Detroit w/ Joe Sparma reached A.L. summit for '68

The Detroit Tigers were an interesting and competitive team through the 1960s. They got "their turn" winning the pennant in 1968. The baton got shared among four teams in the second half of the decade. The first half had been owned by the New York Yankees. The Bronx crew barely hung on to win in '64, then slid precipitously after that.
My Minnesota Twins had "their turn" winning the flag in '65. The '66 story had the Baltimore Orioles with newly acquired superstar Frank Robinson prevailing. Robinson came from Cincinnati and he won the triple crown. The trade for him went down in baseball annals as pretty one-sided.
The '67 story could drive yours truly to drink as my Twins were denied by the Red Sox in the last series. Maybe I acquired a permanent defeatist attitude. The passing years have calmed my feelings and I look with some affection and respect at the '67 Red Sox.
OK, now we're into 1968, unfortunately at the height of the Vietnam war tragedy, and for escapism we had big league ball in its "year of the pitcher." Boring? In hindsight we might well judge it as such. In our current times with an ever-shorter attention span and expectation of gratification, such a season might spell disaster. Or more precisely, apathy. A kitchen employee character in the movie "Bobby" about the assassination of RFK, covets his ticket to see Don Drysdale try to extend his unscored-upon streak.
If pitching is going to dominate, well then let's celebrate pitchers. We did our best with this fixation as we watched the zeros get rolled out on the scoreboard. I remember a headline from my simulation game hobbyist magazine: "Goose Egg Deluge!" The headline was not intended as a dig at MLB of the time.
So when we watched Denny McLain of Detroit seize the situation with his pitching arm, we were fascinated and not bored. Time after time Mr. McLain went out to the mound and wowed fans. His wins became like the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves. He won 31.

A different stance toward pitchers
It was the age before pitch counts, when a starting pitcher who was "in the groove" got the green light to finish such games and rack up a "complete game" victory (CG). Today a pitcher might get removed after the seventh inning even if he has a no-hitter going. The preferred system? It's the latter as it facilitates pitchers having a longer career.
McLain and Mickey Lolich were the pitching cogs with the world champion Detroit Tigers of 1968. Detroit was marked by riots in summer. The counterculture was brewing among the youth. Skepticism about the war was going to reach a fever pitch. Our summer of 2020 has had its own incendiary nature. So history rhymes?
Lyndon Johnson was still president through the '68 baseball season. The election of '68 would have Richard Nixon making his big comeback. You'll probably recall that Nixon said to the press in '62: "You won't have Nixon to kick around any more." Volatile is the nature of politics.
I was 13 years old for the '68 summer. A boy's baseball memories from that age remain uniquely placed in his mind. A boy age 13 has so few sources of real self-esteem, that gravitating to the world of big league ball is an understandable urge, an escape. Oh my. It was such for me.
My Minnesota Twins were hurt in '68 by a void at shortstop, caused by the departure of original Twin, the once beloved Zoilo Versalles. Versalles got hurt some but basically struggled with managing his body and health. Ballplayers can be felled before their time in any number of ways. The Twins had a combo of players tested at shortstop: not a solution. So we acquired Leo Cardenas for the '69 season and beyond. I have written that Cardenas was the most underrated Twin ever. He played the most important position on the diamond outside of pitcher.
In '69 the Orioles flourished again with Frank Robinson doing boffo. They beat my Twins in the first-ever divisional playoffs (three games, ugh).

The '68 Tigers with Joe Sparma
Who did Detroit have on the mound beyond McLain and Lolich? Well, they had Joe Sparma for one, an interesting story. It's interesting because this guy was a multi-sport star who was attached to football for a long time. He was Big 10-caliber at the quarterback position. Not only that, he played under the famous and notorious Woody Hayes.

Woody Hayes

You might say it's a sad story how Sparma came to play under Hayes. How so? Sparma's stock in trade was passing the football in a time when running was the bulwark. Remember the cliche "establish the running game?"
Hayes recruited Sparma after the latter's terrific career with the Masillon OH Tigers. Hayes had a bias toward running the ball. Speaking of cliches, there's the one about how three things can happen when you pass, two of them bad. I remember Bud Grant subscribing to that. You couldn't argue with success, and Hayes had his heyday before crashing and burning with the "punching" incident. I was watching live when the crusty old coach punched a Clemson player who intercepted a pass - there's one of the "bad things" that can happen.
Woody liked "three yards and a cloud of dust." A lot of us young fans did not. So along with baseball's "year of the pitcher" in '68, we got a diet of big-time football too strongly oriented to the run. Odd.
Hayes turned on his salesmanship skills with Sparma and got the lad to commit to OSU. But, was Hayes' resolve only because he didn't want Sparma playing against him? Passing against him? Quite the theory and likely valid. Is this why Sparma and Hayes ultimately did not "click?" It really didn't take long.  Sparma was off the reservation by his sophomore year. But the relentless Hayes turned on the salesmanship again: Sparma stayed a Buckeye in his junior year.
But there was no patching up the matter. Sparma's baseball talent was such, he had a way to escape to the diamond. He inked his contract with the Tigers in '63. By '65 he was in the starting rotation and fashioned a 13-8 record while striking out 127! His fastball got up to 98 MPH! He got a start for "Mickey Mantle Day" in New York. He introduced himself to the man of honor when the latter was coming to bat. He mentioned to Mickey what an admirer he was. Then he struck out the legend.
 
High point in pennant year
The highlight of Sparma's career was probably in the pennant campaign of '68: he pitched a complete game win vs. the Yankees to wrap up the flag. His career wound down in 1970. He was traded to the new Montreal Expos and lasted just a short time.
Sparma could not match the steadiness of McLain and Lolich. He could be effective but was also wild with his deliveries and had problems getting focused properly. Many are called, few are chosen for the superstar circle of big league ball. He couldn't quite make the grade for that. But at his best he could be boffo.
Woody Hayes? By the time of the infamous "throwing a punch" game, college football had taken on more of a personality of throwing the football. Rules changes/tweaks? Probably, so old man Hayes had to take notice and adjust. Maybe he had assistants who took the lead with that, 'cause it was hard to imagine Woody mapping out a true passing game. But in the "throwing the punch" year, the Buckeyes had Art Schlichter slinging the football, who was not to be denied with the aerial game.
So it was a Schlichter pass that got picked off by the Clemson player and set the stage for Woody delivering that pathetic punch, what I noticed instantly. My father and I were watching TV. It appeared the announcers in the booth were reluctant to say anything about it. But I said to my dad: "Hey, he punched the guy." It was visible but it was in the "scrum" of humanity along the sideline.
Hayes had become an outsized coach at OSU. Then we saw Bobby Knight in a like role with Indiana basketball. And then, elderly Joe Paterno at Penn State, probably the most depressing exhibit of them all. Paterno probably fought to keep his job because he was afraid of what would be discovered if he left.
Proper standards of behavior are upheld in our contemporary times, for the better to be sure. Schlichter ended up a celebrated wreck but he was likely also a victim of the game: 18 diagnosed concussions. These athletes get drawn into the game when young, before they develop prudent judgment. They succeed, they draw waves of cheers, and how can they turn back? Last I checked, Schlichter was in prison and nursing dementia and Parkinson's.
 
