40. Pee Wee Reese: The Kid From Kentucky

I was born on a farm between two small towns  called Bradingberg and Ekron, about fifty miles from Louisville .... But I lived off the farm at age seven. It was 1925, and at the time farming was difficult. We grew tobacco, some corn, just something to survive on. We were very poor, five children, trying to make a living on not too good of a farm.

When we moved to Louisville, my dad did odd jobs .... Course, my dad had no education. Of the children, I was the only one graduated from high school. There was not a lot of education in my family. It was the early '30s, the Depression years .... We all worked. I worked selling box lunches, and I delivered papers .... When I got out of high school in 1936, jobs were tough to get, and I worked in a furniture company and Mengel Box Company, making twenty-five cents an hour, and you worked ten hours a day, which added up to $2.50. And then I went to work for the telephone company, and I got a big raise to $18 a week. I was an apprentice cable splicer.

When I finally decided to go and play ball in 1938, the man who got me the job at the telephone company said to me, "Pee Wee, I think you're making a big mistake by quitting your job and going away to play baseball." ....

I had only played five games my senior year in high school. I was not large enough. Hell, when I graduated, I was about five foot four and weighed 120 pounds. I played ball for my church team, the New Covenant Presbyterian Church, and we won the city championship in 1937, and we won a trip to the 1937 World Series. A man by the name of Captain Neal, who was the general manager of the Louisville Colonels, which was a Double-A ball team, evidently noticed me, and he asked me if I wanted to play professional ball.

And I was fortunate it wasn't a good club. It was independently owned, so consequently we didn't have too many good players, so I got to stay with the team and play. So sometimes it helps to be in the right place at the right time.

I played for this 1938 club, and the next year the team was purchased by Donie Bush and Frank McKinney, and we had a working agreement with the Boston Red Sox. In '39 they brought up players from the Red Sox, so we ended up that year with a pretty good ballclub. In fact, we ended up winning the Little World Series.

And at this point I thought I was going directly to the Red Sox. No question. Bobby Doerr, the Red Sox second baseman, told me he was looking forward to it. Joe Cronin was the manager and the shortstop and getting older, and Bobby figured I would be there.

Supposedly Bush and McKinney bought the Colonels just so they could acquire my contract .... But evidently Mr. Cronin thought he could play a few more years, and he talked them out of buying me, and Bush and McKinney sold me to the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1939 for $75,000.

I was very disappointed. It was July, and I was going to the all-star game in Kansas City, the American Association all-stars against the Kansas City Royals, who were leading the league at that point, and I was on the train, and one of the Louisville writers told me that I had been sold to Brooklyn ....

I didn't go with the Dodgers until spring training of 1940. We were training in Clearwater, and I weighed all of 155 pounds soaking wet. Looking like I was sixteen, I guess. When I got there, I didn't know any of the fellas on the team, and I was scared to death. But within a few days, Dolph Camilli, Harry Lavagetto, and Pete Coscarart, which was the whole infield, made me feel at home. Wherever they went, they took me with them. Why did they do it? Beats the hell out of me. I was just a scared kid from Kentucky, and these guys had been up in the majors for a while ....

When I got there, Leo [Durocher] at this time was thirty-five or so, and he was managing, and he probably wanted someone to take his place. But I got hit in the head by Jake Mooty of the Cubs, and I was in the hospital for eighteen days .... And then after I came back, in August I slid into second base and broke a bone in my ankle, so I was out for the rest of the year. So I only played eighty-four games my first year.

When I opened the 1941 season with a brace on my ankle, it got me to wondering, because it was a tough year. We won the pennant, and I guess I contributed something, but I didn't have too good a year. I was having problems at bat and in the field, and it got to where I didn't feel too easy in the games. But naturally, I would never ask out of the lineup, though Lee MacPhail was pressuring Leo to take me out, and he did for one game. But Leo hadn't played in a while, and it was tough on him. Leo had a little trouble with a fly ball, going back over his head, and he decided he better put me back in the lineup.

