Recent Rant from my pal Rik on the Sabathia trade

I think they should have traded Shapiro and Wedge as well.......while I wasn't a huge CC fan, I'm tired of these geniuses growing great, even Hall of Fame prospects and letting them go. They can't be that stupid to think that big players don't get big bucks but that also brings big dollars back to the organization and city ) as well as other players wanting to join).

I think all owners should be required to take a psychology/sociology course on community dynamics. Especially in Cleveland, where I am more convinced than ever, that sports is the heart of the city. It colors the attitude of the environment (and those who were exposed to the C Town gene as kids). There is just some depressing component there that can only be over shadowed by successful sports franchises.

It's the Prozac of Northeastern Ohio. I don't see it recovering as an industrial base anytime in the foreseeable future so what's left to give the area a lift? Michael Stanley? There hasn't been a GOOD band to come out of there since the Raspberries, who never got the acclaim they deserved in town (even from me). So it's back to sports for a remedy...."it's not just entertainment".

Hey, think we could package that slogan and sell it to one of the teams (probably the Browns) or a newly formed "city sports council" to oversee all that's wrong with their professional sports teams.....?

And 40 years later, the Tribe dumps its ace again

Sabathia was traded today. I guess it had to happen, what with last place, free agency looming, his weight problems, lack of chemistry.

But... in 1968 the Tribe had a pitching rotation teams only dream of: Tiant, Siebert, McDowell, Hargan, Stan Williams. By mid-1969, Tiant and Siebert were gone.

Tiant would win 154 games post-trade, Siebert 67. The team collapsed as a direct result of those trades. Williams went in the Tiant trade, and had a spectacular 1969 and a decent 1970 before he called it quits.

The Tribe did receive Graig Nettles in the Tiant deal, but didn't keep him long enough to savor the trade. Siebert went for threee over-the-hill vets (Harrelson, Ellsworth and Pizarro) and caught a second wind at age 32.

The Tribe just sucked wind after 1968. Hopefully, Sabathia will be the only pitcher to go this time. The others are a good group, better than most clubs have today. Get some hitters, you guys, and leave the pitchers alone!

1968: My Lai, My Graduation, My Liberation, Third Place

This blog is about my fascination with baseball. But it is not about me most of the time. But as I review that incredible year of 1968, I find I have to blog at least a little about myself.

To baseball fans, 1968 was The Year of the Pitcher. The Cleveland Indians did well in a year in which the deck was stacked in the pitchers' favor. We had an amazing pitching staff--McDowell, Siebert, Tiant, Hargan, Stan Williams, Vincente Romo in relief. And we got just enough hitting to make Alvin Dark look like a genius. Unfortunately, baseball was not much on my mind that year.

I was a high school senior, and not a happy camper. I was probably clinically depressed, I was clearly anorexic, I had almost no friends and would have probably been a goth if they'd been invented back then. But I did love music. I convinced a local church to let me use a basement room to hold monthly folk music shows, which of course featured my folk act as well as lots of others. One day, maybe in June or July, I got a call from a former neighbor, Ron Haberle. He was in the Army, he said, had some interesting photos, had heard about our venue (called The Blues Hole) and wondered if he could show the photos there some time. I said sure, why not?

Turns out Ron was the official Army photographer assigned to My Lai, the village where an Army massacre would galvanize the world for years. As the room darkened and Ron's photos popped onto my dad's movie screen, the room fell silent. Asians lined up. Asians being shot. Asians being dumped into trenches, or lined up in the dirt paths of their village. Dead Asians, men, women and children. We were the second group in the U.S. to see Ron's photos of My Lai. The world had not yet had a chance to judge them. But as I sat there, transfixed, all I could think of was: I am NOT going to Vietnam.

Graduation from high school was a sort of liberation for me. I was free of all the phonies, the conformists, everyone I hated--the jocks, the sports fans, all those idiots who didn't understand that high school was bullshit. Although I later realized that I was a bit harsh in my judgments, getting out of high school and into college was a huge and very positive transition for me. I became so enamoured of my college life that I basically forgot about The Tribe and baseball for most of the time I was a student. It was 1968-72, one of the most powerfully seductive periods of any century, and I was in the thick of it.

Looking back, it seems like a dream. And although it tooks me years to work through all the anxiety that built up in my adolescence, my four years at school were like a rebirth. I came out the other end ready to take on the world--and ready to dive back into baseball fandom once again. The Rock was long gone--1968 had been his last hurrah, as he went out with a .211 BA in a parttimer's role. The 1970s would bring new and more painful frustrations for Tribe fans, but my own life had been enriched to the degree that I no longer lived and died by the Tribe's box score. In some sense it is sad to see such a fervant passion cool. But other passions took its place, ones over which I had (or thought I had) more control.

Paving the way for Bill James

In the July 1969 issue of Baseball Digest, writer/author John Holway tried to make the argument that, based upon "exclusive new figures," Luis Tiant was the best pitcher in 1968.

The "new figures" he cited involved computing hitters' averages against pitchers based upon how many hits the pitchers gave up during the season. Holway considered this to be a better way to evaluate a pitcher than either ERA or W-L record. Using this system, Holway proclaimed Luis Tiant the "stingiest" pitcher that legendary year--better than Gibson and his 1.12 ERA, McLain and his 31 wins, and so on.

Only one problem: Holway didn't include walks yielded as a factor. So, by his calculation, Sam McDowell and Sonny Siebert were "better" than McLain. If you add walks plus hits, for instance, and subtract them from innings pitched, the best pitcher in 1968 was Baltimore's Dave McNally. Gibson, Tiant and McLain were neck-and-neck in this rating, but behind McNally. They each were about plus-34-35 if one subtracted walks plus hits from innings, while McNally was plus 43.

The true master of keeping runners off base was Sandy Koufax. He had a couple of years where he simply blew the standard away. In 1965, he was plus 58. Had he been pitching in 1968, god only knows what numbers he might have put up.

McDowell didn't give up many hits in 1968, but he walked 110 batters and actually had more hits plus walks than he did innings pitched. Same for Siebert.

Holway has been at the cutting edge of much of baseball research and has gone far beyond such simplistic evaluations during his long career. He was another fan in 1968 who was much taken by the year's pitching achievements, most of which were due to rules changes designed to help pitchers. When the rules makers decided fans wanted more offense, they simply reversed course, lowering the mound, narrowing the strike zone and juicing up the ball.

Then along came steriods. Let's see how the rules makers handle this one.

'Miracle Mets'? Nope, just great scouting

The Summer of 1969 was not supposed to be the stuff of legends. The St. Louis Cardinals were expected to pull off a three-peat. Who knew that Vada Pinson was an old 30 and that the man he was traded for, Bobby Tolan, would have 3 monster years in a row for Cincinnati? How could they give 372 at bats to a shortstop (Maxvill) who hit .175? Everyone else had an average year but there were precious few career years. And, as we know, bad trades and average years result in no pennants.

But the Mets had it all, and it was no miracle. They made good trades, they got lucky with a trade, but more important, they grew their own and somebody in that organization knew a pitcher when he saw one. The really good trade was the one that brought Donn (why two n's?) Clendenon to the Mets for pretty much no one. Clendenon anchored an awesome bench and preceeded to have two more very nice years for the Mets. His power off the bench and in subbing roles was crucial to the pennant drive. Throw in Art Shamsky's similar role, and you had a Mets bench that outshone any other that year--and contributed 39 HRs!

Then there was the lucky trade that brought Tommie (ie? what is this?) Agee over from the luckless Cubbies with Super Sub Al Weiss for Tommy Davis. The trade preceded the 1968 season and, at first, it looked like a dud. Davis tore the cover off the ball in Chi-town while
Agee hit an anemic .217. But just wait: In 1969, Agee had what was for him a career year, hitting .273 with 22 HRs and 44 SBs. (The guy finished his career with 999 hits. How can you do that?) And Weiss turned out to be a post-season hitting monster that year, which overshadowed his many day in, day out contributions during the campaign. Davis and Agee had one thing in common: They loved to crash into walls, a habit which shortened both careers, Agee's more than Tommy's.

But the key to the "miracle" was just good scouting. Nearly every regular that year was homegrown: Harrelson, Kranepool, Garrett, Swoboda, Cleon Jones (another career year player), Gaspar, Boswell. Then there was the pitching staff: Seaver, Koosman, Ryan, Gentry, McAndrew, McGraw. With the key career years from Agee and Jones, solid fielding and admirable management of the pitching staff by Gil Hodges, the Mets finished 8 games ahead of the Pythagorean Theorum 92 wins they "should" have had.

