Big Hair and Plastic Grass

Funky Good Times

I have waxed rhapsodic in the past (in my book, on this blog and for The Hall of Very Good) about Dave "The Cobra" Parker and his deadly cannon arm. But as Montreal Expos fans — and any baseball fan who was paying attention in the late 70s — can tell you, there was one outfielder whose arm might have been even deadlier than The Cobra's: Ellis Valentine.

In 1978, a year after Parker gunned down 26 runners from right field, Valentine nailed 25 — and took home a Gold Glove Award for his troubles. As if it wasn't enough that the dude was 6'4", could hit for power and average — .293 with 28 doubles and 25 homers in 1977, followed by .289 with 35 doubles and 25 homers in '78 — and looked (at least on his '77 Topps card, above) like Jim Kelly's beefy younger brother, the man had a Howitzer hanging from his right shoulder. Dig this awesome 12-second clip of the Ellis arm in action:

The late-70s Expos' outfield of Valentine, Andre Dawson and Warren Cromartie may not have been the greatest of all-time, but it sure was the most badass OF trio I can think of; I wasn't an Expos fan, per se, but those three guys were exciting as hell to watch. They brought the funk to the dreadfully un-funky Olympic Stadium — literally as well as figuratively, as it turns out. Check out "Ellis Valentine's Infinite Playlist," a piece I helped Instream Sports put together, wherein the music-loving Mr. Valentine picks (and holds forth upon) his ten favorite party jams of the era. Need some funk for your weekend? EV will provide! (The funk-loving folks at Deadspin apparently dug the piece, too, and boosted my Amazon sales numbers by calling me "The leading chronicler of 70s baseball." Thanks, y'all — beers on me!)

And speaking of music, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who came out last Friday night to my "AOR Demolition" event at Liar's Club in Chicago, where I read from the new paperback edition of Big Hair & Plastic Grass, and then took a sledgehammer to a stack of crappy rock records from the 70s (and a few from the 80s, just on principle), thereby redressing the lingering karmic and musical imbalance caused by the destruction of so much sweet funk and disco wax at 1979's "Disco Demolition Night" at Comiskey Park. I'd also like to thank the Liar's Club folks (esp. Herb Rosen and Mike O'Connell) for the hospitality, DJ John San Juan for expertly spinning the 70s AM gold, and Sarah from The Book Cellar for schlepping and selling copies of BH&PG. I love the above photo (taken by the lovely Miss Katie Howerton), which makes it look I'm sacrificing the wax to the Disco Ball God — which, in a sense, is exactly what happened. (Click HERE to see actual "AOR Demolition" footage. It's not for the faint of heart, or REO Speedwagon fans.)

The whole Chicago trip was fantastic, if far too short. We saw a ton of old friends, ate a ton of great food, and somehow managed to dodge most of the inclement weather that's troubled the Midwest. And thanks to my friend Rich Doherty, who kindly donated his kick-ass seats to the cause, we even managed to squeeze in a game at Wrigley Field — and were even treated to a "rare as hen's teeth" Cubs victory, to boot. It had been seven years since I last set foot in Wrigley, and I'd been gone so long I'd almost started to believe the "Wrigley is a dump" rhetoric. But the place looked absolutely gorgeous (even if I coulda done without the Under Armor ads on the outfield walls), and remains as glorious a place to watch a major league ballgame as I've ever been. Fuck the haters; may the old park stand for another century, at least!

In a moment of magical serendipity, my buddy Eric were nursing our post-AOR Demolition hangovers Saturday afternoon with a leisurely trudge through Lincoln Park, when we stumbled upon an old-timey, er, VINTAGE baseball game in action. There was something thrillingly surreal about the whole affair, which included an umpire who looked like Dr. John in a top hat, and who was perched upon a stool 20 feet to the right of home plate. Made me want to find a similar league to play in on my home turf; alas, I can't seem to find one in Southern California...

