Bases and Runs- the 1960's Part 2 | Syracusefan.com

Bases and Runs- the 1960's Part 2

SWC75

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“PERENNIAL DISAPPOINTMENTS”

The 1960’s have been described as the “Second Dead Ball Era” because of the low scoring. But it wasn’t caused by a deadened ball. It was caused by an enlarged strike zone and a raised mound, both changes made at the insistence of Commissioner Ford Frick, who was afraid that expansion, (both of teams and the length of the season), would result in “phony” record breaking. Instead, it plunged baseball into an era of anemic offense, just at the time when pro football was beginning to get a mass audience and challenge baseball’s status as the “national past-time”. It was really the Ford Frick Era.

As I mentioned in my last article, Bill James did an extensive study of what Willie Davis’ numbers actually were over the course of his career and what his numbers would have bene in a statistically average year. Let’s look at his numbers in the 1960’s, (full seasons only), both the actual numbers and the “James numbers”:
1961 Actual: .254BA .451SP 192BP 89RP James: .256BA .453SP 193BP 89RP
1962 Actual: .285BA .453SP 346BP 167RP James: .299BA .474SP 369BP 189RP
1963 Actual: .245BA .365SP 238BP 111RP James: .266BA .396SP 266BP 136RP
1964 Actual: .294BA .413SP 317BP 156RP James: .323BA .455SP 364BP 198RP
1965 Actual: .238BA .346SP 232BP 99RP James: .265BA .386SP 269BP 126RP
1966 Actual: .284BA .405SP 289BP 124RP James: .306BA .438SP 322BP 150RP
1967 Actual: .257BA .367SP 258BP 100RP James: .293BA .418SP 316BP 138RP
1968 Actual: .250BA .351SP 293BP 110RP James: .298BA .376SP 343BP 167RP
1969 Actual: .311BA .456SP 284BP 114RP James: .329BA .483SP 309BP 130RP
(BP and RP are my numbers: runs and bases produced, based on the actual and James numbers)

James: “The essential point I am making is this: Willie Davis, throughout the 1960’s was regarded as a huge disappointment, a player who never played up to his perceived ability…The is completely unfair. Willie Davis was a terrific player. True, he didn’t walk and he was a not particularly consistent but his good years, in context, are quite impressive. The Dodgers won the pennant in 1963, 1965 and 1966 and one of the key reasons they did was because they had Willie Davis. He should not be regarded as a failure, merely because he had to play his prime seasons in such difficult hitting conditions.”

James does something similar with other players who hit the big leagues in the 60’s, although not in as much detail. He talks about Pete Ward, who it .282 with 23 homer runs and 94RBI in 1964. In a normal context, that would be .298-25-107. In the 1990’s he would have hit .332 with 29 homers and 137 RBI. Tom Tresh “in 1968 hit .233- yet he was as valuable in that season as Ed Delahanty was in 1894, when Delahanty hit .407 or as Joe Medwick was in 1938, when Medwick hit .322 with 21 homers, 122 RBI or as Albert Belle was in 1996 when Belle hit .274 with 45 doubles, 30 homers and 116 RBI.” In his article on Vada Pinson he says: The pitchers took control of the game in 1963, cutting into everybody’s numbers and making ‘perennial disappointments’ of many of the young players of that era, including Willie Davis, Frank Howard, Tom Tresh and Norm Cash.”

All kinds of such comparisons like that can be made. The point is, the players of the 60’s are as under-evaluated due to their numbers as the players of the 90’s tend to be over-evaluated due to their numbers.

One of my favorite comparisons is between the American League, which hit a cumulative .230, to the National League of 1930 that hit .303. The 1930 National League Batting champion was Bill Terry, who hit .401, the last National League .400 hitter. In 1968 Carl Yastremski won the American League with a batting average 100 points less than that, .301. Was Yaz really 100 points worse than Terry? I think we can assume that if HIS league had hit .303 instead of .230, Yaz would probably have hit something like .374 and that if Terry’s league had hit .230, Terry would have hit more like .328. Terry was still better but by 27 points, not 100.

Of course, the pitchers had a golden era. In fact, they were the real stars of the era. Sandy Koufax was probably the most admired player in the game in the mdi 60’s. From 1962-66 he won 111 games, lost 34, struck out 1,444 batters, allowed 1275 baserunners and 298 earned runs in 1377 innings, giving him a “WHIP” of 0.926 and an ERA 1.95- for FIVE years! He also pitched 4 no-hitters, one of which was a perfect game. An even bigger sign of the times was that he completed 100 out of 314 starts- nearly 1/3 and threw 33 shut-outs. He retired at age 31 because of an arm problem that I’ve read could easily have been fixed today.

His great rival for much of the decade was San Francisco’s Juan Marichal, who won over 20 games six times and over 25 games three of those times. After Koufax retired and the Giants faded, the big name was Bob Gibson of the Cardinals, who won over 20 games five times for a team that won three pennant and two World Series. Marichal in his career went 243-142, Gibson 251-174, yet it is Gibson who is best remembered today, probably because the Giants kept finishing second to the Dodgers and Cardinals, winning the pennant only in 1962, a year when Marichal, just beginning to establish himself, went only 18-11 and the Giant s lost the series.

1968 was a pitcher’s paradise Gibson set a record for the lowest ever ERA, (depending on your limit for innings), of 1.12. He had 13 shut-outs. Significantly, he was beaten 9 times that year, even with an ERA like that. His final record was 22-9. Marichal had his best record at 26-9 with a 2.36 ERA. Don Drysdale, Koufax’s old partner on the Dodger staff, set a record by throwing 58 consecutive scoreless innings. He had a 2.15 ERA but only a 14-12 record. In the American league Luis Tiant of the Indians led with a 1.60 ERA, 264 strikeouts and 9 shut-outs but went only 21-9. His teammate, “Sudden” Sam McDowell, was second in ERA at 1.81 and had even more strike-outs, (283) but only a 15-14 record. But the star of the American league was Denny McLain, who became the first pitcher since Dizzy Dean in 1934 to win 30 games,. Denny was 31-6 and nobody’s done it since. He had a 1.96 ERA and 280 strike-outs.

The World Series that year featured two direct confrontations between Gibson and McLain: a 1.12 ERA vs. 31 wins! Gibson won both of them, shutting out the Tigers 4-0 in the opener with a series record 17 strikes outs and then winning a 10-1 laugher in Game 4. Mayo Smith opted to pitch McLain in game 6 and he won that one, 13-1 over Ray Washburn. Then the Tiger’s second best pitcher, Mickey Lolich beat Gibson, 4-1 in the final.

To baseball purists it was a trilling season. But to the General public it was a bore, full of 1-0 and 2-1 games. It may be that football, which tended to look better on television in those primitive days, was primed to take over as the #1 American sport anyway but Frick’s over reaction to Roger Maris breaking his buddy Babe Ruth’s record had pulled his sports pants down at exactly the wrong time.

Frick had retired in 1965. The owners decided they’d like to have a prominent military man become their new commissioners. Kenesaw Landis had been a judge, Happy Chandler a Governor and Frick and sportswriter. Now they wanted a General or an Admiral, just like Ike. They asked the Pentagon for the name of retiring officer who had a distinguished service record and was a baseball fan to see if he might want the job. At first it was offered to General Curtis LeMay but he turned it down, instead suggesting General William D. Eckert.

A possibly apocryphal story I’ve heard is that there were two Generals by that name and that the invitation was delivered to the wrong one, a desk jockey who knew nothing about baseball. Eckert’s subsequent career seems to suggest that that may be true. He had won the distinguished flying cross during World War II but had spent years in various desk jobs and knew little about the game, having not attended a baseball game in ten years. Supposedly the owners, when informed of the mistake, didn’t feel that they could publically withdraw the invitation so they could only hope this other General Eckert would turn it down. He didn’t.

