I'd like to take a moment to send out some funky birthday 75th wishes to my father, Irwin, who played such a major role in getting me interested in baseball. When I was ten years old, he took me to see Bang The Drum Slowly, taught me how to read the back of a baseball card, lent me his copy of Roger Kahn's The Boys of Summer and got us tickets to my first-ever major league ballgame — Yankees vs. Tigers at Tiger Stadium, May 30, 1976 — and I pretty much took it from there. Without him, Big Hair & Plastic Grasswould never have been written.
I wish I had a photo to share of him and I playing catch, as we did so many times during my childhood, or going to a ballgame together. But we weren't the kind of family that took a lot of picture of each other, and any such photos we might have once had probably got lost in one of our many moves. So instead, here's a photo and video of Linda Ronstadt — one of my Dad's favorite singers, and whose music made up a significant portion of my childhood soundtrack — singing "The Star Spangled Banner" with organ acompaniment (unlike with, say, Beyonce, no backing tracks or pre-recorded vocals were involved) at Dodger Stadium before Game 3 of the 1977 World Series.
My Dad, a diehard Brooklyn Dodgers fan in his youth, had switched his allegiances to the Mets long before the Dodgers resumed their rivalry with the hated Yankees in this particular Fall Classic. But I know he really enjoyed seeing Ms. Ronstadt in a Dodgers jacket, just the same...
There are few things I care less about — in the world of baseball, or in the world in general — than the Home Run Derby. At its best, it's a fun and pleasant diversion for the fans, much like the original Home Run Derby TV show was, back in the 1960s. But the sheer amount of breathless hype that's pumped into it for weeks ahead of time (WILL MATT KEMP PICK BRYCE HARPER FOR THE HOME RUN DERBY?!?) is silly and grating, as are the endless punning bloviations of the execrable Chris Berman, who was airlifted to Kansas City apparently for the sole purpose of running through his arsenal (emphasis on the "arse") of home run calls during the contest. Seriously, this guy makes Hawk Harrelson sound like Noel Coward...
But despite that — and despite the many negative things I have to say about the All-Star Game in the most recent installment of "High and Tight," my baseball and rock n' roll column for Rolling Stone Online — I'm actually looking forward to the Midsummer Classic. I always do, even though it's often a dull and disappointing affair, probably because I will never entirely disassociate it with the All-Star Games of my youth. Sure, some of those were pretty boring, as well — like 1976, when Mark Fidrych started the ASG against Randy Jones, and wound up getting the "L" as the NL cruised to a 7-1 victory. But I'll never forget the thrill of seeing all those famous players introduced in their colorful uniforms, many of whom I'd never actually seen play (on TV or in person) before... and I still get a glimmer of that today, even with all the crap that surrounds it.
So in tribute to the All-Star Game — or rather, what it once was, I'm gonna offer up a few of the great 70s ASG clips that I've been able to find out there, starting with Fritz Peterson facing Willie McCovey in the 1970 Midsummer Classic...
Followed by Pete Rose's mad dash to win it all...
And the 1971 ASG, which featured Dock Ellis, Reggie Jackson and maybe the greatest collection of true All-Stars in history...
Here's another great clip from 1971, with the late Don Wilson performing some 8th inning fireballing heroics...
And of course, no round-up of 70s All-Star Games can be complete without a clip from the 1979 game, featuring Dave "The Cobra" Parker and his cannon arm...
The pic at the top of this post, by the way, is of the '79 NL squad, a truly stellar collection of players posing in a truly eye-popping collection of uniforms. Parker, Dave Winfield and George Foster in the outfield, Steve Garvey, Davey Lopes, Mike Schmidt and Larry Bowa in the infield, a starting battery of Steve Carlton and Bob Boone, with guys like Bruce Sutter, Gaylord Perry, Joaquin ANdujar and Stever Rogers in the bullpen, and Keith Hernandez, Gary Carter, Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, Ron Cey, Johnny Bench, Dave Kingman, Lou Brock and Lee Mazzilli on the bench. So yeah, there's no chance in hell that the 2012 ASG in Kansas City is gonna live up to that. But a man can remember... and dream.
