“The one constant through all the years has been baseball.”

—Terence Mann (James Earl Jones) in Field of Dreams

Willie Mays

Willie Mays died June 18th at 93. His old friend Monte Irvin preceded him in 2016 at 96. Among the dwindling band of one-time New York youngsters, a cache of fond memories died with them.

I grew up on Staten Island, home of Bobby Thomson, whose playoff-winning, walk-off home run was dubbed “The Shot Heard Round the World.” It came on 3 October 1951, after the New York Giants had come from 13 1/2 games behind in August to tie the mighty Brooklyn Dodgers for the National League pennant. Driving by “Bobby’s house,” at the junction of  Todt Hill and Richmond Roads, was required of every kid’s dad when we were in the cars.

New Yorkers mostly liked the Yankees and Dodgers, but if you lived on “The Island” in that brief shining moment, the “Jints” were number one. Root for them and you were soon reeling off the whole lineup.

Willie Howard Mays, Jr. had come up to the majors in May of that glorious year—only to be drafted into the Army just after the season ended. (To the chagrin of “The Island,” the Giants lost the ’51 World Series to the all-powerful Yankees in six games, despite winning the first two of three.) Willie rejoined the team in 1954—and one of his many dates with destiny.

“The Catch”

I’m not going to limn his career, which you can find on Wikipedia and many other sources. Just want to remember our Giants roaring back in the World Series of 1954. We beat the “indomitable” Cleveland Indians, who’d won 111 games that year. (Disgruntled Yankee fans said the other teams had thrown games to the Indians just to keep the Yanks back. “We could have beat them, too,” we chorused.)

It was Game 1, eighth inning, scored tied 2-2. Up stepped Cleveland slugger Vic Wertz, who had batted in the Indians’ two runs with a first inning triple. With two runners on, Wertz sent a drive to deep center. Willie took off—vainly, we all thought. It looked like another sure triple.

Running flat out, his back to the ball, Mays made this impossible, miraculous, over-the-shoulder basket catch. Cleveland’s rally fizzled and the Giants won with Dusty Rhodes‘s three-run homer in the tenth.

It broke the Indians’ hearts. They never came back. Despite an ace Cleveland pitching staff, the Giants won four games straight, and all us kids at Public School 19 were in ecstasy.

“Too good for this world…”

We stopped following the Giants when they left town for San Francisco in 1958. But Willie stayed with the team—and stood the booing SF fans gave him early on, though he soon became a favorite. He retired in 1973 after a two-year stint back in New York, this time with the Mets. By then he was a fixture, an American hero, honored everywhere from the White House to the Golden Gate.

How good was he? Just look at the stats: 660 home runs. 3293 hits. 1909 runs batted in, 339 stolen bases, lifetime batting average .301, twenty-four All-Star Games. And there was always “The Catch.”

Roberto Clemente said: “To me, Willie Mays is the greatest who ever played.” Willie Stargell, whom Mays once threw out from 400 feet, “couldn’t believe he could throw that far. I figured there had to be a relay. Then I found out there wasn’t. He’s too good for this world.” Ty Cobb said Mays was the only player he’d pay to see.

Leo “The Lip” Durocher, the scrappy Giants manager in those two World Series, did not issue praise lightly. “If somebody came up and hit .450, stole 100 bases and performed a miracle in the field every day, I’d still look you in the eye and say Willie was better.” Then there was the Dodgers’ Don Zimmer: “In the National League in the 1950s, there were two opposing players who stood out over all the others—Stan Musial and Willie Mays…. I’ve always said that Willie Mays was the best player I ever saw.

Monte Irvin

I can’t think of Willie in those long-vanished days without recalling my other Giants hero, Montford Merrill Irvin. He too made the Hall of Fame, but didn’t enjoy the longevity Willie did. Monte came up to the Giants in 1949, played through 1955, and then a year with the Chicago Cubs. Sadly, a back injury during spring training in 1957 ended his career.

Monte was overshadowed by the illustrious Willie, but the two were close friends. I cannot improve on the Wikipedia report about Mays’s 1951 arrival at the Polo Grounds, home of the Giants:

During that season, Leo Durocher asked Irvin to serve as a mentor for Mays, who had been called up to the team in May. Mays later said, “In my time, when I was coming up, you had to have some kind of guidance. And Monte was like my brother…. I couldn’t go anywhere without him, especially on the road….

It was just a treat to be around him. I didn’t understand life in New York until I met Monte. He knew everything about what was going on and he protected me dearly.” Irvin later replied, “I did that for two years and in the third year, he started showing me around!

Given such a short time, Monte’s stats were impressive: lifetime batting average .305, 160 home runs, 604 runs batted in. Both Mays and Irvin averaged 86 RBIs per year. Before the majors. Irvin spent nine previous years in the old Negro Leagues, where he batted .358. His career there was interrupted by the Second World War. He served three years with the Army Engineers, was deployed to England, France and Belgium, and fought in the Battle of the Bulge.

Service to his country left Monte Irvin ever conscious of the contributions of veterans. In the Baseball Hall of Fame he served on the Veteran’s Committee. For many years after he left baseball, he also participated in Veteran charities—notably the American Veterans Center and World War II Veterans Committee.

Meeting Monte twice

I enjoyed a closer relationship with Monte Irvin than Willie Mays because I met Monte twice—some forty years apart.

The first was at the Polo Grounds in 1952. Monte was playing his usual left field, and I was in the grandstands. (It bears mentioning that Irvin at that time was a proven star, while Mays was in the Army. The year before, Irvin had sparked the Giants’ pennant race comeback, batting .312 with twenty-four homers and a league-leading 121 RBIs.)

“Hey Monte!” I yelled from he stands. “Hit one out today?” He heard and gave a thumbs-up. And later he did.

Forty years passed. In the 1990s on behalf of the Churchill Centre I attended a World War II veterans conference in Washington. The Committee often hosted baseball celebrities who were also veterans, and Irvin was was a frequent presence. Also present were two great pitchers: Warren Spahn of the Braves and Bob Feller of the Indians. But my attention was riveted on Monte. I hadn’t seen him since the Polo Grounds.

I greeted him at the bar: “Hullo, Number Twenty!”

Monte said, “You remember?”

“I do. I yelled to you from the outfield stands forty years ago. You hit one out. I rooted for you even more than Twenty-four.” (That was Willie.) He laughed and said, “Yeah, but he lasted longer.”

“Maybe so, but the word was, you got more dates.” Laughs all around.

Field of Dreams

Odd how memories come flooding back. “Memories so thick,” says “Terence Mann” in Field of Dreams, that we “have to brush them away from our faces, as if we dipped ourselves in magic waters.”

Think mighty façades sprouting flags and pennants. Long dark corridors smelling of beer and tobacco and hot dogs. And then emerging onto the biggest expanse of manicured green you’ve ever seen. Of the national anthem, the roar of the crowd, the crack of the bat when your hero connected. I loved those guys.

“Game Called”

by Grantland Rice

More baseball

“The Dodgers’ Immortal Vin Scully,” 2013.

“Moe Berg: ‘Give My Regards to the Catcher’ —Franklin Roosevelt,” 2014

“God is a Nats Fan: A Kid from New York Remembers,” 2019.

“Ty Cobb: Inconvenient Truths,” 2016.

“Nats Win: It’s 1924 All Over Again,” 2019.

“Baseball 2018: But Some of Us Still Remember When,” 2018

Think about it. New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Chicago benefit from six generations of uninterrupted baseball. Pittsburgh, St. Louis, Cleveland, Detroit—the list goes on. Atlanta, Los Angeles and Houston have had half a century or more to build a following: fathers and sons, parents and kids. Alas, Washington was without baseball thirty-four years. In 1971, the expansion Senators left for Texas; in 2005, the Montreal Expos became the Nationals. A beautiful ballpark revived a decrepit area of the city, which now resembles Wrigleyville in Chicago.

For 33 years, aging fans of the old Nats were unable to take sons and daughters out to the ball game. Now the old spirit is back—with the ultimate boost for generations to come. The improbable Nats have won the World Series. (And that’s the second greatest thing about 2019.)

Why baseball is unique

It’s a funny old game. Football, basketball can be exciting, at least when the score is close. By comparison they are repetitive exercises, and a clock decides when a game is over. “Pass, run, pass, punt,” a football fan once complained of the rote play-by-play he sees often. “Mostly, you know what’s coming. Or you can surmise.”

Not baseball. Here there is no clock. Games finish after nine innings—or more (the record is 33) if the score is tied. You never know what’s coming. Weird things happen—things nobody’s seen before. The 2019 Nats proved that, didn’t they?

Whoever saw a World Series shortstop like Trea Turner beat out a throw, only to be called out for interference and running outside the designated lane? To see his manager thrown out of an elimination game for his irate reaction? No, we never saw anything like it. But next year, we’ll see something new again.