Per SI: “Eckert kept notes on index cards. In his first public meeting, Eckert reached into his pocket and produced some index cards on which he had written a few reminders. Unfortunately, he welcomed the baseball writers and managers by reading from the wrong set of notes. He thanked them for helping the airline industry so much and spoke of technological advances being made in aviation. Managers looked at writers and writers at managers, until finally Lee MacPhail figured out what had gone wrong and went to the commissioner's aid. General Eckert was scheduled to give a speech that evening at a United Airlines cocktail party. It was not a brilliant beginning. “

The owners appointed McPhail to be the Commissioner’s assistant and he guided the neophyte through a four year term. The media game Eckert the nickname “The Unknown Soldier”. Per Baseball fever.com: “Eckert tried hard to succeed. He made a goal of visiting every team, never refusing an invite. The players seemed to like him as much as the owners seemed to have buyer’s remorse.” To them, he was a ‘perennial disappointment’.

It was not an era to have a weak commissioner. Not only was the popularity of the game slipping and it’s positon in American sports being challenged but the players union had hired Marvin Miller to organize and represent their interests. Eckert compounded things by refusing to cancel games after the Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy assassinations, “putting baseball in a bad light”.

The owners got smart and informed Eckert he would not be returning. His replacement was to be Bowie Kuhn, a lawyer who had represented the owners for 20 years. He thoroughly knew baseball, especially on the administrative end. He was also no stranger to labor negotiations. And he recognized that if baseball was to compete in the modern sports market, it needed to put runs on the scoreboard. He reversed Frick’s decisions on the strike zone and the height of the mound and baseball numbers went back to where they had been at the beginning of the decade.

Maris’ record lasted longer than Ruth’s did.
 
RUNS AND BASES

1965 National League

Runs
Deron Johnson CIN 190
Frank Robinson CIN 189
Billy Williams CHI 189
Pete Rose CIN 187
Willie Mays SF 178
Tommy Harper CIN 172
Donn Clendenon PIT 171
Vada Pinson CIN 169
Hank Aaron MIL 166
Jim Ray Hart SF 164

Bases
Willie Mays SF 445
Billy Williams CHI 431
Hank Aaron MIL 403
Ron Santo CHI 401
Frank Robinson CIN 397
Dick Allen PHI 395
Jim Wynn HOU 392
Lou Brock STL 389
Vada Pinson CIN 388
Willie McCovey SF 379

1965 American League

Runs
Tony Oliva MIN 189
Zoilo Versalles MIN 184
Rocky Colavito CLE 174
Jimmie Hall MIN 147
Willie Horton DET 144
Brooks Robinson BAL 143
Leon Wagner CLE 142
Tom Tresh NY 142
Felix Mantilla BOS 134
Tony Conigliaro BOS 132

Bases
Zoilo Versalles MIN 376
Rocky Colavito CLE 371
Tony Oliva MIN 357
Tom Tresh NY 351
Carl Yastremski BOS 342
Leon Wagner CLE 328
Tony Conigliaro BOS 322
Norm Cash DET 322
Lee Thomas BOS 320
Bert Campaneris KC 313

1966 National League

Runs
Hank Aaron ATL 200
Roberto Clemente PIT 195
Dick Allen PHI 182
Bill White STL 166
Willie Mays SF 165
Felipe Alou ATL 165
Billy Williams CHI 162
Ron Santo CHI 157
Willie Stargell PIT 153
Pete Rose CIN 151

Bases
Hank Aaron MIL 422
Dick Allen PHI 409
Ron Santo CHI 401
Roberto Clemente PIT 395
Felipe Alou ATL 384
Willie Mays SF 382
Lou Brock STL 381
Billy Williams CHI 374
Willie McCovey SF 372
Joe Torre ATL 366

1966 American League

Runs
Frank Robinson BAL 195
Brooks Robinson BAL 168
Tommie Agee CHI 162
Tony Oliva MIN 161
Harmon Killebrew MIN 160
Norm Cash DET 159
Boog Powell BAL 153
Willie Horton DET 145
Joe Foy BOS 145
Carl Yastrzemski BOS 145

Bases
Frank Robinson BAL 462
Harmon Killebrew MIN 409
Tony Oliva MIN 367
Tommie Agee NY 366
Norm Cash DET 356
Carl Yastrzemski BOS 348
Al Kaline DET 342
Brooks Robinson BAL 333
Don Buford CHI 332
George Scott BOS 329

1967 National League

Runs
Roberto Clemente PIT 190
Hank Aaron ATL 183
Orlando Cepeda STL 177
Ron Santo CHI 174
Jim Wynn HOU 172
Jim Ray Hart SF 168
Lou Brock STL 168
Tony Perez CIN 154
Pete Rose CIN 150
Billy Williams CHI 148

Bases
Hank Aaron ATL 424
Lou Brock STL 401
Ron Santo CHI 397
Jim Wynn HOU 384
Billy Williams CHI 379
Roberto Clemente PIT 374
JIm Ray Hart SF 372
Orlando Cepeda STL 368
Dick Allen PHI 357
Vada Pinson CIN 347

1967 American League

Runs
Carl Yastrzemski BOS 189
Harmon Killebrew MIN 174
Frank Robinson BAL 147
Al Kaline DET 147
Brooks Robinson BAL 143
Tony Oliva MIN 142
Cesar Tovar MIN 139
George Scott BOS 137
Dick McAuliffe DET 135
Don Mincher MIN 132

Bases
Carl Yastrzemski BOS 461
Harmon Killebrew MIN 437
Frank Robinson BAL 349
Dick McAuliffe DET 340
Al Kaline DET 339
George Scott, BOS 336
Frank Howard WAS 325
Brooks Robinson BAL 320
Tony Oliva MIN 313
Bob Allison MIN 313

1968 National League

Runs
Tony Perez CIN 167
Billy Williams CHI 159
Ron Santo CHI 158
Willie McCovey SF 150
Dick Allen PHI 144
Hank Aaron ATL 141
Willie Mays SF 140
Lou Brock STL 137
Lee May CIN 136
Alex Johnson CIN 135

Bases
Hank Aaron ATL 394
Lou Brock STL 384
Billy Williams CHI 373
Willie McCovey SF 361
Jim Wynn HOU 358
Pete Rose CIN 353
Dick Allen PHI 352
Felipe Alou ATL 350
Ron Santo CHI 342
Tony Perez CIN 323

1968 American League

Runs
Ken Harrelson BOS 153
Jim Northrup DET 145
Carl Yastrzemski BOS 141
Frank Howard WAS 141
Mickey Stanley DET 137
Dick McAuliffe DET 135
Roy White NY 134
Reggie Smith BOS 132
Bill Freehan DET 132
Cesar Tovar MIN 130

Bases
Carl Yastrzemski BOS 399
Frank Howard WAS 384
Ken Harrelson BOS 348
Bert Campaneris OAK 344
Roy White NY 332
Willie Horton DET 327
Reggie Smith BOS 326
Dick McAuliffe DET 324
Reggie Jackson OAK 314
Jim Northrup DET 313

1969 National League

Runs
Ron Santo CHI 191
Tony Perez CIN 188
Pete Rose CIN 186
Bobby Bonds SF 178
Billy Williams CHI 177
Bobby Tolan CIN 176
Jim Wynn HOU 167
Roberto Clemente PIT 159
Joe Morgan HOU 158
Don Kessinger CHI 158

Bases
Willie McCovey SF 443
Hank Aaron ATL 428
Jim Wynn HOU 422
Bobby Bonds SF 420
Pete Rose CIN 416
Rusty Staub MON 402
Tony Perez CIN 398
Lou Brock STL 387
Ron Santo CHI 376
Lee May CIN 371

1969 American League

Runs
Harmon Killebrew MIN 197
Reggie Jackson OAK 194
Sal Bando OAK 188
Frank Robinson BAL 179
Tony Oliva MIN 174
Frank Howard WAS 174
Boog Powell BAL 167
Carl Yastrzemski BOS 167
Reggie Smith BOS 155
Don Buford BAL 152

Bases
Harmon Killebrew MIN 477
Reggie Jackson OAK 461
Frank Howard WAS 443
Carl Yastrzemski BOS 422
Rico Petrocelli BOS 416
Sal Bando OAK 407
Frank Robinson BAL 388
Tony Oliva MIN 371
Boog Powell BAL 371
Paul Blair BAL 358


CUMMULATIVE TOTALS
(10 points for finishing 1st in a category in a league in a season, 9 for second, 8 for third, etc.)