No, not a miracle at all. The miracle is that they didn't win more pennants with that pitching staff. But as with all organizations, the Mets squandered their bounty, the farm system stopped producing, and Gil Hodges died in 1972--just before another pennant he set up, but too soon to keep the machine running smoothly.

Actual email exchange between two baseball nuts

[Note: This exchange starts at the bottom of the post and works up to the top. Just in case you got confused.]

Me: It's a sickness, but it only affects us, so that's OK. You should read my most recent post "How My Mind Works." It starts with reading an article in a Baseball Digest from 1967. The article mentions Sonny Siebert. So I look up Sonny's stats in the MacMillan Encyclopedia. Then I go to baseball-reference.com to see who the most similar pitchers were. Then I start looking up their stats. Pretty soon it's dark out, I've had 3 glasses of wine, the dishes aren't done and I'm in trouble with the wife. All over Sonny Siebert! I'm in trouble with the old lady because I cheated on her with Sonny frickin Siebert!


Andy: > Yeah, 15 HRs in 1973, not too shabby. The Cubs made a habit of trading
> guys to the Expos who became pretty good: Andre Thornton, Rodney
> Scott, Dave Martinez, Breeden to some extent.
>
> God, why do I know this?
>
Me: He had one monster slugging average year. One more than either of us had in
> > the majors. On the other hand, we've both had some potent story count
> > years...

Andy: Yup, and by my calculation, they hit .233. Hal played a few more years
> >> with the Expos after leaving the Flubs.
> >>
> >> http://www.baseball-reference.com/b/breedha01.shtml
> >>
Me: Dammit! Were they brothers?

Andy: Thanks -- and Hal played first. Danny Breeden wa the catcher.
> >> >>
Me: Ha! I did read that post! It was excellent.
> >> >> >
> >> >> >

How my mind works

This is the sort of stuff that runs through my head. I was thinking about the 1959 season and of course you can't be a Tribe fan without wondering what the hell was up with Tito Francona that year? And then as I'm turning that one over in my brain, I'm thinking, what the hell was up with ex-indian Norm Cash in 1961? And then it turns out, as it always does, that, just like Kuenn and Colavito, Tito and Stormin' Norman have more in common than one would suppose.

In 1959, as The Tribe made its run for the pennant, Tito Francona suddenly became Stan Musial. Singles, doubles, triples, home runs--he ends up hitting .363! Kuenn wins the batting title because Tito didn't have quite enough ABs. So now we all think, shit, we've got the next Stan Musial right here in Cleveland. And of course that idiot Frank "Trader" Lane decides two batting champs on one team would be just the ticket to the Series, and he trades Colavito for Kuenn.

Except that Tito was only Tito, not Stan the Man. Had a few more good years but nothing like 1959.

Norm Cash: Tribe deals him for Steve Demeter in early 1960 before Cash even plays a game for the Tribe. Another great trade by Frank "Trader" Lane. Has a good year in 1960, but in 1961--oh baby! .361 BA, 41 HRs, 132 RBIs, 8 triples, 193 hits, 119 runs--all career bests in what would be a long career. But although Cash is a dominant first baseman in his era, he never approaches the 1961 numbers again. (Of course, those were driven by expansion, unlike Tito's 1959 season, which makes his even more amazing.)

So when the dust settles, 15 years for Tito, 17 for Norman: Career BAs: Tito, .272, Cash, .271. Too weird.

OK, I can sleep now. G'night.

1959: The Year We all got Sucked In

I was born in 1950. I came of age baseballically in 1959, musically in 1963 and got girl crazy in 1966. The music and girl coming of age were well timed. Baseball, not so much.

My father's generation grew up with a Cleveland Indians franchise that was always competitive. From post-WWII through 1959, they got to follow one of the best sets of teams ever assembled outside of New York City. They celebrated two AL pennants and one World Series win in the time period, with plenty of tight races in between. Stars like Bob Fellar, Lou Boudreau, Bob Lemon, Dale Mitchell, jim Hegan, Larry Doby and Minnie Minoso kept them in every game. They had a great G.M. in Bill Veeck to keep them amused when they weren't winning. My parents still talk about going down to League Park (predecessor to Municipal Stadium) just to sit behind Ted Williams in right field so they could taunt him. Those were great days to be a Tribe fan.

Naturally, our parents transmitted this excitement to us. And with the thrilling 1959 race sucking us into big league ball, we gladly joined the ranks of Tribe fans throughout the city. That '59 team was a sweet one, too: a superb pitching staff featuring young studs Mudcat Grant, Gary Bell, Jim Perry and Herb Score (who suspected he would never make a comeback?). Anchoring the youth were vets like Cal McLish and Jack Harshman. The position player lineup was weak at only two positions: third (an aging George Strickland) and second, where Billy Martin was being consumed by his demons. Catching was super solid with Russ Nixon and Dick Brown doing the lefty-righty platoon. Colavito, Minoso and Piersall formed a truly complementary outfield. Vic Power was probably the best first baseman of his era, while SS Woodie Held made up for lack of range in the field with pop in his bat. Tito Francona, a true natural hitter, led a solid bench. He hit .363 and slugged .566, and Jim Baxes slugged .466 in his only true Major League test.

After battling the Chisox furiously in August, the Tribe finally lost the struggle in September and finished five games back. But I was galvanized by the pennant race. There are some games that still play through my head from that season. That was the year we all began to collect Topps Baseball Cards in earnest. I was only allowed to buy one pack per week with my nickel allowance. It was tough to watch Terry Hartman buy four or five packs at a time. He got a quarter a week. On the other hand, my grandmother quickly caught on to my lust for cards. She would look for any occasion to drop 10 packs in my lap, thus purchasing my love for all of eternity.

Our main source of cards was Piersdorff's Drug Store. The wiley proprietor understood that, if we came in with our mothers, we would wheedle and beg until they gave in and bought a pack. And that might lead to some candy being purchased--all feathering the Piersdorff nest. If for some reason Piersdorff was out of cards or we couldn't spare the time to walk the mile or so to get there, we could try Sav-On, the neighborhood grocer. They sometimes carried cards and were at least worth badgering our mothers to just pleeeee-se buy me one pack!

As the season progressed, the urgency to get Score and Colavito and Grant and Bell and Perry and Minnie and Jimmy increased. (I never did get a Woodie Held that year, which really bugged me.) We would try anything, including trying to trick some of the younger kids in the neighborhood to trade us their indians for crap like Mickey Mantle and Duke Snider. I recall one shameful theft attempt of Jamie Roller's cards; I later relented and took them back. Oh, what evil lurks in the hearts of Indians' fans!

In those days, we rarely traded cards in the way some kids did. While some would flip cards to see who got to keep the pair, we traded much more like G.M.s of big league clubs. Even doubles weren't given away; you had to get something in return. I recall Hartman as being an especially shrewd trader, Gary Chilcher as being overly cautious, Dale Crockett an easy mark and my brother--the poor kid was two years younger and just basically clueless.

We didn't stick cards in the spokes of our bike wheels the way a lot of kids did. I always thought those kids were idiots.What, did baseball cards grow on trees, that you could put them in your bike spokes just to make some stupid sputtering noise? Some people just do not understand the value of money.

Although the Tribe would bitterly disappoint my friends and me over the next three decades, their performance didn't dampen our enthusiasm for card collecting. When I went back some years ago and put my collection in order, I found that I had a large number of 1963 Topps cards. So at age 13 i was still an avid collector. But that was it. My collection included almost no 1964 Topps cards. The Beatles not only started a music revolution in 1963, but they also turned our attention from baseball cards to 45 RPM records. My large collection of 45s from that era demonstrates beyond a doubt where my meager funds had been redirected. I still loved the game and lived and (mostly) died by the Tribe's box score. But a new obsession was pushing baseball aside, or at least forcing it to move over. Before long, my life's obsessions would be set: baseball, rock n roll and girls, girls, girls.

Not a bad life, after all is said and done. And now the Tribe is winning again.

A Deadly Pause

Thinking back on it, the Yankees in 1961 sure didn't seem like a team whose foundation was cracking. The team was perfectly positioned to take immediate advantage of expansion. Adding the Angels and Senators to a league that already had a patsy (KC) played right into the Yankees' slugger-filled line-up. The Yanks cranked 240 HRs; amazingly, the Angels were (a distant) second, with 189.