Speaking of the Windy City, I'll be talking live with the great Chicago sportswriter Steve Rosenbloom today (Saturday) at 11 am CST on WSCR-AM 670, aka "The Score". I remember having a great on-air chat with Steve when BH&PG first came out in 2010, so I'm looking forward to another round. Click HERE to listen online. And via the modern miracle of the telephone, I'll also be on the air in Philadelphia this Sunday evening; I'll be talking 70s baseball with Phil Allen, who's possibly the world's biggest Bake McBride fan, a little after 6 pm EST on 97.5 The Fanatic.

Okay, gotta boogie. But check back soon, 'cuz I've got some good news regarding my next book that I'm gonna lay on you in the not-too-distant future. 'Til then, keep the glide in your stride like Arnold Ray McBride...

 

 

This Week In 70s Baseball

There's so much 70s baseball love in the air right now, it's getting difficult to keep track of it all. Last night, the Houston Astros donned 70s-style "Tequila Sunrise" throwbacks (complete with crotch-accentuating uniform number on the right leg!) for their game against the Cleveland Indians — an interleague match-up that might have made more conceptual sense if the Tribe had donned their infamous all-red "World's Biggest Bloody Mary" (copyright Boog Powell) 70s unis for the contest. I'm not sure if the Astros' old orange-red-and-yellow stripes have aged surprisingly well, or if they just look good compared to the dreary 90s softball jerseys the team wears now; but even without stirrups (which would have really completed the look), this pic of Jose Altuve was so eye-catching, I had to look at it four or five times before I even noticed the broken bat. Memo to the Astros: If you guys just wanna alternate between these and the Colt 45s throwbacks for the rest of the season, I don't think anyone would complain...

And then there's the Tampa Bay Rays, who — despite not even existing in 1979 — have unveiled the above "1979 throwback" unis for their upcoming homestand against the Detroit Tigers. I know I should hate these on principle, since a) it's fake history, and b) I hate pretty much everything that's come out of Florida in the past fifteen years (including but not limited to Limp Bizkit and voter disenfranchisement), but I actually kinda dig 'em — they look to me like the result of a three-way between the '78 Padres, the '69 Seattle Pilots, and a mid-70s Whirpool appliance catalog. Or maybe I like it because it looks oddly similar to the funky/clunky uniforms I was designing for imaginary teams on the back of my sixth grade notebook in 1978.

The Tigers, it should be noted, will be wearing actual 70s throwbacks against the Rays, similar to the road jersey and cap sported above by the late, great Mark Fidrych on his 1977 Topps card. I would flat-out LOVE to see the Tigers re-adopt this look full-time, especially the fat orange-and-white "D" logo on the cap. To me, their 70s road unis were one of the few examples of the era where a classic team effectively "modernized" their road unis without looking like clowns in the process...

Tomorrow, as they've done for every Sunday home game this season, the Chicago White Sox will don their red 1972 pinstripes, as sported above by the inimitable Dick Allen. But this time, the aforementioned Mr. Allen will actually be on hand to throw out the first pitch, and veteran Chicago rockers The Ides of March — who ruled the Windy City airwaves back in the day with such tunes as "Vehicle" and "L.A. Goodbye" — will be there to kick out the horn-rock jams.

Speaking of uniforms (albeit not necessarily of the 70s variety), the topic of this week's "High and Tight" — the weekly baseball and rock n' roll column I pen for Rolling Stone online — is memorabilia, specifically the most prized stuff in our various panelists' collections. I had to give a shout-out to my very own piece of "plastic grass," as pictured below. It's a chunk of fake sod from the Comiskey Park infield, which was liberated in the spring of 1976 (and sent to me last month) by BH&PG reader Bob Kale. The column also contains some illuminating quotes from memorabilia collector/authenticator Dave Grob, who recently authenticated the 1920 Babe Ruth Yankees jersey that sold at auction for $4.4 million; part of Dave's drool-worthy personal collection can be seen here.

