Thursday, October 23, 2003
Baseball is an almost gentlemanly game, except...
LOOKING AHEAD by Wally Dobelis
There was something almost biblical about Game 7 of the AL Championship Series between the Yankees and the Red Sox, an event that led to the fans' shallow breathing, inability to speak and muttered prayers, as though they were facing a nuclear calamity. There was the clashing of the traditional enemies of 80-odd years, a mythical curse, the pitcher hero who would lead the Reds out of the darkness, his hubris in Game 3, his need to validate himself by staying to the victorious end in game 7, only to see the results of his ego excesses bring the team down in overtime.
This was a follow-up of the drama of Game 3 confrontations at Fenway Park, which dominated the discourses of our office lunchtime sports fan club during the work week. When some younger members insisted that Pedro Martinez should have hung his head in shame for trying to bean Karim Garcia in the 4th inning of Game 3, then pushing down the 72-year old coach Don Zimmer as he came at the pitcher, fists swinging, some of the grizzled heads noted that no pitcher has ever, in the recorded history of mankind, admitted to deliberately aiming the killer ball at a hitter. It has always been "brushing back the hitter who's encroaching on my territory," as though the inside of the home plate were the pitchers' homeland. Apologies from the pitchers? That would be an admission of guilt, and invite fines for the
players and clubs.
Closest to an admission of wrongdoing was the story of the roommates Bill White and Bob Gibson of the St. Louis Cardinals, the latter a Hall of Famer
who started in nine games in three World Series and won seven. When White was traded and the pitcher Gibson hit him with a ball and, after the game,
invited his old friend for dinner, White refused. Whereupon Gibson offered the following ethic: "We are pals outside the park. Whatever happens
inside, during the course of doing business, should not interfere with our friendship." Which White bought. Does that remind us of Life in the Big
City?
Memorable headhunters and chin-music experts were brought to the group's attention. The six-time Cy Young Award winner Roger Clemens, who, during
his years at Boston and Toronto, was seen as the bitter enemy by the Bombers' fans, actually at most has hit 14 batters per season (lifetime HBP of
140, or one every 30 innings).That's low, compared with Kerry Wood of the Cubs, who hit 21 this year, matching the Angels' Tom Murphy in 1969, and
below the Reds' "Tornado" Jake Weimer's 23 in 1907. Clemens's notoriety may be due to the incident in the 2000Yankee-Mets Subway Series Game 2,
when the Rocket threw Mike Piazza's broken bat into the runner's path, this after having beaned the Mets' catcher in an inter-league game, early
that July. Jeter, who once hated the then Blue Jays' pitcher with a passion, showed the greatest composure in standing squarely athwart the way of Manny
Ramirez, the Boston hitter who came to bat after the Karim Garcia incident fearing Clemens's counter-attack, and overreacted to a perceived revenge
pitch, thus initiating the main melee.
The notorious Sal "The Barber" Maglie, for whom the term of "chin music" was invented, playing with the 1950s Giants had a 44 HBP (one in 39
innings), never more than 10 a season. On the other hand, Don Drysdale of the Dodgers, a Hall of Famer of beanball repute, had 154 HBP (one in 22
innings), 20 in his deadliest season. As for any MLB players ever admitting to the breaking of rules, spitball pitchers were mentioned. The greatest of
them, Gaylord Perry, was caught a few times, and only admitted to it after the end of his career, when he wrote a book of his tricks.
One asks why such a big deal about a slipped pitch, common occurrence? And, why does MLB permit the benches to flood the ball field for any mishap, when football, basketball and hockey umpires throw out, penalize and suspend any player who leaves the bench, steps out, or joins a fight?
The answer may be that MLB is such a placid non-body-contact game, almost gentlemanly by comparison, that any fracas or injury is unusual. After all, the most grisly fight in MLB known to mankind was during the 1965 pennant race between the Dodgers and the Giants, whose Juan Marichal's pitches had knocked down Sandy Wills and Ron Fairly. When Marichal came to hit in the 3rd inning (pitchers do in NL), the Dodgers' Sandy Koufax refused to retaliate, and his catcher John Roseboro, a karate
expert, decided to pay back via ball returns to the mound, brushing Marichal's physiognomy twice. He expected to provoke fisticuffs, but
Marichal grabbed a bat and brained the catcher, opening a 14-stitch gash and a full-press fracas that emptied both benches.
But don't get me wrong, I'm for ML baseball, warts, overpaid players and all. It is a lot cleaner than ML Wall Street.
Wally also thanks Dan Daly of Washington Times & Jeff Meron of ESPN.