Well, I'm not quite there yet — but I'll be there in spirit tonight (and in disembodied voice) around 10:30 pm EST, when I'll be interviewed live on Mike Silva's "NY Baseball" radio show on 1240 AM WGBB outta Long Island. I rapped with Mike about two years ago, and we had a great chat, so I'm really looking forward to it. Tune in, turn on, and get down — Billy Baldwin and his massive 'fro would want it that way.
Tonight's interview should be a nice warm-up for the NYC Big Hair & Plastic Grass paperback release party on Tuesday night, which will be going down on from 6:30 pm to 9 pm at Manitoba's Bar in the East Village, and will be hosted by the legendary Handsome Dick Manitoba himself. I will be signing paperback copies of the book (which will be on sale at the bar) and reading some choice bits from it. Join us for tales of baseball weirdness, hot dogs, peanuts, crackerjacks, liquid refreshments and good times...
And speaking of tales of baseball weirdness, today is the 37th anniversary of the night that army cannons blew holes in the outfield wall at Shea Stadium. You can read about the incident in greater detail HERE, or you can let Walter Cronkite give you the basic lowdown, below...
That's Bill "Spaceman" Lee pictured above, showing off some of the injuries he sustained during the brutal Red Sox-Yankees brawl of May 20, 1976 — one of the decade's more vicious "basebrawls". Since I was a little too young to appreciate the Bud Harrelson-Pete Rose dust-up in the 1973 NLCS, this fight was the first baseball brawl that really etched itself upon my frontal lobe. Footage from the fight kicks in at about 1:35 in the clip below...
Speaking of which, I recently did a fun interview with Tom Jackson at Cornbelt Baseball, in which he picked my brain about the column, the meeting of all things musical and mound-related, and what's up with the paperback edition of Big Hair & Plastic Grass, which comes out June 5. Tom asked me what I have planned, promo-wise; while I've got several things in the works, the only thing that I've got completely confirmed is a paperback-release celebration on Tuesday, June 12 at Manitoba's Bar on NYC's Lower East Side. The shindig (which, not entirely coincidentally, takes place on the 42nd anniversary of Dock Ellis' LSD-assisted no-hitter) will run from 6:30-9 pm; I will be reading from the book and signing copies (which will be on sale at the bar), and the legendary Handsome Dick Manitoba of Dictators fame will be MC-ing and hosting the proceedings. While I can't promise that I will be tripping on acid, I can guarantee a good time for all, including 70s jams on the jukebox, "dirty water dogs," peanuts, and of course liquid refreshments. (Which you gotta pay for, but hey — it's not some expensive yuppie bar!)
The event at Manitoba's is FREE to all, so long as you're 21 or over. If you're in NYC that night, come on down and say hey...
I really wanted to love Paul Dickson's new Bill Veck: Baseball's Greatest Maverick — and, in truth, I loved quite a bit of it. Dickson does a beautiful job of capturing the spirit and personality of baseball's most visionary owner, as well as detailing the upbringing that shaped his unwaveringly populist bent; he also nicely separates fact from the fiction that swirled around him throughout his life and continues to swirl around his legend, including his relationships with Satchel Paige, Larry Doby and Eddie "The MIdget Pinch-HItter" Gaedel.
That said, as a 70s baseball guy, I found Dickson's coverage of Veeck's second go-round with the Chicago White Sox to be, by far, the most disappointing part of his book. 1976, Veeck's first season after re-acquiring the team — during which he made a surprise appearance at Comiskey Park's Opening Day ceremonies as part of the "Spirit of '76" tableau pictured above, and sent his team out to play in short pants on three occasions — gets a decent amount of coverage, but the rest of his tenure blows by almost like an afterthought. The '77 White Sox "South Side Hitmen" squad (led by such "rent-a-players" as Richie Zisk and Oscar Gamble) made for one of the most exciting summers in Chicago baseball history, yet they rate little more than four pages in Dickson's 400+ page tome. 1979's infamous Disco Demolition Night (which Veeck took the blame for, even though it was his son Mike's bright idea) doesn't even get that many.
Now, I know it's impossible to write a baseball book that pleases everyone (believe me, I know!), and perhaps Dickson just doesn't have the same enthusiasm or interest for this part of Veeck's career as he has for his 1940s-50s glory days. And maybe I'm just the kind of guy who thinks empires are more interesting in their decline, and that great men are more fascinating in their "Lion In Winter" phase. But the 70s were, by and large, a pretty bleak time in Chicago baseball history, at least until Bill Veeck showed up — and the joy, excitement and absurdity he brought to the Windy City in 1976 and 1977 added up to far more than a mere footnote to his career.