Winning 109 games and four of five in the World Series, the Yankees' management may have decided to take a breather. They abandoned the Stengel / Topping / Weiss strategy of trading with the losers to pick up the pitchers and role players they would need to compensate for a lack of homegrown talent. But that left them with a woefully thin bench to backstop one of the oldest teams in the Majors. Some 14 roster players were 30 or over, and Mantle was physically well past 30. Key players like Ford, Howard, Berra, Skowron, Lopez, Ditmar, Turley and Duren were among the 30-plus crowd. Moreover, the front office clearly considered Mantle, Maris, Ford, Berra, Howard, Kubek, Richardson and Boyer Untouchables.

There wasn't much left to dangle in front of KC, LA and Washington, and expansion had thinned out the "talent" on their rosters anyway.

1962: The Yankees win again, but just manage to edge out Minnesota (by 5). In one of the most amazing expansion stories ever, the two-year-old Angels led by Bill Rigney finished just 10 back. Then the Yanks barely beat the Giants in 7. (Remember Richarson spearing McCovey ninth innning line shot? Oh Willie, we wanted you to get that hit!) And again, the front office stands pat.

Well, not completely. Skowron is traded for Stan Williams, the big Dodger righty. You can't fault the trade. They had to do something. (The Moose would get his revenge in the '63 Series with clutch hits that helped beat the Yanks.) Pepitone, the next Lou Gehrig (I'm not making this up), takes over at first base. Howard, 33, is now the regular catcher. Plays like a 25-year-old. But still ...

1963: Everyone in the infield has a career year: Howard (the MVP), Kubek, Richardson, Pepitone, Boyer. Ford and Bouton have huge years, as do Terry and Downing. But Maris and Mantle are hobbled by injury, Berra gets in only 35 games behind the mask. The bench includes 37-year-old Dale Long and Harry Bright (!). Maris is unhappy, the press says. The press is right.

If the American League is fooled, the Dodgers ain't buying it. They sweep--sweep!--the Yankees. Houk scurries to the front office, leaving the field boss job in 1964 to a completely unprepared Yogi Berra. And yet, they stand pat. No trades of any note.

1964: Still no one (except Stottlemyre) coming up from the farm to help out. Super sub Phil (Harmonica Man) Linz gets into 112 games, playing 2nd, short, third and OF as injuries (esp. Kubek) and age take their toll. Terry, former budding star Bill Stafford and Williams tank, not enough to undermine fine years by Ford, Downing, Bouton and Stottlemyre, but still worrisome. Maris and Mantle rebound (Maris is unhappy, the press reports), but Boyer and Tresh slump, their slippage covered up by another pennant. Comes the Series, and a team that slipped in, a team whose g.m. was fired in August and whose manager was put on notice--this team, the Cardinals, beats the mighty Yankees in 7 games.

1965: The wheels come off. Berra is canned, Keane comes over from the victorious Cardinals to take the reins--and finds an old, injured, burnt out squad in complete disarray. Pepitone is probably doing drugs by then (a first: the Yankees preferred drug was always booze!). He slumps. Kubek--stick a fork in him. At age 28, he's through. Maris barely plays due to "injuries." (He's really unhappy now, we don't need the press to remind us.) Mantle hobbles on and off the field (and bench) and only plays 108 games in the field. Elston Howard, at age 36, catches 95 games but is suddenly acting his age. Bouton's arm goes out on him and he goes 4-15. Guys named Mike Jerewicz, Jim Brenneman, Gil Blanco and Rich Beck are included on the pitching staff. And yet the front office does nothing to help. They let it happen. Did Keane screw Houk's wife in the off season or something? How can this franchise just sit back and watch this mess?

Casey could have told you. He knew nothing was coming up from the farm teams. He knew it took a special relationship between front office and field boss to get the players you needed and then have the guts, the nerve, the balls, to platoon wonderful players like Ellie Howard and Da Moose and Hector Lopez because that was how you won. Casey knew you had to trade a Billy Martin or a Norm Siebern or a Jerry Lumpe or Don Larsen or Tom Morgan to get something of value. And he must have known that, by the time he got the game a) the Yankees had too many Untouchables and b) there were no young players to dangle as trade bait left in the pipeline.

And so the Yankees, to the delight of millions of Yankee haters like myself, would wander in the desert. When they finally traded some of the Untouchables, they'd lost their value. Maris went for Charlie Smith (?); boy, did the Cards get the better end of that deal. Boyer went for Bill Robinson, which would have been a good trade if the Yankees had hung on to Robinson for more than two years. They got Ron Klimkowski for Elston Howard. Ouch! And nothing for Kubek, McDougald and Richardson, who all retired early.

The Yankees would be led out of the desert by an unlikely pair: ex-Clevelander George Steinbrenner and Billy Martin. (And free agency, of course, which automatically gave the Yankees a huge talent advantage over every other team on the planet.) But they would not return to punish and dominate and humiliate until the 1990s, when Steinbrenner finally got it right. And by then, other clubs, including the Indians, were able to regroup and become competitive once again.

When the music finally stopped in the Bronx

What happened to the mighty Yankees between Casey Stengel's dismissal following the World Series loss to the Pirates in 1960 and Johnny Keane's death on Jan. 6, 1967? It was in that period the Yanks went from one of their most devastating seasons ever (1961) to the dismal finishes of 1965 and 1966. Part of the answer, as we have mentioned, can be traced to the failure of the farm system to produce the kinds of players the Yankees were accustomed to bring up from the farm. But two other factors sealed the team's doom: the front office ran out of good players it was willing to trade, and it designated too many aging stars as Untouchables who could not be traded, at least not until it was far too late to get anyone decent in return.

Perhaps the top Yankee prospect to join the team in this period was Mel Stottlemyre. Mel was a true pitching star for New York. But by the time he came up in 1964, the rest of the staff was fading fast. Two other prospects who had passable Major League careers--Joe Pepitone and Tom Tresh--never truly blossomed. Kubek, Richardson and McDougald--the heart of the Yankee infield for many a pennant season--retired before they could be dealt away for new blood. And players like Mantle, Berra, Ellie Howard and Whitey Ford were allowed to ride into the sunset. The once-sly trading Yanks got nothing for this entire group of veteran stars. (Howard was finally dealt away in his final year, but my god, the man was the Yankee's starting catcher at age 37!) And the last major trade made during Stengel's era brought Roger Maris in from KC for budding star Norm Siebern. (His career would oddly mirror Maris's, minus the asterisk.)

But before the collapse, the Yankees enjoyed one last Viagral string of pennants. Of this, we will speak tomorrow.

1960: When the Yankee pipeline went dry

George Weiss, Dan Topping and Casey Stengel formed an amazing trio. Blessed in the late 1940s and early 1950s with a bounty of budding stars signed by Yankee scouts, Weiss and Topping managed to keep the dynasty afloat with astute trades long after the pipeline from the minors had gone dry. Stengel found a way to take his maturing homegrown players and surround them with the spare parts his bosses pried lose from the Athletics and St. Louis Browns/Orioles to create devastating platoons. Their combined understanding of talent papered over the fact that there were no Mantles, Berras, Fords, Kubeks, Skowrons, Richardsons or McDougals on the way up.

1960 was a watershed year for the Yankees. The highlights are known to all. They won the A.L. flag by 8 games but lost the World Series in 7 games to the Pirates in one of the most memorable series ever. Many still argue over which was the most awesome home run in baseball history: Maz's Series-winner or Thompson's flag-winner. Then The Ol' Perfessor got the gate.

I listened to most of the Series on my transistor radio, and was exhiliarated by Maz's home run. That final game was perhaps the most exciting game I've ever watched/listened to. Oh, the sweetness of the Yankees' defeat! That Series made me a Pirates fan for life!

But if you probe deeper into that season, you'll find how Stengel, Weiss and Topping made the whole thing work. Stengel had his homegrown stars: Mantle, Ford, Kubek, Richardson, Ellie Howard, Berra, Blanchard, McDougald and Skowron. The front office, making up for a dearth of Yankee farm hand pitchers, kept him supplied with hurlers like Turley (Baltimore), Terry, Ditmar, Maas, Schantz and Duren (all from KC) to back up Ford in the waning years of Stengel's reign. Trades with KC brought aboard Maris, Hector Lopez and Clete Boyer.