There was something almost biblical about Game 7 of the AL Championship Series between the Yankees and the Red Sox, an event that led to the fans' shallow breathing, inability to speak and muttered prayers, as though they were facing a nuclear calamity. There was the clashing of the traditional enemies of 80-odd years, a mythical curse, the pitcher hero who would lead the Reds out of the darkness, his hubris in Game 3, his need to validate himself by staying to the victorious end in game 7, only to see the results of his ego excesses bring the team down in overtime.
This was a follow-up of the drama of Game 3 confrontations at Fenway Park, which dominated the discourses of our office lunchtime sports fan club during the work week. When some younger members insisted that Pedro Martinez should have hung his head in shame for trying to bean Karim Garcia in the 4th inning of Game 3, then pushing down the 72-year old coach Don Zimmer as he came at the pitcher, fists swinging, some of the grizzled heads noted that no pitcher has ever, in the recorded history of mankind, admitted to deliberately aiming the killer ball at a hitter. It has always been "brushing back the hitter who's encroaching on my territory," as though the inside of the home plate were the pitchers' homeland. Apologies from the pitchers? That would be an admission of guilt, and invite fines for the
players and clubs.
Closest to an admission of wrongdoing was the story of the roommates Bill White and Bob Gibson of the St. Louis Cardinals, the latter a Hall of Famer
who started in nine games in three World Series and won seven. When White was traded and the pitcher Gibson hit him with a ball and, after the game,
invited his old friend for dinner, White refused. Whereupon Gibson offered the following ethic: "We are pals outside the park. Whatever happens
inside, during the course of doing business, should not interfere with our friendship." Which White bought. Does that remind us of Life in the Big
City?
Memorable headhunters and chin-music experts were brought to the group's attention. The six-time Cy Young Award winner Roger Clemens, who, during
his years at Boston and Toronto, was seen as the bitter enemy by the Bombers' fans, actually at most has hit 14 batters per season (lifetime HBP of
140, or one every 30 innings).That's low, compared with Kerry Wood of the Cubs, who hit 21 this year, matching the Angels' Tom Murphy in 1969, and
below the Reds' "Tornado" Jake Weimer's 23 in 1907. Clemens's notoriety may be due to the incident in the 2000Yankee-Mets Subway Series Game 2,
when the Rocket threw Mike Piazza's broken bat into the runner's path, this after having beaned the Mets' catcher in an inter-league game, early
that July. Jeter, who once hated the then Blue Jays' pitcher with a passion, showed the greatest composure in standing squarely athwart the way of Manny
Ramirez, the Boston hitter who came to bat after the Karim Garcia incident fearing Clemens's counter-attack, and overreacted to a perceived revenge
pitch, thus initiating the main melee.
The notorious Sal "The Barber" Maglie, for whom the term of "chin music" was invented, playing with the 1950s Giants had a 44 HBP (one in 39
innings), never more than 10 a season. On the other hand, Don Drysdale of the Dodgers, a Hall of Famer of beanball repute, had 154 HBP (one in 22
innings), 20 in his deadliest season. As for any MLB players ever admitting to the breaking of rules, spitball pitchers were mentioned. The greatest of
them, Gaylord Perry, was caught a few times, and only admitted to it after the end of his career, when he wrote a book of his tricks.
One asks why such a big deal about a slipped pitch, common occurrence? And, why does MLB permit the benches to flood the ball field for any mishap, when football, basketball and hockey umpires throw out, penalize and suspend any player who leaves the bench, steps out, or joins a fight?
The answer may be that MLB is such a placid non-body-contact game, almost gentlemanly by comparison, that any fracas or injury is unusual. After all, the most grisly fight in MLB known to mankind was during the 1965 pennant race between the Dodgers and the Giants, whose Juan Marichal's pitches had knocked down Sandy Wills and Ron Fairly. When Marichal came to hit in the 3rd inning (pitchers do in NL), the Dodgers' Sandy Koufax refused to retaliate, and his catcher John Roseboro, a karate
expert, decided to pay back via ball returns to the mound, brushing Marichal's physiognomy twice. He expected to provoke fisticuffs, but
Marichal grabbed a bat and brained the catcher, opening a 14-stitch gash and a full-press fracas that emptied both benches.
But don't get me wrong, I'm for ML baseball, warts, overpaid players and all. It is a lot cleaner than ML Wall Street.
Wally also thanks Dan Daly of Washington Times & Jeff Meron of ESPN.
# posted by Wally Dobelis @ 4:52 PM 