And on a sad note, this week marked the passing of artist LeRoy Neiman at the age of 91. Neiman was best known for his kinetic and brightly-colored paintings of sporting events, many of which were created on the sidelines while the events were actually occurring. I have to admit that (like many things from the 1970s that I now love and appreciate) I once thought Neiman's work was incredibly cheesy; hell, they gave away Neiman posters at Burger King! And, truth be told, many still do — a brief but lively debate broke out this week on the Big Hair Facebook page about the worth of Neiman's work. But like afros and Astroturf, Neiman's paintings were an intrinsic part of the 70s sports landscape, and I can't help smiling every time I see one of his paintings, like this one of Willie Mays in his Mets days...

Plus, Neiman had a moustache that might have even made Rollie Fingers turn kelly green with envy...

RIP, man. Thanks for helping make the 1970s such a fantastically colorful time.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Dock

Now that I'm back in Los Angeles after a whirlwind Big Hair & Plastic Grass promo trip to New York City, brains scrambled from long flights, too little sleep and (possibly) too much alcohol, I finally have a free minute to look back on this past week, scratch my head and wonder, "Did that all really happen?" And I'm not just talking about Matt Cain's perfecto and R.A. Dickey's one-hitter, either...

It was, by any standards, an incredibly exciting and inspiring week for me, on personal and professional levels alike; but everything kinda peaked on Tuesday night, at my Big Hair reading/signing event at Manitoba's in the East Village. The party was extremely well-attended despite the buckets of rain that started pissing down around 5 pm, and I got a chance to drink and shoot the shit with some amazing people, ranging from high school and college classmates to colleagues, heroes, Facebook friends I'd never met, and just plain diehard baseball fans. Handsome Dick Manitoba (pictured above) was as charming and hospitable a host as I could have hoped for, and he really made me, Miss Howerton, and everyone else in attendance (with the possible exception of Red Sox fans) feel welcome in his watering hole. Baseball love was in the air, as was the heady fragrance of Hebrew National hot dogs and sauerkraut, and the groovy sounds of the 70s as purveyed by DJ Mr. Tim. We even got to see A-Rod tie Lou Gehrig in the all-time grand slam department on the bar TVs; Handsome Dick's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas (Hannukah?) when he saw it happen...

(Action photo by Joe Bonomo — No Such Thing As Was)

As Tuesday night coincided with the 42nd anniversary of Dock Ellis's LSD-fueled no-hitter, I kept the evening's selections pretty Dock-centric, including a non-Big Hair tribute to the late, great hurler that I'd originally penned following his untimely death in December 2008. Nobody was feeling any pain (least of all your humble author) by the time I hit the mic following a hilarious intro from Mr. Manitoba himself, and there was plenty of hooting and hollering throughout the reading. It was great to read to a crowd like that (Rob Kirkpatrick, my editor at St. Martin's, told me it was the most raucous author event he'd ever attended), but I must admit I was also briefly thrown by the slurred interjections of an extremely wasted young woman who sat near the podium and interrupted me with questions like, "What about Eric Clapton?" I was laughing too hard to come up with a comeback to that one, but when she asked me, "Do you like Paul Simon?", I did manage to shoot back, "I've never met the man"...

One of the amazing things about this past Tuesday was how much Dock love was in the air — not just at Manitoba's, but in the pop cultural firmament in general; even compared to two years ago, when Big Hair first hit the shelves and the 40th anniversary of his no-no was observed by several outlets , Dock is a bigger presence than ever... which is probably a testament to just how ahead of his time Dock was, both as a player and as a human being. Donnell Alexander's mind-blowing multi-media ibook, Beyond Ellis D, has just hit the digital shelves, and I highly recommend it to anyone who owns an iPad; in fact, if I didn't already own an iPad, I would probably run out to buy one right now just so I could enjoy Alexander's work. You've undoubtedly already seen James Blagden's "Dock Ellis & The LSD No-No," clip right? Well, Dock's wonderful narration for that short film was just a snippet from an extended set of illuminating interviews that Alexander did with Dock towards the end of his life, and which form the basis of Beyond Ellis D. Here's another animated clip set to Dock's words, which is part of the iBook...

