In the interview I sited, Mickey was asked who the best ballplayer he ever saw was and he pointed to Willie. Willie said, " I don't know about that but I can tell you that I could not have done what he (Mickey) did, the way he lived his life." That begs the question of how great the Mick would have been had he led a less colorful life.
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Vintage Baseball
- Thread starter Unlucky Berman
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LizzieMaine
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Leo Durocher, who was in a position to know, always said that Pete Reiser had the most potential of any player he ever managed -- even more than Mays. Except Pete could never understand that it's impossible to run thru a concrete wall.
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LizzieMaine
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There isn't a woman in New England between the ages of 48 and 60 who didn't, at one time or another, have a powerful crush on Tony C.
Who's that little guy with him?
Who's that little guy with him?
LizzieMaine
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He hit one in the first game I ever attended, a towering shot over the Wall off, of all people, Luis Tiant. We had seats in the right field grandstand, specifically chosen to afford a clear view of Himself for me and my three friends. When they traded him, I cried for a week, and when he died, I cried again.
Flipped Lid
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Luis Tiant. What a great name from out of the past. He opened the 1975 World Series, the greatest in my lifetime, by pitching a shutout against the Big Red Machine. I still recall the TV cameras frequently focusing on his father, who I believe was flown in from Cuba and watched Luis pitch in the majors for the first time. I could be wrong on that. Anyway, Tiant was a great character and great competitor. There was a lot of controversy over his motion and he was called for a balk by a National League umpire, which led to a huge argument and a lot of subsequent ink in the papers.
I watched every pitch of that World Series and rooted like hell for the National League team, Cincinnati. This was baseball at it's finest and the entire country was mesmerized with the controversial calls, the rain delays which caused the suspense to build, and the clutch plays by players on both teams. Game Six was probably the greatest World Series game ever played and I recall going from my chair to my knees when Carlton Fisk hit that famous homerun. What great memories.
I watched every pitch of that World Series and rooted like hell for the National League team, Cincinnati. This was baseball at it's finest and the entire country was mesmerized with the controversial calls, the rain delays which caused the suspense to build, and the clutch plays by players on both teams. Game Six was probably the greatest World Series game ever played and I recall going from my chair to my knees when Carlton Fisk hit that famous homerun. What great memories.
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Flipped Lid
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Yep and yep. Those guys didn't look right wearing those Chicago uniforms.
LizzieMaine
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It took me years to forgive Bill Lee for throwing that eephus pitch to Perez in game 7. It wasn't his fault Darrell Johnson was such a pathetic rummy of a manager. Pinch hitting for Willoughby in the ninth and putting in that big stiff Burton. Have another drink there, Darrell. Let's all have one.
Fisk once said to Sparky Anderson "You know, we won that Series, three games to four."
Fisk once said to Sparky Anderson "You know, we won that Series, three games to four."
Flipped Lid
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As a Cubs fan, I know what the Red Sox fans were going through. At least you folks have since ended your drought. I still have to live with the haunting memories of '69, '84, and '05. Tough night for the Red Sox last night.
LizzieMaine
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We're being punished for our hubris. We started to think we were entitled to playoff action every year, and as every New Englander knows, as soon as you start thinking you're entitled to win, you're going to lose, in a particularly humiliating manner. Just like the '51 Dodgers and the '64 Phillies, "everyone who exalts themselves shall be humbled."
It was a very long night.
It was a very long night.
Red Sox fans were beginning to sound like pinstripe fans there for awhile. Now there's a fandom that I wish nothing but nice long droughts. Their most recent eight year title-less stretch was heartwarming but there was nothing like the 1978 - 1996 gap.
LizzieMaine
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Dear Pink Hats,
Now you know what it really means to root for the Red Sox.
Sincerely,
The Blue Hats.
Now you know what it really means to root for the Red Sox.
Sincerely,
The Blue Hats.
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LizzieMaine
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Most of us are rather relieved, I think -- the past two weeks have been a horrible debacle, with revelations of lazy, shiftless pitchers swilling beer and eating fried chicken in the clubhouse as the team imploded during September, and then the Boston Globe yesterday published an absolute hatchet job on Francona, accusing him of being a drug-addled philanderer (based on leaks from people at high levels of management -- likely Larry "The Shiv" Lucchino.) Epstein is grabbing the last lifeboat off the sinking ship, and no doubt next week the Globe will reveal (based on leaks from high levels of management) that he's a kidnapping international jewel thief or some such.
