Big Hair and Plastic Grass

The Cubs Are Coming Out Of Hibernation...

Regular readers of this blog know that I require only the flimsiest of excuses to post a pic of the 'fro-tastic Jose Cardenal, but this time I've got a good reason for it. A big tip of the Monsanto Toupee to my pals Dave Mundo and David Jordan for hipping me to this fine collection of Cubs spring training clips from the 1970s, which was unearthed a day or two back by the Chicago Tribune.

Ernie Banks sings, Leo Durocher ponders Fergie Jenkins ability to win 30 games in a single season, Glenn Beckert sports their new road double-knits, and a the aforementioned Jose juggles baseballs to the tune of "The Entertainer," aka "Theme from The Sting"... (There's more good stuff in there, too — but if that description alone doesn't get yer pulse pumpin', you're on the wrong damn page.)

Unfortunately, I can't figure out how to embed the clip, so you'll have to click here to see the 1970s Cubs coming out of hibernation in the spring...

Moon and the Penguin

It was Ron Cey's birthday on February 15; I posted a birthday tribute to him last year (complete with grisly evidence of the Dodger third baseman's short-lived music career), but I couldn't let this week go by without posting this weirdly awesome pic of "The Penguin" in the Dodger Stadium with 70s rocker Moon Martin.

Not sure what the circumstances were surrounding this photo — maybe Martin was there to sing the National Anthem? Or maybe give Cey some musical advice (as in, "Don't quit yer day job")?

In any case, I'm guessing this was taken in 1979, when Martin's profile was at its highest; his song "Rolene" (which had also been covered by Mink DeVille, who also waxed a rendition of the Martin-penned "Cadillac Walk") hit the Top 30 that year, and Robert Palmer had an even bigger hit that year with a recording of "Bad Case of Loving You (Doctor, Doctor)".

With the exception of Davey Lopes' 28 homers and Rick Sutcliffe's Rookie of the Year performance (17-10, 3.46 ERA), '79 was a pretty grim year for the Dodgers; beset by injuries to their pitching staff, they finished third in the NL West at 79-83, the team's only sub-.500 record of the 1970s. So maybe Moon stopped by in an attempt to liven things up around Chavez Ravine — though from this pic, it looks like he caught a bit of the '79 Dodger malaise, as well.

In any case, "Rolene" is a track I remember fondly from the fall of 1979, a time when power pop — in the form of singles like Blondie's "Dreaming," Bram Tchaikovsky's "Girl of My Dreams" and The Knack's "Good Girls Don't" — was making a noticeable dent in disco's domination of AM radio. It may have only been a minor hit, but it's a skinny-tie classic, nonetheless...

One More For (And From) The Kid

The tragic passing of the great Gary Carter brought up a lot of memories of "The Kid," on the Big Hair & Plastic Grass Facebook page and elsewhere. One of my favorites, which I forgot to mention in yesterday's post, was from the 1979 All-Star Game.

The 50th edition of the Midsummer Classic was a quintessentially 70s affair, played indoors and on artificial turf at the Seattle Kingdome, and featuring special "guest appearances" by the San Diego Chicken, Morganna the Kissing Bandit, and "Rockin' Rollen" Stewart, aka that freaky bearded dude with the rainbow afro wig. And, of course, there was a fantastic array of brilliantly-colored polyester uniforms on display.

It was also — with the possible exception of the 1970 game that the NL won in extra innings when Pete Rose bulldozed Ray Fosse at the plate — the most exciting All-Star Game of the decade, a hard-fought 7-6 contest that the NL finally won in the top of the ninth on a bases-loaded walk from Ron Guidry. Dave "The Cobra" Parker was named the game's MVP for his thrilling defensive contributions — namely, nailing Jim Rice at third in the 7th inning with a laser-like throw, and then cutting down Brian Downing at the plate in the 8th with a perfect strike to Gary Carter. Parker's pegs are rightly celebrated to this day, but people tend to forget what a great play Carter made on the other end of that 8th-inning lightning bolt; he positioned himself perfectly to make the play, then hung on to make the tag. If Buster Posey had followed The Kid's example, he wouldn't have spent most of last season on crutches. Check it out:

Farewell To The Kid

Hall of Fame catcher Gary Carter passed away today at the all-too-young age of 57, tragically taken down by some relentlessly vicious brain tumors. It's a sad day for a lot of baseball fans out there; I know my NY/NJ friends who still vividly remember "The Kid" leading the Mets to the World Series title in 1986, are especially broken up.

To me, however, Carter will always be an Expo, a key member of the 1976 team that played its final games at the quaint and tiny Jarry Park, the 1977 squad that moved into the ill-fated Olympic Stadium, and the Dick Williams-led 1979 powerhouse that surprised the shit out of the National League and very nearly beat the "We Are Family" Pirates to the NL East title. I was thousands of miles away from Montreal (a beautiful city that I've only visited once, long after the Expos were no more) at the time, but I was fascinated by that '79 Expos squad. Bill Lee, Steve Rogers, Scott Sanderson, Ross Grimsley and the unfortunately named Dan Schatzeder in the rotation; a surprisingly tough bullpen that featured both a 39 year-old Woodie Fryman and a 21 year-old David Palmer, as well as wily vets Stan Bahnsen, Rudy May and Elias Sosa; Tony Perez at first base; the unbelievably bad-ass outfield of Ellis Valentine, Andre Dawson and Warren Cromartie; and, of course, the perpetually-smiling (yet totally hard-nosed) Gary Carter behind the plate.