Sure, the last couple of years with Veeck at Comiskey were pretty depressing; free agency (ironically enough, a development that Veeck had long been in favor of) took the wind out of the team's sails, and ultimately no amount of beer crate-stacking competitions — to name one of many hilarious late 70s Veeck promotions that go unmentioned in Dickson's book — could make Chicagoans support a shitty team for the long haul. Veeck had overstayed his welcome, and by then the fun of '77 seemed a distant and hazy memory. But even so, it was a sad day for Chicago (and baseball in general) when Veeck hobbled out of the White Sox front office for the final time in January 1981.
(One detail of Veeck's final Sox season that I'd forgotten — and which Dickson reminded me of — was Edward J. DeBartolo Sr.'s failed attempts to buy the White Sox in 1980. According to Dickson's research, it's pretty clear that DeBartolo was shut out of Major League Baseball by Commissioner Bowie Kuhn because of his Italian ancestry. Bowie Kuhn: Even more of an asshole than I'd previously imagined...)
All that said, Bill Veeck: Baseball's Greatest Maverick is an engrossing read, one which will make you feel like you know the late, great man better, even if you've already read Veeck — As In Wreck and his other autobiographical works. But like Chicago in the late 70s, the book sure coulda used a lot more of dem dere Sout' Side Hitmen...
Anyway, this seems like a good place to post this incredible clip from the Museum of Classic Chicago Television's Fuzzy Memories site, an August 1977 WMAQ-TV profile of White Sox third baseman Eric Soderholm that includes some great footage of the Sout' Side Hitmen in action. Dig his great explanation about why he wears a Hebrew "Chai" medallion...
A tip of the Monsanto Toupee goes out to Big Hair & Plastic Grass Facebook page fan Kyle Bookholz, who hipped me today to this amazing Minnesota Twins TV ad from 1979, featuring Jerry Koosman, Ken Landreaux, Roy Smalley, Roger Erickson and Ron Jackson. "I've been hearing how the Twins are hurtin' without Carew," sez Kooz, which makes me wonder how many teams today would name a recently-departed star player in a TV ad, even as an act of defiance.
Put it this way: I'm pretty sure the Cardinals aren't running a "We don't need no stinkin' Pujols" spot on St. Louis channels. Though considering how hapless the Twins have been this year, maybe they should consider adopting "We've Got Something To Prove" as their "exciting" new slogan.
Koosman at least had reason to cop a 'tude, having been shipped to the Twins for a couple of minor leaguers (including Jesse Orosco) after going 3-15 for the Mets in '78 (and 8-20 the year before). Getting some decent run support for the first time in years, Kooz would go on to win 20 games for Minnesota in 1979. Unfortunately, his team would only win 82 games in all, finishing 6 games out in the AL West... behind the Rod Carew-infused California Angels, of course.
On this date in 1970, sweet-swingin' Cubs left fielder Billy Williams becomes the first NL player to play in 1000 straight games, as the Cubs lose 9-2 to the Braves at Fulton County Stadium. His "iron man" streak will eventually reach 1,117 games.
Dig Billy's 1970 Topps card, above; taken in 1969, it pictures Billy in his road greys with the MLB 100th Anniversary patch on the sleeve, what looks like a rubber surgical glove on his right hand, and the old Shea Stadium scoreboard in the background. I'm guessing Billy had no idea at the time this pic was snapped that the '69 World Series would be happening here, and not at Wrigley, though he DOES look a bit worried...
Like his fellow Hall of Famer teammates Ernie Banks, Fergie Jenkins and Ron Santo, Billy would never get to play in the World Series — though he did at least make the post-season once towards the end of his career, going 0-for-7 as a DH for the A's in the '75 ALCS against the Red Sox. He deserved better...
Here's a cool little interview clip from May 1968, when Billy broke the NL record for consecutive games with 695...
Thirty-four years ago yesterday, Cincinnati Reds second baseman Joe Morgan bobbled a throw from first baseman Dan Driessen, ending his then-record streak of 91 straight games at second without an error.