And, Sparma's judgment?
We can only wonder how good a quarterback Sparma could have been, had he not caved to Woody's intense recruiting. We may have seen the young man in the NFL. But then, someone else would have had to pitch the pennant-clinching game for the Detroit Tigers in 1968.
Sparma left this life way too soon, in 1986 at age 44 after a heart attack and heart bypass surgery. He is in the Massillon OH Wall of Champions. Joe Sparma, RIP. You kept your nose clean, unlike Denny McLain.
 
As a supplement to this post, I invite you to click on the link below for a podcast episode that shares further about the Tigers' 1968 success. I recite from the Roger Angell book "The Summer Game."
https://anchor.fm/brian-williams596/episodes/Detroit-Tigers-year-of-triumph-1968-eg3h6p

- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Wear your nightgown in heaven, Loretta Young

What was television going to do to Hollywood? Such was the question nervously raised out West as the glowing small screen gained its footing. What was the entertainment industry to make of this compact but accessible entertainment medium, right in one's living room? Early-on the speculation was no doubt difficult. The evolution of online would have been hard to predict at the outset. Creation of the medium is really just the first baby step.
Would Hollywood stars dare put their toe in the water and depart from their gravy train of the "big screen?" There are always enterprising souls willing to do such a thing. Let's consider the cliche "think outside the box." While overused, it's most apt describing the approach of people like the late Loretta Young.
Young was surely on the standard Hollywood gravy train. She won the Academy Award for Best Actress in "The Farmer's Daughter," a 1947 production. Post-WWII affluence was swelling. Technology performed one of its periodic miracles as it brought "moving pictures" right into our homes. My home was in St. Paul MN: my preschool years of 1955-60. We were affluent enough to have a TV. It had a maroon-colored cabinet. I was entranced as surely my whole generation of boomers was.
The effect on us was probably not gauged well enough by our parents. Our parents were so thankful that the Depression and WWII were behind them, they just viewed with bemused fascination this new device called a "TV." They could compartmentalize, to separate the put-on world of TV from the greater reality. They were more capable than us kids of treating TV as an idle curiosity, not something to really take to heart.
A cultural observer has noted that the boomers were the first generation to be "marketed to." Let's not underestimate this. TV was the all-powerful conduit. The entertainment programming was shaped by how well it could complement advertising messages. Certain "memes" had to get traction. Us kids, not being stupid, developed a rather hard edge of cynicism as we could surely look past the veneer of innocence and see the marketing. As evidence of this, I need only to cite Mad Magazine.
The same cultural observer - I'll note that he wrote the book "The End of Victory Culture" - pointed to the massive irony of us kids wanting to poke fun at the very symbols of affluence that our parents had given us. If you wish to lecture on "being spoiled," go ahead.
 
Thinking on your feet, yes
Young was the consummate professional who had no qualms seeking to adapt. TV? It was an opportunity, plain and simple. Learn the ropes. Learn the craft. A new frontier awaits, like what we saw with the unveiling of digital. Which change was more profound? The dawn of TV or the dawn of the Internet? They were most surely different.
The Internet fragments and expands in never-ending directions. While far-reaching, it can be complicated to a degree that can limit enthusiasm. TV in our homes was surely a miracle and partly because of simplicity: there was an on-off button and channel selector (knob). Tech challenges were essentially nil. Remember the "vert" and "horiz" buttons? That's about as complicated as it got. "TV sets" as we called them could break down like anything. But the basic operating modes could be handled by children.
And unlike online where content restrictions are so futile - porn actually flourishes - TV over its first several decades could be kept in quite rigid constraints. You might say laughably rigid. Wasn't that amazing? I suppose it was pressure from advertisers to keep entertainment wholesome lest the pillars of our society dissolve? Well, what's happening now?
I remember Loretta Young vividly from the '50s. I was born midway through the decade. Her dramatic anthology series had been on for two years already. These were the times as depicted in the great movie "My Favorite Year." We see all the spontaneity and experimentation that characterized the early heady days of the medium. So far from the "stuffiness" and rigid norms of Hollywood. Young had surely been groomed in the "big screen" template. She was a child star in silent films. She took on the name "Loretta Young" for her 1928 performance in "The Whip Woman" (wow).
Speaking of templates, Young fell into the one of Hollywood stars with less than stable family/married lives. As a kid I would have been turned off to know that. What I didn't know wasn't going to hurt me, I guess. I just saw this magnificently glamorous woman beaming from the TV screen. Without a doubt she "connected." Seeing re-runs years later, her anthology show almost seemed to have a surreal quality. It seemed directionless much of the time, as if the producers were simply mesmerized by doing TV. "Hey, people will be watching this in their living rooms." Mercy.
 
Young's signature entrance, attire
The Young show started out as "Letter to Loretta" and later became "The Loretta Young Show." Oh, I remember her trademark entrance! A kid from that time could not forget: Loretta coming through a living room door in high-fashion evening gowns! We saw her again at the end of the episode where she might recite a Bible verse or famous quote.
Young came to realize that her "nightgown" entrances were going to become dated. So strongly did she feel concern about this, she took legal action to keep the intro's and concluding segments from re-appearing years later.
What a shame: my generation saw that footage as defining - why the concern? Well, I'm reminded of Tom Selleck of all people, but let me explain: "Fox and Friends" did a segment a while back that had reason to show a brief scene from Selleck's "Magnum P.I." The problem? Then-sex symbol Selleck was wearing very tight-fitting shorts! It was totally in fashion when current. I remember wearing genitals-restricting clothing myself from the time - ouch! - and the "Fox and Friends" cast found actual amusement in the old clip. Today, clothes can be loose as heck and nobody cares. Great new reality, eh?
As for Loretta's nightgown, my who'd really care? Today Selleck does commercials for "reverse mortgages" aimed at seniors!