Bah. Give me the nice bland days of Eddie Kasko and Dick O'Connell, when all we had to worry about is whether Joe LaHoud should be sent back to Louisville.
Bah. Give me the nice bland days of Eddie Kasko and Dick O'Connell, when all we had to worry about is whether Joe LaHoud should be sent back to Louisville.
dhermann1
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As a City of Boston lover, but NOT a Sox fan (Yankee pinstripes down to the bone), I was honestly happy to see the Sox doing well these last few years. But this meltdown really shows what New England sports kharma is all about. From what I've read, and comments I've seen on the TV, I think the "poisoned clubhouse atmosphere" was not as bad as some make it out.
But what is it about Boston fans that they love to hate their teams so much???
Now to touch on the "entitled" issue. I think there are a lot of obnoxious Yankee fans who do feel entitled. But I don't think anyone in the Yankee organization ever feels entitled. The Yankees treat their peeople VERY well, and the ones who stick around are acutely aware of how licky they are, and take nothing for granted. That's (part of) how they've managed to stay so competitive for so long.
But what is it about Boston fans that they love to hate their teams so much???
Now to touch on the "entitled" issue. I think there are a lot of obnoxious Yankee fans who do feel entitled. But I don't think anyone in the Yankee organization ever feels entitled. The Yankees treat their peeople VERY well, and the ones who stick around are acutely aware of how licky they are, and take nothing for granted. That's (part of) how they've managed to stay so competitive for so long.
They seem to be pretty supportive of the Celtics, Pats and Bruins. Now Philadelphia fans.........
LizzieMaine
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Phillie fans would and once actually did boo Santa Claus.
My favorite Phillie story is the time Richie Ashburn hit some poor woman in the crowd with foul balls *twice* -- the second time as she was being carried away on a stretcher. And the crowd booed her.
As far as the fatalism of BoSox fans goes, it's part and parcel of being raised in New England. If you're enjoying anything, you just *know* that before long something is going to come along to ruin it, because that's just the way life is. So you end up ruining it yourself so no one else will get the satisfaction of ruining it for you. People from away will never understand this, but the wearing of the hairshirt is a deeply ingrained part of the regional character.
We do respect players who reflect the grittier aspects of the local character -- Carlton Fisk is still beloved here, despite defecting to Chicago, Yaz is still loved -- even though he actually came from Long Island, Curt Schilling is loved, even though he never shuts his mouth, and until he started making ill-advised comments to the press this fall, Tim Wakefield was loved. But we *despise* players who for better or worse are seen as being slackers. The name of Calvin Schiraldi will still cause any New Englander over the age of 35 to spit on the ground with disgust, and the same will be true of John Lackey for all eternity.
My favorite Phillie story is the time Richie Ashburn hit some poor woman in the crowd with foul balls *twice* -- the second time as she was being carried away on a stretcher. And the crowd booed her.
As far as the fatalism of BoSox fans goes, it's part and parcel of being raised in New England. If you're enjoying anything, you just *know* that before long something is going to come along to ruin it, because that's just the way life is. So you end up ruining it yourself so no one else will get the satisfaction of ruining it for you. People from away will never understand this, but the wearing of the hairshirt is a deeply ingrained part of the regional character.
We do respect players who reflect the grittier aspects of the local character -- Carlton Fisk is still beloved here, despite defecting to Chicago, Yaz is still loved -- even though he actually came from Long Island, Curt Schilling is loved, even though he never shuts his mouth, and until he started making ill-advised comments to the press this fall, Tim Wakefield was loved. But we *despise* players who for better or worse are seen as being slackers. The name of Calvin Schiraldi will still cause any New Englander over the age of 35 to spit on the ground with disgust, and the same will be true of John Lackey for all eternity.