Stengel used these weapons so craftily that it must have seemed to the opposition that he had 40 men on the bench. He had three guys listed as catchers: Berra, Blanchard and Howard. All three played various positions during their Yankee days, depending on who was pitching FOR NY, who was pitching AGAINST NY, who was hot and who was not. Lopez was one of the great subs of all times, and could truly play every position in the field. Skowron was platooned early in his Yankee days, much to his disgust--but he hit over .300 four of those years and .298 a fifth.

Casey knew what he was doing, not just when he made out the lineup card, but in motivating his players as well. His secret, he always insisted, was to unite the team in its hatred of the manager. He constantly disparaged Mantle as a player who never lived up to his potential, and he authorized the trade of his pet player, Billy Martin. That must have sent a message.

Notice that the front office, in those halcyon days, only traded with loser teams. The Yankees did not want to trade a good player to a contender. The best example was the trade that brought Lopez and Terry to NY from KC in May 1959. The Yankees essentially got these two for Jerry Lumpe. While Lumpe went on to have a series of excellent seasons for KC and later Detroit, nothing he could do for the Athletics would budge them from mediocrity. Lopez and Terry were exactly what the Yanks needed at the time.

Other deals weren't even fair. In a huge deal, the Yanks got Clete Boyer, Schantz and Ditmar for basically nobodies. Such deals elicited cries of "Foul!" from fans of other A.L. teams. But you had to admire the end results.

Stengel wasn't happy to be let go after the World Series loss. But maybe he could see what was coming. Instead of Mantle, Ford, Kubek and Richardson coming up from the farm, it was Jesse Gonder, Bill Stafford, Johnny James, Jim Coates and Ken Hunt. They let their one decent prospect go--Deron Johnson--but he wasn't ready yet anyway. No, the pipeline had gone dry, and even the Athletics had decided to stop stripping away all their talent in exchange for Yankee cast-offs. The team would continue to win for a few more years, thanks in part to expansion's addition of two really lousy clubs. But by 1964, the ticker tape parades would be shut down for years. The Ol' Perfesser's reputation as a managerial genius would be untarnished, despite his tenure with the Mets. The Yankees, to the delight of a young Indians fan, would not bubble to the top again until 1976.

Why Clevelanders love it when the Yankees lose

To take up the pen is to take up the sword when the challenge is to write about the New York Yankees. Let me say this: My admiration for individual Yankees is as deep and abiding as is my hatred for the organization. The only Yankee I think I have ever truly disliked is A-Rod, and that has nothing to do with the fact that he's a Yankee. Well, maybe Rickey Henderson. Now there's an asshole. But you get the point. When one team thwarts your dreams year in and year out, when one team seems to have too many advantages, when one team is just so good, well, you wind up hating that team.

Where to begin? I have limited my work here to the period of Rocky Colavito's career: 1956-1968. Within those confines, I will begin, then, at the end. With the tragic death of Johnny Keane in early 1967. For Keane's death, to me, symbolizes the true beginning of the worst 30 years in Yankee history--a period that fans from Cleveland, Detroit, Chicago, Boston and Baltimore would savor. The bullied always relish the downfall of the bully.

Keane's tale lives yet in my mind as Shakespearean in its richness. An aspiring ballplayer who was injured early in his career, Keane turned to managing in the minors for the St. Louis Cardinals. He was good, and when the Cards stumbled in the 1950s, Gussie Busch spotted him as someone who might turn the team around. Taking over in 1961, he boosted the Cards into second place by 1963 and, through a series of flukes, brought home a world championship team one year later. His team benefitted from one of the great late-season collapses of all time, the tanking of Gene Mauch Phillies. The Cards went on to beat the fading Bronx Bombers in the World Series.

And then Keane resigned. And took another job. As manager. Of. the. Yankees.
Oh yeah. Stop the presses! What a story! See, babe, what happened was this: In August, August Busch thought his Cards were not gonna win the title. Nope. So he let it be known that perhaps Mr. Keane ought to be looking around for a new job in 1965. He canned Bing Devine, only one of the finest G.M.s ever, and a bunch of other front office suits. Well, Keane was pissed. But he kept his mouth shut and kept managing. The Cards kept winning, won the Series, and then in one of the finest FUCK YOUS ever in the history of the world, he quit and went over to the dark side.

Woulda been a great story if he'd have taken the fading Yankees and restored them to their former glory. But it was too late. In fact, Keane helped put the dagger in the vampire's heart by knocking them out of the Series. The team Keane inherited, the team he had helped to demoralize, was--well, demoralized. It was old. Players like Bobby Richardson, Tony Kubek, Clete Boyer and Tom Tresh, though still in their late 20s, were old before their time, worn out by the pressures of playing under the New York microscope. The pitching staff had no depth beyond Whitey and Mel. The once-fabled Yankee bench had nuthin'. Mantle limped painfully. Berra was a lousy first-time manager. The club finished sixth. The next year, the club got off to a horrible start, and Keane was gone after 20 games. Less than nine months later, he was dead of a heart attack, a modern MacBeth laid low by wounded pride, the desire for revenge and the wanton lust to be proclaimed king of diamonds. (Not sure what role Mrs. Keane played in his suffering.)

Keane's death robbed us of what might have been. No comeback story for the long-time minor leaguer who finally made it to The Show. Was he a great manager? Or just lucky? I tend to see 1964 pennant as more luck and good timing than talent for the Cards. The number of players who had career years was unsually high. The collapse of the Phils, and the tendency of the other strong teams to knock each other off, allowed the Cards to sneak in. The Yankees were on the verge of implosion. Still, one wonders whether Keane could have returned to prove the Yankees wrong. Instead, we had to follow the many resurrections of Billy Martin.

But Keane's short-lived notoriety serves as a perfect metaphor for the Yankee's downfall. What Keane probably did not know was that the Ol' Perfessor, and the Yankees' front office brain trust, had been keeping the team at the top of the heap for nearly a decade with no help from the farm system. For the story of the brilliance of Casey Stengel, Dan Topping, and George Weiss, you must wait, my friends, for another day.

Sightless in the Forest City

Did you know Cleveland's nickname is "The Forest City"? An apt monicker it was for the Tribe in the 1960s and '70s, when management couldn't see the forest for the trees when it came to building a team.

Well, they did build a team: a team with (for a while) great pitching and nothing else. After I wrote those posts about the Cardinals, I couldn't help but feel blue for the boy I was in Cleveland in the 1960s, naively rooting for a team that had no chance of winning the pennant. The Cards were able to grow and groom youngsters as a foundation for a pennant winner (McCarver, Boyer, Javier, Flood, Shannon, Maxvill, Gibson, Carlton, Washburn, Sadecki, Briles, Hoerner, Carlton) while trading astutely for just the right pieces (Brock, White, Cepeda, Maris, Groat) when they needed them. Cleveland could spot good pitchers, but the position players they signed mostly stunk, and their trades became ever more pathetic as they had less and less to offer in trades.

Consider the pitching talent the team had in the 1960s: Jim Perry, Mudcat Grant, Gary Bell, augmented by wiley vets like Cal McLish, Jack Harshman and Dick Donovan initially. Then, as this staff aged, up came Sam McDowell, Luis Tiant, Mike Hargan, Sonny Siebert. Wow! (By the way, the Ron Taylor pictured on the Rookie Card with McDowell was traded in '62 to St. Louis for Fred Whitfield. As a relief ace, he helped both the Cards ('64) and Mets ('69) to pennants. Whitfield helped The Tribe put a lock on fifth place.)

But the Tribe did not use its pitching talent wisely. Since pitching was the team's strength, they needed to trade one or two of them to get some hitting. But the one big guy they traded--Jim Perry--was traded for another pitcher! Perry won 145 games for other teams. The guy they got for him--Jack Kralick--won 20 for The Tribe--over 4 years!

For the decade 1958 to 1968, Cleveland's pitching ranked anywhere from solid to awesome. The Tribe had a Dodgers-type staff. That's a good thing. But then you look at the other side of the coin: the position players of the '60s. Just simply awful. Once the team of Rocky Colavito/Vic Power/Minoso/Piersall/Billy Martin was destroyed through poor trades, the downhill slide was inevitable. Here's a list of "players" I grew up trying to root for in the 1960s:

Jerry Kindall, Larry Brown, Bob "Fat" Chance, Willie Kirkland, Vic Davalillo, Vern Fuller (oy!), Al Luplow (double oy!), Pedro Gonzalez, George Banks, Jack Heideman, Jack Kubiszyn, Richie Scheinblum and Tony Martinez. It makes me weep to see them all together like that. My youth! Undermined by probably the poorest crop of farmhands in the history of the game!