Co-star crossed quite the line
Young has two stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, one for her TV pursuits and the other for motion pictures. A review of her unsteady personal life won't be shared in full here - too involved - but let's not overlook the notoriety or scandal of her tortured pregnancy with Clark Gable! Young and Gable had starred together in the 1935 "Call of the Wild," a new version of which came to theaters a year or so ago (with CGI for the dog in fact). Well, the '35 version was less sophisticated but it was surely a vehicle for Young and Gable. And not only that, Young became pregnant by Gable during filming.
Young was 22 years old, Gable 34! Gable was married. Get what I mean about Hollywood types and notoriety? Today, Young would assuredly have Gable over a barrel. Instead she was a trooper and decided to protect both their careers. She chose to hide the pregnancy. The child would be presented as adopted. Young went on "vacation" as the pregnancy advanced. She gave birth to daughter Judith on November 6, 1935. Judith went into an orphanage as the ruse continued. There she was for 19 months, then she emerged as "adopted," and when Young married Tom Lewis, Judith took the "Lewis" last name.
Hollywood was not fooled - the truth was generally known. Young would claim at age 85 that Gable raped her. She apparently needed a revelation from the unlikely vehicle of Larry King's talk show! It was about date rape. Hollywood performers years earlier must have been naive, or Young certainly was. A discussion on King's show made her circumstances seem clear to Young. She previously felt guilty about her failure to fend off Gable's advances. Seems absurd but maybe not for a less-enlightened time.
Ah, there's a million stories in the naked city.
Us kids could not have dreamt of such human failings and scandal as we sat transfixed in front of our TV sets. The Loretta Young show opened our eyes to the new medium and was only a preview of the universe of offerings to come.
Loretta Young, RIP. She left us in 2000. Wear your nightgown in heaven, Loretta. It looks super on you.
 
As a supplement to this blog post, I have a podcast available for you to listen to. It delves into TV of a bygone time, the days when Loretta Young and others developed the medium. The episode is on my "Morris Mojo" podcast. Thanks so much for reading and listening. Here's the podcast link:
https://anchor.fm/brian-williams596/episodes/A-complement-to-my-blog-post-about-Loretta-Young--old-TV-efsp5i
 
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Fishing? Not my raison d'etre but it's a nice escape

Dad and I once fished for bullheads on Pomme de Terre Lake

Huckleberry Finn would be proud of the surge of interest in fishing. The Mark Twain character much preferred this activity over going to school. It is a fact we're seeing an uptick in fishing. As an escape outlet this activity has merit. It was never my cup of tea but that's just me.
My father made commendable attempts to get me interested. We sought panfish and northern pike on Pelican Lake near Brainerd. That's the lake where Breezy Point is located. It is prime for the whole array of recreational pursuits. We are not so fortunate in Stevens County, though we do have bodies of water here. You're never far from bodies of water in Minnesota.
We could use some clarity with lake names in the Morris area. The body of water by the dam once had a distinct name: "Lake Chrissey." It was named for a state lawmaker who must have done some effective things. But the name did not stick. It's sad to recognize that the body of water isn't quite big enough to be recognized as a real lake. A wide spot on the river? Officially it's referred to as the Pomme de Terre reservoir. Nothing romantic about that. I have suggested just pounding a simple sign into the ground reminding of "Lake Chrissey," but as is typical with my suggestions, no receptiveness.
I have suggested we at least start some whispering about planning for the Morris Sesquicentennial which would be in 2021. That's next year, knaves! I would expect some sort of committee to get going, at least. A bad omen was the near-death of Prairie Pioneer Days, first moved to the fall and then reduced to one day. I must congratulate Rae Yost, former newspaper editor, on her cute way of acknowledging the one-day format: "Let's call it Prairie Pioneer DAY." Had I written that, I'd be accused of taking a snarky sort of potshot at community leaders. Of course, if the shoe fits. . .
A precise fit of the shoe never gave yours truly enough cover for incisive journalism. "Oh, is that what you did," my old critics would say, people who criticized virtually everything I did all day, so as to ensure my ideas wouldn't gain currency.
I have suggested in the past that lake names be adjusted for greater clarity, because at present we have Pomme de Terre City Park along with the Pomme de Terre Lake chain several miles north of Morris. You could live in Morris quite a while and not even be aware of the Pomme de Terre Lake chain. It's not real visible from Highway 59 North (going toward Barrett). These lakes are big enough to be considered true lakes. As a child I took swim lessons there. Also, the present-day Pomme de Terre City Park (once a state park) had a diving raft in front of the main shelter. The shelter building is looking worn down - might be nice to replace. No chance of any swimming on any of the wide parts of the river now.
 
A past asset, defunct
Morris history should never overlook the years we had the "earthen pool" at the city park. It had a heyday when it was genuinely popular. Actual lifeguards worked there. They had to clear the pool for taking a break. They'd yell at you if you "got on the dike." A young child did die out there, which might have been a factor in its fading. Today that spot is a swampy little body of water just to the north of the shelter. On a hot July day that place could really be hopping, take my word.
Where does one go for outdoor swimming in the Morris area now? We can't all pile into Judge Keith Davison's place (LOL).
The Pomme de Terre Lake chain north of Morris is technically three lakes but it seems more like two. Back in the days when the water was more friendly for recreational use, it was a hotspot for summer fun and even had a pavilion/roller rink. Some married couples first met there. Over the years the water became more foul.
As a kid I swam once in Page Lake by Hancock. There actually were a large number of kids there that day. Was I in the minority for getting bad "lake itch?" Because I surely got it - never went back.

It's "Perkins Lake" on official maps. See at library.

The main lake of the Pomme de Terre chain is identified as "Perkins Lake" on official maps. Strange, because I was taught to call it "Pomme de Terre Lake," and the welcome sign at the access has that name. I haven't been out there for some time and assume the sign is still there. I used to take an occasional long bike ride to the access and return home using the state highway shoulder (especially if the wind was at my back). Then, because of concerns about distracted driving, I stopped riding bike on state highway shoulders completely. With a good strong wind it was exhilarating to ride bike back home!
Lots of residential development along Highway 59 North and it's spread out. Lots of nice places to live. Wintermute Lake is not visible from the highway. If you want to go see it, you'll end up at a dead end in the yard of Roger and Carol McCannon! You'll probably feel momentarily embarrassed by that. Roger told me the narrow winding road that goes out there is not a problem for winter travel because the surrounding forest discourages drifting snow. That's a highly historic spot in Morris annals: where the Wadsworth Trail meandered through in the pre-railroad days. The old "Gager Station" site is private property.
Wadsworth Trail is commemorated by a plaque at East Side Park in Morris.
 
Did Les Kouba ever paint bullheads?
My dad took me bullhead fishing on Pomme de Terre (or Perkins) Lake when I was a kid.
When I began asking about the contradiction of "Pomme de Terre Lake" vs. "Perkins," the answer was always the same: "The Perkins name was important out there." I don't doubt that at all. But the point I make is: there should be one accepted name of the lake. But again, I doubt my words carry weight, just like my hints about the Sesquicentennial for 2021 are probably futile. Because after all, this is Morris MN, home of a sort of zombie consciousness. Strange. Do we have a Chamber of Commerce?
The current surge in fishing interest is noted in a St. Paul Pioneer Press article by Dave Orrick: "Amid a global pandemic, economic recession and profound racial tension in the summer before a heated election season, Minnesotans are going fishing in numbers not seen in decades."