Also just released this week is the "sizzle reel" for No No: A Doc(k)umentary (About Dock Ellis), a film that has been in the works for sometime, and which — as with Beyond Ellis D — will prove to the world that there was much, much more to the man than that acid-fried day on the mound. The filmmakers need your help to finish it, and they've set up a Kickstarter account in hopes of raising $35,000 by July 17. Full disclosure: I'm one of the interview subjects in this film, but I'd be dying to see the completed version even if I wasn't in it. Watch the preview below — and if it moves you, please consider donating some much-needed moolah to the cause.

 

But wait — there's more! "High and Tight," my weekly column for Rolling Stone Online, vibrates at the intersection of baseball and rock n' roll — and, of course, Dock's lysergic no-no was one of the most rock n' roll things to ever happen on a baseball diamond. So in this week's "High and Tight," our esteemed panelists (including the aforementioned Mr. Manitoba) and I reflect upon Dock's unique achievement, and offer up a ringing riposte to the skeptics who insist that such a thing couldn't have possibly happened...

And speaking of music, one other tremendously cool thing happened this past week — Rhino Single Notes, an e-publishing project I've been managing-editing since last fall, finally launched on Tuesday via Amazon and iTunes. A new line of "quick read" digital books about music and pop culture, Single Notes offers up entertaining and insightful essays on a wide variety of musical topics — as you can probably tell from our first five titles. Dig the Grateful Dead? Check out Gene Sculatti's Dark Stars and Anti-Matter: 40 Years of Loving, Leaving and Making Up with the Music of the Grateful Dead. Ever swooned over Duran Duran? Lyndsey Parker's Careless Memories of Strange Behavior: My Notorious Life as a Duran Duran Fan should stir up some fond (and perhaps mortifying) memories. Christopher R. Weingarten's Every Day I Take A Wee: The Beastie Boys And The Untimely Death Of Suburban Folklore hilariously examines the way an album you hear at an impressionable age can warp you for the rest of your life. Binky Philips' engrossing (and ultimately heartbreaking) memoir My Life In The Ghost of Planets: The Story of a CBGB Almost-Was is set predominantly amid the grit and glamour of the 1970s NYC rock scene, but it will resonate with anyone who's ever tried to "make it" in the music biz. And if you're into Chic (and really, if you love the funky music of the 70s, how can you NOT be?), you've gotta read Michaelangelo Matos' We Won't Settle For Less: Chic at the End of Disco, which makes a watertight case for the profound influence of Chic's 1979 jam "Good Times".

Oh, there's much more to tell, of course — but that's about enough for this week, right? Have a great weekend, and don't take any bullshit from The Man. Dock certainly wouldn't want you to...

 

Something Heavy Going Down

Can't let this day pass without acknowledging that it's the 38th anniversary of Cleveland's jaw-droppingly ill-conceived "Ten Cent Beer Night" promotion, when the Indians organization invited fans to drink their fill of Stroh's at a dime a pop on a Tuesday night at the "Mistake by the Lake". Over 25,000 fans took them up on it, and a notable percentage of them wound up either drunk, naked, in a pitched battle with both Rangers and Indians players, or all of the above. Indians reliever Tom Hilgendorf (above) took a folding chair to the head, and the always-up-for-a-fight Rangers manager Billy Martin told his players and coaches to arm themselves with bats. It's kinda surprising that no one was killed in the melee.

For a few more hours, you can celebrate that iconic and emblematic 70s baseball event by taking advantage of the HOMAGE website's deal on "Ten Cent Beer Night" cups, koozies and t-shirts. I have no affiliation or financial stake in these folks, but I commend them for doing God's work. (I also bought THIS t-shirt, which you Pirates/Dave Parker fans will surely appreciate.)

But there's sad news out of Ohio tonight, too — Pedro Borbón, the iron-armed reliever for the Big Red Machine of the 1970s, has passed away from cancer at the age of 65. Borbón is best known today for being referenced in the movie Airplane!, for chewing up Buzz Capra's cap following the infamous Pete Rose-Bud Harrelson brawl in the 1973 NLCS, and for allegedly placing a voodoo curse on the Reds after they traded him to the Giants in 1979. But he was also a formidable (and seemingly indefatigable) competitor, who anchored the Reds' bullpen from 1972 up until that aforementioned 1979 deal. From 1972 through 1977, Borbon pitched over 121 innings per season, appearing in four different NLCS and three World Series in the process, including the 1975 and 1976 ones that the Reds won. He was well-loved in Cincinnati, where he was elected to the Reds Hall of Fame in 2010. (His son, Pedro Jr., pitched in the 90s and 00s for several teams; given Pedro Sr.'s alleged penchant for voodoo, I initially thought there might be some kind of Marie Lavieux thing going on...) Rest in peace, Señor Borbón...