Carter was 25 that year, already playing in his fifth full major league season. He hit .283 with 22 home runs, 26 doubles, 5 triples, and 75 RBI; he also threw out 47% of the guys who attempted to steal a base on him that year, and made only 9 errors all season. It was a fairly typical season for "The Kid," who managed to play 'til the early 90s, making post-Mets stops in San Francisco and Los Angeles before returning to Montreal for one final season. A fan favorite everywhere he played, Carter was also widely respected by the fans whose teams he played against; you hated to see him in the lineup, but you couldn't hate on the man himself — he was just too good, too "pro", too obviously filled with the joy of being able to play baseball for a living. How could you hate a guy like that?

And now the man, "The Kid," is gone. It'd be easy to say that a little bit of my childhood has left with him; but every time I see a clip of the guy in action — even in this sweet 7-Up commercial from 1980 — it takes me right back to the same joy I felt when I was a kid running onto a baseball diamond, going to a ballgame, or opening up a wax pack of Topps cards and finding Gary Carter in there. Rest in Peace, Kid. You'll always be a part of us.

Happy (Belated) Fullpack Day!!!

First of all, my funky friends, I realize that I must apologize for searing your retinas with this image of a BVDs-clad, appendix-scarred Earl Weaver — but this is far and away one of my favorite baseball photos of the 1970s. Because other than Oscar Gamble's afro, nothing says "70s Baseball" quite like a couple of cans of Schlitz, a lit cigarette, a crappy Coke clock, a TV (probably black and white) with a single antenna, a shirtless Weaver, and a sweaty, shaggy-haired Don Stanhouse in a "Stan The Man Unusual" t-shirt. I can pretty much guarantee that you will never see anything approaching this tableau ever re-enacted in a major league clubhouse...

The pic was taken in 1979, at the peak of Don Stanhouse's career. Stanhouse had kicked around for several years with the Texas Rangers and Montreal Expos as a part-time starter and occasional long reliever, before coming to Baltimore in the same December '77 trade that sent Joe Kerrigan and Gary Roenicke to the Orioles in exchange for Rudy May, Randy Miller and Bryn Smith. Given a shot as the O's closer, Stanhouse went on to post the two best seasons of his career (6-9 with a 2.89 ERA and 24 saves in '78, followed by a 7-3 record with a 2.85 ERA, 21 saves and an All Star team selection in '79) ... and give Earl Weaver several minor heart attacks in the process. Weaver, in turn, inadvertently gave Stanhouse the nickname "Fullpack," after grousing to reporters that he consumed a full pack of smokes every time Stanhouse — who typically walked more batters than he struck out — took the mound.

Stanhouse, dubbed "Stan The Man Unusual" by the late Mike Flanagan, was one of the more colorful characters of 70s baseball (and believe me, that's saying something). The cat's crown of curls would have made Harpo Marx honk his horn in jealousy, while you could have probably squeezed at least half a pint of beer (and god knows what other substances) from that moustache on any given occasion. Fullpack loved Cadillacs and ladies ("Tell me one person in the world who doesn't like women," he once quipped to the Baltimore Sun. "My trouble is that I like too many of them."), he kept a stuffed gorilla in his locker, and his pre-game ritual included scaring the shit out of anyone in earshot with primal screams. He also drove opposing hitters nuts with his agonizingly slow windup and delivery — a movement so glacial, his teammates would often tease him about falling asleep between pitches.

Unfortunately, a back injury drove Fullpack out of the game just a few years after he helped take Weaver and the '79 Orioles all the way to the World Series, where they were beaten in seven games by the "We Are Family" Pirates. He's bounced back nicely in the business world since then (as detailed in this excellent Baseball Savvy article), and he's also popped up on the Big Hair & Plastic Grass Facebook page, where he occasionally leaves comments under photos of his former colleagues (such as "Roscoe P. Foreskin" under a pic of Ross Grimsley).

I've also had the pleasure of hearing from him via email on occasion, including the time he jokingly (I think) threatened to sue me for accidentally misspelling his name as "Standhouse" in the first edition of Big Hair & Plastic Grass. And now, alas, I appear to have inadvertantly bummed him out again.

"Can't believe you dicks forgot my birthday!" read the email I received from him this morning. And while we did give him birthday props two days ago on Facebook, I must admit that I was too swamped with deadlines that day to give him a proper shout-out on this page. So, Happy Belated Birthday, Fullpack — sorry we missed it. Hope it was a most unusual one, in the best possible way!

Sip At Risk From Richie Zisk

Funky birthday greetings to Richie Zisk, the slugging outfielder with the Village People-worthy moustache who had some great years for the Pirates in the mid-70s. In 1977, he knocked 30 homers and 101 RBI for Bill Veeck's "South Side Hitmen" White Sox squad, inspiring such Comiskey Park banner slogans as "Pitch At Risk To Richie Zisk," and earning him a place on a can of RC Cola...

