Big Hair and Plastic Grass

Orange Crush

On this date in 1973, orange baseballs — another pet project of Oakland A's owner Charlie Finley — are used in a spring training exhibition game between the A's and the Indians. The orange coloring is supposed to make it easier for players and fans to pick up on the flight of the ball, but players on both sides complain that the balls are too slippery, and that it's difficult to see the rotation on a pitch as it comes to the plate. The experiment is discontinued shortly thereafter, though Time magazine will use the orange balls as a background motif for their 1975 cover story on Finley...

 

The Great One Gets His Due

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...

 

Where's Super Jew When You Need Him?

A tip of the Monsanto Toupee to Dave Monroe for reminding me of December 1976's DC Super Stars #10, in which Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman (hitting leadoff), Green Arrow, etc. face off against nine "Super Villains" in one of the wildest baseball games of the era. Superman gets shelled, giving up 17 hits and 10 earned runs (including two round-trippers to rival hurler Sportsmaster), but hangs on for an 11-10 Super Heroes victory. Definitely more exciting than the 1976 World Series, which would have been played about the time this comic was on the racks.

To get the full story, check out this excellent 2005 post from The Comic Treadmill, from which I snagged the game's box score, below. Batman went 5-for-5? Sweet! It's just too bad the DC folks didn't write Mike "Super Jew" Epstein into the story...

Ballplayer Pride

A funky birthday shout-out to another entertainer with a baseball past: Country star Charley Pride, who had his biggest hits in the 1970s (including "Kiss An Angel Good Mornin," "Is Anybody Goin' To San Antone" and "I Can't Believe That You've Stopped Loving Me"), and played ball in the Negro Leagues and the Yankees and Reds farm systems in the 50s and 60s. Here's Charley in the late 70s, wearin' a sweet leisure suit and patterned shirt combo (and sportin' the most happenin' afro in country music history), shootin' the shit with Twins manager Gene Mauch.

The Big Kurt

If ye be of the drinkin' persuasion, raise a birthday toast today to actor Kurt Russell, star of such classic early 70s Disney flicks as Dad, Can I Borrow the Car?, The Barefoot Executive and Superdad — all of which I heartily enjoyed as a child — who was born on St. Patrick's Day in 1951.

Though he initially seemed fated to be forever typecast as "that Disney kid," Russell would go on to find fame and respect as a serious actor, thanks to his memorable portrayals of such characters as Snake Plissken in Escape from New York and Elvis in, well, Elvis. But if it hadn't been for a torn rotator cuff, Russell might have had a serious career in baseball.

From 1971-1973, Russell played over a hundred games as a second baseman and outfielder in the California Angels' farm system, including stints with the Bend Rainbows, the Walla Walla Islanders, the Portland Mavericks and (as pictured above) the El Paso Sun Kings. In 1973, he was hitting .563 in six games with El Paso when he hurt his shoulder colliding with a runner while trying to turn a doubleplay.

"I was serious enough to be leading the Texas League (in hitting) when I got hurt," he told ESPN's Jim Caple in 2004. "I made the All-Star team and I was a second baseman who could turn the doubleplay and hit. It was what I did. The fun part of my life was that everyone in baseball knew me from baseball. They didn't understand what I was doing with the acting thing. The acting was what was strange to them."

Future major leaguers among Russell's Sun Kings teammates included Frank Tanana, Sid Monge, Paul Dade, Bruce Bochte, Dave Chalk and Gil Flores. "Most of the ballplayers that I played with, knew me from baseball," he told Caple. The acting thing to them was like, 'Yeah, I don't know why he does that.' Ballplayers used to say, 'You must meet a lot of girls in movies. Can you get me into that?' They always wanted me to get them into it."

Kurt never made it to "The Show," but his nephew Matt Franco — who apparently still holds the major league record for pinch hit walks in a season, with 20 — had a decent career as a utility man for the Cubs, Mets and Braves from 1995 to 2003. Here's a pic of Russell paying Franco a visit in 1994, when the latter was playing with the Iowa Cubs. Russell looks like he could probably still turn two...

The Thinker: Excerpts From My Interview With Ken Holtzman

Several months back, I had the pleasure of interviewing Ken Holtzman, the winningest Jewish pitcher of all time (174 career victories to Sandy Koufax's 165), for a new Jewish culture mag called JLiving. Known as "The Thinker" back in his playing days for his estimable intellect, Mr. Holtzman graciously provided me with some very thoughtful answers indeed to questions on everything from duelling with Koufax to dealing with anti-Semitism.

In fact, Mr. Holtzman gave me more good stuff than I could fit into the piece; you can read my JLiving feature at this link (just click on the widget in the left/top corner of the home page, and flip to p. 28), but for additional thoughts on his career, life, reading habits, anti-Semitism and the Designated Hitter rule that didn't make it into the published piece, read on...

BIG HAIR & PLASTIC GRASS: Of all your baseball accomplishments, which remains the most satisfying to you: Winning three World Series rings as a member of the Oakland A’s, pitching two no-hitters for the Cubs, or being the winningest Jewish pitcher of all time?