RUN PRODUCTION
Honus Wagner (1897-1917) 137
Ty Cobb (1905-28) 126
Cap Anson (1871-97) 119
Stan Musial (1941-63) 119
Lou Gehrig (1923-39) 111

Babe Ruth (1914-35) 109
Willie Mays (1951-73) 100
Hank Aaron (1954-76) 97
Sam Crawford (1899-1917) 96
Rogers Hornsby (1915-37) 89

Ted Williams (1939-60) 89
Mel Ott (1926-47) 85
Mickey Mantle (1951-68) 82
Tris Speaker (1907-28) 81
Joe Medwick (1932-48) 79

Joe DiMaggio (1936-51) 77
Nap Lajoie (1896-1916) 77
King Kelly (1878-93) 76
Hugh Duffy (1888-1906) 75
Eddie Collins (1906-30) 74

Dan Brouthers (1879-1904) 73
Jimmie Foxx (1925-45) 72
Frank Robinson (1956-76) 68
Sherry Magee (1904-19) 68
Minnie Minoso (1949-64) 67

Comments: Willie Mays cracked the century mark but probably won’t be adding to his total. Hank Aaron, however is right behind him and has four more strong years coming up. He’s not going to catch Wagner and is unlikely to catch Cobb. He could get to the 119 level. I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t at least make it past Gehrig. The next player still active at this point is Frank Robinson and he’s not going to get anywhere near where they are. If anyone catches Wagner, it won’t be a player form this generation.

BASE PRODUCTION

Ty Cobb (1905-28) 129
Babe Ruth(1914-35) 125
Hank Aaron (1954-76) 121
Stan Musial (1941-63) 121
Lou Gehrig (1923-39) 120

Willie Mays(1951-73) 118
Ted Williams(1939-60) 115
Honus Wagner (1897-1917) 112
Tris Speaker(1907-28) 110
Mel Ott (1926-47) 107

Rogers Hornsby (1915-37) 98
Jimmie Foxx (1925-45) 96
Mickey Mantle(1951-68) 96
Cap Anson (1871-97) 91
Billy Hamilton (1888-1901) 89

Eddie Collins (1906-30) 89
Harry Stovey1880-93) 88
Sam Crawford (1899-1917) 86
Dan Brouthers (1879-1904) 83
Ed Delahanty (1888-1903) 79

Frank Robinson (1956-76) 79
Jim O’Rourke (1872-1904) 73
Max Carey (1910-29) 73
Eddie Mathews 71
Roger Conner (1880-97) 70

Comments: Now here Hank Aaron has a good shot at the top spot. In fact, I think he’ll get it. He needs just 9 more points and has four strong years left. Again, Mays is done and F. Robby isn’t within shouting distance.
 
THE PLAYERS

I became a baseball fan when I joined Little League in 1964. My team, the Pirates won our National League pennant. The Tigers won the American League and we won the overall championship when the Tigers didn’t show up. Nobody had called them to tell them they’d won the pennant. I guess that’s the difference between the big leagues and the little leagues: in the bigs, they call you up and tell you that you’ve won the pennant.

Anyway, I decided to become a Pirates fan because that was the team I’d been on. The Pirates were an exciting team to root for: the “Lumber Company” who won championships when they had the pitching and still contended when they didn’t. They didn’t hit a lot of home runs, (until Willie Stargell got going), but they produced batting champions galore. Most of them were won by my favorite player, whose name I initially thought was “Bob Clement” with a silent ‘e’ on the end because the first baseball card I got with him on it, “National league Batting Leaders for 1963” called him ‘Bob’. I didn’t realize he was Hispanic and that it his name was ROBERTO CLEMENTE. Actually it was Roberto Clemente Walker. I might have thought I was rooting for Bob Walker.

Roberto, of course, was one of the great men of baseball, although that was not realized until late in life and after his untimely death. US sportswriters were unsympathetic to a player who was both black and Hispanic and who, because he was speaking English as a second language, often answered questions too literally and honestly for their tastes. If they asked him “How are you?”, Roberto would give them a litany of his aches and pains. If he had a complaint he voiced it. This fed into the idea that black or Hispanic players were complainers, that they didn’t want to play with injuries, that they were malingerers or clubhouse lawyers.

But he belied that with his play on the field. With the bat he was Tony Gwynn, winning four batting championships and hitting .317 lifetime, the next highest lifetime batting average for his contemporaries being Hank Aaron’s .305. He had three years when he hit over .340 and didn’t win the batting title. He did this in an era when the league batting average was as many as 19 points below the all=time composite major league batting average of .262. I recomputed his lifetime batting average based on that number and if the league had hit .262 every year, his lifetime batting average would have been .325.

And he did hit hitting for most of his career, in a bad hitter’s park. I don’t have the batting averages but the average number of home runs hit in that park from 1955, Roberto’s first season through 1969, the last full season the park was in use, was 114 compared to a league average of 134. They moved to Three Rivers Stadium after the All-Star break in 1970. I don’t have the break-down between the two parks for that year but the average number of home runs hit there in Roberto’s last two years of 1971-72 was 132 compared to a league average of 114.

So it wasn’t a park to hit home runs in. But occasionally Roberto showed he could hit the ball along way. Bill Jenkinson reports that on 5/17/59, he hit a home run at Wrigley Field “so far over the elft center field bleachers that most observers estimated it at 500 feet. “ Jenkinson estimates it at 510 feet and says it’s the longest home run hit over the elft center area in the parks’ history, (Dave Kingman’s famous blast to the porch across Wayland Ave in 1976 is estimated at 540 feet but was more straight left field.)

Maybe the large spaces that the outfielders had to cover helped Roberto’s batting average. It certainly helped to make his reputation as a defensive right fielder, which is matchless. He won 12 Gold Gloves, developing the kind of admiration Willie Mays had in center. He had the arm that became the arm that all others are compared to- unfavorably because of its combination of strength and accuracy.

He did this despite a succession of very real injuries. Shortly before his rookie season, “Clemente was blindsided by a drunk driver, resulting in three displaced spinal discs that would cause him varying degrees of pain for the rest of his career/life.” He aggravated his back injury in 1957. He injured a thigh ligament in 1965, (but still won the batting title), and his right shoulder in 1967.

Roberto was known as a “bad ball hitter”, maybe the greatest of that classification. It means that he swung at anything he thought he could hit, regardless of the strike zone. Yet he didn’t strike out a lot: only 82 times per 162 games. His first hitting coach, George Sisler, was a dead-ball era guy who frowned on going for home runs, probably not a bad idea in Forbes. But it meant Roberto, who had good power, wasn’t hitting home runs on the road, either. Both his aggressiveness and his training taught him to hit the ball where it was pitched and try to get it between the fielders, not pull it. As a result he had several seasons where hit only single digit home runs. Then Harry Walker became his manager and hitting coach and Walker convinced him to pull the ball more. He suddenly hit 29 home runs and drove in 117 and won MVP. He followed that up with a 23-110 year but Walker got fired. The rest of Roberto’s career was a compromise between the two extremes: he never hit single digits in home runs again but also never reached 20. He wound up hitting 240 home runs for his career but probably had the ability to hit at least 400.

But he was a stubborn guy who liked to do things his way, like insisting on speaking Spanish and using an interpreter in interviews, even though he had learned to speak English quite well. There’s a famous story about how they were shooting scenes for the 1968 movie “The Odd Couple” at Shea Stadium and they wanted to stage the lowly Mets hitting in to a triple play. (Oscar misses it because he’s on the phone with Felix about something he doesn’t care about.) They were playing the Pirates and the producer asked Roberto if he wanted to hit into the triple play. He refused, feeling it would cast aspersions on his hitting ability. He wouldn’t listen to pleas that that’s what made the play so special such that Oscar wouldn’t want to miss it. Bill Mazeroski stepped in for him and got another moment of glory:

He also was a fast runner who could have stolen a lot of bases. But the Pirates, with all their hitting, were not a base-stealing team. Roberto only stole 83 bases in his career, with a high of 12. People think baseball is a track meet and you hit home runs to prove how strong you are and steal bases to prove how fast you are. To Roberto, these were strategies to try to win a game and not the ones he preferred.