Happy Birthday, Hammerin' Hank!

Henry Aaron, the man who remains the All-Time Home Run King in my book (both literally and figuratively), turns 78 today. An all-around class act, even during the extremely stressful period in 1973 and '74 when he was laying seige to Babe Ruth's record, Hammerin' Hank turned an entire generation of kids into lifelong fans of the game. Here's to ya, Henry!

Oh yeah — here's some grainy but very cool Super 8 footage of Hank hitting career homer #695 off of the Mets' George Stone at Shea Stadium on July 8, 1973...

Don't Call Him Chicken, Call Him "Motormouth"

There is funky, and then there is FON-KAY. And this grease-stained lid from a bucket of English's Fried Chicken — emblazoned with the grinning visage of Baltimore Orioles centerfielder Paul Blair — is truly the FON-KAY-est piece of baseball memorabilia I've ever laid eyes on. Wonder how much it would fetch from a collector... of baseball OR fried chicken memorabilia? (Thanks mucho to the blog Bob Lemke's Stuff for utterly blowing my mind with it.)

Blair, who turns 68 today, was a friendly, hard-hustling, eight-time Gold Glover with the Orioles. He hit .474 in the 1970 World Series, and made appearances in five other Fall Classics — '66, '69 and '71 with the Orioles, and '77 and '78 with the New York Yankees. You might also know "Motormouth" as the guy who Billy Martin sent out to replace Reggie Jackson in right field in the middle of the 6th inning on June 18, 1977 at Fenway Park, sparking Martin and Jackson's infamous dugout brawl.

Sweet medallion he's wearing in the photo below. Wonder if that was a zodiac pendant? Paul's an Aquarius, baby...

Forever Blowing Bubbles

Kurt Bevacqua, a utility man who spent parts of fifteen seasons with the Indians, Royals, Pirates, Brewers, Rangers and Padres franchises (some of them twice), is best-known these days as the subject of several colorful Tommy Lasorda tirades; some folks down San Diego way may also remember him fondly for hitting a game-winning homer off Dan Petry in Game 2 of the 1984 World Series, which to date remains the one and only October Classic win in Padres history.

But to me, a child of the 70s who found this wonderfully bizarre "action shot" card in his first-ever Topps wax pack, Kurt Bevacqua (whose birthday it is today) will always be the Bazooka Bubble Blowing Champion of the known universe. The competition, staged by Major League Baseball and Topps, Inc. (who also produced the mighty pink chewable rectangles known as Bazooka Bubblegum), featured players from all 24 teams; held late in the 1975 season, it was filmed to be shown during that year's World Series pre-game broadcasts, with the ubiquitous Joe Garagiola hosting. Though contestants included such stars as Johnny Bench, George Brett, Bert Blyleven, Bill Madlock and Gary Carter, it was Bevacqua who, er, blew his way to the top, besting runner-up Johnny Oates with with a prodigious bubble that was measured at 18 inches by umpire Dick Stello.

Sadly, baseball's Bazooka Bubble Blowing Championship was a one-time-only affair. As such, Bevacqua, who spent most of '76 with the Brewers' Triple-A team in Spokane, never had to defend his crown — which, perhaps, means that he really will remain champion forever. But thanks to the magic of the Internet, we can still watch his victory again and again. Parts 1 and 2 of the '75 Bubblegum Championship broadcast are embedded below; in retrospect, their goofy, color-saturated charm perfectly sums up much of what I love about 1970s baseball.

Part One: Part Two:

Big "Big Hair" News!!!

Oscar Gamble and his mighty 'fro are back once again, this time as the bearers of some righteous news:

The long-awaited paperback edition of Big Hair and Plastic Grass: A Funky Ride Through Baseball and America in the Swinging '70s now has an official release date: June 5, 2012!

While the paperback won't contain any new content, per se, the minor errors that slipped through during the original editing process (and which got a certain New York Times reviewer profoundly bent out of shape) have now happily been corrected. So if you've been waiting for it to come out in affordable paperback form before plunking down yer hard-earned cash for a copy, now's your chance! You can actually pre-order it from Amazon and from Barnes & Noble, so it will be waiting at your doorstep on the day of release.

For those of you into the eBook scene, the digital version of Big Hair & Plastic Grass is already available for Kindle and for Nook; you can also find it in the iBooks store. The first printing of the hardcover edition is also pretty close to sold-out at this point; so if first editions are your thing, snap it up while you still can!

Summer's still a long way off, but I'll definitely be doing some reading/signing events (hopefully including some which would make Bill Veeck proud) to support the paperback, so check here — or the always-groovin' BH&PG Facebook page — for further updates...

I'd also like to take this opportunity to once again thank everyone who has bought, read, reviewed or otherwise supported this labor of love. I am continually humbled to learn of the enjoyment it has brought to people, and am continually stoked to see how many people out there who still hold a 'fro-tastic place in their heart for the glory (and ridiculousness) of '70s baseball.

See you all on the dancefloor,

Dan