Addendum: Judge Davison of the pool has some notoriety in his background which might now be appreciated with the news that Calvin Griffith's statue has been removed. But I will elaborate no further on that. It's really a generational issue, the argument goes, but the argument faces much more of an uphill battle now, to say the least.

 

Addendum #2: I once wrote a song called "Fishing Anthem." I suppose it has some cute aspects but on the whole it didn't really hit the bullseye. Sometimes a songwriter gets into songs like that, and we work real hard to finish it even though we realize it isn't going anywhere. I would suggest that in order to write some good songs, you must toil at completing some off-the-mark ones too. It's just an instinct. My song has a touch of misogyny, even more unforgivable now than when I first wrote it. Let history record that I finished the song called "Fishing Anthem" and here is it, drum roll please. Happy fishing. (You won't see me there.)

"Fishing Anthem"
by Brian Williams

Way back in January
I felt so all alone
My wife just yawned and moseyed on
And left me on the dole
In June I was drifting
Bereft of all romance
I said thank God for the fishing rod
That He put in my hands

In fall my car sputtered
Just when the funds were low
I had to fret with college debt
For classes long ago
The snows of December
Just made things cold as hell
I had my spear and sipped a beer
Within my fishhouse realm

BRIDGE:
I feel joy when I wet a line
I could live in a fishhouse fine

In spring I was happy
To walk through nature's door
The flowing streams and eagle's screams
Were nectar for my soul
I practiced my casting
Until I was a whiz
I could just troll until I'm old
As if I were a kid

(instrumental break)

(repeat bridge)

My year was a story
Of landing on my feet
The money's gone but life goes on
Beneath God's canopy
When I go to heaven
I know one thing for sure
The only thing I need to bring
Is all my fishing lures


Peace, June 2020 - Brian R. Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

This rustic winding road takes you to Wintermute Lake, off Highway 59 North.

Shocked by no sports? We had to accept it

The "No Filter Sports" podcast team out of Detroit MI. It's boss!

A sociologist might have a field day with this: sports completely vanishes. Such has been the recent reality. Who could imagine? Is this like being denied oxygen? Is there any hope for so many of us?
The thought of no sports pre-pandemic would have made us shake heads, as if we'd all die some sort of spiritual death. Funny how circumstances just make us adjust. When we have to change, we simply do. Just like when the Depression came along to afflict people so long ago. The circumstances happen and then what options do we have? If there are some, we deal with the new reality.
Seems that sports fans have not required any special therapy since the pandemic came about. The pandemic waits for no one. It is neither Republican nor Democrat, neither red state nor blue state. The Trump backers can vent against Dr. Fauci but toward what end? No one is "hyping" or "selling" the pandemic, as we see indisputable statistics right along about how the crisis is anything but over. I suspect Dr. Fauci feels profoundly hurt, convinced as he is from deep in his bosom that he is clearly, unmistakably a scientist who merely wants to use his expertise to help humanity. Should really be as plain as the nose on your face.
His partner for the farcical "daily White House updates," Dr. Birx, had to sit there and show deference to the president as he rambled totally nonsensically about putting ultraviolet lights in bodies and ingesting disinfectants, e.g. Clorox. She could have made a bid to be a hero, demanding the floor or the microphone immediately even at the risk of having to shove aside or talk over the president. Instead she had feet of clay, was afraid of the president because of his power, an asset he definitely has and definitely relishes. She could have spoken up using coarse words, saying to the president that he must be out of his mind or full of s--t. I mean, why not?
Fauci and Birx ended up appearing compromised. This was to the extent that an objective-seeming news report described Dr. Birx as the "once respected" Dr. Birx. She behaved like she wanted to mollify Trump. She appeased. And someday if the U.S. survives and returns to something approximating its normal state, she and others who are now under Trump's thumb will plead that they had no choice but to be restrained, while at the same time their private thoughts would have been right on the bullseye with an unflattering portrayal of the president. "Unflattering" puts it mildly. See? Even yours truly feels the pull, submission perhaps, to be deferential. "Hey, he's the president."
Reminds me of the time when Jimmy Carter - our nation turns its lonely eyes to you, Mr. Humble Peanut Farmer - related about the snarling rabbit swimming toward his boat in a swamp once. Struck me as bizarre and unreal. So I shared this thought with a friend and wondered why the attending media didn't react with like befuddlement. "Well, they probably thought 'he's the president,' " my friend responded.
Maybe such rabbits are to be expected in the Deep South swamps, lagoons or whatever. The cottontails in my back yard seem entirely friendly. Sometimes I imagine having a conversation with them. It's benign, no need for a psychologist's attention.
But psychologists in addition to sociologists might wish to take notes in a time when sports fans have had the rug totally pulled out from under them. I don't normally check the ESPN or Fox Sports North channels so I don't know how they're adjusting. Or, holy cow, my preferred sports podcast coming out of Detroit and including the legendary Denny McLain - it's called "No Filter Sports." Such an insatiable appetite for hashing over sports from all over, sports in the present and sports of the past.
How can sports journalists expect compensation for their work now? But you can actually ask that question of a wide array of professionals like school employees who certainly aren't working as hard as they normally would (though many would claim they are, but that's human nature).
Yesterday (Wednesday) I took a walk on a route that went past the UMM softball diamonds. I saw vehicles parked along the road there. I say "vehicles" and not "cars" because such a high percentage aren't really cars any more, they are more heavy-duty. I still drive a "car," so I can't show off 4-wheel drive for anyone. Vehicles parked at that location means only one thing: Little League practice! Boy, that's a real sign that people want normalcy back in our lives.
Sure enough I saw the typical sight of Little League youngsters and their coaches going through their routines. Some of the coaches look like they aren't in very good shape, would have a hard time tucking in their shirts. But anyway, we laud the commitment to healthy summer recreation. If the coaches don't get healthier doing this, we surely hope the kids do.
And, I strongly feel the kids would be healthier if they played soccer. If it's time for change, let's look at change on all fronts.
Don't get your hopes up too much: there could be a second wave of the pandemic this coming fall that would force an even bigger shutdown than the first. Dr. Fauci and Dr. Birx would not dispute that. But they seem largely muted now. Fauci, when asked to comment about the wisdom of having the big Trump rally in Tulsa, said "no comment." Why? So much fear. Isn't such fear a big reason why Adolf Hitler ascended to power and then consolidated it?
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Whitey Ford sailed through era of no pitch counts

"Moneyball" taught us the backward nature of baseball thinking in an earlier time. While accurate, the movie "cheated" a little by not reminding us of the corps of excellent starting pitchers sported by Billy Beane's 2002 team.
The movie was accurate in how Beane and his brainy assistant played the percentages with players retrieved off sort of a scrap heap. "Island of Misfit Toys" is how the assistant termed it.
Beane leaned unconventional, at one point telling his players to discard base-stealing and sacrifice bunt strategy. The levers pulled by Beane and the young right-hand man (in his "first job of any kind") had the desired effect. Hollywood does exaggerate though. It over-dramatizes. It builds myths. And while it's not myth that the avant garde minds of the Oakland duo brought fruit, the starting pitching was a cog not given its due on the big screen. Consider Barry Zito, Mark Mulder and Tim Hudson. Wasn't Zito the guy who proved that the radar gun wasn't everything?
So, the subject is pitching. "Analytics" was an alien word to the ears of the old-time baseball men. It would seem that "pitch count" was from a foreign vocabulary too. What a contrast between eras!
The new conventional wisdom is not a slam-dunk. The reasonable limits on a pitching arm might seem totally affirmed. There is undeniable wisdom and science. Seeking success is a proposition that can be accompanied by risk, though. Certain pitchers can "blow through" the limits. Some observers think caution ought not always rule. Athletes have a shelf life anyway, don't they?
 
