Big Hair and Plastic Grass

Glove Man

Why is this man smilling? It's because he's two-time NL home run king Michael Jack Schmidt — and on April 17, 1976, the day before this pic was taken, he'd "jacked" a record four consecutive homers during the Phillies' wild 10-inning, 18-16 win over the Cubs at Wrigley Field. He would smile again before this day was done, hitting a two-run blast in the 7th inning off of Paul Reuschel to pad the Phillies' lead in their 8-5 victory. Reuschel, of course, was the pitcher who'd given up tater #4 in the previous game; his brother Rick had served up the first two, and Mike Garman had been tagged for the third (a grand slam). Schmidt would finish the season with a MLB-high 38 homers, giving him his third consecutive NL home run title; he would win five more before his Hall of Fame career was through.

Though he didn't win any MVP awards during the 70s (the closest he came was a distant third to Joe Morgan in 1976), Schmidt — who was born on this date in 1949 — was certainly the most valuable player that the Phillies fielded on a daily basis in that decade. Not only did the man wield a mighty stick, but he could also take a pitch (he was typically good for around 100 walks per season, and his lifetime OBP of .380 speaks louder than his lifetime .267 batting average), steal a base (he led the team in '75 with 29 swipes), and get along well with everyone in what was sometimes a very divided Philadelphia clubhouse. Dick Allen, a man at the center of much of the controversy that swirled around their Bicentennial squad, paid Schmidt a compliment in his autobiography Crash, calling him "An honorary black... [Schmitty] was sporting an Afro at the time, even if it was a red one."

The man could seriously handle a glove, as well. There's quite a few folks out there who think Mike Schmidt was the greatest third baseman of all time... considering that he played in the same decade as Brooks Robinson and George Brett, that's pretty damn impressive. There are also those who argue that Ken "Zamboni" Reitz should have been the rightful winner of some of the Gold Glove awards handed to Schmidt (whose fielding percentage was typically lower than Reitz's); then again, Schmidt had a much better range — an especially important distinction when balls are rocketing at you off the Astroturf, as they did every day at Veterans Stadium.

Which brings me to the latest edition of "High and Tight," the rock n' roll baseball column I pen on a weekly basis for Rolling Stone Online. This week, our panelists (incl. Alice Cooper, George Thorogood, Scott Ian, Steve Earle and Handsome Dick Manitoba) look back at our first baseball gloves. I forgot to mention in the piece that, while I upgraded from my crappy Bud Harrelson Sears job to a Wilson Bobby Bonds model, it was a Rawlings GJ54 Mike Schmidt  model that I really wanted. But it was just a little too far outta my price range — and, as you can see from the pic above, that webbing would have done little to conceal the grip on my 11 year-old knuckle-curve, or whatever I thought I was throwing at the time...

Sure wouldn't trade it (or the memories it contains) now for a Schmitty model, though...

Talk Like A Pirate

"We gonna get down. We gonna do the do. I'm gonna hit these motherfuckers!" — Dock Ellis (May 1, 1974)

Posted in honor of International Talk Like A Pirate Day, of course...

And speaking of the 70s Pirates, in this week's edition of "High and Tight," my weekly baseball and rock n' roll column for Rolling Stone Online, we ask the burning question: Which MLB team (from the 70s or any other decade) would you want to be a bench player on... and why? Find out what our panelists, including Alice Cooper, Steve Earle, Ben Gibbard, Scott Ian, Handsome Dick Manitoba and Steve and Scott from The Baseball Project, have to say on the subject...

Don't Mess With Heathcliff

On this date in 1979, Indians DH Cliff Johnson approaches the mound to have "a brief word" with Yankees pitcher Bob Kammeyer. Kammeyer, pitching in only his first MLB game of the season (and just the eighth of his career), has just plunked Johnson; it will later be revealed that Billy Martin offered Kammeyer $100 to do it, in retaliation for Johnson's homer off Paul Mirabella earlier in the game. Having entered the game in relief in the bottom of the 4th, Kammeyer (who somehow narrowly avoided a Heathcliff beatdown) gives up eight runs on seven hits without recording an out, before being pulled for Don Hood — whom Johnson will homer off of in the fifth inning — as the Indians go on to stomp the Yankees 16-3 in Cleveland.

Heathcliff, of course, had begun the season with the Yankees, where he'd served as a platoon DH, backup first baseman, and unenthusiastic third-string catcher for two years. Though he'd given the Bronx Bombers a considerable shot in the arm when he arrived from Houston in June '77 — hitting .296 with a .405 OBP, 8 doubles, 12 homers and 31 RBI in 168 plate appearances, then going 5-for-16 with two doubles and a homer during the '77 ALCS — Johnson's offense tailed off badly in '78. He then made himself completely dispensible in April 1979, when he got into a fight with Goose Gossage, a naked shower contretemps which tore a ligament in the ace reliever's right thumb, and effectively sealed Johnson's fate with George Steinbrenner. On June 15, 1979, two years to the date of his arrival in the Bronx, Johnson was shipped off to Cleveland in exchange for pitcher Don Hood. That's right — the same Don Hood he tagged for home run #2 in this game.