In other news, I have nailed down a date for a Big Hair & Plastic Grass paperback publication celebration in Chicago: It will take place Friday, July 20 at Liars Club, and will be a reprise of the immensely successful "AOR Demolition Night" event we held there in 2010. (I don't generally like to repeat myself; but that was so nice, I just gotta do it twice!) Might even be a few special guests this time... more information to come — but if you're gonna be in Chicago that weekend, by all means save the date!

And yes, the Big Hair & Plastic Grass paperback comes out tomorrow, which I'm incredibly excited about — and I'm just as stoked for next week's reading/signing/selling event, which happens 6:30-9 pm at Manitoba's in NYC on Tuesday, June 12. Some folks have asked if there will be books for sale at the event, so let me reiterate — YES, there will indeed be books for sale! And if you can't make the scene, but would still like a signed, personalized copy of Big Hair & Plastic Grass, all you've gotta do is email your contact information (before 12 noon on Sunday, June 10) to Harriet at bookedbyharriet@hotmail.com. She will email or call you back regarding personalization (let her know if you have a favorite team or player from the era), payment and shipping. The price for each signed copy, which includes the book and tax ($17.00) plus shipping ($5.25) will total $22.25. I will sign the book for you on June 12 at Manitoba's, and Harriet will wing it to you forthwith!

Okay, that's all for now. I'm off to drink my fill of Stroh's, and maybe fling a few folding chairs around.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered — It's Yours!

As you may or may not already know, the new paperback edition of Big Hair and Plastic Grass: A Funky Ride Through Baseball and America in the Swinging '70s will be out on Tuesday. And as you also may or may not already know, I'll be doing a reading/selling/signing event to celebrate its release on June 12 at Manitoba's in NYC.

But let's say you're not going to be in NYC, or you're busy that night, and you'd like to get a signed, personalized copy of Big Hair — a book that the Onion AV Club called "Enormously entertaining" while giving it an A- grade — for yourself, a friend, or a loved one. WHAT (as Karl Malden used to ask on those fear-mongering American Express commercials) WILL YOU DO?!?!?

Easy! For those of you who can't make the scene on June 12, we've made arrangements to hook you up with your very own copy, signed and personalized by Dan Epstein, the man Josh Wilker of Cardboard Gods fame called "The Bangsian Herodotus of 70s Baseball". (Thanks again, Josh! Cashiers check is in the mail...)

All you've gotta do is email your contact information (before 12 noon on Sunday, June 10) to Harriet at bookedbyharriet@hotmail.com. She will email or call you back regarding personalization (let her know if you have a favorite team or player from the era), payment and shipping. The price for each signed copy, which includes the book and tax ($17.00) plus shipping ($5.25) will total $22.25. I will sign the book for you on June 12 at Manitoba's, and Harriet will wing it to you forthwith!

Oh yeah, before I forget — funky birthday wishes going out today to Randy "Rebel" Hundley, perhaps the greatest defensive catcher the Cubs ever had, and an absolute whiz at handling a pitching staff. nd a whiz at handling pitchers. As Hall of Famer teammate Fergie Jenkins once said, "Having Hundley catch for you was like sitting down to a steak dinner with a steak knife. Without Hundley, all you had was a fork." Here's a cool and rare Randy Hundley card from 1971, found on the bottom of a Bazooka Bubble Gum box...

Happy Birthday, Chuck Hartenstein!