A lot was different in 2019. Did anybody expect a team that lost thirty-one of its first fifty games to make the playoffs? Who thought the road team would win all seven games? Who believed that a post-season team, facing elimination in five games, would come back to win all five? Is it conceivable to rally to take the lead three times in the eighth inning, twice in the seventh? To rack up most of your runs in the late innings? Unbelievable.

Nats World Championships: both in the top ten

In terms of excitement, both Washington World Series wins loom large.  Chris Landers of MLB.com ranked all forty occurrences of Game 7 over 115 years. In baseball history, this is an excellent if arguable listing. (By the way, Landers’ number one is Pirates-Yankees in 1960. That was the only one to end in a walk-off home run. Nobody saw that before or since, either.)

To my delight, Landers ranks Washington’s Game 7 World Series victories as #5 and #8 out of forty. The comparisons between them are uncanny. Here are his summaries:

Ranking 5th: 1924, Washington Senators 4, New York Giants 3

“Four games in this Series were decided by one run, and Game 7 was the tightest of them all. It is still the longest Game 7 in World Series history at 12 innings. After seventeen years in Washington, the only thing missing from Walter Johnson‘s sterling resume was a World Series title. He’d struggled in his first two starts of the Series, but when the Senators rallied to tie the game with two runs in the bottom of the eighth, the Big Train got another chance—and he made sure he took advantage of it. Coming out of the bullpen to start the ninth, Johnson threw four shutout innings, keeping the Giants at bay. Earl McNeely finally ended it with a walk-off double to left.”

That was an amazing game for its quirks of fate, as mentioned in my previous piece, “God is a Nats Fan.” Trailing 3-1 in the eighth, a Bucky Harris  grounder hit a pebble, and bounced over the Giants’ Freddie Lindstrom, scoring two and tying the game. In the 12th inning, after “Barney” Johnson set the Giants down for four innings, McNeely hit another grounder to third that took another bad hop for a double. Muddy Ruel scored the winning run. On its 90th anniversary, the Library of Congress posted rare footage of this game online.

Chris Landers continues…

Ranking 8th: 2019, Washington Nationals 6, Houston Astros 2

“The final score wound up looking fairly innocuous. There were no walk-off heroics. The ninth inning was largely free of suspense. But years from now, I have a hunch that I’ll still be telling anyone who will listen about how Washington lost Bryce Harper only to exorcise its post-season demons. About how Juan Soto turned the World Series into his own backyard and then took over the world. How Max Scherzer couldn’t even put a shirt over his head two days prior, then ground through five innings against possibly the best offense ever. About how one of the most improbable rallies in post-season history was punctuated by two grown professional athletes [Howie Kendrick and Adam Eaton] pretending to drive sports cars the way you did in your bedroom when you were seven.”

Max Scherzer as the new Barney? Like Johnson ninety-five years ago, he labored all the way. In the first inning we heard him grunt with every pitch—not something you usually hear until late innings. Frequently falling behind, his formidable slider often missed. Not your usual Max. But he hung in, kept us close for five innings. And then—again like 1924—another starting pitcher came on in relief to save the day. In 1924 Johnson set down New York for four innings. In 2019, Patrick Corbin shut down Houston for three.

Close comparisons

• The 1924 Nats lost 26 of their first fifty games (.480) and were sixth in an eight-team league. 2019’s Nats lost 31 of their first fifty games (.380) and were fourth in a five-team division.

• The 1924 Nats then went 68-36 (.653), finishing only two games up on the Yankees. In 2019 the Nats then went 74-38 (.661), finishing four games behind the Braves but taking the Wild Card from the Brewers.

• In post-season 1924, the 4 Nats were 4-3, and twice avoided elimination. For post-season 2019, the Nats were 12-5, and avoided elimination five times.

• Counting the post-season, the ’24 Senators were 96-55 (.571), the 2019 Nationals 105-74 (.587).

• In the World Series, the 1924 Nats scored 26 runs, eighteen (69%) in the fifth inning or later. The 2019 Nats scored 33 runs, 27 (82%) in the fifth inning or later.

What do we make of all this? Both teams were underdogs from the get-go. Early on, the 1924 Senators were leading only Cleveland and Philadelphia; the 2019 Nationals were leading only Miami. Nearing the finish in 1924, experts were predicting the Yankees, even the Tigers, would beat Washington to the pennant. The mighty Giants were heavy favorites in the World Series. In 2019, the 106-win Dodgers looked certain to win the pennant, and the World Series would likely go to them, or the 103-win Yankees, or the 107-win Astros.

MVPs

Three 1924 pitchers, Johnson, Tom Zachary and  George Mogridge, were the big game winners.  Nats bats back then were led by the great Goose Goslin, notably in Game 4, who went 4-for-4 with a home run, three singles and four RBIs. Johnson, along with Senators batters Harris, Goslin, Joe Judge, Heinie Manush and Sam Rice, are all in the Baseball Hall of Fame. “Mr. Clutch” awards went to Harris, Muddy Ruel and Earl McNeely. Except for Johnson, most are only remembered in the history books. It’s ninety-five years ago, for heaven’s sake!

Now kids have their own heroes. Scherzer, Stephen Strasburg, Patrick Corbin and Anibal Sanchez were a potent quartet of starting pitchers, before and after the season. Juan Soto and Anthony Rendon must together be the powerhouse equivalents of Judge and Goslin. Guys who starred in the clutch—Eaton, Kurt Suzuki, Ryan Zimmerman and above all the now-almost-immortal Howie Kendrick, will forever be remembered.

Lest we forget: general manager Mike Rizzo, manager Martinez. And two of the best coaches a team could have, Paul Menhart (pitching) and Kevin Long (hitting). Bob Carpenter and F.P. Santangelo were our faithful announcers all year. (Why don’t the big networks hire home broadcasters who know the teams best? Let’s fix this!)

The future is Ryan’s

Seven-year-old Ryan Ritz, DC resident and already a veteran Nats fan, stood up in the midst of Game 7: “I’m going to bed. Every time I stay up, they lose.” Ryan and his family had the luck to attend Game 3—and lose they did.

On Wednesday night Ryan toddled off just before Anthony Rendon hit that first momentum-changing home run. Followed by Howie’s tremendous drive that clanged against the right-field foul post and put us ahead for keeps.

Ryan, take it from someone who’s been watching and grieving over Washington baseball so long you can’t imagine. Don’t do that again! Anything can happen. It’s baseball. Game on!

Yankee Stadium, 1958

When Washington was in town, the drill was always the same: 15¢ for a bus to the Staten Island Ferry. A nickel ferry ride and 15¢ more for the BMT to Woodlawn and Jerome Avenues. As the subway erupted into sunlight from the bowels of the Bronx, this kid wearing his navy blue hat with its white “W” would confront the Citadel of Baseball, proud and austere with its eagle logos, bristling with pennants. The House That Ruth Built was home to the team I rooted against.

Through the turnstiles, down dark alleyways smelling of beer and cigars, and suddenly you’d burst upon this hallowed expanse of green. In the outfield were memorials to The Babe, Lou Gehrig and Miller Huggins. Billy Crystal once quipped, “I thought they were buried there!” All us kids thought that.

Ninety cents got you into the bleachers, but general admission cost only $1.30. From there, after a couple innings, you could sneak into an empty $2.50 reserved seat or, if attendance was light, a $3.50 box. Now and then the visiting Senators would get ahead, and scary Bronx voices would holler: “Hey kid — the Washington section’s in the bleachers!”

Why the Nats?

Don’t get me wrong. All us New York kids backed a home team. But in those days we had three choices, and I chose the National League Giants. The sure-winner Yankees were too easy to root for. When I discovered baseball, they were all-dominant, winning five straight pennants and World Series from 1949 to 1953. The Evil Empire, even then! I preferred underdogs.

I looked around for an American League rival, and my eye fell upon the Washington Senators. (Officially they were the Nationals until 1956, and everybody called them the Nats.) I liked their uniform with the big navy blue “W.” Why not? In the early Fifties the Nats were good, but not great. Decent pitching, light hitting.

Once in July 1952, we found ourselves only five games behind the Yanks. Manager Bucky Harris was interviewed: “Could you guys actually win the pennant?” Bucky laughed, but I was euphoric. Maybe! Alas, we finished fifth at 78-76—the original Senators’ last over-.500 season. After 1960 they moved to Minnesota and became the Twins. An expansion team took their place, and when I lived in central Pennsylvania I drove to a few games. They had only one winning season, and after 1971 they hied to Texas to become the Rangers. Bummer.

Better Than You Think

Long before then, this kid with his “W” hat had memorized Washington baseball’s great days. And there were many. In the decade 1924–33, the Senators, Yankees, and Philadelphia Athletics owned the American League. They won every pennant—three, four, and three respectively.