As for Kammeyer, this would be his last-ever appearance in "The Show". Though he would be named International League Pitcher of the Year in 1980, after going 15-7 with a 2.91 ERA for the Columbus Clippers, the Stanford University grad opted to take a gig as a CPA with Peat, Marwick Mitchell & Co, rather than pursue his pitching career any further. Kammeyer, who passed away in 2003, retired from baseball with a 0-0 record and a 9.14 ERA in 21.2 major league innings. But I'm guessing he probably spent that $100 wisely...

Return Of The Bulldog

On this date in 1978, Ball Four author Jim Bouton threw six innings (giving up 3 hits, 3 walks and 1 unearned run while striking out 2) as the Atlanta Braves beat Ed Halicki and the San Francisco Giants 4-1 in front of 3,358 paying fans at Candlestick Park.

It marked the first MLB "W" for the 38 year-old knuckleballer since July 11, 1970 — it would also be his last. Having originally retired to focus on his writing and TV/film careers — which included I'm Glad You Didn't Take It Personally, his hilarious and very underrated follow-up to Ball Four, and an unforgettable supporting role in Robert Altman's 70s update of Raymond Chandler's The Long Goodbye — "Bulldog" returned to baseball in '75, and was brought back to the majors in September '78 (courtesy of Braves owner Ted Turner) after going 11-9 with a 2.82 ERA for the AA Savannah Braves.

His first start with the Braves, on September 10, was a disaster, with Bouton giving up 6 earned runs in 5 innings in a loss to the Los Angeles Dodgers in Atlanta. He continued to pitch well after his win, though, at least for the next couple of starts; most impressive was an 8-inning performance on September 24 against the Cincinnati Reds, where he scattered 5 hits and only gave up 2 runs in the Braves' 2-1 loss at home. Five days later, however, the Reds rocked him for 7 hits and 7 runs (6 of them earned) in 3 innings at Riverfront.

Sadly, Bulldog would never pitch another game in the majors, but he sure wore those red Braves clown pinstripes with pride during his brief return...

The Many (Polyester) Moods Of Tom Seaver

Back in the 70s, before full-scale free agency kicked in and ratcheted up the salaries, major league baseball players often had to find additional off-season employment to make ends meet. Tom Seaver, however, was in the upper echelon of baseball's salary bracket; in late '75, after winning his third NL Cy Young award, the New York Mets raised his salary to a then-whopping $225,000 a year. But as a star player, you get plenty of endorsement deals thrown your way, so... I guess it makes sense that Seaver would have chosen to make a few bucks on the side by shilling for the Sears mens department.

Here's "Tom Terrific" on his 1976 Hostess card. The epitome of baseball cool, right? Now look again at the Sears ad on the top of the page, also from '76, and observe how a baseball hero can be transformed into a schlubby insurance salesman, sleazy private detective or "with-it" high school principal with just one four-piece ensemble. That's right, people — just $110 (or about $400 in today's currency) would have gotten you a two-button blazer, a flap-pocketed leisure suit jacket, and two pairs of "slacks" (one plain, one checked) in your choice of "fashionably new spring shades of blue, green, tan and rust" (that's right, rust), all tailored (perhaps "formed" would be the more accurate word) from bolts of wash-and-wear doubleknit polyester. Jesus, I'm getting skin cancer just thinking about the way that fabric must have felt...

But speaking of 1976, this seems like a good time to mention (since I basically keep forgetting to say something about it on this blog) that I've signed a deal with St. Martin's Press (the same fine folks who published Big Hair & Plastic Grass) for a book about that very same year. Tentatively titled Bicentennial Boogie: Baseball and America in the Star-Spangled Summer of '76, the new tome will be filled with all kindsa good stuff from the year that brought us Mark "The Bird" Fidrych, The Bad News Bears, the return of Bill Veeck, the last glorious championship thrust of "The Big Red Machine," Charlie's Angels, Legionnaire's Disease and the dark horse Presidential victory of Jimmy Carter, is slated to come out in April 2014. I am extremely excited to be working on a book about what's pretty much my favorite year in baseball history, and to be working again with my righteous editor Rob Kirkpatrick.

Will Tom Terrific's fashion faux pas make the cut? It certainly has a good shot, at least at this point. But if any of you fine folks reading this run across any other great baseball-related print or TV ads from '76, please let me know. Ditto for any of you collectors who are sitting on some previously un-published baseball photos from the Bicentennial year, and might be willing to let me include them in the book in exchange for a few bucks, credit, and my undying gratitude. In any case, a major tip of the Monsanto Toupee to all of you who bought, reviewed, talked-up or otherwise supported Big Hair & Plastic Grass. I am deeply thankful for your help, deeply gratified by your enthusiasm, and I really couldn't have made it to this next book project without you. Long may you all groove like Ellis Valentine...

 

Requiem For A Badass

On this date in 1975, Cardinals great Bob Gibson pitched the last game of his major league career.