Delicate, important craft
Pitching imposes such incredible demands on just one part of the body. Many big league pitchers came and went in rather fleeting fashion when I was young. It could be heartbreaking for emotionally-invested fans. My generation of boys could live and die with the Minnesota Twins. How much potential success did the Twins jettison by over-working certain pitchers at key junctures? Jim Kaat in 1967. Kaat suffered but did not disappear after '67. He had a miraculous resurgence with the Chicago White Sox in the mid-1970s. Prior to that he went through what one writer called a "dead arm" period. Many other pitchers I can recall from all over the big leagues just faded out of the picture after apparent arm overwork.
We can almost assume that any big leaguer was a superstar in youth ball. Little Leaguers begin at age nine. Guys with the prime talent are so often assigned pitching. They relish the role and are tempted to show their prowess often. Their coaches want to win!
It's hard for these kids to rest properly when they're being treated like superstars. Or, like "gods" which was the term used by Gene Hackman as "Norman Dale" in the movie "Hoosiers." Remember the little back-and-forth he had in the school with Barbara Hershey? Is it unhealthy for a boy to be treated as a god due to sports prowess? So easy to suggest "yes" but Hackman (Dale) demurred, saying many people would "kill" to be afforded such status for a fleeting time.
There are exceptions to every norm or standard pattern, so in the case of Baltimore pitcher Dick Hall, we're looking at a guy who didn't pitch until age 16. A boon for him? Almost certainly, as he became the oldest player on any big league roster in 1970 and '71. He was a side-armer.
 
Pitching hero in pinstripes
Now let's move on to Whitey Ford. Ford was one of those pitchers whose resilience and longevity helped him get in the Hall of Fame. No head-scratcher as to how he might have achieved those qualities. He didn't play organized baseball until age 13.
Sometimes I think that "starting young" is overrated for athletes especially those in narrow specialties. Pitching is one, distance-running is another. Running imposes stress on a limited number of body parts. Pitching is the same with the arm. Injuries loom.
Ford finished the eighth grade in 1942. His local school didn't have a baseball team. So he enrolled in a specialty school (aviation) which was an hour ride from his home in Queens, NYC. Ford took up the first base position. He was in fact a terror with the bat. He began pitching for his high school team when he was a junior! I guess you could say the rest is history. He became what writers of the time called a "graybeard." Kid fans like me retained an image of those guys as forever older!
Ford and Mickey Mantle were bosom buddies. They may have complained about Jim Bouton's book "Ball Four" because it told about the drinking peccadillo. But in the aftermath of the notorious book, the two had no problem doing one of those Lite Beer commercials - an institution back in the day - in which they proclaimed they were in the "beer drinkers hall of fame." Bouton himself was amused by that. Remember that social drinking was mainstream then. We found amusing the images of excessive drinking, an attitude so contrary (fortunately) to today. People got bored in those days (no Internet).
Not only was Ford's pitching arm spared the overwork that could have come prematurely, he had a stint in the armed forces too. He completely missed the 1951 and '52 seasons.

Getting back to my Minnesota Twins, we remember in addition to Jim Kaat: Dave Boswell, a superlative hurler who should have been entering his prime, throwing out his arm in a 1969 divisional playoff game vs. the Orioles which we lost anyway. Boswell struck out Frank Robinson on a slider and his arm instantly went bad. He said it changed color.
We also saw Dean Chance fade away when the great righthander held out before '69, proceeded to rush his body into shape and hurt his shoulder. Boswell and Chance were little more than footnotes after their misfortune.
And as for Kaat, his surprising resurgence didn't happen until he was with the White Sox. And that was with an unconventional style, of throwing pitches as rapidly as the batters would let him, remember? The Twins were hurt by morale problems in the late 1960s. Had they just focused on winning instead of their cliques and the curmudgeonly owner Calvin Griffith, they'd all be better financially endowed. The memorabilia shows were on their way!
One wonders how a healthy triumvirate of Kaat, Boswell and Chance could have brought us glory in 1970 and maybe longer. Baseball is all about dreams I guess, at least for the fans. For the players it can be a pretty gritty and even dangerous proposition.
Ford had bouts of shoulder soreness even with his well-preserved body. Let's fast-forward to April 22 of 1959, a rare season when the Yankees did not win the pennant. Ford shut out the Griffith-owned Washington Senators for 14 innings! Fourteen innings! Lordy Lordy. The pitch count apparently wasn't even a glimmer in anyone's eye yet. Oh, the Yankees won 1-0. Ford struck out 15, he only allowed seven hits and no Senator reached third base (and only three reached second). Ford found some elbow problems cropping up after that. No kidding! Fortunately he rebounded to resume his Hall of Fame course.
So many pitchers were not as fortunate. Probably the most resilient pitcher ever was Gaylord Perry - phenomenal body.