-- Peter Golenbock 

Bums: An Oral History of the Brooklyn Dodgers

Copyright 1984 by Peter Golenbock

Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons (New York), 1984

  
IMAGE: (L-R), Spider Jorgenson, Pee Wee Reese, Ed Stankey, Jackie Robinson

39. The Louisville Slugger Museum

The 120-foot bat that stands at the front of the museum suggests something special. And few visitors are disappointed. The legacy of Hillerich & Bradsby dates back to 1884, when the company started making Louisville Slugger bats in its family woodworking shop. The legend goes like this: The owner's son, Bud Hillerich, attended a local baseball game and, noticing that local star Pete Browning was in a hitting slump, brought him to the shop to have a new bat made. With his new weapon, Browning clubbed three hits the next day, and soon word spread of the effective new bat manufactured by Hillerich & Bradsby. Today, visitors to the factory and museum in downtown Louisville watch bats being made and experience a baseball history museum that is rivaled only by Cooperstown. Everyone, from Honus Wagner and Ty Cobb to Babe Ruth, have sworn by the famous bats made from Pennsylvania white ash.

 

The Hillerich name is still prominent in the business; the Bradsbys have been gone since the late 1930s. The company has always been located in Louisville, except for a few years when it moved across the Ohio River to Indiana. The company produces 2,000 wooden bats per workday, using high-speed lathes. Some go to young players, but 60-70 percent of all major league players have contracts with Hillerich & Bradsby. The bats crafted for professionals match precise computer specifications for each player. The company also makes golf clubs, hockey sticks and aluminum bats at other facilities, but wooden baseball bats are made exclusively at the Louisville plant.

 

Tours end at the gift shop, appropriately named "A League of Your Own." Every person who takes a tour also receives a miniature Louisville Slugger as a souvenir. The Louisville Slugger Museum, which entertains 300,000 visitors a year, is open Monday through Saturday.

 

Location: 800 West Main Street, Louisville, KY

 

 

Roadside Baseball, Chris Epting

Copyright 2003 by The Sporting News

Published by The Sporting News, 2003

38. Funniest Baseball Quotes

"I never took the game home with me. I always left it at some bar."
--BOB LEMON

"If a woman has to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an infant's life, she will choose to save the infant's life without even considering if there is a man on base."
--DAVE BARRY

"Bob Gibson is the luckiest pitcher I ever saw. He always pitches when the other team doesn't score any runs."
--TIM McCARVER

"Alan Sutton Sotheron pitched his initials off today."
--ANONYMOUS

"The way to catch a knuckleball is to wait until the ball stops rolling and then to pick it up."
--BOB UECKER

"A man once told me to walk with the Lord. I'd rather walk with the bases loaded."
--KEN SINGLETON

"Slump? I ain't in no slump. I just ain't hitting."
--YOGI BERRA

"All I remember about my wedding day in 1967 is that the Cubs lost a doubleheader."
--GEORGE WILL

"For the parents of a Little Leaguer, a baseball game is simply a nervous breakdown divided into innings."

--EARL WILSON

"I hated to bat against Drysdale. After he hit you he'd come around, look at the bruise on your arm and say, 'Do you want me to sign it?'"

--MICKEY MANTLE

"Sandy [Koufax]’s fastball was so fast, some batters would start to swing as he was on his way to the mound."

-- JIM MURRAY

"Good pitching always stops good hitting and vice versa."

--BOB VEALE (also attributed to Yogi Berra)

"Washington: first in war, first in peace, and last in the American League."

--CHARLES DRYDEN

"If it comes down to taking care of my mother in her old age and taking care of my centerfielder in his young age, I hope she understands."

--JEFF SMULYAN

"I watch a lot of baseball on the radio."

--PRES. GERALD FORD

"Baseball hasn't forgotten me. I go to a lot of old-timers games and I haven't lost a thing. I sit in the bullpen and let people throw things at me. Just like old times."

--BOB UECKER
.

"If it weren't for baseball, many kids wouldn't know what a millionaire looked like."

--PHYLLIS DILLER

"We know we're better than this, but we can't prove it."
--TONY GWYNN

"There are two theories on hitting the knuckleball. Unfortunately, neither one of them works."
--CHARLIE LAU

37. Married to Mickey Mantle

I met Mickey Mantle for the first time after a high school football game in Commerce, Oklahoma, in 1949. He didn't say a word. I guess that's why  I remembered him afterwards. I thought it was so odd.

Right then (in my mind, anyway), I was more a celebrity than he was, for I was drum majorette of the Picher High School band and a soloist at the First Baptist Church of Picher, and I'd sung at nearby army camps. Mickey had been graduated from Commerce High School that spring and was working as an electrician in the local lead and zinc mines, where his father was a ground boss.

I had never heard of Mickey, although Picher is only three miles from Commerce, and he had been playing baseball around those parts since he was five years old, from peewee leagues to pro ball. He'd even been signed by the New York Yankees at the time of his graduation. But I, like most of the other folks then in Ohlahoma, was strictly a football fan. I knew so little about baseball that, on one of our early dates, I asked Mickey how many time-outs they could have during an inning....