He also claimed he should have gotten more credit for the Pirates’ 1960 pennant and World Series championship than he did, (most of it going to batting champion and MVP Dick Groat and Mazeroski after his home run). But he got all he wanted after dominating the 1971 World Series, hitting .414 with 2 home runs and dazzling with his outfield play in the comeback upset win over the Orioles a team with an entire rotation of 20 game winners.

He isn’t as high in the all-time statistical listings as you might expect a player of his reputation to be for the reasons cited above. But he did make it- just barely- to one famous milestone. He got his 2,999th hit in Philadelphia off Steve Carleton, (who was having his greatest season), on September 28, 1972. Danny Murtaugh pulled him out of the game so he could get #3,000 in front of the home fans. He then faced Tom Seaver and the Mets. Tom pitched a two hitter, neither to Roberto, who was angry because a sharp grounder he’d hit to Ken Boswell at second which Boswell had bobbled was ruled an error rather than a hit. The next day, Clemente struck out in the first inning but doubled off the right field wall in the 4th to get #3,000. He was then rested for the playoffs.

On December 23rd 1972, a massive earthquake hit Managua, Nicaragua. Typically, Clemente organized a relief drive for the people there. He began hearing rumors that the supplies being sent were being sold on the black market. Roberto decided to accompany the next shipment himself to find out. His plane was over-loaded with supplies and the weight proved too much for the old plane they were using and the plane fell into the season on New Year’s Eve. Roberto then became a martyr. All the complaints people had made about him and the complaints he had about people were wiped away. The five year rule was waived and he was immediately elected to the Hall of Fame. He’s viewed by Latin American baseball players with the reverence others hold for Jackie Robinson as a pioneer of the game and great man and ballplayer.

I’d picked myself a pretty good hero.


My brother’s hero was TONY OLIVA. He’d somehow decided to have a favorite team in each league, (pretty smart, actually): the Cardinals in the National League and the twins in the American League. He came close to getting both of them in the World Series, (the Cardinals won pennants in 1964, 1967 and 1968: the Twins won the pennant in 1965 and the Western Division in 1969 and 1970). But that didn’t happen until a generation later.

The Twins had Harmon Killebrew, Rod Carew, Bob Allison, Jimmy Hall, Don Mincher, Zolio Versalles, Rich Rollins, Earl Battey, Camilo Pasqual, Jim Kaat, Mudcat Grant, Dean Chance, Dave Boswell, Jim Merritt, Jim Perry, Al Worthington and Ron Perranoski in that era, but the guy who captured my brother’s imagination was “Pedro” Oliva, who used his older brother Tony’s passport to get into the US as he had none of his own and from then on used his name in baseball. He left Cuba just before relations with the US deteriorated so much that travel between the countries became impossible, cutting him off from his family. He then went through all the painful experiences of a young man who was the wrong color for most people and who couldn’t speak the language in his new country.

“Tony” is now remembered primarily as a hitter but when fully healthy he was a fine all-around player. SABR: “The flashy Cuban could simply do it all – hit for superior average, slug with eye-popping power, run like a svelte gazelle, and throw accurately and powerfully from the outfield with the best of them.” But it was still hit hitting that dazzled everyone. He hit .410 for Wytheville in the Appalachian League.350 for Charlotte of the South Atlantic league and then .304 with 23 home runs for Salt Lake City of the PCL. He hit .438 in two cups of coffee with the Twins at the end of the 1962 and 1963 seasons. They kept him with the big club in 1964 and he responded with one of the great rookie seasons ever: .323BA on 217 hits, 43 of which were doubles, 9 triple and 32 home runs. He drove in 94 shots and 109 runs scored. He followed it up with .321BA, 195 hits, 40 doubles, 16 homers, 98RBIs and 107 runs scored. He won the batting title both years, (while Clemente was winning it both years in the NL- thus precipitating our sibling rivalry over who was the best player.

He hit .307 with 25 homers the next year but lost the batting title to Frank Robinson. He won his only Gold Glove, (over Al Kaline) that year. But Tony has a congenital flaw: an inherited physical deformity in his knees. SABR: “The ballplayer’s single serious and debilitating flaw was something the Twins training staff had noticed early-on. Minnesota Twins trainer George “Doc” Lentz was quoted in Oliva’s 1973 biography as having already assessed Tony’s questionable future during an initial late-season September 1962 “cup of coffee” with the parent big-league club.” He suffered seven knee injuries in the same number of years. He was a .289 hitter in both 1967 and 1968, missing a total of 50 games. It was the first time he’d hit under .3000, either in the minors or majors. But he did it in a league that hit .236c and then .230 when the all-time average is .262.

After Bowie Kuhn ended the Frick Era, his numbers recovered to .309, .325 and .337 with 69 home runs in three seasons and a couple of 100 RBI years while the Twins won two divisional titles. But then his knees finally gave out: he missed almost the entire 1972 season. He underwent surgery during which “doctors removed 100 cartilaginous fragments from the knee in an effort to save Oliva’s now severely threatened career”. He played three more full season but never hit .300 again. He was used primarily as a pinch-hitter in 1976 before retiring to a coaching job.

He wound up hitting .304 with 220 homers in 1,676 career games. Over the years, he’s failed to get serious Hall-of-Fame consideration because of his abbreviated career. Rod Carew remembered him: “I roomed with a guy with bad knees for years and used to listen to him cry like a baby at night. I’d be asleep and sometimes I’d hear Tony moaning and groaning. He’d get up during the night and go down to get ice, wandering all over the hotel, trying to find nice to put on his knee.” (Bill James’ New Historical Baseball Abstract). Tony used to carry around a jar full of those fragments the doctors had taken out of his knee to show to anyone who criticized Hispanic players for not playing with injuries.


My brother’s other favorite team also had quite a litany of stars, even after Stan Musial retired in 1963. Tim McCarver was behind the plate. Bill White and Ken Boyer anchored the two corners of the infield, (later Orlando Cepeda replaced White and was a unanimous MVP for their ’67 pennant winners and Joe Torre won his batting title from what had been Boyer’s spot). Dick Groat came over from the Pirates to help them win the ’64 pennant. Roger Maris did the same, (from the Yankees), in 1967-68. On the mound they had the great Bob Gibson and a young Steve Carleton to go with Ernie Broglio, Ray Sadecki, Curt Simmons, Al Jackson, Ray Washburn, Dick Hughes, Nelson Briles, Larry Jaster, (who always seemed to beat the Dodgers), and Lindy McDaniel, Barney Schultz, Hal Woodeshick and Joe Hoerner in the bullpen.

But their best every-day player during this period was undoubtedly LOU BROCK. Brock started his career with the Cubs and was traded for Broglio 52 games into the 1964 season. often times a player’s performance depends on the quality of the team around him. It’s not just getting good pitches to hit and having guys on base when he gets hits, (the Cubs were always a pretty good offensive team). It’s having a winning attitude and a real chance to win a pennant. In 327 games with the Cubs, Brock had hit .257 and was hitting .251 when he was traded. Wikipedia: “At the time, many thought the deal was a heist for the Cubs. Broglio had led the National League in wins four years earlier, and had won 18 games the season before the trade.”

Encyclopedia.com: “Besides his mediocre performance at the plate, Brock took a lot of flack for his fielding. With every game at the gusty Wrigley Field played in the afternoon, Brock had trouble tracking the ball in sunny right field. Brock had only spent one season in the minors and had not learned how to cope with the sun. He made a spectacle of himself as he dropped balls; even when he caught them, his struggle was evident. The coaches never realized that Brock played better at night and on the road.

Cubs fans—and local sportswriters in particular—poked fun at Brock. Bob Smith of the Daily News was brutal in his characterizations of Brock. According to David Halberstam's book “October 1964”, Smith wrote in 1963, "If you have watched all the Cub home games thus far you probably had come to the conclusion that Lou Brock is the worst outfielder in baseball history. He really isn't, but he hasn't done much to prove it."