Quite possibly THE most intimidating hurler of his era, Gibson continued to pitch well into his late 30s, leaving an impressive trail of strikeouts, wins, and PTS-suffering batters in his wake. Dusty Baker, who didn't face Gibson until 1972, when the pitcher was 36, said that Hank Aaron warned, him "'Don't dig in against Bob Gibson, he'll knock you down. He'd knock down his own grandmother if she dared to challenge him. Don't stare at him, don't smile at him, don't talk to him. He doesn't like it. If you happen to hit a home run, don't run too slow, don't run too fast. If you happen to want to celebrate, get in the tunnel first. And if he hits you, don't charge the mound, because he's a Gold Glove boxer."

Indeed, Gibson wrote in his autobiography that he threw nine pitches: "two different fastballs, two sliders, a curve, a change-up, knockdown, brushback, and hit-batsman." But it wasn't all about intimidation. In 1973, at the age of 37, Gibson posted a 12-10, 2.77 ERA, 1.108 WHIP performance in 195 innings, with 142 Ks against only 57 walks. Not bad at all for a pitcher in his twilight years — hell, this year's Cardinals staff only has one guy (Kyle Lohse) with anywhere near those kind of numbers, and the entire staff only has four complete games, as opposed to the 13 Gibson logged that season.

Even in 1974, when Gibson posted the second-worst ERA of his career (3.83), he was hardly bad — though he did give up a league-leading 24 homers, and his 129/104 strikeout-to-walk ratio wasn't encouraging, he still managed to become the first pitcher since Walter Johnson to pass the 3000 strikeout mark. But by the following year, it was clear that there was little gas left in the tank — the photo at the top of this post, taken in March '75 during spring training, pretty much said it all.

Still, Gibson — who announced at the beginning of the season that it would be his last go-'round in the bigs — attempted to gut it out; while his body and arm might not have been willing, his competitive fire refused to be dimmed. But except for a 12-strikeout performance against the Expos on Opening Day (a feat which was offset by the 5 runs he gave up in the 8-4 loss), no one could have possibly mistaken him for the high-flying Hoot who once fanned 17 Tigers in a World Series game. In July, having posted only two wins against eight losses and a 5.13 ERA, the Cards moved him (gingerly, no doubt) from the starting rotation to the bullpen.

And so it came to pass that one of the greatest starting pitchers in major league history made his final seven MLB appearances as a reliever. To be fair, it wasn't a bad move — in the first six games, Gibson posted two saves (and blew one), a 1.35 ERA and struck out 13 batters in 18 innings. But with Al "The Mad Hungarian" Hrabosky and Mike Garman holding down the Cards' bullpen, there wasn't much call for Gibson's relief services. And then, on September 3, it all fell apart.

The Cardinals, then five games behind the Pirates (and tied with the Phillies) in the NL East race, were tied 6-6 with the Cubs going into the 7th at Busch Stadium, when Gibson got the call to replace starting pitcher Ron Reed. After getting eventual NL batting champ Bill Madlock to fly to left for the first out of the inning, Gibson walked Jose Cardenal, gave up a single to Champ Summers (who was then replaced by pinch runner Gene Hiser), and then walked Andre Thornton to load the bases. Manny Trillo then tapped one off the artificial turf back to the mound, and Gibson threw home to catcher Ted Simmons for the second out of the inning. Jerry Morales, pinch-hitting for Cubs catcher Steve Swisher, stepped to the plate; but once a wild Gibson pitch skipped past Simmons and scored Hiser from third, Morales was intentionally walked to load the bases.

Gibson had already given up the go-ahead run, but the final indignity was yet to come. Pete LaCock, the immortally-named pretty boy son of "Hollywood Squares" host Peter Marshall, stepped up to pinch-hit for Redbirds reliever Buddy Schultz. LaCock, a utility player then hitting .235, deposited a Gibson fastball (or some semblance thereof) in the outfield seats, clearing the bases with a grand slam home run.

Gibson's last pitch to LaCock is often incorrectly remembered as the final pitch of his career; in fact, he faced one more batter that inning, Cubs shortstop Don Kessinger. Having often batted leadoff for the Cubs, Kess had faced Gibson more times than any other major league pitcher, and had actually done remarkably well against him — coming into the game, the slap-hitting shortstop boasted a lifetime batting average of .328 against him, knocking 44 hits (40 of them singles) in 134 at-bats. Only Kessinger's teammate Billy Williams, and Gibson's former teammate Ron Fairly, ever got more hits off of Gibson. But on this day, Kess would not get to add to that total; he grounded to Reggie Smith at first, who tossed to Gibson to record the final out of the inning, and of his career. The Cardinals lost the game 11-6.

Tagged with his 10th loss of the season (against only three wins), the writing was clearly on the wall for Gibson. "When I gave up a grand slam to Pete LaCock,” Gibby would later say, “I knew it was time to quit.” He never pitched in another major league game, but the old badass would still find a way to exact his revenge. Facing LaCock in an Old-Timer's Game a decade later, Gibson drilled him in the back with a fastball.