It was hard for me to understand, when we first started going together, why he said so firmly that we couldn't get married until he had made good with the Yankees. But all his life ... my husband has been trained for just one thing -- to play baseball. I'll never forget last year, when he got home on Christmas Eve from ther tour he had made with Bob Hope of army camps in Alaska. He saw all the presents I had put out for the children and said: "I can't remember ever having any toys but baseballs and bats."

Both Mickey's dad and his grandfather were crazy about baseball and I guess they decided when Mickey was born that he was going to be a major leaguer .... They taught Mickey to be a switch hitter, his grandpa throwing to him right-handed, and his dad left-handed. When he was just a little fellow, they would have him out in the back yard afternoons taking batting practice until it got dark. Of course, this is largely why he is where he is today, and Mickey is fully aware of the debt he owes them both. Grandpa died in 1935; I never knew him. But I got to know his dad during Mickey's first year with the Yankees.

I had just graduated from high school and was working in the bank at Picher during the summer .... Then Mickey got into a slump. The Yankees sent him back to Kansas City, which just about broke his heart. Mickey admitted he even cried when he heard the news. Kansas City was about 150 miles from Commerce, but Dad and Mother Mantle drove over there often to see Mickey play and keep up his morale. They sometimes took me along, too.

When Mickey made good in Kansas City and the Yankees recalled him, Dad Mantle was even more thrilled than Mickey. He got a group together to go to see Mickey play in the World Series in New York .... But in the second game, Mickey, who was playing right field, tripped on one of the drains in the outfield and tore all the ligaments in his right knee. They had to carry him off the field on a stretcher. I can imagine how Dad Mantle must have felt. He hurried to the clubhouse and went down to Lenox Hill Hospital with Mickey. But as Dad Mantle tried to help Mickey out of the cab, poor Dad collapsed .... The doctors at Lenox Hill ... found out he was in the last stages of cancer, and told Mickey his father couldn't live more than six months....

Dad Mantle came home shortly after the Series was over, but Mickey had to stay in the hospital about a month. When he got home, he asked me to marry him as soon as possible .... Mickey was under tremendous pressure. He wanted to make good both for himself and for his dad. He also had financial reasons. He had been voted a full share of the World Series money and had used it to pay the mortgage on the family house. But he was now the sole support of two families and he was aware of his responsibilities. Dad Mantle died in May. There was a night game with the Indians and Mickey played because he knew his father would have wanted it. Then he went home to the funeral.

....Mickey and I were very young that first year, very inexperienced, and both of us were spoiled. I was lonesome and homesick .... I also had my first experience with baseball fans. Mickey used to come home from the park followed by a string of boys and girls. Sometimes their kidding wasn't so good-natured, especially if he'd had a bad day. If he didn't stop to sign autographs, they threw ink at him. Several good shirts and jackets were ruined, and we couldn't afford that. His Fan Club, girls around 14 years old, used to settle for hanging around me if they couldn't find Mickey. When I did my daily marketing, I was followed down the street and into the stores by a group of little girls wearing jackets with "Mickey Mantle" on their backs.

....So far as I'm concerned, I would settle for Mickey's quitting when he finishes ten years of baseball in the majors, which will be after the 1960 season. But if Mickey's legs hold out, I don't think he will stop that soon. There is nothing else he was ever trained for, and nothing he loves to do as much.

 

 

--Merlyn Mantle (as told to Christy Munro)

"The Mickey Mantle I Know" (1957)The Best of Baseball Digest, John Kuenster (ed.)

Copyright 2006 by John Kuenster

Published by Ivan R. Dee, Publisher (Chicago) 2006

 

36. The Typology of Japanese Ballplayers

In the end, the Red Sox apparently decided to spend more than $100 million to get the Japanese pitcher Daisuke Matsuzaka in a Boston uniform for the next six seasons, a daring financial outlay for an athlete who has never thrown a pitch in the major leagues or sampled the mildly insane rivalry between the Red Sox and Yankees.

For intrigued baseball fans in the United States, Matsuzaka's relevant statistics are no-brainers: 26 years old, 6 feet, 187 pounds and a 108-60 record with a 2.95 earned run average in eight seasons with the Seibu Lions.