Oh, there were a few decent players in that era, guys like Fred "Wingy" Whitfield, Max Alvis, The Immortal Joe Azcue, Johnny Romano, Chuck Hinton, Chico Salmon and Tito Francona who would have made for a great BENCH if Cleveland had any position players of real value. Leon Wagner was probably the only true above-average player of that period. "Get Your Rags from Daddy Wags" read the sign above his mod fashion store. Had to love him! But the rest? OY!!!!!!!!

This is why I don't spend much time analyzing Cleveland's personnel decisions. It's simple: good pitching, rarely traded for anyone of value; lousy position players who couldn't be traded for anyone of value; and a bad farm system that rarely produced anyone of value. There just wasn't much talent outside of the pitchers for management to misjudge in those days. Colavito-for-Kuenn shot a fatal hole in the underside of an already aging ship, and the poor players produced by the farm system finally sank the ship. Not until 1987 was there even the glimmer of hope for us Tribe fans, and then that's about all it was--a glimmer.

Thome not a HOF shoo-in? gimme a break!

Jack Curry, a New York Times Sports writer, clearly wants attention. As Jim Thome soared past more home run kings this year (513 as of 4/27), Curry decided to become Mr. Controversial by penning a piece suggesting that Thome is not a clear choice for the Hall.

That is bullshit, Jack.

But his piece gives me a chance to say one thing about Thome that has always amazed me. When the guy puts the bat on the ball, he hits over .570. That's correct. If you add up his walks and strikeouts over his career, and subtract those from his ABs, and then calculate his BA, it's amazing. Right up there with the guy who I think Thome is truly similar to, Ted Williams. You see, Thome, like The Splinter, is extremely picky at the plate. As a Tribe fan, I saw him take many a called strike. I truly believe his batting eye is just about as good as Teddy's, but that Teddy actually had the umps convinced that his version of the strike zone was better than theirs. So Ted would get the ball call, Thome gets a called strike.

Nonetheless, when you have a large, slow slugger, it is far better to have him walking a lot and striking out a lot than hitting into double plays. Only one year did Thome even appear on a leader board for GIDP. Compare this to Killebrew, who was on it five times and led the league one year; Ernie Banks (6 times on the GIDP leader board); and Jim Rice (led league 4X, on the board 11 times). (Even Ted Williams was on the GIDP leader board twice.)

I love Thome for many reasons, but I have always found his unique ability to get a clean hit more than half the time when he hits the ball into play uncanny. Here's some more support for his claim to a spot in the Hall: he'[s #44 career in Runs Created; #18 in walks; #16 in slugging; #17 in OPS; #4 in home runs per AB. Why wait, just vote him in now!

Why Gussie Busch Gave Roger Maris a beer distributorship in Florida

Fun Fact: did you know that Roger Maris and Bob Dylan have the same hometown, Hibbing, Minn.? Home runs and harmonicas are Hibbing's trademark.

Collapse was the theme of the Cardinal's 1964 pennant chase. Internally, the management team was melting down. Anger and in-fighting over the controversial reports from consultant Branch Rickey had all the bosses at each other's throats. Rickey even went so far as to declare the Cards out of the race early in '64, and when the team "struggled" in late summer, Gussie Busch fired the man who built the juggernaut, Bing Devine. An outraged field boss, Johnny Keane, threatened to quit.

And then it happened: The Phillies collapsed. Despite the management chaos surrounding them, the Cards' players just kept putting one run in front of another, and snatched the pennant at the end of a bitter five-team fight. After knocking off the Yankees in the WS, Keane followed through on his threat to quit. To underscore his loathing for Busch, he took the managerial job in New York. Now, Busch had to find a g.m. and a manager.

He found two good ones: Bob Howsam replaced Devine, and Red Schoendienst came on as field boss. Together, they would finish the work Devine and Keane had begun, and build a true pennant winner. It took a couple of bad seasons to reveal the hidden holes in the Cards' lineup. The pitching basically collapsed in 1965, Boyer lost another two steps, as did Groat. But young-uns like Maxvill, Briles, Joe Hoerner and Carlton were ready to step in. And ol' Red finally let 'em.

Meantime, Howsam was wheeling and dealing. In a monumentally bad trade, he shipped Bill White and Groat to Philly after the '65 season for basically nothing. But it did clear the way for a new crowd to take over, and of course Mauch couldn't find a way to utilize the remaining good years that White and Groat enjoyed at Philly, so there was no fallout. Howsam sent the aging Boyer to the Mets for Charlie Smith, a third sacker, and lefty Al Jackson. The brilliance of this trade would only be revealed prior to the 1967 season, when Howsam would put the finishing touches on the pennant club by swapping Smith to the Yankees for the disgruntled Roger Maris. More on this later...

Then in May of '66, Howsam swapped Ray Sadecki, on the downside of his career as a starter, to the Giants for Cepeda. (Why did the Giants keep sending great first basemen to St. Louis?) All the pieces were falling into place. Briles, Hoerner and Carlton were about to join Gibson and a resurgent Ray Washburn on the pitching staff. Javier and Maxvill were solid in in the middle of the infield. Flood and Brock formed two-thirds of a great outfield. But that third OF spot was held by Mike Shannon, who couldn't quite cut it. And third base remained a puzzle. That's when Howsam pulled off the Maris-for-Smith trade. Maris had always been a terrific fielder and smooth hitter. St. Louis was perfect for him. He'd never have to play in Yankee stadium again, and he didn't have to be the big star of the team. His acquisition allowed ol' Red to move Shannon to 3B, a much better fit for him, and the team was set.

The trade, made in December of 1966, was Howsam's last hurrah. He resigned six weeks later, but the table was lavishly set. The 1967 and 1968 pennant races weren't even close. The Cards won by 10 games in '67 and by 9 in '68, each time pursued at a distance by an increasingly shaky Giants squad. Bing Devine was lured back as g.m. just in time to enjoy the 1968 campaign; he would remain at the helm for another decade. When Maris retired at the end of the 1968 WS (which saw the Cards blow a 3-1 edge to the Tigers), Gussie Busch was so grateful he bestowed a Busch beer distributorship on Maris. The reigning single season home run king probably made more money from Gussie's beer than he ever made hitting baseballs.

St. Louis was so much better than anyone else at the time that many scribes foresaw a Yankees-type dominance ahead for the Cards. Although the team, reinvigorated by such trades as Cepeda-for-Joe Torre in 1969, finished second three times in the next six years, St. L fans would have to wait for The White Rat to come to town in 1981 to celebrate another pennant. But that's another tale. The point is, Devine and Howsam recognized young talent, were patient with it, and were not patient with aging stars. They made astute trades for the most part, but they avoided trading away young talent. Their field bosses didn't panic and were also patient with the kids. And the big boss, Gussie Busch, liked winning. When you have a Steinbrenner or a Busch screaming for a pennant, it just sort of gives you that extra incentive to get up a little earlier and stay a little later at the office to put that winning team together.

Nothing beats a bunch of career years

When it comes to evaluating talent, some of it has to do with luck. But in baseball, I'm beginning to believe that certain organizations are better at judging young players than others. The Cardinals in the 1950s and 1960s were one of those organizations. As the pennant year of 1964 approached, with '67 and '68 not far off, the Cards had three outstanding young pitchers in their system--Bob Gibson, Nelson Briles and Steve Carlton--who they did not let get away. They also seemed to see something in Lou Brock that the Cubs talent scouts didn't see. They saw a role for Mike Shannon that others might not have seen. They groomed Dal Maxvill for short and told him not to worry about the hitting, the big guys would handle it. And this knack for picking the right young prospects made all the difference to the Cards in the 1960s.

Signed out of Creighton College, Gibson joined the big squad at age 23. He hung around for a few years. In Koufax-like tradition, he didn't start to hit his stride till he was 26 (1962). The Cardinals were patient with him. And oh did it pay off.