By 1964, Brock's rage to succeed was getting the better of him. Cub roommate Ernie Banks recalled that Brock had trouble eating and sleeping. Banks told Brock he needed to loosen up and let his natural ability pull him through. Brock, however, was too antsy to relax. He scribbled reports after every game he played in, making notes about the pitchers he faced, what kind of pitches they threw at him, and how well he had responded. Before games, Brock plotted how many hits he thought he should deliver and how many runs he should smack in. According to Halberstam's book, Brock told teammates over and over, "I've got to make it here. I just can't go back to Louisiana and Arkansas. I've been there, and I know what's there."

Meanwhile the Cardinals were struggling at barely .500 and general Manger Bing Devine was under pressure to do something or he might lose his job. SABR: “Devine had a gaping hole in left field after the retirement of Stan Musial and he was ready to trade a valuable commodity, a starting pitcher, to plug that gap.”

Again, from Encyclcopedia.com: “"None of us liked the deal," Cardinals first baseman Bill White recalled to Peter Golenbock in his book, The Spirit of St. Louis. "[We'd] say we did, but we didn't like that deal. In my opinion, Lou had a lot of talent, but he didn't know anything about baseball.… But somehow, when he came to us, he turned everything around."

The Chicago papers proclaimed the trade a steal for the Cubs, believing they had traded an iffy outfielder for a strikeout king. Sportswriter Bob Smith, who'd been so critical of Brock, wrote, "Thank you, thank you, oh, you lovely St. Louis Cardinals," according to Halberstam's book. In the end, however, the Cardinals were the ones thanking the Cubs for the deal as Brock went down in Hall of Fame history. (Broglio, incidentally, injured his arm after the trade and won only seven more games, while losing 19. By 1967, he had retired.)”

But for Brock, the trade was rejuvenating. He thrived as a Cardinal. He left behind the sun-drenched right side of Wrigley Field and took up left field. Coaches gave Brock the go-ahead to steal. Soon, fans caught a glimpse of his potential.

For the remainder of the 1964 season, Brock batted.348 and stole 33 bases. He also provided the spark that helped the team win the National League pennant and defeat the New York Yankees in the World Series.” Brock would become one of the great World Series performers of all time, getting 34 hits in three seven game series, batting .391, stealing 14 bases and scoring 16 runs.

Brock went onto a Hall of Fame career, hitting .300 eight times, (including his final season), and .293 lifetime, setting the single season, (118) and career, (938) records for stolen bases, (both since broken by Ricky Henderson) and getting 3,023 hits. And he wasn’t just a singles hitter. 776 of those hits were for extra bases. While with the Cubs he hit a 480 foot home run in spring training.

SABR: “That power was on full display on June 17, 1962, in the first game of a doubleheader at the Polo Grounds against the expansion New York Mets. With two outs in the first inning, Brock drove a slider from lefty Al Jackson to deep center. As he headed toward first base he could see center fielder Richie Ashburn racing back and was immediately thinking triple. As he neared second base, he saw umpire Stan Landes giving the home-run sign, but he thought he was signaling to Brock that he could make an inside-the-park home run so he continued to sprint around the bases. It was not until after he crossed home plate and was informed by a teammate that the ball had gone out of the park that he was aware of what he had just done. He had become only the third player to hit a ball out of the Polo Grounds to center field in a major-league game (Babe Ruth did it in 1921 before the stadium was remodeled and Joe Adcock repeated the feat in 1953, while Luke Easter had done so in a Negro League game in 1948; the next game after Brock’s homer, Henry Aaron also hit one out to center, becoming the fourth major-leaguer to do so.)”


The other great St. Louis outfielder of that era was CURT FLOOD, whose on the field achievements have been obscured by his off the field battles with baseball. Flood hit over .300 six times in 12 years as the Cardinal’s center fielder, with a high of .335 in 1967. Like Brock, his lifetime batting average was .293, that in an era when the league batting average was an average of 8 points below the all-time average of .262. He was little guy, 5-9 165, but had some pop, hitting double figures in home runs, (in a tough home run park) four times and had over 30 doubles four times. Despite his speed, he was not a big base stealer, never getting more than 17 in a year.

But he was one of the great center fielders of all time, winning 7 gold gloves in an era when Willie Mays was in his prime. He once went 223 games and 568 chances without an error, both records. He made the cover of SI with the caption “Baseball’s best center fielder”:
http://i.cdn.turner.com/sivault/si_online/covers/images/1968/0819_large.jpg

Flood, like Brock, was an intense, sensitive man. He’d grown up in a middle class neighborhood in Oakland, (where he was teammate of Frank Robinson and Vada Pinson). I’ve observed that the blacks who are most hurt and angry about racism are usually those who have been in environments early in life where it was at least watered down so they could see that it wasn’t just an inevitable fact of life that had to be lived with. I think Flood was in that group.

SABR: “Flood was assigned to Cincinnati’s team in High Point-Thomasville of the Class B Carolina League for 1956. He played well despite the subjugation of his humanity to the social mores of the times. He could not stay in the same accommodations as his white teammates; he could not eat in restaurants with his teammates and was forced instead to go to the back door for “service” or to wait on the team bus until a teammate brought him food. He could not use the restroom in the gas stations where the team bus stopped; instead the bus would stop on some deserted stretch of highway where Curt could disembark and “wet the rear wheel.” Fans around the league expressed their displeasure at the appearance of a black man on the diamond as well:

“One of my first and most enduring memories is of a large, loud cracker who installed himself and his four little boys in a front-row box and started yelling ‘black bastard’ at me. I noticed that he eyed the boys narrowly, as if to make sure that they were learning the correct intonation.”

His teammates and manager weren’t any more supportive. “Most of the players on my team were offended by my presence and would not even talk to me when we were off the field. The few who were more enlightened were afraid to antagonize the others. The manager, whose name mercifully escapes me, made clear his life was already sufficiently difficult without contributions from me. I was completely on my own.” In Ken Burn’s “Baseball”, he poignantly tells of the moment that almost broke him: watching a clubhouse attendant pull his soiled uniform out of a pile with a pole and put it in a separate container to be delivered to a laundry run by blacks so white people wouldn’t have to touch it.

Flood’s acclimatization to his situation was difficult at first. It was not uncommon for him to return to his room late at night after a game and cry at the treatment he received. Thoughts of quitting entered his mind but, as he said later, “…What had started as a chance to test my baseball ability in a professional setting had become an obligation to measure myself as a man. These brutes were trying to destroy me. If they could make me collapse and quit, it would verify their preconceptions. And it would wreck my life. … Pride was my resource. I solved my problem by playing my guts out. … I completely wiped out that peckerwood league.” Flood led the league with a batting average of .340. He set a team record with 29 home runs and a league record with 133 runs scored. He finished second in runs batted in with 128. He also covered a lot of ground in the outfield, leading the league with 388 putouts. He was named the league’s Player of the Year.”

Thirteen years later, after those 6 .300 seasons and 7 Gold Gloves, those 3 pennants and 2 World Series championships, the Cardinals did what many teams have decided to do with aging players when they are headed into a rebuilding cycle. They traded Curt Flood, who would be 32 years old for the 1970 season, to the Phillies along with Tim McCarver, Joe Hoerner and Byron Browne for Richie (Dick) Allen and Cookie Rojas. But Curt Flood didn’t want to play for the Phillies, a poor team who played in a dilapidated ballpark and had a poor reputation in race relations, (which is why they were getting rid of Allen, one of the top hitters in baseball but who had had run-ins with teammates, writers and fans there.) Flood had the temerity to decide he didn’t want to work for his new employer.

He opted to challenge the reserve clause, which had been basic to baseball contracts since the 19th century. This clause said that if, by the end of a player’s contract, he and his team had been unable to agree on a new contract, the team had the option to ‘reserve’ the players services under the old contract for another year. The owners had insisted on interpreting that clause as being applicable as long as they still wanted the player: they could always re-invoke the reserve clause and get an extra year for as long as they wanted the player.