While part of me admittedly loves writing "Joe Morgan bobbled a throw," the fact is that I was in awe of him during his playing days; it was only after he misadventured into the broadcast booth that he regularly made me sputter with inchoate rage.
Little Joe was an absolute giant at his position — truly the greatest second baseman of the 70s, if not of all time. I vividly remember watching in the '76 NLCS and World Series, and my father continually pointing out the way he fielded his position, or how he timed pitches with that weird funky chicken pump of his left arm, or how he generally intimidated the fuck out of the opposition at the plate and on the basepaths. He was truly the engine that made the "Big Red Machine" go; even being on the same team as Pete Rose, Johnny Bench, Tony Perez and George Foster, he won both the '75 and '76 NL MVP awards in a landslide.
I recently stumbled upon the awesome pic above, in which Little Joe demonstrates his batting form (and impeccably trimmed sideburns) for Gwen Conley as a guest on "Feelings," a morning TV talk and variety show broadcast on WLWT (channel 5) in Cincinnati. Conley, who initially broke into showbiz as a singer (her 1975 album, The Many Faces of Gwen Conley, fetches a pretty penny these days on Japanese import CD), was one of the first black women to host her own TV show. I haven't been able to find any clips from her show floating around the tubes, but Billy Dee Williams, Redd Foxx, Arthur Ashe, and Johnny Bench all reportedly sat in the same wicker chair that Morgan occupies above. Even local morning television was cooler back in the 70s...
Thirty-six years ago today, after being closed two years for renovations, Yankee Stadium re-opened for business with an 11-4 Yankees victory over the Minnesota Twins. Though the WPIX broadcast of that game doesn't appear to exist any longer, the Opening Day pre-game ceremonies — featuring a wide array of Yankee legends, and emceed by the equally legendary Bob Sheppard — are thankfully still available on YouTube.
Part One:
Part Two:
Part Three:
Aside from the sentimental significance of the Yankees returning home after two years in Shea exile, these clips have considerable historical value, not least because 1976 would turn out to mark the Yankees' return to the post-season for the first time in 12 years; this event, therefore, shows Billy Martin's Bronx Bombers reclaiming their pinstriped past on their way to adding an important new chapter to the franchise's history.
Alas, while Babe Ruth hit the first home run at the original Yankee Stadium, the first homer at new refurbished Yankee Stadium came off the bat of a visiting player, Twins outfielder "Disco" Dan Ford. The first Yankee round-tripper at the re-opened park wouldn't come until two days later, when Thurman Munson cranked a solo shot off of the Twins' Jim Hughes. Like Casey Stengel useta say, you could look it up.
On this date in 1973, Pirates superstar Roberto Clemente, who died nearly three months earlier in a plane crash while trying to bring relief supplies to the people of earthquake-stricken Nicaragua, is posthumously elected for induction into the Hall of Fame, receiving 92 percent of the vote in a special ballot. The vote makes "The Great One" the first Latin American ballplayer to be enshrined in Cooperstown, as well as the first early entrant — i.e., the first player who didn't have to wait until five years after the end of his playing career to qualify for the Hall of Fame ballot.
As impressive as that 92 percent of the vote is, it's also worth nothing that 31 voters from the Baseball Writers Association of America didn't think that Clemente, a class act and intense competitor who reached 3000 hits in his final at-bat of the '72 season, was worthy of immediate enshrinement. How much of this had something to do with Clemente's testy relationship with the media, or certain voters acting as self-appointed guardians of the Hall and not wanting anyone to get in on their first ballot (much less an early one), we'll never know. Guess there are always gotta be some assholes out there...
Anyway, here's a goosebump-inducing clip of Clemente knocking his 3000th hit on September 30, 1972, against Jon Matlack of the Mets. It played out just as it should have — Number 21 ripping a sweet double to the gap in left, at home in Pittsburgh where he'd played his entire major league career. It's just a damn shame that he didn't get to play longer, and that he's not still with us today. RIP, Roberto...
Dan Epstein is an award-winning journalist who lives in Southern California. His latest book, Big Hair and Plastic Grass: A Funky Ride Through Baseball and America in the Swinging '70s, was published by Thomas Dunne/St. Martin's Press in May 2010, and will be out in paperback in June 2012. He does his best writing in his bathrobe.