I said something about the 1964 flag being a bit of a fluke, compared to the next two pennants. That's because the Cards' lineup and rotation was lousy with guys having career years. Brock, obtained early in the season from the Cubs for Ernie Broglio, had something to prove. (Poor Ernie just had a sore arm. did the Cards know? No one's talking.) He hit .348. Boyer, in one last attempt to recapture his youth, led the league in RBIs. White hit .303. Flood hit .311. McCarver hit .288. Simmons, Sadecki, and aging reliever Barney Schultz had career years, and Gibson went 19-12, k-ing 245 in 287 innings.

It was an extremely close race, with the top five teams separated by just five games. This was the year of the Phillies infamous collapse, the 10 losses in a row that would haunt Gene Mauch to the end of his days. As the Phils self-destructed, the Cards were hitting on all cylinders, Schultz and bullpen buddy Ron Taylor slamming the door in the late innings. Meanwhile, the off seasons by a few rival stars (Ed Mathews, Felipe Alou, Frank Howard, Junior Gilliam, McCovey, Joey Jay,most of the Giants pitching staff) gave the Cards just enough room to sneak in and take the flag. In a wild and closely matched World Series, Gibson brought the world championship home to St. L with his second series win in the 7th game.

Yet the team was not yet at its peak. Boyer was aging quickly. Groat, who had a fine season, was nearing the end of the line too. The pitching staff was just a bit too old. Meantime, the entire franchise, which should have been celebrating its first championship in nearly 20 years, was in disarray. The brilliant Bing Devine didn't even make it to the end of the season, with manager Johnny Keane hanging on by a thread. But of this we will speak no more until tomorrow.

Talkin Baseball, Talkin Cards

OK, I am ready to talk about the Cardinals. Got the turntable cranked up with
Fever Tree's "Another time, another place" (cir. 1968), great psychedelic stuff. Glass of cheap Spanish red at my left.

First, let me mention sources. When I do these posts, I use some or all of the following:
Baseball Digest (I have every issue from 1959-1995)
The MacMillan Baseball Encyclopedia (ninth edition)
The Bill James Abstracts
My own personal baseball scrapbooks from the 1950s and 1960s
Various sports magazines from the 1960s
baseball-reference.com
Baseball trading cards (1956-1973)(I don't care about the later cards)

All these sources have unique information to impart, different perspectives and statistics. You could look em up.

Back to the St. Louis Cardinals. What fascinates me about this franchise is its phoenix-like quality, its ability to rise from the ashes of defeat to the top of the heap time after time. In this decade, under Tony LaRussa, the Cards have put it all together, defying and debunking the "small market" theory. Gotta love 'em!

But back in the 1950s, things looked bleak for the Cards. They'd fattened up in the WWII period; Musial didn't get the call from Uncle Sam till '45,which helped immensely. After the 1946 season, the Cards entered what was for them a prolonged pennant drought. The club had good position players like Enos Slaughter, Musial and Red Schoendienst. But the pitching just didn't jell. Certainly not sufficiently for the Cards to catch the Dodgers and Giants and Braves.

The Busch family does not like not winning. There's a difference between doing well and not winning and winning. If you like doing well and don't care about winning...then stay away from competitive sports. (The Texas Rangers should just go away and stop bothering everyone.) You don't belong.

Augie Busch liked winning.

First he tried with the man whose heart I would have loved to have ripped out through his anus: Frank "Trader" Lane. He took over as G.M. in the mid-'50s, but guess what? Busch could see he was an idiot! And he replaced him with home-grown Bing Devine, a man who would leave an indelible impression on this franchise for decades to come.

Devine looked down upon his Cardinals and was displeased. The team, by sheer luck, had finished 2nd in '57, Lane's last year. Under Devine, the Cards went 5-7-3-5-6. But he was not standing pat. Neither the infield nor the outfield quite worked. The pitching staff was still a muddle. Devine went to work. He acquired Bill White, then 26, for an aging but still effective Sad Sam Jones for the 1959 season. He installed Curt Flood in center, and moved Julian Javier to second base fulltime in 1960. Meantime, Ernie Broglio was helping to set the stage for Devine's most brilliant (and luckiest) trade by winning 21 games in 1960.

But still the team sputtered. One suspects that Devine, by 1962, was disturbed by the aging of Cards' stars like Musial, Schoendienst, Simmons, Boyer and Larry Jackson. Especially Musial. So Devine turned to Branch Rickey for advice.
Rickey, the old Mahatma, immediately ruffled every feather in sight. He recommended a complete overhaul of the team, including a demand that Stan the Man retire after the 1962 season. Although many of his suggestions were ludicrous (he wanted to replace Javier with someone named Ed Pacheco), he also advocated the immediate calling up of youngsters Nelson Briles and Steve Carlton. Now that was brilliant. But Devine didn't bite. (They both joined the squad in 1965, following the tumultuous departure of Devine and Johnny Keane.) Rickey was basically run out of town for this radical call to action. But Devine realized Rickey was right about the team needing a shake-up.

And tomorrow, we'll talk about that shake-up, and why the 1964 team was a bit of an illusion as pennant winners go.

Untouchables: What's the cost of keeping them?

I'm not quite ready to dump what I've learned about the Cardinals and their ability to win pennants despite their small market status. But having just looked at the Cubs, it strikes me that Untouchables, as much as fans love them, can hold a good team back. The Cards won a couple of pennants with a very young Musial in the lineup in the 1940s. Then the team struggled until Stan the Man retired in 1963. Ted Williams played in just one World Series--the 1946 Series, which was Musial's last. The Cubs never won with Banks, Santo and Williams on the Untouchables list. The Tigers went to the WS just once (1968) during Kaline's career (they did win their division in '72 just before Kaline retired).

Mantle and Ford were in that category, but with a difference: Casey Stengel constantly berated Mantle, something people tend to forget today, which kept Mickey hungry for Casey's approval. He never achieved "star status" till after Casey was gone and he had become an aging and hobbled legend. And Whitey never had the star quality about him. Surrounded by so much talent, it was only later in his career that people began to notice how awesome he truly was.

Coming up: The Cards and (Oakland) A's: How small market teams remain competitive

If you followed the last few posts on this ridiculously nerdy site, you know I've been analyzing why the Braves and Cubs failed to make optimal use of the talent they had during the 1960s and early '70s. Now it's time to look at two franchises that understood and ruthlessly exploited talent--much to the delight of their fans, which is what it's all about at the end of the day.

First I'll dissect, in that way that I have, the Cardinals. This is probably my favorite baseball franchise, given that this relatively small-market team is consistently a winner. Then we'll have some fun with the A's, another lovable bunch. I'm knee-deep in the research now, but stay tuned: I will disgorge the truth about the Cards and A's soon!

Brock for Broglio revisited

Over the years, the Chicago Cubs have been roundly criticized for their 1964 trade of future HOF outfielder Lou Brock for Ernie Broglio. In fact, the trade has gone down as one of the worst trades in baseball history. And of course Cubs fans, who feel sorry for themselves when they go to bed at night, feel sorry for themselves when they rise in the morning, feel sorry for themselves when they drink beer at the neighborhood tavern, feel sorry for themselves in the shower (deservedly so) and feel sorry for themselves during Mass when they should be feeling sorry for the guy on the cross--Cubs fans moan and weep about that franchise-shattering trade.

You'd almost think it was as bad as Colavito for Kuenn. I always feel sorry for myself when I think of that trade. But in fact, the trade was 100% rational at the time (unlike Kuenn for Colavito), and I would argue that it was not a franchise breaker at all.

This from a guy who has long considered Brock-for-Broglio one of the worst trades ever. But I have been forced to reconsider my position.

The trade did turn the St. Louis Cardinals into a juggernaut. Brock was exactly what St. Louis needed. They didn't need pitching, jeeeee-zus did they have pitching in the '60s. Gibson, Simmons and Sadecki were all having killer years in 1964 when the Cards slipped Broglio to the Cubs. The Cards also had excellent relief pitching during this period from the likes of McDaniel (through '62, then traded to the Cubs) and Hoerner. Once the Cubs dealt McDaniel in '65 for Bill Hands and Randy Hundley, they weren't able to find a suitable replacement, another factor in the failure to grab a flag in those days.

(Note: The McDaniel trade thread is a fascinating one, which I'll pursue when I review the Cardinals' successful post-Musial rebuilding strategy. Suffice to say the Cards made it work to their advantage after apparently being one-upped by the Cubs.)

When they traded Broglio, the Cards assumed they were making an up-and-up deal. He'd gotten off to a bad start, but who knew it was the beginning of the end? They perhaps suspected they were giving the Cubs the missing piece to their pennant puzzle, but were willing to bet the Cubs wouldn't pull it off.