Flood decided to challenge the reserve clause in court. “After twelve years in the Major Leagues, I do not feel that I am a piece of property to be bought and sold irrespective of my wishes. … I believe I have the right to consider offers from other clubs before making any decisions. I, therefore, request that you make known to all Major League clubs my feelings in this matter, and advise them of my availability for the 1970 season.”

The reserve clause had been challenged before without success and Marvin Miller warned Flood of this. “He told Flood the odds were very much against him. A legal challenge would be very expensive and might take two years or more; even if he won, it was unlikely Flood was going to benefit directly from his victory. If he sat out two years, he would be 34 or 35 before the lawsuit was over. Owners were not likely to want him on their club if the lawsuit was decided in his favor, if at all, and he was not likely to receive any type of large financial windfall if he won. In the meantime, Flood would be forfeiting significant compensation he would have received had he played instead of suing. Finally, he could forget any ideas about becoming a coach or manager at some point in the future.” (SABR)

But the Player’s Union agreed to back Flood, who took his case, eventually, to the Supreme Court. “Justice Harry Blackmun’s majority opinion acknowledged that the logic behind baseball’s antitrust exemption as laid down in Federal Baseball and affirmed in Toolson, (one of the previous unsuccessful challenges) was an “aberration,” but that it was up to Congress to remedy the situation.” (SABR)

Flood lost but he inspired other attempts to defeat the reserve clause and open the game to free agency. His own life was a strange odyssey after that. He had some business reversals and got in trouble with the IRS and an ex-wife when he stopped paying support. He tried a comeback with the Senators but his skills had diminished and he hit .200 in only 13 games. He wound up in Spain running a bar and drinking too much of his own product. In 1975 he tried to rob a department store in the principality of Andorra and was deported back to Spain where he was hospitalized for alcoholism. He came back to the states, tried being a color commentator for Oakland A’s games but that failed. He gained a reputation as a portrait painter, although there is evidence that he didn’t do the actual painting.

Eventually, with the help of his long-time girlfriend, the actress Judy Pace, Flood became sober and was appointed “Commissioner of the Senior Professional Baseball Association, a Florida-based league of retired players”. He was a major voice in Ken Burns’ seminal series on Baseball but was diagnosed with throat cancer shortly thereafter and died of that disease in 1997.

“In 1998 Congress passed the Curt Flood Act, which eliminated baseball’s antitrust exemption in regard to labor issues. Flood received one final posthumous accolade in 1999, when Time magazine named him one of the ten most influential athletes of the past century. “ (SABR)

In 1969, after Roger Maris retired, Brock and Flood were joined in the St. Louis outfield by Vada Pinson. If there was ever a faster outfielder in baseball, I’m not sure what it would be.
 
With Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays fading, baseball turned its attention to other stars, including two guys who each did something that wouldn’t be done again for 45 years. FRANK ROBINSON had exploded on the major league scene in 1956, setting a rookie record by hitting 38 home runs and also scoring 122 runs. He immediately became the Cincinnati Reds’ answer to Mays, Aaron and Banks and those guys battled each year for the MVO, Mays winning in 1954 and 1965, Aaron in 1957, Banks in 1958-59 and Robinson in 1961 when he hit .323 with 37 home runs, 124 RBIs and 117 runs scored as the Reds won the pennant. He actually had an even better year the next year with .342-39-136-134 but Maury Wills ‘stole’ the MVP with his record 105 stolen bases. (It should probably have gone to Mays, who hit .304-49-141-130 and his team won the pennant).

But he certainly stood out in Cincinnati, in more ways than one:

Cincinnati is either the southernmost northern town or the northernmost southern town, (or maybe It’s Baltimore). Robinson was never fully appreciated there, especially by General Manager Bill DeWitt, who traded him after the 1965 season to the Baltimore Orioles, saying that he was “a fading talent” and "not a young 30”. It was a challenge to a superstar in his prime. “My mind went blank when the trade was announced,” recalled Robinson. “But when I thought about it, I changed my thinking. … I did not feel I had anything to prove, yet I wanted to prove to Bill DeWitt that I was not done at age 30.” (SABR)

The Orioles had been contenders for years but never got over the top. “Frank's impact in 1966 was more than the obvious Triple Crown. He brought an "edginess" to the Orioles that had not existed before. Brooksie was a sweetheart. Boog a loveable oaf. Paul Blair, everyone liked Paul. And they HAD been winning 90 plus games without Frank so how much of a big deal was his toughness? Legit point. But the team talked about it, the opposition talked about it, and the O's just seemed like a different team.” (Baseball Reference.com) “Any misgivings about the trade dissipated when one Baltimore player, a white man from Little Rock, Arkansas, welcomed their new teammate to the ballclub. “Frank,” exclaimed Brooks Robinson, “you’re exactly what we need.” Dave McNally later described his initial impression to John Eisenberg: “As good as Frank was, it was how hard he played that really made an impact. …The intensity the man had was just incredible.” The Orioles had a lot of talent, but to manager Hank Bauer, “Robinson was “the missing cog” who “helped the young players just by talking to them.” (SABR)

Robinson won the Triple Crown- batting average, home runs and RBIs- the first since Mantle ten years earli- hitting .316 with a career high 49 homers, 122 RBI and 122 runs scored. The Orioles won the pennant and swept the Dodgers in the World Series, Robinson winning MVP. He led the team to three more pennants and another World Series championship.

But life in Baltimore wasn’t easy. “The Robinson family, which now included son Kevin and daughter Nichelle, received a rude welcome to Baltimore on a house-hunting trip early in the season. A university professor had been enthusiastic to sublet his house until he met Barbara. As she recounted years later, “He must have thought I was Mrs. Brooks Robinson.” After days of discouragement, the Robinsons finally rented a home – “grimy and infested with bugs, its floors covered with dog [mess].” (SABR) “It was in Baltimore that he first became active in the civil rights movement. He originally declined membership in the NAACP unless the organization promised not to make him do public appearances. However, after witnessing Baltimore's segregated housing and discriminatory real estate practices, he changed his mind and became an enthusiastic speaker on racial issues.” (Wikipedia)

Robinson was known as the toughest, most aggressive player in the majors. He leaned over the plate and dared pitchers to hit him, which they did 270 times in his career. Don Drysdale was once ordered to walk him intentionally. He decked Robinson four times in a row. “Why waste a pitch?” He made up for all the beanings and deckings by taking out second basemen and shortstops all over the league with rolling slides. Once he came in hard at third base against Milwaukee and wound up duking it out with Eddie Mathews, one of the league’s most enthusiastic brawlers. It was two real “sluggers” going at it.

SABR: “Still, his uncompromising style of play continued. On June 27, 1967, it cost Robinson dearly. Trying to break up a double play against Chicago, he collided with Al Weis. After banging his head against the infielder’s knee, Robinson was diagnosed with a concussion and prolonged double vision. Although he missed only 32 games and recovered to hit .311, Robinson claimed the injury stunted his career: “I don’t know how much I left at second base. … I haven’t been the same hitter since.”

The injuries began to pile up. Robinson left Baltimore to finish out his career with the Dodgers, Angels and Indians. With the latter team, he was appointed the major leagues first black manager. He later managed the Giants, making him the first black manager in either league, after he’d become the first and only player to be MVP of both leagues. ”In 2003, the Reds dedicated a bronze statue of Robinson at Great American Ball Park. On April 28, 2012, the Orioles unveiled a bronze statue of Robinson at Oriole Park at Camden Yards as part of the Orioles Legends Celebration Series. He was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom on November 9, 2005, by President George W. Bush.” (Wikipedia)

Like fellow Boston icon Bob Cousy, CARL YASTRZEMSKI’s roots were in Long Island. In fact, he had a chance to sign with the New York Yankees for a $60,000 signing bonus in 1958, (he would have looked awfully good in left field, beside Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris). But his father felt that was too low. The Yankee scout asked him to right down a more appropriate figure. Carl Sr. wrote down $100,000. And the scout flipped his pencil in the air in shock and announcing “You’re crazy”. Carl Sr. ordered him out of the house, saying "Nobody throws a pencil in my house. Get the hell out and never come back." Carl later signed with the Red Sox for 108,000 and the cost of his college education at Notre Dame.