But what many fans, the Red Sox front office and even Matsuzaka's determined agent, Scott Boras, may not realize is that in the eyes of the Japanese, Matsuzaka's most revealing statistic might be his blood type, which is Type O. By Japanese standards, that makes Matsuzaka a warrior and thus someone quite capable of striking out Alex Rodriguez, or perhaps Derek Jeter, with the bases loaded next summer.

In Japan, using blood type to predict a person's character ... is akin to the equally unscientific use of astrological signs by Americans to predict behavior, only more popular ....

Japanese popular culture has been saturated by blood typology for decades. Dating services use it to make matches. Employers use it to evaluate job applicants. Blood-type products -- everything from soft drinks to chewing gum to condoms -- have been found all over Japan.

....A person can have one of four blood types, A, B, AB or O, and while the most common blood type in Japan is Type A, many of the more prominent Japanese players are like Matsuzaka, Type O. That group includes Hideki Matsui of the Yankees, Kazuo Matsui of the Colorado Rockies ... and Tadahito Iguchi of the Chicago White Sox.

Sadaharu Oh, the great Japanese home run hitter? He is type O, too, as is Kei Igawa, the 27-year-old Hanshin Tiger left-hander who has until Dec. 28 to sign with the Yankees.

In Japan, people with Type O are commonly referred to as warriors because they are said to be self-confident, outgoing, goal-oriented and passionate. According to Masahiko Nomi, a Japanese journalist who helped popularize blood typology with a best-selling book in 1971, people with Type O make the best bankers, politicians and -- if you are not yet convinced -- professional baseball players.

But there  are exceptions to any categorization, and in this instance one of them would appear to be Ichiro Suzuki of the Mariners, who has become one of the great hitters in major league baseball since joining ... Seattle in 2001. Suzuki is Type B.

"That makes sense in a way," said Jennifer Robertson, a professor of anthropology at the University of Michigan who specializes in Japanese culture and history. Robertson added that people with Type B, known as hunters, are said to be highly independent and creative.

And creative would be a good adjective to describe Suzuki at the plate, where he sprays the ball to all fields and sometimes seems to hit the ball to an exact spot. Suzuki set the major league record for hits in a season with 262 in 2004.

....In a sense, all this will play out when Matsuzaka faces Hideki Matsui for the first time next season. In Boston and New York, it will be Red Sox pitcher versus Yankee hitter, right-hander versus left-hander, high-priced Japanese athlete versus high-priced Japanese athlete. In Japan, it will be all that and more. May the best Type O prevail.

 

 

David Picker

December 14, 2006

New York Times

 

 

IMAGE: Sadaharu Oh, Japan's home run king

35. Tinker to Evers to Chance

[A] couple of things about the "poem," published in the New York Evening Mail on July 10, 1910. First of all the title is not "Tinker to Evers to Chance." Here's the verse as it originally appeared, along with its original title:

Baseball's Sad Lexicon

These are the saddest of possible words,

"Tinker-to-Evers-to Chance."

Trio of Bear Cubs fleeter than birds,

Tinker to Evers to Chance.
Ruthlessly pricking our gonfalon bubble,

Making a Giant hit into a double,

Words that are weighty with nothing but Trouble.

"Tinker-to-Evers-to-Chance."

--Franklin P. Adams.

For Frank Adams it was a "sad lexicon" because he was a fan of the New York Giants. In fact, Adams wrote the verse because he was in such a hurry to get to the ballpark. As he later remembered, "I wrote the poem because I wanted to get to the game, and the foreman of the composing room ... said I needed eight lines to fill."

What exactly is a "gonfalon"? According to my dictionary, it's "a banner suspended from a crosspiece," so apparently Adams was saying that Tinker and pals were hurting the Giants' pennant chances with their double-play antics.

It's been fashionable in recent years to question the double-play skills of Tinker and Evers ... To be sure, it's quite possible, perhaps even likely, [Tinker and Evers] (and Chance, too) might not be in the Hall of Fame if not for the poem. Their career stats simply are not typical of Hall of Fame players, even middle infielders. It's also true ... that from 1906 through 1911 the Cubs never led the National League in double plays. Individually, Evers never led N.L. second basemen in double plays, and Tinker topped N.L. shortstops in double plays only once .... Writing negatively of their Hall of Fame qualifications in 1999, USA Today's Tom Weir noted, "Despite the poetry, the three ranked as the National League's best double-play combo only once."

Well, there's more to playing the infield than raw numbers of double plays. The Cubs featured an outstanding pitching staff ... that permitted relatively few baserunners. In turn, that limited the number of double-play opportunities available to the Cub infielders.