The Cards must have figured with Brock's speed on the bases and in the outfield, he would create, with Curt Flood, one of the fastest outfield combos ever to play the game. They could not have dreamed he would become one of the game's finest hitters. That was the bonus that neither team counted on. Least of all the Cubs, who had decided Brock was a mediocre hitter.

The Cubs, too, had pitching that year. Larry Jackson, Dick Ellsworth and Bob Buhl were wind-em-up-and-send-em-out hurlers, just like Gibson, Simmons and Sadecki. But while the Cards gambled that they could get by with a Big 3 plus relief pitchers, the Cubs were going for Four of a Kind. Had Broglio returned to his 1963 form of 18 wins, they would have been in the thick of the race. The Cards took it with 93 wins; with 18 wins from Broglio instead of 4, the Cubs have a 90+ season.

Didn't work out that way. But you just can't blame the Brock/Bloglio swap for the Cubs' failure to win a pennant. The team's problems went deeper than that.

During the period of Glenn Beckert's career with the Cubs (1965-73), when the Tribe was finishing 5th and 6th and never higher than 3rd place, the Cubs were in it practically every year. Once Durocher took over, they were 3-3-2-2-3-2 from '67-72. They had five Untouchables in the field: Banks, Williams, Beckert, Kessinger and Santo. (For some reason Gentleman Jim Hickman was a mainstay on that team from '68-'73.) All these excellent ballplayers had lifetime job security with the Cubs, a luxury in those days. A great infield, yes--but a sketchy outfield, with Williams surrounded by a shifting cast of ... well, not Lou Brocks. And no relief pitching for most of that period. The catching was pretty decent. Once Hundley took over in '66, he gave them stability there (except for two disastrous years when he was injured and the lack of depth at catcher became painfully clear.) Again, the Cubs' inability to identify a solid #2 catcher during the 1965-73 period was another sign of the organization's poor talent sense. This team had a serious lack of depth behind the Untouchables.

The Cubs could have dealt one of their marquee players (Banks, Williams or Santo), who doubtless would have netted a couple of fine pitchers. They refused to do so. The team's failure to produce one more outstanding outfielder and one or two more top pitchers did more to hold them back than Brock/Broglio. Oh, they came up with some fine pitchers during that period: Jenkins, Hands, Reuschel, Niekro, Nye, Holtzman--but they either gave up on them too soon or they suffered career-ending injuries.

But by 1968, Brock/Broglio was not a major factor. Yes, they could have used Brock in the outfield, no shit! But that '68 team was stoked. Great starting pitching, Phil "The Vulture" Reagan snagging 25 saves out of the pen. Hundley behind the plate. Excellent hitting off the bench, career years at the plate by Billy Williams and Beckert. What killed their chances in '68 were the off seasons by those Chicago icons, Banks and Santo. Don't blame Brock/Broglio.

Sorry, but the truth must be told. The Cubs hung on to Ernie and Ronnie too long. St. Louis loved Ken Boyer. But when he had an off year at age 34, it was bye-bye Kenny. (They got Al Jackson, who had 2 good seasons for the Cards, and Charley Smith, who was traded the next year for Roger Maris, who helped bring 2 pennants to St. Louis before he retired. Boyer was done in two years. Another great Cards' trading thread.) You couldn't trade Stan the Man inSt. Louis. But by god anyone else was fair game to Augie Busch. He wanted to win pennants.

The Cubs, meanwhile, would stick with Banks till the bitter end, till he could barely field, barely run, and had lost a lot of his batting pop. By 1971, Banks was through, but he'd been in decline much earlier. He finally retired, having failed to muscle the Cubs to a pennant despite 512 home runs and a sure ticket to the HOF. Santo, Williams, Beckert and Kessinger were never to taste the World Series bubbly either.

The Cubs at last traded Santo to the White Sox in '73 for Steve Stone. Santo had one dismal year for the Pale Hose and retired to the broadcast booth. (Maybe the move across town was too much for him.) Stone had one good year and one bad one for the Cubs, who granted him free agency-just before he had four outstanding years as the starter the Cubs had so desperately needed.

Go ahead, Cubs fans, feel sorry for yourselves about that one.

I have a hard time as a Cleveland fan feeling sorry for Cubs fans of the 1960s and 1970s. At least they were in the thick of it many times. They had bankable stars who played most of their careers with the team. The Cubs' farm system, and its bosses, simply failed to identify the elusive replacement for Brock in the outfield. Nor could they identify the two or three pitchers they actually developed who would complement Ferguson Jenkins, Hands and Holtzman in the starting rotation and out of the pen.

Had they hung on to some combination of starters Joe Niekro, Jim Colburn, Fred Norman, Larry Gura and Bill Stoneman, and reliever Lindy McDaniel (traded for Hundley and Hands in '65), who knows what might have been? In the 1960-1975 era, they were oh so close to becoming a dominant team. You can't just blame Brock/Broglio. The Cubs blew the player personnel decisions far too often.

The Dodgers and Cardinals, meanwhile, enjoyed the fruits of a more productive farm system, and they made some trades that were either sagacious or lucky. Looking at the three clubs objectively, you can only conclude that St. Louis and the Dodgers did a better job of identifying and developing talent than the Cubs. A sentimental team at heart, the Cubs could not bring themselves to part with the position players other teams truly coveted in their prime: Williams, Banks and Santo. If anything, Brock-for-Broglio made the Cubs more cautious when it came to trading valuable players. And cautious teams do not win the World Series.

In case you missed it ...

For the three newcomers to this site since it was launched earlier this year, here's the post explaining why I felt the need to create this nerdy baseball blog:

The summer of 1959 marked the beginning of my life. The Cleveland Indians' desperate battle for the pennant, led by the charismatic Rocky Colavito and the enigmatic Tito Francona, shook me awake. At the age of 9, I experienced euphoria and torment, discovering, through a mere game, the full range of human emotions.

Of course, 1959 marked the beginning of, not quite a death, but a long decline for our beloved Tribe. The Indians' failure to win the pennant in the final days of the season sent egomaniac general manager Frank "Trader" Lane on a quixotic trading spree designed to push Cleveland over the top in 1960. The Colavito-for-Kuenn trade may have been the worst in Tribe history. But other deals, like shipping budding star Gordy Coleman to Cincy for aging tippler Johnny Temple, were also disasters. (Coleman's 26 HRs in '61 helped propel Cincy to first place in the N.L.)

But I was hooked. Baseball had brought me to life, just as directly as Dr. Frankenstein's machine jump-started his monster. Before that summer, my memories are mostly vague ones. But I can still recall vivid details of that summer, that pennant race, and the men who fought so hard but fell short in the end. Pitcher Jack Harshman, an aging Baltimore cast-off, winning a key game late in the season with timely hitting as well as gutsy pitching. All of it brought to me by the voices of Jimmy Dudley and Bob Neal, pouring the flow of the game into my ear, pressed against my transistor radio. "Colavito swings, and there it goes! That ball is going, going--it's gone, for a home run!" Dudley's signature home run call, sweet music to my ears.

So, while my date of birth says I am 58 years old, my conscious life age is 49. Many times I have tried to break baseball's grip on my life. Impossible. I remember my grandmother Dowding, in her nineties, leaning into the radio,listening to the Tribe, praying to her god for one more pennant. She died at 99 without one. (Pennant, not a god.) With any luck (I don't have a god except baseball), I will only have to wait until October to see another Tribe pennant fluttering in the breeze.

Or will I? This is The Tribe, after all. I'm sure Trader Lane's ghost is haunting us still--and giggling hysterically at our misery.

Hope out of tragedy & all that crap

Came across a fascinating story today about the 14-year-old daughter of the late Padres infielder Alan Wiggins. He had serious substance abuse problems that eventually cut short first his career and then his life. But his widow and children are doing well, particularly his youngest daughter. I was a fan of Wiggins' when he played; Bill James was among those who felt his bosses looked the other way at the drug use as long as he was doing well, and then cut him lose without any help once his game slipped.

I'm not much into redemption, but in this case, the kid could fulfill the old man's promise, which would be cool.

You'll find the story at this URL: http://www.frontpagenews.us/2008/04/hoopgurlz_14.html.