The "what if" of 1960 Series
The 1960 story for Ford and the Yankees was highly dramatic. They were back to the World Series and probably should have won it. It went seven games and went to the Pittsburgh Pirates. Game 7 was wild. Ford probably should have pitched Game 7. However, manager Casey Stengel had waited until Game 3 to send the star southpaw out to the mound. Stengel wanted to utilize Ford at the spacious Yankee Stadium rather than Pittsburgh's Forbes Field.
Ford pitched Games 3 and 6. Had he pitched the opener, he could have stretched his pitching to three games. To change history? Who knows. Instead we got the Bill Mazeroski homer for the Pirates at the very end. Five Yankee pitchers gave up ten runs in Game 7. Stengel moseyed on from his manager role. New manager Ralph Houk asked Ford if he'd like to pitch every fourth day rather than fifth. Ford was game for the idea. His arm had enough miles left in it. So Ford blossomed greatly in the season that saw Mantle and Roger Maris in their epic pursuit of Babe Ruth's home run record. Maris beat it. We see it all in the Billy Crystal movie called "61*" with asterisk intended.
We learn early in the movie that Ford was called "The Chairman of the Board." Actor Anthony Michael Hall played him. We see Ford acting perturbed at Mantle's drinking, sort of. But the routine acceptance of alcohol consumption at the time - really - was such that the disgust is really just feigned, and the guys basically laugh. Ford peels out cash to appease people hurt by Mantle's habit.
The names of Dean Chance and Jim Bouton have appeared in this post. And what a coincidence, as yours truly can report that these two hurlers once matched shutout pitching for 13 innings - egad! - in a game at Los Angeles. The date was June 6,1964. Imagine those franchises being so careless with their athletic assets: to let these pitchers go 13 innings!
There are still some mixed thoughts on the subject - for example Bert Blyleven has been known to say a pitcher is sharper when logging a fair number of innings. A pitcher "gets into the zone" or whatever. But the other side of the coin, overwork, spells sadness so often. Again, if my Twins could have had Chance, Kaat and Boswell together as a prolonged nucleus, oh my! But so much of baseball is fodder for the "what might have beens," like Ford pitching Game 7 of the '60 Series.
On and on we hash these things over. Toward what end? Does it even bring us happiness?
Yes, Billy Beane of Oakland was a cutting edge thinker with his assistant - "The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes," to borrow the name of an old Walt Disney movie - in 2002, assuredly, but the starting pitching was unheralded in the movie.
Our Twins manager Sam Mele once said after a superbly-pitched game: "That kind of pitching makes this job a pipe." And yes, for Art Howe that luxury was most forthcoming. Say what you want about the "Island of misfit toys," the A's had assets that were anything but a trade secret! Nevertheless, congrats is afforded all winners!
 
Addendum: I remember being at Faith Lutheran Church in Morris MN with my camera for the newspaper when the Twins happened to be finishing off Oakland in the 2002 A.L. playoff series. I remember photographing a young person with a pillow over her eyes, so nervous were all of us watching TV at the end of the game. It was a charming photo. I shared the happiness. But had I known Oakland would gain mythic proportions with "moneyball," I would have rooted for Oakland!
 
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Joan Gabel setting stage for resumption of U activity

Joan Gabel, University of Minnesota president

This isn't what Joan Gabel signed up for. The new University of Minnesota president would like to be expanding horizons. Surely that's the ideal of those in her profession, what it's all about. The talk now, quite in contrast, is to preserve, to minimize damage, maybe even to buy time? Yes, buy time by achieving some semblance of normal practice until crisis-type circumstances pass.
The virus came along in such a disconcerting way for all of us. It's still such a new wrinkle in our lives, the full ramifications may not yet have sunk in. In the short term we just do what we have to. We then try to put sort of a gloss on it. Surely a gloss of optimism at least. What if the facts as they roll out just counter our notions toward optimism?
The word "crisis" gets tossed around. The ubiquity of such terms dulls their import. A spokesman from the financial world is imploring for negative interest rates because we're in "an unprecedented crisis." Oh, that's rich. We were told of an "unprecedented crisis" in 2008 when the excrement hit the fan then. The 2008 "financial crisis" was not an act of God. Iceland had some female leaders at the top of government who put the criminal bankers in jail. That didn't happen here.
We can be so clueless here in the U.S. Why? The almost daily deluge of reports on Donald Trump's sheer stupidity rolls on. Watching the cable news channels comes off now as dull amusement. If all these reports don't induce corrections or resolutions, then it's just sort of a cacophony: background noise.
The futility of watching cable news grows on me more with each day - it's like the movie "Groundhog Day." I grew up with a national backdrop, taught to us by Andy Papke in civics class, of respectable, honorable and intelligent people, sensitive people, empathetic people leading us, and the norm persisted despite the differences tied to one's political party. Gerald Ford? He was the consummate gentleman. What would we call Donald Trump?
 
The U's plan of action
U of M President Gabel is recommending to the board of regents that the U resume in-person classes and reopen residence halls this fall. Also, she is suggesting that the various U campuses adjust the academic calendar so in-person instruction is concluded before Thanksgiving (for fall semester). Gabel even allows that state health inspectors might mandate that instruction be wrapped up earlier.
I imagine the various recommendations could potentially be contradicted by other sources of influence. Attorneys will have to weigh in, as they always must. Politicians will want normal life to resume as quickly as possible. Conflict on these matters looms. The biggest specter would be with the much-feared "second wave" of the virus.
Gabel says "we look forward to welcoming our new and returning students back to our campuses this fall." Of course she does. And what a wonderful scenario if this comes to pass. Gabel emphasizes there's "flexibility" in the current plans. The range of options would have to include the drastic and depressing stuff. We have already been dealt a blow.
I take walks east of Morris and observe the vast - yes vast - educational campus which also includes the K-12 school. Idle, expensive to manage I'm sure, and delivering such a negligible service now. "Remote" learning is just that: "remote." There's even concern that when a lot of idled facilities start up again, there's a risk of Legionnaires disease. We can't be sure of when all these facilities will return to any state that might approximate "normal."
The longer the campuses sit largely idle, the more the public will question the tax dollars paid to support them. Property taxes? Look out, man. Given that the Republican-controlled Federal government isn't likely to be helpful, stresses will mount considerably at the state and local levels. Mitch McConnell has talked about possibly "punishing" the blue states. What an absurd state our nation has fallen into.
The U is drawing up plans with consideration for social distancing. Good luck on that, man. Kids go to these campuses precisely to build a sense of community. The U talks about "sanitizing and cleaning efforts." Reminds me of a couple of the joke emails that have been sent around, accenting the futility and contradiction within all the cleanliness strategies. If you "wipe" something and miss a little spot, will that kill you? I suppose the risk for college kids isn't that they'll die, but they could bring the virus back home at Thanksgiving when they'll sit at the dinner table with grandma and grandpa.
The U says the use of masks will be "recommended." Not mandated. The masks would appear to kill off the whole music department. The U is addressing testing, isolation, quarantine and contact tracing. What an absolute mountain to climb.
Think about how big Gabel's job would be, even if the virus hadn't come along. Same with our Michelle Behr in Morris. Gabel is also having to deal with issues related to the U's relationship with the Minneapolis Police Department. Everything is in such a defensive mode. The idea is to preserve the precious asset that the U represents for Minnesota, to "buy time."
What will happen here in Morris? The hoped-for happy ending may not be forthcoming. And we have to wait until November for the next national election. And I'm not even sure the Democrats will make progress. Trump is announcing plans to resume his Nuremberg-type rallies. Can you imagine the amount of conflict that could now be fomented, based on the unrest of late? Morris is firmly implanted in "red" country. We should be fearful.
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Stowe, Floyd and the power of one person/incident