So is there an easy way to evaluate the Cubs' double-play abilities given the statistics at our disposal? Yes, there is. Bill James has come up with a system to measure what he calls expected double plays for a team, based on (essentially) the number of runners the opposition has on first base and the estimated number of ground balls hit by the opposition....

.... Yes, the Cubs only tied for third in total double plays [from 1906 to 1910], which is nothing special in an eight-team league. But ... [they] turned 50 more double plays than expected, easily the most in the National League. So while Tinker and Evers never really dominated the National League in a single season, nobody could match their consistency .... [I]t also seems safe to say that they were probably the best of their era and an important factor in the Cubs' amazing run.

It's too bad that they couldn't have enjoyed each other a little more. It seems that Joe Tinker and Johnny Evers, paragons of keystone teamwork, once went upwards of two years without speaking to each other. In 1936, New York World-Telegram columnist Joe Williams got to talking with Evers about the old-time Cubs, and Williams asked if all the stories about the feud were true.

"That's right," admitted Mr. Evers. "We didn't even say hello for at least two years. We went through two World Series without a single word. And I'll tell you why .... [O]ne day -- it was early in 1907 -- he threw me a hardball. It wasn't any further than from here to there .... It was a real hardball. Like a catcher throwing to second. And the ball broke my finger .... I yelled at him, 'You so and so!' He laughed. That's the last word we had for -- well, I just don't know how long."

Other sources have reported that the feud actually began in 1905, when there was a mix-up over a cab the two were supposed to share. By all accounts, though, Evers was an incredibly high-strung fellow.

.... Frank Chance got so sick of listening to his irascible second baseman that he considered shifting Evers to the outfield. These days, I suppose you'd call Evers an extreme type-A personality, and he didn't really get along with anybody, which is probably why everyone called him "The Crab." Evers missed most of the 1911 season after suffering a nervous breakdown. Nevertheless, he succeeded Chance as player-manager in 1913, leading a disgusted Tinker to demand a trade. After the season, Evers himself was traded to the Boston Braves, for whom he played a major role in their miraculous, World Series-winning 1914 campaign ....

As for Frank Adams, he reportedly thought his famous lines "weren't much good."

Baseball Dynasties, Rob Neyer & Eddie Epstein

Copyright 2000 by Rob Neyer & Eddie Epstein

Published  by W.W. Norton and Company, Inc. (New York), 2000

34. Stats: Triple Crown Winners

BATTING

Top marks in a league for batting average, home runs, and RBIs in a single year.


1878 (NL) -- Paul Hines (PRO) .358, 4, 50

1894 (NL) -- Hugh Duffy (BSN) .440, 18, 145

1901 (AL) -- Nap Lajoie (PHA) .426, 14, 125

1909 (AL) -- Ty Cobb (DET) .377, 9, 107

1922 (NL) -- Rogers Hornsby (STL) .401, 42, 152

1925 (NL) -- Rogers Hornsby (STL) .403, 39, 143

1933 (NL) -- Chuck Klein (PHI) .368, 28, 120

1933 (AL) -- Jimmie Foxx (PHA) .356, 48, 163

1934 (AL)  -- Lou Gehrig (NYY) .363, 49, 165

1937 (NL) -- Joe Medwick (STL) .374, 31, 154

1942 (AL) -- Ted Williams (BOS) .356, 36, 137

1947 (AL) -- Ted Williams (BOS) .343, 32, 114

1956 (AL) -- Mickey Mantle (NYY) .353, 52, 130

1966 (AL) -- Frank Robinson (BAL) .316, 49, 122

1967 (AL) -- Carl Yastrzemski (BOS) .325, 44, 121

PITCHING

Top marks in a league for wins, ERA and strikeouts in a single year.