In 1924, the Nats won a seven-game World Series—improbably. Trailing 3-1 in the eighth, player-manager Bucky Harris smashed a grounder to third. It hit a pebble, deflecting over the Giants’ Freddie Lindstrom. Washington scored two and tied the game. Next Bucky brought in the aging veteran, Walter Johnson, “The Big Train,” baseball’s greatest pitcher. Walter pitched four scoreless innings against the formidable Giants.

In the bottom of the 12th, Nats catcher Muddy Ruel rifled a double. Johnson (who usually hit for himself) reached first on an error. Incredibly—impossibly—Earl McNeely came up and hit another grounder to third that took another bad hop over Lindstrom and Ruel lumbered home! I’m sure it hit the same pebble — because God put it there, and as everyone knows, God is a Nats fan.

Making History

The Senators won pennants in 1925 and 1933, but lost both of those Series. In ’25 they blew a three-games-to-one lead to the Pittsburgh Pirates. In ’33 the Giants took revenge, winning handily, four games to one.

Had the 2019 Nationals wound up playing the Yankees, it would have been a “rubber” World Series matchup between Washington and New York. But between different teams from opposite leagues, since franchises have changed, and moved. Business arrangements mean nothing to Washington fans. Above Nationals Park, we’ve always flown our three pennants, and now there’ll be another one flying beside them.

The Senators nearly won their fourth pennant in 1945 and were mostly respectable thereafter. Until 1955, when they finished last—likewise in 1957–59. This earned them the sobriquet “First in War, First in Peace, and Last in the American League.” That’s not really fair. They were better than that.

Nats – talgia

As life unfolded, I drifted from baseball, especially after the Giants fled to Frisco and the expansion Senators flopped. Once, in the Eighties, I tuned in a game, only to find a guy batting who didn’t play the field, called a “Designated Hitter.” What is that? I wondered. Evidently a consolation prize for expired roosters who can’t field but still can hit, to thrill a few fans with leftover home runs. Sacrilege!

In my opinion, the DH ruins the game. Excusing pitchers from hitting removes key strategy decisions—when to pinch-hit or bunt. As a result, bunting is almost a lost art. Even in my beloved National League, I fume as I watch professional hitters square away before the pitch, giving away the element of surprise that is the essence of a good bunt.

Then, suddenly, in 2005, Washington had a baseball team again—complete with the Sixties curly “W” logo and again called the Nationals. Now they were in the National League, where pitchers still bat. Nostalgia drew me back. Avidly I watched them play .500 baseball that first year — the same as they did in 1953 for old Bucky Harris.

Everybody knows the rest of the story. It took years of trying—frustrating years, including four when we never got past a division series. It took a hellish, Senators-like performance last April and May that left us 19-31 after the first 50 games. Everybody was saying, “It’s over—again.” It took one of the most impossible comebacks since the New York Giants surged from 13 1/2 games behind to wrest a pennant from the Dodgers in 1951. Guess what? In 2019 the Nationals whupped those Dodgers again!

Field of Dreams

Winning the pennant for the first time in 86 years was mainly about stepping up. All our guys did: brilliant starts, solid relief, fine fielding, clutch hitting from the most formidable offense Washington has seen since the 1930s. Bless them all, from fans old and new, who prayed for this moment.

High above in their Field of Dreams, old Senators must be intoxicated. Player-manager-owner Clark Griffith, the “Old Fox,” who raised the team from cellar to championship, is envying today’s owner, Mark Lerner. Isn’t Max Scherzer, who also hits well, the pitcher equivalent of Walter Johnson — who likewise hit for himself? Aren’t our starters Stephen Strasburg, Anibal Sanchez, and Patrick Corbin the counterparts of Camilo Pascual, Pedro Ramos, and Connie Marrero? Yes, all those greats were at one time Washington hurlers.

Is Howie Kendrick’s 2019 bat the equal of Tris Speaker’s in 1927? Aren’t shortstop Trea Turner’s glove and bat as good as those of Joe Cronin? Behind the plate, who needs to choose between Rick Ferrell and Kurt Suzuki, between Muddy Ruel and Yan Gomes?

Anthony Rendon at third fields as well and hits much harder than the Senators’ “Walking Man,” Eddie Yost. And what outfielders! Juan Soto, Victor Robles, Adam Eaton, and Michael A. Taylor could be the counterparts of Sam Rice, Heinie Manush, and Goose Goslin — or, to put a more modern spin on it, of Roy Sievers, Harmon Killebrew, and Frank Howard.

What a season this has been: reviving old memories, creating new ones we’ll never forget. And now, please excuse me. I’m going to sneak into Minute Maid Park and plant a pebble on the third-base line — just in case.

Dedication

To the memory of Charles Krauthammer, who I know is tuned in. (Left: Daniel and Charles at Nationals Park, a family photo.)

2019 World Series:

Scroll to comments below for banter among Nats fanatics as the fourth Washington World Series unfolds.

The best editor I ever had wrote: “There is nothing to be said when a friend dies, even among people whose trade is words.” Much nevertheless is being said about Charles Krauthammer. That is fitting, and it is what we have the Internet for. (Some of the most touching tributes are linked below. Fox News produced a very fine tribute, “Krauthammer in His Own Words” click here.)

My editor meant, rather, that for some, words are inadequate against “a big, empty hole where there was once someone you loved. And all the talk in the world won’t change that. Everybody who knew him well misses him.” For CK, those who think they knew him well include millions who encountered him only as a face on the evening news. And were mesmerized by his intellect, eloquence, humor and collegiality.

All those are very Churchillian traits. So is courage. Unlike many of those talking faces, Dr. Krauthammer never indulged in introspection or self-pity. In his forties and his seventies, Winston Churchill was thrown violently out office. He ignored it and rebuilt his life, declaring: “Never give in.” In his twenties, young Charles dove into a swimming pool, banged his head, and was confined forever after to a wheelchair. He ignored it and became a psychiatrist, a writer, syndicated columnist, a husband and father, a TV personality, a Pulitzer Prize winner. Now that is a Churchillian performance.

Things That Matter

His book is one of a score I would take with me if confined to a desert island. Significantly, among its nearly ninety columns and essays, the Churchill chapter ranks second—in Part I (entitled “Personal”)—after a piece on his beloved brother Marcel. Churchill was a very personal subject to Dr. Krauthammer, who was always quoting him (accurately). Many chapters touch on Churchill’s saga: the Middle East, wars in Asia, bioethics and the future, serious enquiries into the nature of man and the universe. (Churchill covered those in Thoughts and Adventures.)

Churchill-related columns include insults (“In Defense of the F-Word”), the “Joy of Losing” (a thing Sir Winston knew something about), how to define democracy (Churchill laid out precepts, Krauthammer laid out Albania), the Holocaust, Zionism, Language, Leadership, the question of Germany’s “collective guilt.” There’s plenty here to interest Churchillians.

* * *

And much else besides. CK was fascinated by “the innocence of dogs, the cunning of cats, the elegance of nature, the wonders of space…fashions and follies…manners and habits, curiosities and conundrums social and ethical. Is a doctor ever permitted to kill a patient wishing to die? Why in the age of feminism do we still use the phrase ‘women and children?’” Churchill wrote an essay asking, “Are There Men on the Moon?” Krauthammer studied Enrico Fermi and wondered: “With so many habitable planets out there, why in God’s name have we never heard a word from a single one of them?” Fermi’s answer, as CK explained, is disquieting. These are subjects, he wrote, that “fill my days, some trouble my nights.”

I wrote all this and more in a review, the best words I could summon up. I sent it to my hero through a mutual friend with a copy of Churchill by Himself. He didn’t have to reply, but of course, being CK, he did: “How kind and generous was your assessment of my writing. And how gratifying to receive such appreciation. As you know, being a writer as well, the point of writing is less self-expression than trying to express and impress certain ideas on others. Your kind review makes me think that I might have succeeded in some way.”

* * *

Fortune and the magic name of Churchill gave me the chance to meet him twice. The first was at a dinner for Sir Martin Gilbert hosted by a World War II Veteran’s Association in 2004. I presented him with the Sir Winston Churchill Birthday Book, which a friend and I had just republished. It contains a Churchill quote for every day of the year, with space opposite for penciling in someone’s birthday. It has an uncanny knack for providing suitable quotations for everyone. CK’s birthday was March 13th: “There is always much to be said for not attempting more than you can do….But this principle…has its exceptions.” Said Charles: “He had that one right.”

The second was just a few years ago at a Hillsdale College Churchill seminar. That video is not online, but I recommend one that is. In 2011, CK spoke to 50,000 people (99% online) at a Hillsdale Constitution Day celebration. He spoke with piercing clarity, as Brit Hume said. “He was as kind a man as I ever known. His personal grace and gentleness were just remarkable. He was one of a kind.”