KEN HOLTZMAN: Of the three choices given, I would say winning the three rings is tops. However, I've said many times my biggest thrill and accomplishment remains the first time I walked onto Wrigley Field in a Cubs uniform because it validated all the hard work and sacrifices that I made to reach the big leagues. The other milestones were very satisfying but, in a sense, anti-climactic. Achieving a childhood dream is hard to surpass.    

BH&PG: Some writers dubbed you “The Thinker,” since you seemed much more intellectually inclined than your baseball peers — and I’m pretty sure you’re the only major leaguer in history who’s ever been quoted as saying you preferred to read Proust in the original French. Where did your intellectual curiosity come from? Do you think your intelligence gave you an advantage as a pitcher? 

HOLTZMAN: Baseball, to a large extent, is an instinctive sport in which "book smarts", as the players like to refer to them, are only good for winning chess and bridge tournaments in the clubhouse. The only intelligence which is relevant is that which is needed to make day to day adjustments in order to compete with the best players in the world and not get overwhelmed. In order to reach the big leagues and STAY in the big leagues one must have an innate knowledge of the game including its strategy and techniques. There are no dummies in the big leagues and, to me, one's college grade point average should equal one's ERA. (I think my career ERA is about 3.4 which is just about my career college G.P.A.) 

BH&PG: Reggie Jackson recently claimed that Billy Martin’s anti-Semitism was to blame for your troubled tenure with the Yankees. Do you think that’s an accurate assessment? Did you encounter a significant amount of anti-Semitism during your playing career? If so, was it from teammates and opposing players, or more from the “old school” managers and owners you encountered?

HOLTZMAN: I encountered my share of anti-semitic insults during my career from fans, players and other persons associated with the game.  New York was no different but I chose not to let it affect me as I was dedicated to my craft and felt that any distraction from the job at hand was not fair to me, my teammates and the people that hired me. Sometimes, on a deeply personal level, I had to confront it directly like I did when I was growing up and since I never ran from anything in my life  I wasn't about to run away from some bigot without a face to face challenge.

Once, in the amateur leagues in St. Louis, I was on a team without any other Jewish players and during one game in a very rural part of the state, an opposing player kept yelling anti-semitic insults and threats at me throughout the whole game from their bench.  Finally, this same player came to bat and I was glaring at him the whole time he stepped to the plate.  Our catcher (A very close Catholic friend of mine who I literally grew up with) called time and came to the mound and started laughing because he knew what I was going to do.  He said, "look, if you're going going to get him, wait till the 3rd or 4th pitch so he could warn everybody else to be ready for some action." On the first pitch, I tried to throw a slow curve away so that he would begin to lean over the plate and provide an even bigger target on the subsequent pitch.  I did the same thing on the second pitch but he stuck out his bat and hit a weak grounder back to me and then, all of a sudden, instead of running right to first base, he threw his bat at me and then started to run. With the ball in my hand I'll confess I had thoughts of being the first pitcher to throw a knock down pitch to a base runner on his way to first. Unfortunately, my catcher tackled the guy and prevented me from getting to him. My father was at the game and he came out of the stands and tried to get at the guy as well. All hell broke loose with the fans and the cops had to restore order.

Believe it or not, about 40 years later, this same player came to the JCC where I was working, introduced himself and promptly apologized for his behavior 40 years earlier. I immediately accepted, told him I never forgot the incident, and that he was lucky I didn't get to flatten him and break 3 of his ribs. We both laughed, went out and had a beer together, and still stay in touch. By the way, during my 15 year career, the high holidays frequently occurred during the season and every manager was respectful of my wish to go to services and not attend the game those days. 

BH&PG: You were no Hank Greenberg at the plate, but you did hit a cumulative .308 in the post-season, with three doubles and a homer. Was it frustrating for you when the Designated Hitter rule was established, effectively taking the bat out of your hands during the regular season? In retrospect, what do you think of the DH?

HOLTZMAN: I personally like the DH because it enabled me to stay in the game longer and not be pinch hit for. I never wanted to be taken out of a game, regardless of the score or situation, and the DH enabled me to pitch more innings even though I would have to face one more tough hitter in a line-up than existed in the National League. I also think, theoretically, it should speed up the game. The way the game has evolved, however, even American League games suffer from all too frequent pitching changes and specialization consequently resulting in longer game times.  

BH&PG: How is life treating you these days? And have you read any good books lately?

HOLTZMAN: I still live about 35 miles from St. Louis and still go to several Cardinal games especially when one of my former teammates or other friends still in the game visits our area. I did attend Game 7 [of the 2011 World Series] with some friends and went to Mike Shannon's restaurant afterwards for the local celebration and chance to see some of my old baseball teammates and friends who were in town for the Series. I am retired now and travel occasionally to see my grand-daughters and other family members around the country so I am staying busy and on top of things. I read less these days but I make up for it by relentlessly doing crossworld puzzles, the harder the better.   

(Thanks again to Ken Holtzman for taking the time to speak with me, and Debbie Gallas of the Oakland A's for setting up the interview.)

Day of the Dock

Dock Ellis would have been 67 today. The man died way too young, felled by cirrhosis of the liver in December 2008, but there's no question he lived his own life to the fullest and — despite his erratic behavior during his playing days — made a positive difference in a lot of other people's lives, both on and off the field.