1877 (NL) -- Tommy Bond (BSN) 40-17, 2.11, 170

1884 (NL) -- Old Hoss Radbourn (PRO) 59-12 (1 SV), 1.38, 441

1884 (AA) -- Guy Hecker (LOU) 52-20, 1.80, 383

1888 (NL) -- Tim Keefe (NYG) 35-12. 1.74, 335

1889 (NL) -- John Clarkson (BSN) 49-19 (1 SV), 2.73, 284

1894 (NL) -- Amos Rusie (NYG) 36-13 (1 SV), 2.78, 195

1901 (AL) -- Cy Young (BOS) 33-10, 1.62, 158

1905 (NL) -- Christy Mathewson (NYG) 31-9 (3 SV), 1.28, 206

1905 (AL) -- Rube Waddell (PHA) 27-10, 1.48, 287

1908 (NL) -- Christy Mathewson (NYG) 37-11, 1.43, 259

1913 (AL) -- Walter Johnson (WSH) 36-7 (2 SV), 1.14, 243

1915 (NL) -- Pete Alexander (PHI) 31-10 (3 SV), 1.22, 241

1916 (NL) -- Pete Alexander (PHI) 33-12 (3 SV), 1.55, 167

1918 (NL) -- Hippo Vaughn (CHC) 22-10, 1.74, 148

1918 (AL) -- Walter Johnson (WSH) 23-13 (3 SV), 1.27, 162

1920 (NL) -- Pete Alexander (CHC) 27-14 (5 SV), 1.91, 173

1924 (NL) -- Dazzy Vance (BRO) 28-6, 2.16, 262

1924 (AL) -- Walter Johnson (WSH) 23-7, 2.72, 158

1930 (AL) -- Lefty Grove (PHA) 28-5 (9 SV), 2.54, 209

1931 (AL) -- Lefty Grove (PHA) 31-5 (5 SV), 2.06, 175

1934 (AL) -- Lefty Gomez (NYY) 36-5 (1 SV), 2.33, 158

1937 (AL) -- Lefty Gomez (NYY) 21-11, 2.33, 194

1939 (NL) -- Bucky Walters (CIN) 27-11, 2.29, 137

1940 (AL) -- Bob Feller (CLE) 27-11 (4 SV), 2.61, 261

1945 (AL) -- Hal Newhouser (DET) 25-9 (2 SV), 1.81, 212

1963 (NL) -- Sandy Koufax (LAD) 25-5, 1.88, 306

1965 (NL) -- Sandy Koufax (LAD) 26-8 (2 SV), 2.04, 382

1966 (NL) -- Sandy Koufax (LAD) 27-9, 1.73, 317

1972 (NL) -- Steve Carlton (PHI) 27-10, 1.97, 310

1985 (NL) -- Dwight Gooden (NYM) 24-4, 1.53, 268

1997 (AL) -- Roger Clemens (TOR) 21-7, 2.05, 292

1998 (AL) -- Roger Clemens (TOR) 20-6, 2.65, 271

1999 (AL) -- Pedro Martinez (BOS) 23-4, 2.07, 313

2002 (NL) -- Randy Johnson (ARI) 24-5, 2.32, 334

2006 (AL) -- Johan Santana (MIN) 19-6, 2.77, 245

2007 (NL) -- Jake Peavy (SDP) 19-6, 2.54, 240

BSN: Boston Braves   LOU: Louisville Colonels    PHA: Philadelphia Athletics     PRO: Providence Grays

IMAGE: Nap Lajoie

33. Player Profile: Joe Page

Nickname: "Fireman"

Born: October 28, 1917 (Cherry Valley, PA)

ML Debut: April 19, 1944

Final Game: May 25, 1954

6'2"     205

Bats: Left     Throws: Left

• Played for New York Yankees (1940-1951), Pittsburgh Pirates (1954)
• Postseason: 1947 WS, 1949 WS
• All-Star 1944, 1947, 1948
• AL Babe Ruth Award 1949

Joseph Francis Page, a powerful left-handed hurler out of the coal-mining region of Pennsylvania, made his Yankee debut on April 19, 1944. That season he posted a 5-1 record and secured a place on the All-Star team. Then a shoulder injury lessened his effectiveness and he drifted back and forth in mediocrity from starter to reliever. However, Bucky Harris saved Page's career in 1947 by putting him in the bullpen. A 14-8 record with seventeen saves and a 2.15 ERA in relief that season got Page a lot of attention. Those fourteen relief wins lasted as the AL record until Luis Arroyo snapped it in 1961.

Page followed up his regular-season heroics with outstanding hurling in the 1947 World Series, getting the save in game one and winning the clincher, holding the Dodgers to one hit in five scoreless innings. He was the first World Series Most Valuable Player. In 1948, Page led the league with fifty-five appearances and became an All-Star for the third time....

Under Casey [Stengel], Page saved twenty-seven games and posted a 13-8 record. He closed out the Red Sox in the next-to-last game of the season, enabling the Yankees to win the pennant. In the World Series, Page won game three and held the Dodgers scoreless in game five from the seventh inning on.

Joe Page's final Yankee season was 1950. Perhaps it was the heavy workload through the years, perhaps it was just time. But after only seven seasons as a Yankee, he was done. Joe Page still ranks in seventh place in franchise history with seventy-six saves.

