These thoughts came to mind as I reflected recently on the Detroit Tigers of my youth. That would be the 1960s. The baseball players of one's youth can never be replaced.
This is the third post I'm writing on the Tigers of that era. Now my attention is turned to Willie Horton. Unfortunately this is the same name as a notorious person from political campaign history. Need I refresh you? The notorious "Willie Horton ad" appeared to sink Mike Dukakis and be a springboard for Poppy Bush. We're talking 1988.
When hearing the name "Willie Horton," how can you think of anything else?
Well, Willie Horton of Tigers history is the victim of coincidence here. It's rather a shame.
Until researching for this post, I had the impression of Horton as rather a sad figure toward the end of his career. He bounced around among several teams and even played in the minors. When a former big league star is willing to play in the minors, I think a lot of us stereotype that person as forlorn. Dizzy Dean did it.
Baseball players are complicated human beings as we all are. We should not generalize so readily.
Horton in fact has had a totally fascinating career and life with several down points to go with the ups, and that is to be assumed for anyone who has lived life "in the arena." His ups were incredibly impressive. He came up in the majors before the Curt Flood and Andy Messersmith cases really changed things for players. Us kid fans liked those quaint times when players didn't seem so preoccupied with money. But let's face it, players were abused in many ways. They have come light years now both in terms of their financial fortunes (which some might say are off the charts) and care in their handling as with the pitch count.
It was common when I was young to see players very likely to decline at around age 33. The money in the game gave players incentive to stay in top condition year-round. Sports medicine also made considerable strides.
Playing during times of unrest
Horton stepped forward during the societal tumult of the 1960s. Man, if only cable TV news had been around then! Can you imagine? Actually, cable news might have helped us get out of the Vietnam war sooner. Still, TV news could pack a punch as with the famous "Zippo lighter" story. Yes, a Vietnamese village could be burned down with a simple Zippo lighter.
Horton thrust himself into the Detroit riots in 1967. He fled Tiger Stadium in uniform to address the irate crowds in the streets. Horton is African-American. As a boy he was a standout on the sandlots of Detroit. His father moved the family of 14 children (!) to Detroit when Willie was age 5. Willie was the youngest. He grew up in the Jefferson Projects in downtown Detroit, close to the Tigers' Briggs Stadium. He batted left-handed until age 10 at which time father Clinton shifted him to righty.
Horton needed courage to step forward in uniform during the incredibly contentious time of rioting. It was called "the streets of fire." He pleaded with the restless Detroiters to calm the violence. Try as he might, his words did not appear to quell matters. The '60s were not a time for people to be pacified easily. Detroit burned for nearly a week.
I grew up as a fan of the Minnesota Twins. I'm sure I watched Willie and his fellow Tigers perform at least once at our Metropolitan Stadium, Bloomington. The Twins and Tigers were both impressive through the 1960s. However, each team won only one pennant. My Twins took the crown in '65 and the Tigers took the world championship in 1968.
Pitching at its apex
Baseball was marked by a dominance of pitching in 1968. It was "the year of the pitcher" and it could not be allowed to continue. The pitching mound was lowered for 1969 and the offensive stats got juiced a little. It seems that baseball caused problems for itself when umpires started calling the high fastball a strike. David Halberstam wrote that this is how Sandy Koufax rapidly became a superstar pitcher - it wasn't maturity or an adjustment in his mechanics.
Koufax was the nemesis for my 1965 Minnesota Twins in the World Series. Horton and his Detroit mates played St. Louis in the 1968 Fall Classic. Quite appropriately, Horton was at his best in that magical summer for the Motor City. Lots of ingredients came together for the Detroit crew, like Denny McLain (that strange case of a baseball star with criminal inclinations) winning 30 games. Other-worldly. Mickey Lolich was another stalwart pitcher.
Horton swatted 36 home runs in Detroit's championship season, second only to Frank Howard's 44.
Bring on the World Series! This was the Series, incidentally, when Jose Feliciano sang the National Anthem in his own idiosyncratic way, considered highly controversial by the standards of the time. It was the generation gap era, the time of "America, love it or leave it" and of the Lawrence Welk show being popular for the older folks. We can forget what a real and unpleasant schism it was. In the years following, it was considered routine for well-known musical performers to render special interpretations of the National Anthem (which can be a bear to sing because of the vocal range).
Prowess with throwing arm
Horton made baseball history with his arm in the '68 Series. It was the fifth inning of Game 5. Detroit was down 3-2 and in position to fall further behind. Cardinal Julian Javier singled to left field. Horton scooped up the ball and fired a one-hopper to home, where the capable backstop Bill Freehan handled things vs. Lou Brock who was trying to score standing up. Detroit had now seized the momentum. Detroit won the game 5-3 and went on to win the rest of the way. Horton batted .304 with six runs scored and three extra-base hits.
We might describe Willie Horton as the African-American Al Kaline. Kaline built up the golden boy image through that Tigers era, well deserved to be sure. African-Americans were still struggling some to make strides in the game. Jim Bouton observed in his book "Ball Four" that while a number of superstars in the game were African-American, their numbers were lagging among the common players. Today, race and all manner of personal characteristics seem quite convincingly to have been pushed aside. In fact, the African-American element seems to have drifted away, appearing to prefer other sports. Big league ball ought to pine for the days when the likes of Willie Mays and Frank Robinson wowed fans.
The American League was slower than the National to truly welcome the non-white players. This proved to be a hindrance to the A.L. which came to be seen as not as exciting. This I think led to the creation of the designated hitter, a ploy to try to get more offense and stoke fan interest.
What if Vic Power, a Puerto Rican, had been called up by the New York Yankees when he should have been? It would have been good for both the Yankees and Power. He might have been the greatest fielding first baseman in history, and he did his work with flamboyance too. Would you believe, some of baseball's elders did not like seeing a non-white player play with a flourish or flamboyance? So sad to remember. Elston Howard became the Yankees' "token."
Horton was a fine survivor in big league ball during his long career in which he had the expected injury hurdles. In the end he indeed changed uniforms often. But who cares?
Tiger Stadium saw its final game in September of 1999. The post-game festivities had former stars run to their former positions. Horton got a tremendous ovation. He had played 15 seasons with Detroit and socked 262 homers with the team.
The little kid from the streets of Detroit has had the idyllic American life. When you hear "Willie Horton," forget about that other guy.
Click on the link below to read my post about Jose Feliciano singing the National Anthem during the 1968 World Series.
http://ilovemorris73.blogspot.
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com
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