Yes, he pitched a no-hitter on LSD (one of the most amazing feats in the history of sports, when you think about it), wore curlers in his hair in the bullpen, and once tried to bean the entire Reds lineup — to name the three things he's probably best known for — but Dock was no mere flake or fuck-up; there was an intense competitive streak and a pure cosmic embrace of existence lying behind so much of what he did. Dock's life was a huge inspiration to me, both as a writer and a person; I never had the opportunity to meet or interview him, but I tried to do him justice with this tribute I penned on my other blog, La Vie En Robe, in early 2009.

One of the interesting things that I wasn't really able to fit into Big Hair & Plastic Grass was Dock's relationship with Billy Martin. When the Pirates traded Dock to the Yankees in December '75 (pretty much as a throw-in on the deal that brought Ken Brett and Willie Randolph to New York in exchange for Doc Medich), most folks figured it was only a matter of time before the legendarily erratic hurler would clash with the legendarily volatile Yankee manager, but the two got on famously. Martin recognized and respected Dock's competitive fire, while Dock recognized and respected Martin's managerial savvy; Billy kept the New York press off Dock's back, and Dock responded by going 17-8 with a 3.19 ERA in 32 starts, despite only fanning 65 batters (as opposed to the 76 that he walked).

I spoke at length about Dock's time in pinstripes last month for No No: The Dockumentary, the forthcoming documentary on Dock's life and career; hopefully it'll make the final cut. But even if it doesn't, I've seen some of the other interviews and footage these guys have assembled for the project, and I can't wait to watch the whole thing. Dock may not have had Hall of Fame numbers, but he was definitely a Hall of Fame character, and someone infinitely worthy of an in-depth filmic salute.

He's also worthy of a truly awesome musical salute — and while I know some of you out there dig Todd Snider's "America's Favorite Pastime" and The S.F. Seals' "Dock Ellis," I don't think either song comes close to capturing his funky, firey spirit. To my mind, the perfect Dock Ellis tribute would involve hard-grooving Latin percussion (he grew up in LA, remember), some bad-ass wah-wah pedal action, and a screaming Eddie Hazel guitar lead, not to mention some lyrical bon mots from Dock himself, a la "We gonna get down. We gonna do the do. I'm going to hit these motherfuckers!"

Ah well, a man can dream, can't he? Until that comes to pass, I'm just gonna rock "Shaft" by Isaac Hayes, and sing "Dock!" in the chorus. He was a complicated man, after all... Rest in peace, Dock; you are truly missed in this country of baseball.

 

Super Pops

Don't have time to write much, but I just can't let today go by without giving a birthday shout-out to the late, truly great Wilver Dornell Stargell, who would have been 72 today. Hall of Famer, 1979 NL co-MVP (you can make the case that he should have won it in '71 and '73 instead, or as well), spiritual leader of the "We Are Family" Pirates, fan favorite, all-around class act and a guy with the proverbial "heart as big as all outdoors," "Pops" was one of the coolest dudes to ever play the game.

In this 1975 photo above (which was later reproduced in the Pirates' '76 yearbook), Willie chills out in the Three Rivers clubhouse while rocking his best Curtis Mayfield look. To see the man in action, check out this 55-second video salute from the Hall of Fame, which contains the great Don Sutton line: "Stargell doesn't just hit pitchers, he takes away their dignity."

 

Danny and the Dune Buggy

 

Today would have been the 66th birthday of Danny Frisella, impressively hirsute reliever for the Mets, Braves, Padres, Cardinals and Brewers. Frisella's best year was 1971, when he went 8-5 with a 1.99 ERA, 93 Ks and 12 saves in 90.2 innings for the Mets. After he struggled somewhat in 1972, with his ERA climbing to a still-respectable 3.34 in 67.1 innings, the Mets shipped him and Gary Gentry to Atlanta for Felix Millan and George Stone; as my friend David Jordan pointed out, that was one of the few trades the 70s Mets made where they absolutely fleeced the other team. Frisella's 1973 was rough (4.20 ERA in 45 innings), but his 1974 was even worse (5.18 ERA in 41.2 innings, with 27 Ks against 28 walks). Meanwhile, Millan and Stone helped take the '73 Mets to the World Series...

Nicknamed "Bear," he was a man with a tough forkball, and an even tougher five o'clock shadow; like Joe Torre, Frisella looked like he needed to shave at least three times a day. Sadly, there would be no pitching or shaving for him after January 1, 1977 — he was killed that day when the dune buggy he was driving outside of his Phoenix home flipped and crushed his head against the ground. (No disrespect meant to the deceased, but next to a Ford Pinto explosion or waterbed-related electrocution, it's hard to think of a more quintessentially 70s way to die.) By all accounts a tough competitor, despite the arm problems that occasionally hampered him during the latter half of his career, Frisella had bounced back with the Brewers in '76, posting a 2.74 ERA and 43 Ks in 49.1 innings. He was deprived by death of probably a few more good years in the bigs — and we were deprived of some more stache-tastic Frisella cards like this one. RIP, Bear.