A Yankee Century, Harvey Frommer

Copyright 2002 by Harvey Frommer Associates

Published by Berkey Books (New York), 2002

In mid-August [1949] Boston began a late surge that seriously threatened the Yankees' hold on first place, but because of [Casey] Stengel's uncanny foresight and his players' excellent execution, the team was somehow hanging onto the lead despite widespread injuries to key players. The pitching staff was holding up satisfactorily, and Joe Page, the controversial relief pitcher, was at the top of his form, sneering at the hitters, and throwing bullets at them ....

Joe Page was Henry Fielding's Tom Jones in a baseball uniform, a tall, handsome celebrity with jet-black hair and a toothpaste smile, a rounder who enjoyed being noticed in public, a night owl who greeted the rosy-fingered sunrise through bloodshot eyes after a lusty night's play.

For two years of his checkered career Joe Page was the most valuable pitcher in the American League, a left-handed relief specialist who would insolently saunter to the mound from the right-field bullpen, his jacket saucily slung over his shoulder partially covering the number 11 on the back of his pinstripe uniform. When he got there he took the ball from the manager and nonchalantly fired a half-dozen warm-up pitches of medium velocity. Then after the batter stepped in, Page would survey the runners dancing off the bases, sneer defiantly at the batter, and then streak exploding, rising fastballs past the usually overmatched batsman.

....Page came from the coal country of the Allegheny valley where human life was cheap. During the depths of the Depression the life of a miner wasn't worth much more than the cost of a good headstone ....Few miners put money in the bank for a rainy day. Instead they took that money and lived life day by day. This was Joe Page's milieu, a lifestyle most of his teammates could never understand. They thought him to be irresponsible, out for himself, and an attention-seeker who loved public adulation whereas they wanted to be left alone .... Page's reaction to this rejection was a veneer of indifference, as he traveled his side of the tracks while they traveled theirs.

It was this veneer that also drove his managers into fits of rage when they would chastise him, only to see him shrug his shoulders. Few could understand how a man could be so excellent one year and so mediocre the next, yet seem so indifferent to his change of fortune.

Page reached the Yankees in 1944 ... [and] started the season winning five of his six starts and was named to the 1944 All-Star team by manager [Joe] McCarthy. There was a tremendous amount of pride in his local community when he was named to play in the game, being held in Pittsburgh that year. But on the day that was to be his triumphant homecoming, his father suffered a stroke, and Page, instead of playing, sped to the local hospital where his father died before he could see his son pitch in the majors ....

In 1946 McCarthy's frustrations with managing the losing wartime Yankee teams and with fighting a seemingly losing battle to reform Page finally surfaced on a plane trip from Cleveland to Detroit in May .... McCarthy slipped into the aisle seat next to Page and propped up his right leg... to lock Page in. He tapped Page firmly on the arm to get his attention. "You're going to sit and listen to what I have to say," McCarthy said.

"Sure," said Page breezily.

"What the devil's the matter with you?" McCarthy asked.

"Nothing," Page said.

"When are you gonna settle down and start pitching? How long do you think you can get away with this?" McCarthy's voice level was beginning to rise.

"Get away with what?" Page asked annoyedly. "I'm not trying to get away with anything. I'm doing the best I can. What do you want outta me?"

McCarthy began shouting, so that he was audible throughout the entire plane. The other players and the press, embarrassed, tried to act like they weren't listening and like nothing unusual was happening. "Who the hell do you think you're kidding?" McCarthy shouted, his Irish temper at the boiling point. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to send you back to Newark, and you can make your four hundred dollars a month for all I care."

Page, unruffled, shrugged his shoulders. "That's okay with me," he said. "You wanna send me to Newark, send me to Newark. Maybe I'll be happier there."

....But that afternoon when the plane landed in Detroit, McCarthy did not go to the ball park. He was too hypertense to manage. After a rest in his hotel room, he flew directly home to his Tonawanda, New York, farm. The next day he telephoned in his resignation as Yankee manager, a job he had held since 1931.

....Page didn't become a big winner until 1947 under the much more live-and-let-live Bucky Harris, who switched him to the bullpen. In '47 Page appeared in fifty-six games, winning fourteen and saving twenty others. He was fourth in the voting for Most Valuable Player. In the World Series he saved the first and third games. In the seventh and deciding game Page entered in the top of the fourth inning, and over the final five innings he blew his fast ball past the Dodgers, allowing one hit and no runs. After the final game, the entire team toasted Joe Page and his live fast ball, including owner Larry MacPhail who earlier in the year had dispatched a female private detective to follow Page around. Columnist Ed Sullivan wrote about Page and the female detective, and before long there were stories that she had fallen in love with Page and was sending MacPhail the most glowing reports.