LizzieMaine
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Because I can't stand either of the teams in this year's World Series, to say nothing of how much I dislike the way Fox covers it, I'm spending Series Week watching some of my favorite Series games of the past. Currently I'm working thru the 1975 Series -- the last World Series of the Reserve Clause era, and thus arguably the last "vintage era" Series to be played. Although there are some unforgiveable moustaches and haircuts on display, it's a great battle between two proud old pre-expansion franchises, with some extraordinary moments. Everybody remembers Fisk's home run in game 6, but there are plenty of other images to stick in the mind -- Luis Tiant legging out a base hit in Game 4, and then moving on to second -- chugging around the bag, making the most ridiculous slide ever attempted, and losing his helmet in the process, exposing his bald head to view. Or Bernie Carbo pumping his arms in the air after his pinch-hit homer in Game 6 that kept the Sox alive for Fisk's heroics. Or the rain-delay interview with Jim Rice, who is missing the series with a broken wrist, and wants to play so bad you can feel it thru the screen.
But my favorite moment in the Series so far has to be a throwaway shot in Game 2. Carl Yastrzemski comes to bat and there's a tight shot of his legs as he stands in the box -- revealing a gigantic hole in the side of one of his stirrup socks. The announcer then comments something to the effect that Yaz has been wearing the same pair of socks since 1967. There's something really endearing about that.
Another thing I like about viewing these old tapes is that all the players look normal. There are no pumped-up beefwits on the field, no muscle-bound bloat-headed freaks on display. Hank Aaron is sitting in the Commissioner's Box watching Game 4, and is built like a middle-class high school principal. All the guys on the field look like they have jobs in the off season selling fishing rods at Sears -- which in fact many of them probably did.
And there are no obnoxious rock/movie star celebrities on hand to sing the National Anthem, whitneying it up to the point of destroying the melody. There are no smarmy sideline reporters interviewing celebrities in the stands. There are, as far as I can see, no celebrities in the stands to interview. There are no costumed mascots, no Air Force flyovers, no thundering entrance cues as players come up to bat. The entire focus is on the game, on the field, on the competition -- which is as it ought to be. Even the commercials are dignified -- there are no capering bimbos in the beer ads, no explosive graphics in the car ads, no cheesy pandering to the intellectual level of stunted frat boys. The RCA XL-100 TV set is sold by a repairman who's been fixing sets since 1952, and knows reliability when he sees it. Schlitz Beer is sold by a female figure skater, who goes for the gusto by getting up to practice at 3 am. Ricardo Montalban extols the soft Corinthian leather in his new Chrysler Cordoba while Andres Segovia plays a guitar solo in the background. A happy family sits around the picnic table eating Kentucky Fried Chicken while Colonel Sanders himself smiles benevolently in the background. Products sold to adults in an adult manner -- something Madison Avenue has long since forgotten how to do.
This series was only played 36 years ago, but it might as well be a relic of a lost civilization.
But my favorite moment in the Series so far has to be a throwaway shot in Game 2. Carl Yastrzemski comes to bat and there's a tight shot of his legs as he stands in the box -- revealing a gigantic hole in the side of one of his stirrup socks. The announcer then comments something to the effect that Yaz has been wearing the same pair of socks since 1967. There's something really endearing about that.
Another thing I like about viewing these old tapes is that all the players look normal. There are no pumped-up beefwits on the field, no muscle-bound bloat-headed freaks on display. Hank Aaron is sitting in the Commissioner's Box watching Game 4, and is built like a middle-class high school principal. All the guys on the field look like they have jobs in the off season selling fishing rods at Sears -- which in fact many of them probably did.
And there are no obnoxious rock/movie star celebrities on hand to sing the National Anthem, whitneying it up to the point of destroying the melody. There are no smarmy sideline reporters interviewing celebrities in the stands. There are, as far as I can see, no celebrities in the stands to interview. There are no costumed mascots, no Air Force flyovers, no thundering entrance cues as players come up to bat. The entire focus is on the game, on the field, on the competition -- which is as it ought to be. Even the commercials are dignified -- there are no capering bimbos in the beer ads, no explosive graphics in the car ads, no cheesy pandering to the intellectual level of stunted frat boys. The RCA XL-100 TV set is sold by a repairman who's been fixing sets since 1952, and knows reliability when he sees it. Schlitz Beer is sold by a female figure skater, who goes for the gusto by getting up to practice at 3 am. Ricardo Montalban extols the soft Corinthian leather in his new Chrysler Cordoba while Andres Segovia plays a guitar solo in the background. A happy family sits around the picnic table eating Kentucky Fried Chicken while Colonel Sanders himself smiles benevolently in the background. Products sold to adults in an adult manner -- something Madison Avenue has long since forgotten how to do.
This series was only played 36 years ago, but it might as well be a relic of a lost civilization.
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