One should not attach any great importance to those encounters, and hope I don’t sound like a groupie. But since Bill Buckley died, he was my go-to source of political wisdom. Forever after his Hillsdale appearance, whenever I was unsure of something I would say: I have to read Charles Krauthammer, who will tell me what to think.”

“Hinged” : Krauthammer at Large

I must present a few blades from my sheaf of Krauthammeriana.

Career choices: “How do you go from Walter Mondale to Fox News? The answer is short and simple. I was young once … It is true that I’m a psychiatrist in remission. People ask me the difference [between psychiatry] and what I do in Washington and the answer is rather simple. In both lines of work I deal every day with people who have delusions of grandeur. The only difference is that here in Washington these deluded have access to nuclear weapons….” (2011)

Donald Trump: After a heated news conference, CNN’s Jake Tapper called the President “unhinged.” Dr. Krauthammer (a devout Never Trumper before the election) replied: “I found it entirely hinged … The high point was when he mentioned me. I thought I was going to be the surprise new national security adviser, so I was somewhat disappointed. The country is really divided. He’s not the one who caused it, but his supporters will love this, and those who are skeptical about him are going to wonder about how hinged he is.” (2017; this reminded me of Churchill using “choate” as the opposite of “inchoate.”)

* * *

The Universe: “I read Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time as a public service—to reassure my readers that this most unread bestseller is indeed as inscrutable as they thought.” Speaking of the attempts to contact alien life forms (Voyagers 1 and 2), CK noted that the greetings they carry, on behalf of all mankind, are from UN Secretary-General Kurt Waldheim, a Nazi. “Makes you wish that we’d immediately sent out a Voyager 3 beeping frantically: Please disregard all previous messages.” (2000)

Vladimir Putin: “Being a good, well trained KGB agent, he lies with a smile. I love the fact that this week he’s been saying it could’ve been Russian patriots—who are artists who act on their own—who might have hacked. But of course the state is innocent. Nothing like that happens in Russia without the state. He knows it, we know it, but he’s a very good liar.” (2017)

* * *

Baseball: Rick Ankiel was the first player since Babe Ruth to have won at least ten games as a pitcher and also to hit at least fifty home runs. Recalling how Ankiel’s pitching career was destroyed by a nervous breakdown, and how he came fighting back as an outfielder, CK summoned up his own life’s impulses: “The catastrophe that awaits everyone from a simple false move, wrong turn, fatal encounter—every life has such a moment. What distinguishes us is whether—and how—we ever come back.” (2011)

And after our beloved Washington Nationals set the team record of eight home runs in a game, including four in a row and the all-time record of five in an inning: “Oh, the glory! With the White House on fire, the Congress in chaos, and the world going to hell in a handbasket, we need happy news like this. This is why God created baseball, late on the sixth day.” (2014)

Friends and Colleagues

[Churchill and Krauthammer] have many things in common. Both have a wit as dry as a properly-made martini. They both exhibit an unparalleled intellectual capaciousness, enabling a supremely wide range in their writing.  Both men dictate their prose. Charles may think my comparison of him to the great statesman is extravagant, but I do not think so, for this simple reason: Charles rightly refers to Churchill in his essay as “the indispensable man.” Well, for those of us trying to make sense of what is happening in our country right now, Charles is our indispensable man. —Steve Hayward

I remember attending an event at the Kennedy Center which Charles and his wife put on to celebrate ancient Hebrew music, and my wife saying to me, “We wouldn’t be here for anybody but Charles Krauthammer.” On the 4th of July Charles would have all his colleagues and friends out at his summer home on the Chesapeake, but it wasn’t all hot dogs and cokes, it was something special. Charles would have each of us read a passage from the Declaration of Independence. Nothing was more emotional than being among people of different political perspectives….attracted to a fine intellect, Robyn’s husband, Daniel’s dad, who loved America. —Juan Williams

* * *

Like a lot of his friends we started out as ideological adversaries …We spent many dinners together. I had the foolishness to challenge him at chess. I never beat him but they were very instructive games. He would even correct my moves before he clobbered them. We spent a lot of time splitting theological hairs … He knew Aquinas, the principle articulator of Catholic theology, better than I did, and I studied it formally… It is said that “no great man is a good man.” Charles was an exception to that. —Andrew Napolitano

The loss to America is dwarfed by the loss to his family and friends, but nevertheless it is enormous. Especially at this time. The nation is deeply divided. Americans are having difficulty separating fact from fiction. Today’s debates lack the intellectual rigor and civility that Charles championed in his columns, his appearances on Fox News, and his many speeches and essays. When Donald Trump emerged on the political scene, Charles was no cheerleader. But after the election, Charles insisted on treating Mr. Trump with the fairness and respect due the president of the United States. Still, he kept watch for dangers to the institutions the Founding Fathers put in place-the “guardrails” that constrain any president’s behavior. —Irwin Stelzer

May we all say this at the end…

Two weeks ago he wrote to all to say that his fight with cancer was lost. “I leave this life with no regrets. It was a wonderful life—full and complete with the great loves and great endeavors that make it worth living. I am sad to leave, but I leave with the knowledge that I lived the life that I intended.”

That does not diminish our loss, however eloquent and typical of him. He died as he had lived, brave and unaffected, facing the most traumatic of human experiences. I have quoted this passage before, but it is irresistible now. It fits him so perfectly—almost as if Churchill in 1931, writing of Arthur Balfour, intended it for Charles:

As I observed him regarding with calm, firm and cheerful gaze the approach of Death, I felt how foolish the Stoics were to make such a fuss about an event so natural and so indispensable to mankind. But I felt also the tragedy which robs the world of all the wisdom and treasure gathered in a great man’s life and experience and hands the lamp to some impetuous and untutored stripling, or lets its fall shivered into fragments upon the ground.

It may seem odd, since baseball is not an English sport, and its closest counterpart over there is rounders. But—ever obedient to the whims of Churchillians—I offer what he had to say on the matter.

The interesting photo above accompanied a nice article, “Churchill on Baseball,” by Christopher Schwarz, which I published  a few years ago in Finest Hour 163. I supplied the following Churchill quotes as a sidebar to Mr. Schwarz’s article.

_____________

Baseball by Churchill

“Millions of men and women are in the market, all eager to supplement the rewards of energetic toil by ‘easy money.’ From every part of its enormous territories the American public follows the game. Horseracing, baseball, football, every form of sport or gambling cedes its place to a casino whose amplitude and splendours make Monte Carlo the meanest midget in Lilliput.”

—WSC, “What I Saw and Heard in America,” Part IV: “Fever of Speculation in America,” Daily Telegraph, 9 December 1929; reprinted in The Collected Essays of Sir Winston Churchill, 4 vols. (London: Library of Imperial History, 1975), IV 42.

* * *

“Broadly speaking, human beings may be divided into three classes: those who are toiled to death, those who are worried to death, and those who are bored to death. It is no use offering the manual labourer, tired out with a hard week’s sweat and effort, the chance of playing a game of football or baseball on Saturday afternoon. It is no use inviting the politician or the professional or business man, who has been working or worrying about serious things for six days, to work or worry about trifling things at the week-end.”

—WSC, “Hobbies,” in Thoughts and Adventures, 1932. (The best current edition is by ISI, thoroughly edited and re-footnoted by James W. Muller and Paul Courtenay.)

* * *

“‘The written word remains.’ The spoken word dies upon the air. The news bulletin is coming through on the broadcast. The telephone bell rings – your wife asks you if you remembered to post that letter—and by the time you can again give your attention to the announcer, he has passed to another item. Without the newspaper you will never know the result of that baseball match, or the President’s latest message to Congress.”

—WSC, “You Get It in Black and White,” Colliers, 28 December 1935; reprinted in Collected Essays IV, 317. (Churchill should have said “game” not “match.” Baseball is not cricket!)

Prime Minister’s Questions, 21 July 1952:

Mr. Fenner Brockway (Lab.): “Is [the Prime Minister] aware that…the Iver Heath Conservative Party Association held a fete to raise money for party purposes to which it invited American Service baseball teams to participate for a ‘Winston Churchill’ trophy…and had a note from him saying he was honoured that his name was linked to the trophy?”

WSC: “I read in the Daily Worker some account of this. I had not, I agree, fully realized the political implications that might attach to the matter, and in so far as I have erred I express my regret.” [Laughter.]

Mr. John H. Hynd (Lab.): “While Hon. Gentlemen opposite may try to laugh this one off, may I ask whether the Prime Minister would contemplate the attitude of his Hon. Friends if this incident had happened in connection with a Labour Party fete?”