Morris is generally dormant in summer but today (Thursday) was supposed to be an exception. A sit-in was planned at the county courthouse. Obviously it would be in connection with all the activism in the wake of the Minneapolis incident. I think I can call it a murder incident.
I tend to be a police skeptic but one must wonder: How would any officer dare be assertive with an individual now, on the chance that person might have a sudden medical episode and die? Would you want to be tarred for the rest of your life? Jesse Ventura as governor made a statement about how police should be "courteous" with the public. The image of police as such grim people with guns perhaps needs tamping down. Maybe these individuals should be re-branded and re-developed as community builders. At least find some more moderate ground.
I expected the sit-in today to be pretty tame because heavens, we're not the big city, right? I wasn't expecting it to be combative at all. It's not in the fabric of Morris MN. So we acknowledge these "macro" upheavals but in a small town kind of way. I expected today's event to mirror the memorial event for Paul Wellstone that was held on the UMM campus. I would expect James Moore to speak. I remember him getting emotional for the Wellstone event. Seems like eons ago we lost Senator Wellstone.
Wellstone would be on the side of those demanding a redress of grievances now.
How much would it help if we had a president who could at least pretend he's a uniter? He could at least listen, the easiest thing in the world to do.
People say the verdict on Trump will be delivered in the November election. This was an argument against impeachment. November seems too far off now. What if it's dangerous for the U.S. to wait that long? And the election may not develop a clear verdict at all. He may again lose the popular vote but win the electoral college. Also, his Republican allies may use their considerable current power to suppress the vote with a bag of tricks they have worked to develop.
Worse than that, the power of the Trump crowd could bring a postponement of the election itself. The reason given for public consumption would be concern about the virus.
Who would have thought the virus would become a secondary story now? It has been pushed aside by "I can't breathe," coincidentally the same plea issued by Eric Garner. Now it's George Floyd being memorialized, all around the world really.
Fascinating how a single incident can inspire such a reaction. If Mr. Floyd is meandering about in heaven now - a better place to be sure - someone might say to him "so you're the dude that caused such a huge movement." And this would be the same as Abe Lincoln saying to Harriet Beecher Stowe "So you're the little woman who wrote the book that made this great war." (She wrote "Uncle Tom's Cabin.")
A single individual or single incident can become such a catalyst for unleashing latent forces or causes. The Minneapolis police made their bed, they can now sleep in it.
Based on all that's going on, I checked the "Indivisible Morris" Facebook page 'cause I felt something might be up - this is how I learned of the sit-in. I learned of it when it was scheduled for Tuesday. It was postponed. Weather was menacing in late morning although it didn't turn out that bad. I saw some very dark clouds rolling this way from the north. There was no onslaught by Mother Nature, though.
"Indivisible Morris" claimed that the sit-in was not their event per se. One could have gotten the impression it was. While I felt the event, had it been held, would be tame i.e. innocuous, maybe my perception wasn't so sharp. From a business friend of mine this morning: "I heard on the radio news this a.m. that the protest scheduled for today in Morris has been cancelled. The report said that some businesses were planning on being closed during that time in case of violence." 
Holy cow, really? Maybe the hard-edged sentiments are really reaching out this far. If this is the case, maybe some of the local Trump supporters could cool it at least for a while, with stuff like the flags and signs. Try to soft-pedal a little. I saw a Trump/Pence sign across the road from the soils lab to the east as I was finishing a walk this morning. I presume the sign is on Superior Industries property. Why might I be inclined to think Superior would be inclined to support Trump? Rhetorical question.
But the best outcome for our Morris MN is to be aware without going head-to-head with political division. The big issues of our society aren't going to be solved out here in Morris MN.
 
Music always applies
Yesterday was so full of the sensation of summer peace, I grabbed a pen and wrote a song about the current goings-on. At present I am not of a mood to have a song recorded. This is a time to be restrained. To be reflective and calm. And most of all, to just embrace all of our fellow man. If you plan on supporting Trump, keep in mind there's lots of talk that George W. Bush might endorse Joe Biden. The name of my song is "What Have We Learned?"
 

"What Have We Learned?"

by Brian Williams

 

What have we learned

Since Richmond burned

Since blue and gray went head-to-head

The smoke dissolved

We all resolved

To find our nationhood instead

 

We see today

Our union frayed

What should we tell our girls and boys?

That what we thought

Our progress brought

Is gone to ashes with George Floyd?

 

CHORUS:

What have we learned?

What have we learned?

If not the brotherhood of man

Our God implores

Right from his core

To learn a better way, we can

 

George was a gift

As all life is

There's no pretending to be pure

Those ups and downs

We all have found

Are just a given, that's for sure

 

He never dreamt

He'd make a dent

In news reporting of the day

Sometimes a spark

Commands the dark

And shows us all a whole new way

 

(repeat chorus)

 

What have we learned

To smash and burn

Like we are up against a wall?

If you are black

You are aghast

At how the system casts a pall

 

And there is Trump

Who likes to strut

When he could share a healing word

And though he was

A hopeless cause

We thought a miracle might work

 

(repeat chorus)

 

We see the news

Are not amused

To say the least we are distressed

Who could have thought

We'd see bad cops

In color on our TV sets

 

What have we learned

Since Detroit burned?

The year was 1968

There was a war

Such blood and gore

We got our asses out of it

 

(repeat chorus)

 

TAG-LINE AT END:

It's time for us to make a stand

 

- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

The "what might have been" w/ Pedro Ramos, '64

(wikipedia image)

David Halberstam applied a little too much symbolism to the 1964 baseball season. The late author wrote a book "October 1964." I read the whole thing and found it enriching enough. I would take issue, though, with the author asserting that the '64 World Series was all about "the old vs. the new." The Yankees were old in that model.
Leave it to a writer to think a little too much, to get a little too dramatic. As I recall, Halberstam saw the St. Louis Cardinals as being on the forward-looking end of things, more receptive to developing players of color for example. It's excruciating today to even remind how Neanderthal baseball could be. Yes, the Cardinals had noteworthy players of color, building blocks for their pennant to be sure. And yes, the Yankees had more of the "old" look, built to accentuate power more than speed.
So Halberstam felt there was poetic justice with St. Louis winning the Series. It looks dramatic in the rear-view mirror.
A writer assesses this with the luxury of distance from the combat on the field. Oh my, the Yankees could so easily have won the '64 Series. It went seven games. Let's employ a little hindsight to see how the Bronx crew might have pushed the odds a little more in their favor. And the exhibit I put forth here is Pedro Ramos.
Pedro Ramos! A name rich with nostalgia for fans of my Minnesota Twins. But that's not the focus for this piece - the focus is on his NYC pinstripes chapter. Had the Yankees taken No. 1 in 1964, it would have capped a stretch of dynastic success most nicely. Halberstam's thesis would be wiped out. It might have been wiped out if Ramos had been eligible to pitch in the World Series. I won't say "post-season" because that term implies more than one layer of playoffs. No, in 1961 we were still in a world where the pennant-winner from each league, only, got the nod to play after the 162 games.
 