After Page's 1947 triumphs, he spent the entire winter celebrating, and the following year he arrived in camp thirty pounds overweight, and after crash-dieting to lose the weight, he was weak all season. He also suffered from a tired arm after Harris used him with mixed success in fifty-five games ....

When Stengel became manager in '49, Page, rested and fit, regained his 1947 form and pitched in a record sixty games, winning thirteen, saving twenty, and holding the opposition in fourteen other games without getting credited in the records. It was another incredible, magical year -- the last such season he would ever have.

In 1950 he again suffered a tired arm, pitching with mixed success, and then in 1951, in spring training, Page was on the mound when his right leg, the striding leg, slipped after his windup, and, releasing the ball off-balance, he tore the bursar muscle in his pitching arm. His career was over ....

Dynasty: The New York Yankees, 1949-1964, Peter Golenbock

Copyright 1975 by Peter Golenbock

Published by Prentice-Hall (Englewood Cliffs, NJ), 1975

32. Touching All the Bases

Baserunning blunders are common. Touching all bases is one of baseball's primary rules, but mishaps occur on the basepaths.

....Yankee slugger Lou Gehrig, trotting around the bases after hitting the ball over the fence, lost the 1931 home run crown when teammate Lyn Lary -- on base at the time -- proceeded from third base to the dugout rather than completing the circuit to home plate. Gehrig, who didn't see the play, was ruled out for passing Lary and was credited with a triple, as he had only touched three bases safely. That year, Gehrig and Babe Ruth each hit 46 home runs to share the home run title.

Hank Aaron was involved in the strange ending of Harvey Haddix's twelve-inning perfect game, which he pitched for Pittsburgh against Milwaukee in May 1959.

In the last of the thirteenth, Felix Mantilla was safe on an error by Don Hoak (ending the perfect game). Eddie Mathews sacrificed him to second and Aaron was intentionally walked to set up a potential inning-ending double play. But Joe Adcock foiled the strategy by slamming the ball over the fence, an apparent three-run homer and the only hit off hard-luck Haddix.

Mantilla scored, but Aaron, rounding second, saw the ball disappear over the wall and was so stunned that he forgot to continue his circuit of the basepaths. He headed directly for the dugout, and Adcock, making a grand home run trot, was ruled out when he passed the spot where Aaron had made his departure. Instead of a 3-0 victory, the Braves wound up 1-0 winners -- and Adcock had a double instead of a home run.

A strange footnote to the game was the pitching of Lew Burdette, who yielded twelve hits but no runs in thirteen innings to win. Haddix gave up one and lost.

Baserunners must stay alert at all times. On August 15, 1926, Babe Herman tripled into a double-play when he didn't.

In the seventh inning, with one out and the bases loaded, Herman slammed a pitch toward the right field fence. The ball might have been caught -- and the runners had to wait and see if it would be -- but Herman put his head down and ran.

The Dodger runner scored from third, but pitcher Dazzy Vance, running from second, mysteriously slowed down as he rounded third on his way home. Chick Fewster, running from first, had caught up to Vance but knew he couldn't pass him on the basepaths.

Herman, closing in on Fewster and Vance, looked like he would pass both runners. Coach Mickey O'Neil yelled "Back! Back!" to Herman, but Vance -- not used to running the bases -- answered the cry. He turned back toward third and slid in from the home-plate side. Herman slid in from the second base side. Fewster stood stock still on the base and watched.

Third baseman Eddie Taylor grabbed the ball and tagged all three runners. The umpire ruled Vance entitled to the bag but called Fewster and Herman out, ending the inning.

Brooklyn manager Wilbert Robinson was beside himself. But it wasn't as bad as the time Herman stole second while runners were at second and third.

Gary Geiger of the Red Sox suffered an embarassing moment in 1961 when he hit a run-scoring triple in the bottom of the eleventh inning against the California Angels. Thinking his hit had won the game, Geiger headed for the clubhouse. An Angel infielder tagged him for the first out of the inning. Geiger's hit had actually tied the game and he would have been on third with nobody out.

The Baseball Almanac, Dan Schlossberg

Copyright 2002 by Dan Schlossberg

Published by Triumph Books (Chicago), 2002