WSC: “I hope we should all show an equal spirit of tolerance and good humour”

Mr. Brockway (Lab.): “Can the Prime Minister estimate what would be the reaction of Mr. Eisenhower if British Forces participated in a Democratic Party celebration?”

WSC: “I certainly should not attempt to add to the many difficult questions which are pending at the present time by bending my mind to the solution of that question.”

On the first day of April, a spoof flashed around social media. In honor of Easter, all thirty Major League Baseball teams would be wearing jerseys in Easter egg pastel colors. April Fool! The day dawned, and the teams all wore their normal uniforms. The culprit, Chris Creamer of SportsLogos.net, said it was all in fun.

Chris’s joke gained credence thanks to MLB’s habit of commemorating everything from pet dogs to “our troops.” (“Pups in the Park,” who’s gonna clean up that mess? And forgive my cynicism, but when I wore the uniform we were frequently referred to as baby killers.)

Of course the thing honored must be Politically Correct. For years now, players have gone to bat wielding pink bats and pink batting gloves on Mother’s Day. Someone immediately told me Easter uniforms must be a spoof because it’s not PC to celebrate a religious holiday.

Yeah but, a Jewish friend wrote, “Passover was the same weekend as Easter this year. So it could easily be accommodated by having the players also wear yarmulkahs.” But let’s not get into comparative religions.

Remember?

Baseball is an elegant game, the only team sport not played against a clock. It is full of traditions. But it’s changed. Take the broadcasters (please). When I was a kid they called pitches, balls, strikes and plays, and made prescient observations about players—nothing else. The last great practitioner, Vin Scully, retired in 2017. Vin did his homework. What other announcer would know to tell us that Wilson Ramos made spare cash as a boy by buying a pony and selling rides?

In Vin’s heyday there were no reminiscences of an announcer’s playing days, no ballgirl interviews with players, no celebrities cluttering up the broadcast booth during the game, no goofy mascots, no songfests, no fireworks, no instant-replay, no reviews (umpires were uniformly competent and utterly impartial). Just baseball—pure and stately, as Abner Doubleday intended. (Yes, I know, Abner probably didn’t invent it, but he should have.)

Just for fun I thought it would be amusing to record the vanished features of baseball as it was in, oh, say, the Summer of 1960. (One of my bittersweet years: the last before my original Washington Senators ratted for Minneapolis.) I divide these between The Good (things we should have back) and The Bad (things that probably won’t be missed). The more of these you remember, the closer I can pinpoint your age.

The Good

1. Remember Sunday double-headers, with one ticket for both games? (True, that the cost of salaries and everything else now precludes two-games-for-the-price of one. So how about a ticket to the same seat for two Sunday games, an hour or so apart, with a slight discount over the standard two-game price?) Among the improvements would be a shorter season. Today’s expanded playoffs have us playing in freezing March and darkest November. God never intended that for the game of baseball.

2. The home team “took the field” and both sides stood for the National Anthem, which was part of every broadcast. The National Anthem is still played. (Disrespecting it hasn’t spread here from football.) But you never hear it before a broadcast. And you should. Some of us still remember that.

3. There was no such thing as a “designated hitter.” The American League adopted this ill-conceived rule in which the pitcher never hits. He is replaced in the lineup by an exhausted rooster who can still bang the ball but not play the field. The object was to produce more hitting in an era of dominant pitching. The catastrophic results included the demise of strategy (like the key decision of when to pinch hit for your pitcher), and the decline of the sacrifice bunt, which every pitcher was once expected to execute. Conversely, many players simply don’t know how to hit to the opposite field. This results in the ridiculous “shifts” we see so often. Another thing God never intended was all the infielders playing on one side of the mound.

* * *

4. Bunting is still done, mostly in the National League, but it’s a vanishing art. The essence of the classic bunt is surprise. Time was when you’d never square around before the pitch, holding the bat in your hands. This just allows the corner basemen to come charging in to cut off your sacrifice. Watching today’s unskilled labor stand there holding their bats long before the pitch makes my hair hurt.

5. Pitching mound courtesy: When relieved, the departing pitcher would wait for his reliever, hand him the ball, and pat him on the back before he left—a little gesture of encouragement that has seemingly vanished. Today, be a pitcher’s performance great or awful, he slinks off the mound a few seconds after the manager arrives to take him out.

6. Everyone would remember that a no-hitter was NOT mentioned until it was complete. Today, with the exception of a few traditionalists, they start blabbing “X has a no-hitter going” as early as the fifth inning. The words even pop up on computerized box scores. Please note: this doesn’t go on in the dugout. Teammates give the no-hit pitcher a wide berth, and nobody, but nobody, says the fatal words to him. Of course no one believes that saying “no-hitter” before the last pitch is really a jinx. It’s just a nice thing to do. Voicing those words is the act of an ingrate.

* * *

7. There were no names on uniforms. (The Yankees, Giants and Red Sox maintain this tradition, at least on home uniforms.)  Pasting names on uniforms might have been useful before the digital age. But now TV, smartphones and computer monitors identify every player constantly, as do digital play-by-play programs. If you’re at the yard, the guy’s name and mug are plastered on a big scoreboard. If all else fails, break down and buy a program!

8. Ballpark PA systems didn’t add to the cacophony with recorded cheerleading. There was no “Everybody Clap Your Hands.” It was enough once to have an organ blasting feel-good muzak. Or there were certain features identified with individual teams, like Brooklyn’s famously out-of-key “Dodger Sim-PHONY.” By the way: individual “walk-up music” for each player is one of the dumbest modern accretions I’ve seen. Especially when the guy proceeds to strike out on three straight pitches. If a player deserves music, let it come after a great at-bat, fielding play or pitching performance.

The Bad

1. “Pitch counts” were unheard of. The manager would decide how an individual pitcher was doing based on his current performance. Different pitchers had different endurance. Pitchers tended to be left in much longer than they are today. While all this was a tribute to individuality, medical knowledge has advanced. The known strains of modern pitching, with 100 mph fastballs and high-speed breaking balls, has made pitch count a statistic worth considering.

2. There was no inter-league play. The National League played National League teams, the American League played American League teams, and the best of each met in October (not November). This used to be in my “good” column, but friends convince me it’s well we have inter-league games today. You get to see rivals, like the Yankees vs. Mets or Nationals vs. Orioles. Also, when the NL team is the host, American League teams get to play real baseball, where the pitcher has to bat like everybody else.

* * *

3. Batters didn’t wear gloves. A baseball writer I know says: “I remain puzzled by how Cobb, Speaker, Jackson, Hornsby, Ruth, Gehrig, Goslin, DiMaggio, Williams, Musial, Robinson, Mantle, Mays, et al. could hit the way they did without batting gloves. Must have been a profound handicap.” I think he’s being facetious. Golfers and cyclists have always worn gloves, they must do some good for baseball players too. (But I would forcefully ban stepping out of the box to re-wrap your Velcro glove fasteners between pitches, shortening the average game by a good ten minutes.)

4. On the first Yankee broadcasts I remember, Mel Allen would sometimes say, “Well, folks, bottom of the 9th and the Yanks are bringing in their gloves.” That was when outfielders often left their gloves on the grass of the outfield, sometimes even in fair territory. So when the home team was determined to win a tie game in the bottom of the 9th, they would “bring in their gloves” as a kind of declaration. This quaint practice ended when a couple of players tripped over opposition gloves left out in the field.

“Progress was all right once, but it’s gone on too long”

…said Ogden Nash. Baseball is an American institution (with avid boosters in places like Japan and the Caribbean), in part because of its gentlemanly traditions. There are many more than I’ve listed here. (Watching Game 7 of the 1960 Pirates-Yankees World Series, I noticed that pitchers worked fast, batters didn’t step out between pitches, and the whole game lasted two hours and 36 minutes. Everybody wore stirrup socks, and Casey Stengel‘s ears were the size of Texas.

We can never duplicate Casey’s ears, but we could profitably restore stirrup socks and knickerbockers instead of those baggy-legged trousers that flop around at shoe level on the less sartorial players. Damn right I’m a grumpy old man.

Now click here for Billy Crystal‘s marvelous recollection of his first visit to Yankee Stadium (Yanks vs. Senators. of course), on 30 May 1956. This is the very best part of Ken Burns’s documentary, Baseball.

“Give people something they want to believe and they will take it and run with it and make it their own. After all, who doesn’t like a monster story—especially one that allows the teller to express his own superiority. To say, ‘I’m not a slave to feelings of racism and anger like this pathetic man was. I look down upon that kind of behavior.’ A scary story that is also a feel-good story is hard to beat.”

Charles Leerhsen has done a rare thing: bucked popular cant and human nature. He delivers a breathtaking reappraisal of the greatest baseball player of all time. Click here to watch his brilliant lecture at Hillsdale College. I also strongly recommend his book, A Terrible Beauty—which teaches us a lot, and not just about baseball. (Click here for Cobb’s numbers.)