Carl Sr. wasn’t done shaping his son’s career. “Former Red Sox catcher Russ Gibson remembered one time early on: "Yaz and myself, and two other guys, shared an apartment in Raleigh [North Carolina] when his dad came for a visit. We were all just starting out, but Yaz was hitting about .390 at the time. We all went off to play golf while Yaz visited with his father. When we got back, all his things were gone. When I asked Yaz what had happened, he said, 'My dad thinks I'm distracted living with you guys. He's moved me into an apartment by myself.' ” (SABR) It must have bene a good idea because Yaz hit .377 in Raleigh and then .339 the next year in Minneapolis, (then the Red Sox Triple A farm team). The Millers lost the Junior World Series to the Havana Sugar Kings and Carl played in the last game featuring an American team in Cuba until the Orioles played an exhibition game there in 1999.

He arrived in Boston and Ted Williams greeting him, saying "Don't let them screw around with your sawing. Ever." Those two men would cover left field for the Red Sox from 1939 to 1983 and both wound up in the Hall of Fame, (although Yaz played a lot of first base and DH’d late in his career). Yaz won the Al batting title in his third year with a .321 average. At that time he was not yet a big power hitter, although he had good extra base power with about 40 doubles to go with about 15 home runs a year.

Before the 1967 season he became one of the first baseball players to institute a strong off-season conditioning program. He also finished his education. "One of the big differences in 1967," Yaz recalled, "is that I was able to work out the preceding winter. In earlier years, I was finishing up my college work. But I had completed my degree at Merrimack College so I had time to focus on my conditioning. I reported to spring training in great shape." (SABR)

Yaz in 1967 had perhaps the greatest year, all things considered, that a player ever had. He won the triple crown, hitting .326, (n a year when the league hit .236- 26 point less than the all-time average), with 44 home runs, 121 RBIs and 112 runs scored. And the Red Sox, who had finished 9th in 1966 and had not had a winning season since 1958, went 92-70 won the pennant in an incredible four way race with the Tigers and Twins, (91-71) and the White Sox, (89-73). As late as September 26, all four teams were tied at 88-66.

“Former teammate George Scott remembers it this way, "Yaz hit 44 homers that year, and 43 of them meant something big for the team. It seemed like every time we needed a big play, the man stepped up and got it done." In the final 12 games of the season - crunch time - Carl Yastrzemski had 23 hits in 44 at-bats, driving in 16 runs and scoring 14. He hit ten homers in his final 100 at-bats of 1967. He had ten hits in his last 13 at-bats, and when it came to the last two games with the Twins, with the Sox needing to win both games to help avert a tie for the pennant, Yaz went 7-for-8 and drove in six runs.“ (SABR) Yaz followed that us with 10 hits and three home runs in the World Series but the Red Sox “Impossible Dream” season ended with a 7 game loss to the Cardinals.

The next year Yaz won his third batting title, abit with the lowest average ever, .301, in a year when his league had the lowest average ever, .230. He hit only 23 home runs but hit 40 the next two years. In fact, the 1970 season was statistically similar, if less dramatic, than his triple crown season: .329-40-102-125. He walked a lot in those days, 128 time in that 1970 season, giving him an on-base percentage of .452. Yaz also had speed, stealing 23 bases that year and was a superb fielder , winning 7 Gold Gloves. He was truly great player, the best in baseball at this point of his career.

Then something strange happened. He played 13 more years for the same team in the same ballpark and was never a great player again. He batted .300 only one more time, (.301 in 1974). He exceeded 21 home runs only once, (28 in 1977). He batted .275 over those last 13 seasons and hit 210 home runs, 16 a year. I’ve never heard any explanation for this. The one noticeable change was in his stance: “He had a highly distinctive batting stance that had him holding the bat vertically above shoulder height as the pitcher began his wind-up; it is jokingly said that he ruined thousands of New England boys' hitting prospects as they tried to imitate their hero's highly-unorthodox stance.” (Baseball Reference.com). He used to hold the bat just as high as he possibly could, pulling it down as the pitch approached to swing it at a normal level. He was finally persuaded to stop this and hold the bat normally. Maybe that deprived him of his power and the zip on his line drives.
 
The two most frightening sluggers of the day took some time to really get going but hit their stride in the late 60’s. Bob Gibson called WILLIE MCCOVEY "the scariest hitter in baseball". Don Sutton spoke for his teammate Don Drysdale: "Guys used to kid Drysdale about (McCovey). Willie was the one guy Don was reluctant to face. In the four and a half years I played with Don, I think McCovey is the only player he was afraid of physically." If Bob Gibson and Don Drysdale were scared of Willie McCovey, imagine how the other pitchers in baseball felt.

“In Jim Bouton’s revelatory 1970 book Ball Four, he describes a late September 1969 scene at San Francisco’s Candlestick Park. “A group of terrorized pitchers stood around the batting cage watching Willie McCovey belt some tremendous line drives over the right-field fence. Every time a ball bounced into the seats we’d make little whimpering animal sounds. ‘Hey, Willie,’ I said. ‘Can you do that whenever you want to?’ He didn’t crack a smile. ‘Just about,’ he said, and he hit another one. More animal sounds.” (SABR)

Also: “Longtime Dodger manager Walter Alston, who saw McCovey more than he would have liked, noted, "McCovey didn't hit any cheap ones. When he belts a home run, he does it with such authority it seems like an act of God. You can't cry about it."2 Reds manager Sparky Anderson, among the many managers who often chose to walk the slugger, reasoned, "If you pitch to him he'll ruin baseball. He'd hit 80 home runs. There's no comparison between McCovey and anybody else in the league."

Willie actually had an amazing start in the big leagues. In 1959, at the age of 21, He tore up the PCL for the Giants AAA farm club in Phoenix, hitting .372 with 29 home runs, 92 RBIs and 84 runs scored in in only 95 games. The Phoenix fans were sorry to see him get called up but the Giants fans delighted in the young slugger after he hit .354 with 13 homers, 38 RBIs and 32 runs scored in 52 games. That’s a combined .366 with 42 homers, 130 RBIs and 116 runs scored. McCovey won the PCL batting title and home run titles despite his limited play there and also won the National League Rookie of the year in the same season. (But he wasn’t Minor League Player of the year in 1959: see below).

McCovey immediately gained a reputation as a dangerous and powerful big league hitter. In his very first game he went 4 for 4 against Hall-of-Famer Robin Roberts ”including two rousing triples”, (these quotes are from Bill Jenkinson’s book “Baseball’s Ultimate Power”). Off another HOFer, Warren Spahn, he deposited the ball at the base of the scoreboard in Milwaukee, 465 feet away. In 1960 he hit a ball in Cincinnati that almost cleared the right field bleachers. “NO one is known to have cleared those seats at their highest point during a game but this 480 foot rainmaker by Willie came closer than any other. At Candlestick park, long before that windswept arena was partially sheltered by the right field grandstand, McCovey pummeled the ball far over the right field fence. It was hit off Don Drysdale and landed 475 feet from home plate. And at Sportsmen’s Park in St. Louis on May 10, 1962, versus the great Bob Gibson, Willie sent one soaring so far over the right field pavilion that it landed on the opposite side of Grand Avenue. That was another 475 footer.”

The problem is, these bombs came less frequently than the fans wanted. Willie hit only .238 with 13 home runs in 101 games in 1960. He improved to .271 with 18 home runs in 106 games in 1961 and to .293 with 20 home runs in 91 games in 1962, the year Bobby Richardson caught his line drive to win the World Series for the Yankees, (the last of their great period). Giants fan Charles Schulz never got over it.

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This was painful for the San Francisco fans, who looked at McCovey as their home-grown superstar. Jenkinson: “Sure, they loved Willie Mays, but they felt they had to inherited him from their former patrons in New York. They longed for McCovey to be their San Francisco stud.” I wonder if they knew that both Willies were from Mobile, Alabama?