Funky birthday greetings to Chuck "Twiggy" Hartenstein, who pitched for the Cubs, Pirates, Cardinals and Red Sox form 1966-70, then spent the next six years in the minors before finishing his MLB career by pitching 13 games in relief for the expansion Toronto Blue Jays in 1977 at the age of 35. (Those six years in the minors must have taken their toll — the guy looks about 50 on this '77 Topps card.)

Though Chuck didn't do so hot — giving up 8 homers and 20 earned runs in 27.1 innings — his Presleyan sideburns and avaitor shades were impressive enough to earn him a spot in the BH&PG Hall of Fame. (I'll bet a tin of Skoal Bandits that he got up and sang "Burning Love" with the band during at least two wedding receptions.)  For another look at Chuck's sartorial and follicular majesty, dig his '77 O-Pee-Chee card, below...

Billy Martin and Tiger Stadium

(photo by Tom Hagerty)

This beautiful photo of Tiger Stadium was taken by Tom Hagerty (and can be found in his incredible Picasa gallery of Tiger Stadium in the 70s) in June 1976, just a week or two after I saw my first major league game there. My Dad took me as a belated birthday present, and we sat probably ten rows behind home plate; purchasing good seats was pretty easy (and inexpensive) in those days.

Now sadly gone, Tiger Stadium will always be my favorite ballpark, my original "Field of Dreams," while Dodger Stadium is my favorite major league ballpark that's still in existence. I talk about both of them in the introduction to this week's edition of "High and Tight," my weekly baseball column for Rolling Stone Online, in which our esteemed panel of rock n' roll seamheads (including Alice Cooper, Scott Ian of Anthrax, Tom Morello, Steve Earle, and "King of Men" Handsome Dick Manitoba) dish on their favorite and least favorite places to see a major league ballgame. Some of the answers are predictable, some considerably less so...

Today also marks the birthdate of the late, great and generally unhinged Billy Martin, the fiery skipper who made winners out of the Tigers, Rangers and Yankees in the 1970s... and whose alcohol and anger-management issues forced his eventual exit each time. His 1972 Topps "In Action" card shows him jawing with an umpire, a choice that's both poetic and perfect.

Billy did some of his best work at Tiger Stadium in 1972, when he somehow got a team of aging, injured vets and no-name spare parts to play well above their collective heads and actually make it to the ALCS, where they narrowly lost to the newly-ascendant "Moustache Gang" Oakland A's. When I went to see the Tigers play the visiting Yankees in May '76, Billy was back, though this time as the manager of the Bronx Bombers. Billy was ejected from that game before the first pitch, having picked a fight with the home plate umpire during the exchange of lineup cards...

I've long suspected that Billy wanted to get tossed; it was a Sunday afternoon game, and he'd probably been out drinking all Saturday night, hitting his favorite Motor City hotspots, and was now desperately in need of a hangover cure (which, given his proclivities, certainly would have involved a little "hair of the dog" action). In any case, his tirade meant that the first bit of real major league action I witnessed in person wasn't a strikeout, a home run, or a stolen base — it was Billy Martin getting kicked out of a ballgame, and I'll always cherish that memory. Happy Birthday, Billy, wherever you are...

 

The Minnesota Twins Have Something To Prove

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.

Doin' The Do

On this date in 1974, Dock Ellis (shown here with a few adoring fans) attempts to fire up his Pirates teammates — who he believes are being unduly intimidated by the Big Red Machine — with a pre-game announcement to his teammates that he's going to hit every batter in the Reds lineup. "We gonna get down," he says. "We gonna do the do. I’m going to hit these motherfuckers."

He then makes good on his word, plunking Pete Rose, Joe Morgan and Dan Driessen and walking Tony Perez (who narrowly manages to dance out of the way of two beanballs) with the bases loaded before Pirates skipper Danny Murtaugh yanks his ass from the game.

Like many stories from Dock's career, this one sounds improbable — at least until you actually look it up. Here's the box score from that May 1, 1974 game, and sure enough, there's Dock's line:

IP:0 H:0 R:1 ER:1 BB:1 SO:0 HBP:3

For the record, the Pirates dropped to 6-13 with the loss to the Reds that day... but came back to win the NL East by a game and a half over the Cardinals.

Iron Billy

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...