“The Anti-Jackie Robinson”

Leerhsen set out with the typical view of Ty Cobb, only to encounter scores of inconvenient truths missed. Many were ignored by biographers who inspired the sick portrait in Ken Burns’s documentary, Baseball. Cobb was no saint. Leerhsen documents his flaming temper and readiness for brawls. But most of the other allegations are either vastly exaggerated or demonstrably false.

Cobb was 180 degrees from the popular image of a racist, murdering, spike-flying, child-hating misanthrope, who steamed stamps off the envelopes kids sent him for his autograph. Re the latter: Leerhsen found that Cobb replied to all who wrote, often sending multiple autographed photos, writing five-page letters to some, and telling them all how honored he was that they had written to him.

For equality

Born in Georgia in 1886, Cobb was descended from abolitionists. His great-grandfather preached against slavery. His grandfather was a conscientious objector who refused to fight in the Confederate Army because of slavery. Ty’s father was an educator and state senator who once broke up a lynch mob. Leerhsen obliterates the prevailing picture of Cobb as the “anti-Jackie Robinson”:

Cobb was not asked about race until In 1952 when the Texas League was integrated. He said: “The negro should be accepted wholeheartedly and not grudgingly. The negro has the right to play professional baseball and who’s to say he has not?”

At that time other players were keeping mum, or saying they didn’t think mixed-race baseball was a good idea….[But Cobb] attended Negro League games, sometimes tossing out first balls, sometimes sitting in the dugout with the players. He said Willie Mays was the only player he’d pay to see, and that Roy Campanella was the player who reminded him most of himself.

And it’s not just about Cobb

Read this book and reflect.

Not in 2014

Long-suffering Washington Nationals fans hoped 2014 would be The Year.

After playing doormat to the National League East for ages; after blowing a sure Division Series in 2012, we all expected our Washington Nationals to put a stamp on the 90th anniversary of 1924—the last year Washington won the World Series.

Instead we lost the NL Division Series to a wild card team that had won only 88 games in the season. We lost three games out of four, all by one run—games that could have gone either way. But the San Francisco Giants are pros, veterans of the playoff season. We’re not. We’re young. We choke.

So what happened?

To explain what went wrong, let’s start with what went right. In the regular season, the Washington Nationals were the…

• winningest team in the National League (98-66), tied for the second-winningest in baseball.

• best by far in the NL East, finishing 17 games ahead of our nearest rivals.

• winningest team in the last three years (280-206)—better than the Giants, Cardinals, Angels, Royals, Pirates, Braves, Tigers, Athletics and Dodgers.

• best in finales: a spectacular no-hitter the last day of the season.

• best in rotation: the top ERA and WHIP in the majors.

• stingiest in allowing earned runs, home runs, stolen bases and walks.

• arguably the best balanced: our starting pitchers won 69 games, an average of nearly 14 each; four of our starting eight position players had over 80 rbis.

“Dlockfan,” a contributor to the Nationals message board, explains what went wrong:

• The only Nat on the All-Start team was a set-up reliever.
• Three of our top guys, Ryan Zimmerman, Bryce Harper and Wilson Ramos, played on average in only half the games, owing to injuries.

• When Zimmerman was sidelined and Anthony Rendon had to play third, we got little offense from our second basemen.

• The bench gave us nothing.
• We had no Cy Young or MVP candidates.

• Our closer imploded—couldn’t get anybody out.

• Our shortstop struck out 183 times, batted .255 and had 24 errors.

• Our catcher dropped critical throws and pitches, and is so slow he can be, and was, thrown out from the shallow outfield.

Nationals Manager

Matt Williams was declared “Manager of the Year” by the Sporting News. Given what he was working with, some people think he earned it. Me, I dunno.

In 2012, our previous let-down year, Davey Johnson was voted MoY too. We seem really good at developing “the best X [fill in the blank] in baseball” while fizzling when the chips are down.

It was discouraging to hear constantly from our manager: “That’s baseball…I’m proud of the guys…I wouldn’t do a thing differently.” But I wonder if they don’t all mouth such pabulum in a kind of PC, Participation-Award kind of approach, rather than telling it like it is. Most managers speak in platitudes in public.

The difference is how they run the team off-camera, and how they strategize. Most stick with rote-think strategies. Innovative managers willing to take a chance or try a surprise are rare. Guys who will try a squeeze play once in a blue moon; who demand a left-handed veteran hit to a vacant left side now and then, against ridiculous infield shifts to the right.

We want a manager who will talk to a cruising ace starting pitcher before yanking him with two outs in the 9th, and set up a blown game;  who’ll pinch run when his slowest runner gets on late in a tight game; who’ll bring in his most reliable relief pitcher with a game in the balance, instead of an inconsistent rookie, to save his “setup man” for a setup that never comes—such managers are rare. Most of them play it safe nowadays.

Ah for the Senators

Old time fans dating back to the Washington Senators days are used to this. We’re long suffering. We come back for more. Heck, Washington’s had better regular seasons the last three years than any three Nats teams dating back to the 1920s.

As for our fizzle in the playoffs, I offer the postwar Brooklyn Dodgers. In 1951-55 they played in the post-season four out of five years—and were denied a World Series ring the first four times. “Wait till next year” was the mantra. Brooklyn fans never gave up. They were rewarded on their fifth try.

2015 marks the 90th anniversary of another Washington pennant. (Never mind that we blew the World Series that year after winning three of the first four games.)

Today’s Nationals have had only two tries at the ultimate prize. We have a sharp general manager in Mike Rizzo, a good farm system, and withal, a pretty good team. Just keep improving and winning the division. The rest will happen. Or so we keep telling ourselves.

Something happened to remind old Washington baseball fans of Goose Goslin. (For the uninitiated, he was the hittingest player in Senators history. With Goslin in the lineup, the Senators were formidable. Witithout him…well.

On June 23rd Washington Nationals star third baseman Ryan Zimmerman went out with a hamstring injury that may sideline him for the rest of the season. The effect on the team’s play was astonishing. At the close of play on August 1st the comparable W-L statistics were:

Without Zim (first time): 21-24, .467 (equates to 76-84)
With Zim: 34-19, .642 (equates to 104-58)
Without Zim (since 7/23): 3-6 .333 (equates to 53-109)

Mark Zuckerman an of Nats Insider wrote on July 23 that from June 30th when they all came together, the Nationals were the National League’s most productive team. “That was in no small part due to Zimmerman, who since that date was hitting .387 with a 1.050 OPS.

“Now, there are other factors in that equation. Zimmerman’s time in the lineup has coincided with generally good health across the board for the Nationals. But to think this team can continue to play at this impressive pace without one of its key stars would be foolish.”

Well, since Zuck wrote that the Nationals have zucked—and that’s WITH the rest of the team healthy, and our lead-off guy on a roll.

Is it true? Can one man make that much difference? Are we a different team with Zim out, affording less “protection,” inviting pitchers to handle the lineup differently? Have we anyone to sub for Adam at 1B who can really hit?

===

*Curse of the Goose: Back in the days when they were perennial contenders, the Washington Senators fell off when they traded Goose Goslin—and won another pennant when they got him back. For the rest of what happened to the Nationals in 2014, click here.

In The Catcher was a Spy (1994), Nicholas Dawidoff tells an incredible story. Back in the 1930s, Moe Berg’s intellectual prowess was well-known to baseball fans—he was a major leaguer from 1923 to 1939, mostly a catcher.

During World War II, he parachuted into Yugoslavia to assess the value to the war effort of the two groups of partisans. He reported that Marshal Tito‘s forces were widely supported by the people and Winston Churchill ordered all-out support for Tito rather than Mihailovic‘s Serbians. Later (under the code name “Remus”)

Berg was sent to Switzerland to hear a lecture by German physicist Werner Heisenberg, and determine if the Nazis were close to an atomic bomb. Moe slipped past  SS guards at the auditorium, posing as a Swiss graduate student, carrying a pistol and a cyanide pill. If Heisenberg indicated the Nazis were close to a bomb, Berg was to shoot him, and then swallow the cyanide pill.

Convinced finally that the Germans were nowhere near their goal,  he complimented Heisenberg on his speech and walked him back to his hotel. Berg’s report was distributed to Prime Minister Churchill, President Roosevelt and key figures in the Manhattan Project. Roosevelt allegedly responded: “Give my regards to the catcher.”

Is somebody pulling our leg? Churchill and his biographers make no mention of Moe Berg. Does anyone know of a reputable historian who supports these stories? I’m a great believer in footnoting sources. —J.P., Toronto

Who was Moe Berg?