Ragged edges showing
The Yankees were the class of the American League but they had challengers by this stage. "Class" is spelled by Mickey Mantle, Whitey Ford and others. But some seeds were being planted for decline. Bad trades were a factor, e.g. "Moose" Skowron for Stan Williams. Skowron haunted the Yanks as he helped the Dodgers beat the Yanks in the '63 Series.
Many things were starting to go awry with the Yankees even as their fans crossed fingers through the '64 season. Everyone laughed at the Phil Linz harmonica incident. The incident underscored the total mystique of the Yankees even as storm clouds were forming (or in the distance). Where else could something so trivial and silly end up in American folklore? These were the Yankees I loved as a kid, on a level separate from my true favorite Minnesota Twins in my home state.
The Yankees had mythic proportions. When Minnesota climbed past the Yankees in 1965, hopelessly East coast-oriented writer Roger Angell had to write a book chapter by emphasizing the New York City milieu. He could swear he heard the sound of the "elevated trains!" Well, what he really heard was jets which were commonplace in the skies above Metropolitan Stadium.

"The Cuban Cowboy" (SABR image)

Ramos, his stretch drive poise
The Yankees acquired Pedro Ramos in September of 1964. Prime time for the pennant run. He'd be tapped as reliever. The native of Cuba was 29 years old. Some called him "the Cuban Cowboy." And this cowboy surely helped the Bronx bombers wrap up the pennant for their slightly goofy manager Yogi Berra.
Ramos bore down to win one game and save eight more in the final 21 games.
It was Berra who asserted himself to make this acquisition, as Ralph Houk was reportedly hesitant. Legend has it the now-GM Houk was dispirited and felt the Yankees didn't really have a chance for the pennant at the time. Incredible. If Houk had been persuaded to pull the trigger on the deal in late August, when Berra first proposed it, hey, Ramos would be "in" for the World Series. What a twist of fate!
Halberstam might have had to go back to the drawing board. I thought he was a fine writer, just that he got a little carried away with interpretation. He had a tragic end to his life: an auto accident. He visited my alma mater of St. Cloud State University (MN) in the '70s when I was a student there. He wrote the significant book "The Best and the Brightest" about the Vietnam war. (Garry Trudeau of "Doonesbury" suggested a new book about the unraveling of Nixon: "The Worst and the Stupidest.")
While Halberstam could write about the most deadly serious topics, it was a nice relief for him to join the rest of us in baseball, often seen as a retreat place from things like the Vietnam war. It sure was for yours truly.
I remember being in my local Punt, Pass and Kick competition at the school fields as the P.A. announcer gave updates on a World Series game of 1964. I was nine years old. My Twins had been through an odd summer: tying for sixth in the A.L. even though we had basically the same cast as in our '65 year of triumph. My peers and I collected countless Topps baseball cards.
Ramos always rang a bell for us 'cause he had been an original Minnesota Twin. We did very well with the Cuban connections. Another exhibit was fellow pitcher Camilo Pascual.
Oh, the "what might have beens" if Berra could only have called "the Cuban Cowboy" out of the bullpen in the '64 Fall Classic! Plug that element in, the Yanks likely win. Take away a cringeworthy Bobby Richardson error - a player I loved - and the Yanks likely win. But there was no Steve Bartman LOL.
History enshrines the Cardinals as a special team for '64 with such dymanic players as Lou Brock, Curt Flood, Bill White and Bob Gibson, players of color all. Congrats to them. But I refuse to buy the "team of destiny" or "team of the future" appraisal. The World Series was quite appropriately a showdown of true juggernauts.
Houk had trouble with making deals after '64. Catcher Jake Gibbs, a college quarterback of note, wasn't scintillating with the catcher's mitt and in Jim Bouton's famous book "Ball Four," he stepped into ignominy in an anecdote: he ordered pie a la mode in a restaurant and asked the waitress to "put a little ice cream on it."

A "Peters Meats" card of Pedro Ramos as MN Twin

Charmed day for Twins in 1961
Ramos played for a virtual list of big league teams, both leagues, over his career of 15 years. Us Minnesota Twins fans must never forget him because he started on the hill in our first-ever game. Where? Well, it was at Yankee Stadium.
The Twins were new but we were not an expansion team, we were the former Washington (D.C.) Senators. Calvin Griffith brought the club here. Alas, he could not keep pace with where baseball was headed over the long-term future. But he deserves the statue outside our ballpark, his "Archie Bunker" image notwithstanding. We just had to understand that generation, right?
Ramos was one of only nine players to play for both the Griffith-owned Senators and the "new" Senators of post-1960. He was a good hitter as a pitcher, fielded his position well and was fleet when on base.
Nearly 60 years have passed since the Senators became our beloved Twins on the Bloomington MN prairie. The sound of the jets contradicted the pastoral surroundings. But the Twins got established most convincingly, no fear of a scenario like the Seattle Pilots.
It's hard to believe "the Cuban Cowboy" had a mere 117-160 career W/L record. It's head-scratching. Also on a dubious note, he was known to give up some prodigious home runs like to Mickey Mantle. But on April 11, 1961, he pitched like a Hall of Famer for our Twins in our first game. So why is it that when Billy Crystal made his movie about the '61 Yankees and Roger Maris, he has Camilo Pascual pitching for the Twins that day? What possible reason?
Anyway, it was Ramos who strode out to the mound in front of 14,000-plus in attendance, and kept fans pretty quiet throughout. The story: a complete game shutout by Ramos, a three-hitter with five strikeouts. The Twins won 6-0. Ryan Hamilton writes: "The Minnesota Twins franchise got off to a perfect opening day start in large part because of Ramos' cold-blooded dominance on the mound that day." Alas, the Twins went 70-90 while the Yankees won 109 games in their peak year of that dynastic phase. But they'd slide off the edge of the table after '64. The Twins won the pennant in '65. We'll never forget Ramos' role in our history.
 
Addendum: The Yankees acquired Ramos from the Indians in 1964 for some cash and two of those proverbial players to be named later. For the record, the two turned out to be Ralph Terry and Bud Daley. Ramos posted a 1.25 ERA down the stretch. The Yankees barely held off the Chicago White Sox (with Skowron incidentally) and Baltimore Orioles. Ramos struck out 21 batters in just as many innings. Not only that, he walked none!
The trade happened after August 31, thus he was no-go for the Series. Bob Gibson came to the fore for the triumphant Cardinals. For the record, my performance in Punt, Pass and Kick in Morris MN was not noteworthy! Those old school grounds are now occupied by apartments. I guess that's what happened to Ebbets Field too.
 
Addendum No. 2: A friend emailed me the following when he learned I was working on this post about Ramos: I saw Pedro Ramos pitching with the Indians at Met Stadium. The Twins knocked him out of the game early, which drew many a jeer from the crowd when he left the mound. He got so mad at the fan reaction he threw his glove into the stands as he entered the 3rd base dugout right down in front of us. Of course, then the jeering got even louder.
 
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

The Washington Senators would become the Twins (kronozio image)