There were two reasons for Willie’s failure to live up to expectations. One was that he’d injured his ankle and his knee sliding into home in a minor league game and it was the beginning of dealing with arthritic knees throughout his career. The other reason was that he had to share the first base positon with another great young slugger, Orlando Cepeda. One wonders why San Francisco didn’t choose to view Orlando as their ‘hometown hero’.

Willie finally broke through with a healthy and big year in 1963, hitting .280 with 44 home runs, 102 RBIs and 103 runs scored. But he fell back in 1964 all the way to .220-18-55-54. But he finally put together some consistency after that, hitting 30+ homers for the next six years in a row, reaching his height with an MVP year in 1969, when he hit .320-45-126-101. The next year he was .280-39-126-98.

He kept his long-ball hitting going throughout this period: a 460 footer in the parking lot at Candlestick on 6/28/623, a 485 footer three rows form the top of the right field bleachers on 9/26 of the same year, On 7/29/64 he “knocked one to dead center field that collided with the wall at the 447 foot mark. The next day he hit one of a similar distance. “However this poke was directed to right field, where it topped the 32 foot high wall, sailed over 20th street and landed on a housetop.” On 8/10/65, he “nearly knocked the (right field foul) pole down with a right field rocket”. On 8/27, he hit a 460 footer at Shea Stadium that hit the scoreboard halfway up. “Then, on September 8, back in Frisco, McCovey bombarded the ball almost into the parking lot beyond right field for a journey of 490 feet.” Willie called that one “as squarely as I ever hit a ball”.

On 6/29/66, the squarely hit a ball 460 feet in the new Busch Stadium in St. Louis. “over the fence in straightaway center field”. But his most talked about home run came later that year, also in St. Louis on 9/4 when “he planted one into the far-off upper deck in right center field above the scoreboard. Miraculously, the ball was struck on a line-drive trajectory that resulted in a 515 foot journey”. Tim McCarver has often marveled that this ball was still going with such velocity that it hit off concrete and bounded back onto the field from that spot. He’s often said that that was the hardest hit ball he can ever remember seeing. On 9/16, he hit the longest home run ever recorded at Candlestick Park, a 505 footer. But his biggest home run of the year was a little old 465 footer he hit in Pittsburgh on October 1st in the 11th inning that kept the Giants alive in the pennant race.

On May 22, 1967, he hit one off of Jim Bunning in Philadelphia: The ball raced through the air and passed over the center field side of the 64 foot high scoreboard situated in deep right center. That amazing blast was estimated at 510 feet.” He hit balls 450 feet and then 500 feet against Rick Wise of the Phillies on 6/6/69. He had another 500 footer at Fulton County Stadium in Atlanta on 6/22/69.

But after 1970, Willie’s knees and other ailments began to bother him more and more. He played another decade but played in only 1062 games, (106 a year) in that time, hitting another 169 home runs\, one of them a 460 footer into the swimming pool outside Jarry Park in Montreal on 5/5/76. He wound up with 521 home runs but you have to wonder how many he would have hit with healthy knees. After his career he had both of them replaced, as well as four back surgeries. He wound up in a wheelchair. It’s strange to see him at ceremonies, closer to the ground than the men around him who can still stand. Men he once towered over.

But one man towered over everybody in baseball. He was the biggest strongest man who had ever played the game. They called him “The Washington Monument”. FRANK HOWARD was listed at 6-7 and 255 pounds: that was probably his weight as a rookie. By the end of his career he was closer to 300 pounds. And he was not just a big guy. He was an excellent basketball player at Ohio State, (where he was listed as being 6-8, 275). As a senior he averaged 16.9 points and 13.6 rebounds a game, including a 32 rebound game in Madison Square Garden. He was drafted by the Philadelphia Warrior but opted instead to become a professional baseball player. He’d been .300 hitter for the Ohio State basketball team. He signed with the Dodgers for a $108,000 signing bonus: $100,000 for him and $8,000 to go toward a new house for his parents. The Dodgers agreed. The Warriors would simply have to get someone else to play center for them, (and they did).

He was assigned to Green Bay of the “Three I” league, (Indiana, Illinois and Iowa- not that Green Bay is in any of those states) and crushed the ball for a .333 batting average with 37 home runs, 119 RBIs and 104 runs scored. That earned him a cup of coffee with the 1958 Dodgers. Like Willie McCovey , his first game was against Hall of Famer Robin Roberts, against whom he hit his first major league home run in Connie Mack Stadium: “It was against a billboard atop the left field grandstand roof”. Left fielder Harry Anderson said he was afraid the billboard would come loose and fall on top of him.

The next season he was at Victoria in the Texas League, where he hit .356 with 27 homers and 79 RBIs in only 63 games. He then played 76 games for Spokane of the PCL where he hit .319 with another 16 homers and 47 RBIs for a combined .336-43-126 which got him named the Minor League Player of the year over Willie McCovey. This created huge expectations for the huge man. Like McCovey his early years were productive but still disappointing to most people. In 1960 he hit .268 with 23 homers and 77RBI. Then he hit .296 but with only 15 home runs in 92 games due to a chipped bone in his thumb.

But he still developed a reputation for long home runs. Ion 5/25/60, in Pittsburgh, he “walloped the ball far over the the distant brick wall in left field. It eventually landed in adjoining Shenley Park at the prodigious distance of 520 feet from home plate.

In 1962, he found himself hitting clean-up for one of the most offensively productive teams in baseball history. Ahead of him he had Maury Wills, who stole 105 bases and scored 130 runs, Willie Davis, who scored 103 runs and Tommy Davis, who scored 120. Tommy Davis picked up 153 RBIs, more than any player between 1950 and 1997. But there were still enough baserunners left over for Howard to drive in 119 on .296 with 31 home runs in the first year of Dodger Stadium, not a home run friendly ballpark.

The next year he hit a solid .273 with a team leading 28 home runs and the next year he hit 24 homers. But he only batted .226, struck out too many times and was a defensive liability. He was traded to the Senators. He would no longer be playing on contending teams but he come into his own as a power hitter.

At first he didn’t do any better than he had with the Dodgers, hitting only 39 homers in his first two years. But six of them went into the upper deck at D.C. Stadium. The first row was 420 feet from home plate. One on 4/25/66, would have gone 522 feet unimpe3ded, per Jenkinson. On 7/18/65, he “pounded the ball toward left field in venerable Yankee Stadium. It kept going until it collided with a chair in the fifth row of the upper deck near the center field end in section 34. Only Jimmie Foxx and Mickey Mantle have been known to hit comparable balls at the Bronx ball yard. This drive ended its ride 70 feet above the field at a linear distance of 44 feet from where Howard started it.” Jenkinson estimates this as a 515 foot drive if unimpeded. Twelve days later he hit a shot in Kansas City off the top of the batting cage, which was stored beyond the center field fence. That one was measured at 516 feet.

In another game, (I haven’t been able to find out the date), Frank Howard hit a baseball out of Yankee Stadium- something no one had ever done, not even Babe Ruth or Mickey Mantle. The umpire ruled it foul but Bobby Murcer, who was playing left field, has said it was a fair ball.

In 1967, Howard finally picked up the pace and became one of the most feared hitters in the game, hitting 36, 44, 48 and 44 home runs. Bill Jenkinson records 17 more upper deck home runs in DC, one of which ”reached the walkway in left center field” on 4/24/67, 535 feet from home plate. Others were estimated at 530 feet, (7/7/69) and 525 feet, (4/24/70). They painted the seats he hit in the upper deck and it wound up looking like polka dots. He hit a 510 footer onto the left field roof in Detroit on 5/18/68.

He faded after that, hitting 26, 10 and 12 homers his last three years, finishing up as one of the early DHs. He was known as a “gentle giant”, unfailingly polite. He became a manager of the Padres and later the Mets. There’s a story that the Mets appeared ready to snap a long losing streak and a few of them celebrated by trashing the locker room. But the Mets blew the lead and lost. When Howard walked in to see the mess the locker room was in, he looked around, then announced that was going to take a five minute walk. He wanted the place to be spotless when he got back. It was. As Jenkinson said., “He is regarded with affection and respect, but mostly he is still viewed with a sense of awe.”
 
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Outstanding stuff, as always. Thanks!
 

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