I guess we’ll pardon a Blue Jays fan for not knowing about Moe Berg. Any red-blooded Washington Senators (er, Nationals) fan knows all about him—the smartest guy ever to play major league baseball, and a war hero and atomic spy to boot. Churchill might have avoided mention of Berg in his memoirs because of U.S. secrecy considerations.

Moe Berg was back-up catcher for the powerful Washington Senators teams of 1932-34, including the 1933 pennant winners. They were managed in 1932 by the immortal Walter Johnson, but owner Clark Griffith let Walter go in 1932 (after asking his permission!)

In 1935 Griff released another Hall of Famer, Joe Cronin, who was player-manager. Cronin later became a legend with the Boston Red Sox. Berg joined Cronin there from 1935 to 1939.

His teams never had much offense from Moe, who hit .243 career, but he was a superior defensive catcher who knew how to call a game with his pitchers, and had a powerful arm which discouraged base-stealers. But the Senators’ “clown prince,” coach Al Schacht, nevertheless called him “just an educated imbecile.”

He couldn’t hit the curveball

Casey Stengel was still playing for the New York Giants when Moe broke in with the Brooklyn Robins (later Dodgers) in 1923. Case said Berg was “just about the strangest bird” he’d ever come across. Moe was an alumnus of three universities, a lawyer, mathematician and linguist. He reputedly spoke seventeen languages. At Princeton, he wrote reviews of plays in Sanskrit!

His teammates said that while he could speak in many languages, he could hit in none. “Moe,” said White Sox catcher Buck Crouse, “I don’t care how many of them college degrees you got. They ain’t learned you to hit that curveball no better than me.”

DeVeaux on Berg

Here’s your footnote. Tom DeVeaux in The Washington Senators 1901-1971,  p112:

His eccentricities aside, Berg would eventually become one of America’s most important atomic spies. Teams of major leaguers visited Japan in the early Thirties. Some fans were amazed that a third-string catcher like Berg was sent along. He was actually there to take photos for the government. During World War II he joined the OSS, forerunner of the CIA. He was parachuted behind enemy lines to kidnap atomic scientists and bring them back to America.

For his heroism, Berg was to have been award the Medal of Merit, but he turned it down. He was dark and highly refined in manner, attractive in the eyes of ladies. Berg was also honorable and forthright when someone suggested that he was wasting his intellect on baseball. He always answered what the most bright-eyed of American youths would have—that he would rather be a ballplayer than a U.S. Supreme Court Justice.

Berg’s medal was accepted posthumously by his sister and now hangs in the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. To know this stuff you have to be a baseball fan….

N.B.: Vin Scully retired in 2016 and died 2 August 2022.

As a Washington Nationals fan never wishing to miss a start by Jordan Zimmermann, I had two hours of sleep before 10 on May 13th so as to take in Nationals-Dodgers game, on the LA feed with the ageless Vin Scully—a throwback to the golden age, who called his first game for the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1950.

In classic style, Vin, now 85, called the games solo. Nothing against “color” commentary, but it does tend to over-analyze the play-by-play. A solo announcer comes up with other things to fill the time. Scully is full of stories you ordinarily never hear. Whether this is good or not depends on how you like your broadcasts. But how else would we have learned that….

* In spring training, Nationals center fielder Denard Span was surprised to have a dead fish drop next to him in center field! He looked up, saw an angry osprey circling, and threw the fish over the fence in self-defense.

* Last year, reliever Drew Storen wore 37 hats. (How many hats does an ordinary player wear in the course of the season? Superstitious players probably won’t change a hat when they’re on a good streak.)

* Sal “The Barber” Maglie, the New York Giants’ 1950-55 pitching ace, “whose face was on wanted posters all over Brooklyn,”  joined the Dodgers in 1956, pitched a no-hitter in September, and was Don Larsen’s opponent in Larsen’s famous World Series perfect game on October 6th—called by Vin Scully:

Got him! The greatest game ever pitched in baseball history….A no hitter, a perfect game in a World Series….Never in the history of the game has it ever happened in a World Series….And so our hats off to Don Larsen—no runs, no hits, no errors, no walks, no baserunners. The final score: The Yankees, two runs, five hits and no errors. The Dodgers: No runs, no hits, no errors … in fact, nothing at all. This was a day to remember, this was a ballgame to remember and above all, the greatest day in the life of Don Larsen. And the most dramatic and well-pitched ballgame in the history of baseball…. Mel [Allen], you can put this in your ring and wear it a long time.

Vin’s final home game was on 25 September 2016, against the visiting Colorado Rockies. The Dodgers ended up winning on a 10th inning walk-off home run by Charlie Culberson and in doing so clinched the NL West Division title. The final broadcast of his career was the Dodgers’ October 2nd game at AT&T Park against the San Francisco Giants.

___________

For a much finer tribute than this, see Kevin Costner’s Farewell at Dodger Stadium.

See also: “The Summer of 1960.”

Nats fever

In 2012’s greatest baseball success story, the Washington Nationals, our Nats, went 60-40 on July 28th, having won more games as they won all year in 2008 and 2009.

In the National League they’re first in pitching, tied for second in fielding, and seventh in hitting, although in the last month their batters have been on fire.

Tied with the Yankees for the best record in baseball, Nats precedents fall weekly. 2012 is supplanting 2005 as the best year since baseball returned to Washington. The Nats are now about five games better than they were at this time in 2005, when they dove from first to last place in the second half.

With 20 more wins than losses, they’ve drawn even with the 1945 Washington Senators, who almost won DC’s fourth pennant and finished 87-67.

Looking back

Coincidentally, 100 years ago the 1912 Washington Senators finished 91-61, their first winning season, a 27-game improvement from year before—the first of many winning years including three pennants and a World Championship over the next few decades. (Washington has a much richer baseball history than acknowledged by those who recall only the bad stretches.)

There are still precedents left. The pennant-winning Nats of 1924 and 1925 finished with 40 and 39 more wins than losses. The all-time winning percentage of .651 was set by the pennant-winning Senators of 1933, 46 more wins than losses. Can 2012 top that? Probably not, but few will bet on it.

A century on…

Catcher Jonathan Lucroy of the Milwaukee Brewers, who fell to the DC juggernaut on July 26th, cites the most arresting aspect of the 2012 team: “They’re down two or three of their best guys—their starting catcher [Wilson Ramos] is out, their starting shortstop [Ian Desmond] is out and their starting right fielder [Jayson Werth] is out…that’s pretty amazing for that team to be that good and be down those three key guys right there. Pretty impressive.”

The 2012 team has yet to play one game whole. Outfield slugger Michael Morse was out the first couple of months; Gold-Glove third baseman Ryan Zimmerman spent weeks on the disabled list. Closer Drew Storen has only just begun his 2012 season. Washington’s best pinch hitter, Chad Tracy, has been out for weeks.

The mark of a good team: players pick each other up. On July 28th rookie phenom Bryce Harper was out of the lineup too: the game was won by a pair of home runs by two other youngsters called up to fill the bench, Tyler Moore and Corey Brown.  “They’ve hung in there when times were really tough,” manager Davey Johnson said. “Shoot, we’ve earned it.”

We keep hoping

Nats veterans know it’s a long way to October. Says first baseman Adam LaRoche, who carried the team early when hits were scarce: “I’ve seen a lot of crazy things happen in the last month or two of the season where teams have blown big leads.” Ryan Zimmerman added: “[When] we have the best record in September or October, then you can talk about it.”

For now, we’ll take it. Long suffering Nats fans, who watched their team finish last or next to last for seven years, are hungry. Whatever happens now, for those who have stuck with the team in the worst of times, it’s drinks all around.

Retrospective, 2024

On 1 October 2012, the Nats clinched the National League East title. By season’s end they held the best record in Major League Baseball at 98–64, not as wide a margin in Washington’s three previous championships. They played the St. Louis Cardinals in the NLDS, which they lost three games to two. We had to wait until 2019 for the long-cherished World Series victory.

Other posts on Washington Baseball

The Summer of 1960

Oldest Living Player: Connie Marrero

“He threw everything toward the plate but the ball.” —Ted Williams

Conrado Eugenio Marrero, the oldest living major league baseball player, celebrated his 102nd birthday in Havana on April 25, 2013 with one of his patented cigars. Connie passed away just short of his 103rd birthday on April 23, 2014.

Connie Marrero pitched 735 innings for the Washington Senators in 1950-54, compiling a W-L record of 39-40. He was named to the 1951 All-Star team but did not play. He left after being scratched from the 1955 roster. (Well, by then he was 43!) He continued playing Cuban ball and was a baseball coach there into his 80s.

His best year was 1952, when he went 11-8 with a 2.88 ERA for the 78-76 Senators, known for good pitching and light hitting. Born in Sagua La Grande, Cuba, he didn’t play his first game in the majors until the age of 38. He was brought up by Senators owner Clark Griffith’s scout, Papa Joe Cambria, who specialized in plumbing Cuba for low-budget players.

