateau.  The elections almost always lead to huge debates.  An example this year is the election of Jim Rice.  Rice was elected on his fifteenth and last chance with the baseball writers.  His election now has everyone asking about players like Andre Dawson and Richie Allen. 

Many old players seem to be forgotten and need to be revaluated.  One such player is former pitching great Lon Warneke.  The pitcher I want to compare Warneke with is former Yankee great Vernon “Lefty” Gomez.    Gomez was enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1972 by the “Old Timers” committee.  Warneke has never even come close in all these years. 

Lon “The Arkansas Hummingbird “came up with the Cubs in 1930 as did Lefty Gomez.  Both would become dominant pitchers for their teams.  Their career numbers would almost mirror each other.  But, for some reason Warneke was never considered for the Hall while Gomez always received a fair amount of votes.  Below is a comparison of their records.

 

1. Warneke   192-121   3.18   1140     30
2. Gomez      189-102   3.34   1468     28

Gomez was on 7 American League All-Star teams while Warneke was on 5 National League teams.  Gomez won 20 games or more 4 times while Warneke accomplished the feat 3 times.  Warneke played for the Cubs from 1930-1937, then played for the St. Louis Cardinals from 1937 to 1942 before returning to the Cubs to finish out his career.  Both had success in the World Series with Gomez going 6-0 with a 2.86 ERA and Warneke going 2-1 with a 2.63 ERA. 

Warneke continued his success with the Cardinals with a no-hitter against the Cincinnati Reds on August 30^th 1941.  Upon his return to the Cubs, Warneke went into the military for almost 2 years.  Arm injuries took their toll on both Gomez and Warneke with them retiring in 1943 and 1945 respectively.  Gomez attempted a comeback with the Washington Senators in 1943 but soon realized it was over. 

Vernon “Lefty” Gomez died in 1989 of Congestive Heart failure.  Typical of his lack of respect, Lon Warneke died of a heart attack at home after the initial ambulance was totaled in a crash on way to his house.

During their careers, both pitchers were among the best in their respective leagues.  They were both the aces of their staffs.  I believe that if these 2 pitchers had switched cities, Warneke would be in the Hall of Fame and Gomez might be on the outside looking in.

 

(Don Loveless lives on the East Coast but is a Chicago native.  An expert on the Cubs and White Sox, Don would be granted a Masters in Charlie Grimmology, if one existed.)

A-Rod Outing Good for Baseball

Reporter Roberts outed A-Rod

“Sunlight is the best disinfectant”  (Brandeis)

The biggest apple on the tree is a rotten.

 

Hardly anyone is surprised.  Look at the bulging neck, bustin’ biceps, and pants- poppin thighs that coincided with increased power numbers.

 

Young A-Rod had the potential to be a .350 hitter with 27 to 30 HR’s per year.

 

Now he is among the top 5 all-time producers of 50-HR seasons.

 

Never was believable.

 

Without Sports Illustrated’s Selena Roberts and David Epstein, we’d never be sure.  Hats off to them.

 

There are over 100 other lesser stars that are also steroid cheats.

 

Let’s hear who they are.

 

While TV’s talking heads rant about A-Rod’s stats and how unfair it would be to out the other cheaters, let’s give thanks that expediency has been served.

 

Turning in the big guy could be a productive step toward getting steroids out of the game permanently – if responsible people take action.

 

We have got to know the rest of those names.

 

The Commissioner & Union (on an opium jag) together could….

…call on S.I. & the Feds to expose the rest of the names

…amend the record book.

…receive $1 Million per team to develop an effective HGH test

…receive $ 1Million more per team to creative an ongoing PED test development fund

…let the BBWAA worry about who gets into the HOF.  Trust in them to keep out any tarnished qualifier including A-Rod, Clemens, McGwire, Sosa and Bonds.

 

Bob Hohler wrote the story in the Boston Globe about SI’s outing of A-Rod.

 

When I asked Bob what he thought of the MLB and the MLBPA potentially clearing the air, Bob replied that the Union is “more interested in protecting their stars than outing them.”

 

Bob Hohler is right.  Odds are that great efforts will be made to suppress the rest of the info.

 

The players would sue the Union for damages if they revealed the names.

 

And in truth, the Commissioner won’t lead the way either.  He won’t disrupt the money machine.

 

That leaves it to the Selena Roberts and David Epstein’s of this world.

 

Independent Journalism with significant readership can drive change.

 

We cannot count on guys like John Heyman to do the politically difficult work.

 

Nor can we rely on Sean Casey, Al Leiter – and all the rest sitting in front of the brand new cameras of MLB TV.

 

Peter Gammons at ESPN – can we count on you to drive the process?

 

Tom Verducci – reporting stalwart, craftsman  – can you turn on your new employer and speed the process ?

 

I hope someone will.

 

How about it, Selena & David ?