Marrero loved to recall facing off against greats like Mickey Mantle and Willliams. The Huffington Post quoted him: “One day Williams got two home runs off me, and afterward he came up to me and said `Sorry, it was my day today.’ I responded, ‘Ted, every day is your day.'”

Marrero stood only 5’5″ but putting on his Senators uniform with its big blue block W “always made me feel bigger, more powerful.” And beating the Yankees was the sweetest feeling in the world: “They were strong. They were the best. Each batter was a struggle.”

From Tom Deveaux’s The Washington Senators 1901-1971:

Manager Bucky Harris was hardly enamored with the rotund Marrero at first sight in 1950…just another one of Joe Cambria’s projects destined to flop. Hardly blessed with a deep roster, however, Bucky, who’d envisaged Marrero as at least a relief possibility, ended up using him primarily as a starter.

No less a hitter than Ted Williams became an admirer of Connie….Hitters would be salivating, anxious to get a crack at his knuckler, but once Marrero got ahead of you, Williams said, you were dead.

After Marrero struck out Williams with the bases loaded at Fenway Park, it became obvious that all was well with Marrero and Harris. Connie walked off the field, proudly plopped his glove in Harris’s lap, and proclaimed, “More money now.”

Marrero, who lived very modestly, was eligible for $20,000 granted him by a 2011 agreement between Major League Baseball and the Players’ Association for financial aid to 1947-79 players who did not qualify for a pension. But the money was held up by the U.S. economic embargo, which made financial transactions difficult.

I watched last night’s Washington Nationals-Boston Red Sox game with a Red Sox fan named Hank, whose reactions may be of interest to baseball fans in general, as a suggestion of how our manager handles the game these days.

Top second, Nats 1, Sox 0

Hank: “Your team looks pretty good. I think they’ll win.”

RL: “Just wait.”

Bottom fourth, Nats 2, Sox 2

Hank: “Bases loaded, one out. Lannan the pitcher’s up next. You need runs now. Hernandez is fast and the infield’s back—why not squeeze?”

RL: “Our manager never squeezes. Doesn’t teach bunting.”

Hank: “Hit and run then?”

RL: “Doesn’t do that much, either. As far as I can tell, he doesn’t stress base running.”

(Hernandez grounds out, Lannan strikes out, rally over.)

Hank: “Inexcusable. No imagination. I see why this is a last place team.”

Bottom 6th, Nats 3, Sox 3

Hank: “They’ve come fighting back, they still have a good shot.”

RL: “Disaster doesn’t usually strike until the 7th, 8th or 9th.”

Top 7th, Sox 3, Nats 3

Hank: “Why is your manager pulling Lannan? He’s just struck out Drew….”

RL: “Over 100 pitches. Surprised he brought Lannan back this inning. The skipper worships pitch counts and match-ups, regardless of the situation or individual. Youklis is up and bats right-handed, so he’s calling for a right-hander.”

Hank: “Tavarez was pretty rough when he pitched for us…”

RL: “And still is…”

(The inevitable error puts Youk on, who goes to third on Bay’s single while Dunn’s throw allows Bay to take second. Youk soon scores and the Sox lead.)

Hank: “He’s bringing in Villone—good move.”

RL: “In this case his knee-jerk match-up move is right—not because Ellsbury bats left-handed but because Villone’s far better than Tavarez.”

(Side retired.)

Top 8th, Sox 4, Nats 3

Hank: “Why’s he pulling Villone already?”

RL: “Match-ups again. Pedroia’s right-handed, so in comes Wells. Just watch….”

Hank: “Two walks. Wells is gone but too late…”

RL: “Just in time for Colome.ERA about 8. Keep watching…”

(Four hits later, the game is gone.)

Top 9th, Sox 10, Nats 3

Hank: “So who’s this Hanrahan guy?”

RL: “You are now about to enjoy our pièce de résistance. He was our closer, which was a joke. He’s blown five or six games. He’s good for at least another run.”

Bottom 9th, Sox 11, Nats 3

Hank: “I don’t understand your manager. He seems to stand there like a deer in the headlights. No animation, no fire. Bound to rub off on the players.”

RL: “Some Nats fans still defend him, saying it’s the players’ fault.”

Hank: “Not entirely. Too many inexplicable and illogical moves. Pulling pitchers who are doing fairly well or yanking them strictly for match-ups is not situational managing. Pitchers contribute to errors when they walk so many batters that the fielders start standing on their heels.”

RL: “Can’t argue with you.”

Hank: “What is with the owners? Don’t they see that this manager is killing them? Surely they have their investment to consider.”

I didn’t know what to tell my friend, except that he was watching for the first time what I’ve been watching all year.

Maybe someone else has an idea.

As a sequel to 1960, let’s take 2019. See “Nats Win!”

Until 2019 I was a frustrated fan of the Washington Nationals, as I was the old Washington Senators. As a New York schoolboy in the Fifties, I’d go up to Yankee Stadium to root for the Senators when they were in town. Always wore my navy blue cap with the white block “W.” Big, scary Bronx voices would shout: “Hey, kid—the Washington section’s in the bleachers.”

The Senators were perennial heartbreakers, although in mid-1952 they were only five games out of first place and considered to be pennant contenders. Known for light hitting and good pitching, they played hard and were usually fun to watch.

By 2012 the Nationals, who returned baseball to Washington in 2005, have been playing great baseball, and there’s reason to hope for “Joy in Mudville” soon. But the first six years were pretty rough. In 2009, another Nats loss again to the Phillies, I did a weird thing. I watched the video on Direct TV while listening to a CD of the New York Yankees game at Griffith Stadium on 5 July 1960, last year of the original Washington Senators. (Found it on eBay.)

Back to 1960

Transported back in time, I heard Phil Rizzuto and Mel Allen (one at a time, no tag-team) call a pitcher’s duel between the Yankees’ Ralph Terry and my hero Pedro Ramos, which the Senators won 5-3 in extra innings. (As Casey Stengel said, “you can look it up.”)

How broadcasts have changed: Allen and Rizzuto called plays and made prescient observations—nothing else. There were no reminiscences of their playing days, no ballgirl interviews with celebrities in the bleachers while the game was going on, no goofy mascots, no songfests, no fireworks, no instant-replay, no strike-zone reviews (the zone was uniform, the umps impartial). Just baseball—pure and elegant, as God and Abner Doubleday intended.

How the game has changed. Terry and Ramos (chewing a big wad of ‘baccy) each went eight innings. Relief pitchers came in and stuck—were not pulled after one batter because the next guy was batting from the other side of the plate. The phrase “pitch count” didn’t exist. (I realize that since 1980, there is reliable evidence that you can blow a young pitcher’s arm by leaving him in too long.) There were no “Designated Hitters.” From sluggers to pitchers, everybody knew how to bunt and run bases. No balls went through legs or over heads.

“Rhubarbs” (Red Barber’s term) were similar: José Valdivielso charged the mound when Terry brushed him back (Phil mentioned his “Latin temper,” which he wouldn’t do nowadays.) The next inning Pedro hit Mantle while “Meekie” took his base with a big grin, and the umpire fined Pedro $50 and warned him not to do it again.

Pedro and The Mick

Senators pitchers loved to razz Mantle. In 1956, Mick had hit a Ramos pitch almost out of Yankee Stadium. And it was Chuck Stobbs, the winning pitcher in this game, who had served the ball Mantle hit 565 feet out of Griffith Stadium in 1953, the second-longest home run on record. (The longest was by Babe Ruth, who hit one 575 feet against the Tigers in 1926.)

I was struck by the clean baseball both teams played. Aside from a hit batter and a wild pitch, there were no gaffes. The typical inning ended “nothing across” (a medieval term meaning no Yankee runs or hits and no Senator errors, or vice versa). Hits were scattered, even from the vaunted Yankee lineup. Decisions on relievers, pinch hitters and runners by managers Casey Stengel and Cookie Lavagetto were foxy and smart; nobody could argue with them. The Washington crowd booed José when he charged the mound, knowing Terry wasn’t purposely trying to hit him.

Even the advertising was fun. The sponsors were the Atlantic Refining Company (“Atlantic Imperial, the gasoline that cleans your carburetor as you drive”—remember carburetors?) and Ballantine Beer (“the Crisp Refresher”). There were no ads for patent medicines designed to ward off RLS, DES, PID, HIV or the dreaded ED. Mel and Phil would have been embarrassed to talk about such stuff.

Ah, the summer of 1960. The Yankees went on to win the pennant. The Senators played close to .500 and finished 5th out of eight before packing up for Minnesota. What a wonderful, entertaining game that was—managed, pitched and announced—over a half century ago.