Card Availability

Note to readers: Please let me know via email if you are interested in purchasing any of the cards you see on this site. We may or may not decide to sell them. The email address is:
notfedup@hotmail.com
Thanks!
Frank "Trader" Lane

The Braves: Turner crafts a turner-around

I was just reading an article in a 1967 issue of Baseball Digest. It listed what the author considered to be the worst baseball trades of all time. Typical of most fan analyses of trades, this simply looked at the who-for-who and what happened that year. As a result, several monumentally bad trades involving The Tribe and The Braves (Colavito for Kuenn and Pizarro/Jay for McMillan) were overlooked. Why? Because Colavito/Kuenn appeared to be even steven on the surface. Never mind that it wrecked the franchise for years and was just one of many poor deals cut by Frank "Trader" Lane. Same with Pizarro+Jay=McMillan. Not horrible that year on the surface, but over time, a killer, and just one of many ill-advised moves by the Braves bosses.

And there was this: Because the Braves had been so anonymous for so long, no one really paid them much attention. In their Boston years, they were so far eclipsed by the Red Sox that they were virtually invisible. A move to Milwaukee, then a minor league town somewhere in the Upper Midwest, didn't help. The move to Atlanta was similar, in that the Braves were the first franchise to go deep South, not on the sports writer/fan radar.

Then, in 1976, Ted Turner bought them.

Now, if you recall, Turner only bought them because he'd purchased a TV network and had no content. The Braves desperately needed the money. Deal made in heaven. Soon, anyone who cared to watch a completely pathetic baseball team could do so any day of the week. Since the Braves did play good teams from time to time, they began to get some recognition over the years.

Not that there was much to recognize. The pre-Turner bosses had continued to make astoundingly poor trades, including the afore-mentioned 68 trade of Joe Torre for The Baby Bull, and the even worse trade of Felix Millan after the 72 season for Gary Gentry and Danny Frisella.

Fun fact time: You thought Felix was a funny name, right? Felix the Cat. Felix from The Odd Couple. Well, 17 major league ballplayers have had Felix as a first or last name. (You could look it up.) But the Braves, in their mishandling of their two Felixes (Feli?) (Millan and Mantilla), lead the league in misjudging athletes named Felix.

By the time Turner took over, this was a last-place team that deserved to be last. The Braves 1977 rosters has to be one of the poorest ever assembled. The pitching staff was so bad that 38-year-old Phil Niekro had to pitch 330 innings, finishing with a 16-20 W-L record and an ERA over 4.00. No regular hit over .300 and the only player to lead the league in anything was Niekro--in IP and losses.

As Turner exploited the team for various promotions and gimmicks, it floundered. There was one bright moment, when, in 1982, Joe Torre returned--as manager. Why he would want to help out the Braves is still a mystery. I guess it was as good a place to start over as any. (He'd just been dumped by the Mets.) In any case, he lashed it into a division crown. Torre's leadership provided a brief relief from incompetence; the team finished second in 83 and 84. But then Torre left, and mediocrity returned (under managers Chuck Tanner and Russ Nixon) until ...

Bobby Cox returned. Cox, a marginal major leaguer himself, had cut his big league managing teeth with the horrible Braves teams of 1978-81. Cox moved on to the Blue Jays, where he took over a struggling squad and, in two years, completely turned it around. After guiding the Jays to a pennant in 1985, the Braves lured him back. It only took Cox one season to whip the Braves into shape. And the rest has been history.

Ironically, the Braves and Indians would meet in the 1995 World Series, two franchises that, after 30-plus years of frustration, rose to prove that good management can recognize and retain top talent, regardless of the market size or the franchise's history. Today, Cleveland and Atlanta are the envy of many a franchise, as they carefully husband their talent to stay competitive year after year. Too bad the fans of Milwaukee couldn't have been part of this turnaround. There's no reason they couldn't have enjoyed it. Except that the Braves' bosses, from 1960 to 1990, were stupid, unlucky, and probably prejudiced--at least against Hispanic guys named Felix.

The Horror! The Horror! Braves episode 3

We're discussing how disastrous player personnel decisions by the Boston/ Milwaukee/ Atlanta Braves beginning in 1960 sent the team into a 30-year tailspin, eerily similar to that suffered by the Cleveland Indians at the very same time.

You'll have to read the last couple of posts for the details, but essentially, here's what happened: The Braves freaked out after the team finished second in 1959 and 1960. They made stupid, panic-driven trades that robbed the team of top-quality veterans and about-to-blossom young players. They made poor decisions about playing time for key players, especially Joe Adcock and Felix Mantilla. The farm system, which had been doing well for a decade, stopped, for the most part, producing talent to replace what was traded away. The players obtained in the trades for the most part were flops.

Following a series of fifth and sixth place finishes, the Braves moved the team to Atlanta, which had been their top minor league town. Poor Milwaukee attendance was cited as the reason, of course. But had the team stuck with the talent the gods of baseball had bestowed up it in the late 50s, the Braves certainly would have finished first and second at least twice in those four fateful years. (See yesterday's post for details.)

At first, it appeared the Braves had suddenly gotten smart. They obtained Felipe Alou, in the prime of his career, for virtually nothing from the Giants in 1964. The same year, the farm system actually popped out a rare star: Rico Carty. Young pitchers who were counted on to replace Joey Jay, Bob Buhl and Juan Pizarro, showed promise. (George Stone, Pat Jarvis and Ron Reed.) Lemaster and Cloninger were looking like studs on the mound. As the team relocated to Atlanta in 1966, things seemed to be looking up.

Note: They weren't.

After several seasons of disappointment, the Braves finally got a break. Divisional play began in 1969. Now there weren't so many teams to beat. The Atlanta fans must have thought they had really pulled a fast one on Beertown, as the Braves eaked out a first-place West division finish in '69.

It was a fluke. Oh yeah.

The entire staff of starting pitchers had career years. In some cases, it would be those hurlers' last decent year in the majors. Led by Phil Niekro's 23 wins, the Braves's four primary starters won 67 games among them. And they did it without a great bullpen. Meantime, the oft-injured Rico Carty hit .342. Felix Millan led the second sackers in fielding and hit well. Retreads Tony Gonzalez and Clete Boyer cobbled together solid seasons, while Tito Francona and Mike Lum came off the bench to provide late-inning heroics.

But the divisional playoffs offered a clearer insight into the Braves' future. The Mets clobbered them, scoring 27 runs in sweeping the five-game playoff 3-0. The Braves hit .255 compared to the Mets' .327, while Braves hurlers recorded an ERA of just under 7.

Ouch!

The very next year, the pitching staff imploded. The questionable 1969 trade of in-his-prime slugging catcher Joe Torre for fading star Orlando Cepeda began to stink to high heaven, as the Braves failed to identify a decent backstop. Boyer and Gonzalez declined as age took its toll. How desperate were the Braves? Desperate enough to pick up 47-year-old Hoyt Wilhelm to try to shore up the bullpen.

Joe Torre, by the way, hit ,325 with 21 HRs and 100 RBIs for St. Louis. He would rack up 8 solid years for the Cards and Mets before deciding to become one of the greatest managers in the history of the game. Cepeda did well in 1970 but fell off the face of the earth in 71 and was traded to Oakland for--are you ready?--DENNY MCLAIN!@!$# in 1972.

Fun facts for you Atlanta fans who are too young to remember the horror.

Tomorrow: the Braves wander in the desert for 20 years until a flambouyant billionaire who got to schtup Jane Fonda rescues them, and his own reputation into the bargain.

The Braves Were Stupid, Episode 2 (all new!)

I just got back from setting up a digital recording studio in Tom's basement. Who says two guys who are over 100 years old together can't figure this stuff out? (We pushed enough buttons until it worked, then grilled steaks to celebrate.) Listening to Kaleidoscope, courtesy of my bro Chris. Thanks, Bro. Yashigmadah indeed!

OK, back to our analysis of the collapse of the Braves. In yesterday's exciting episode, we had a bit of history lesson in the Boston/ Milwaukee/ Atlanta Braves. (For first-person insight into this era, see "My 15 Years with the Braves" by Ed Mathews in the August 1966 edition of Sport Magazine.) We left you hanging on the edge of the cliff: The Braves had won two pennants (57-58) and narrowly missed a 4-peat, finishing second in 59-60. And then ...

Just like The Tribe panicked when the team fell short in 1959, trading Colavito and destroying the team, the Braves freaked out after the 1960 season. Management embarked on a series of desperate trades designed to put them back on top. Instead, save for a completely inexplicable division title in 1969, the Braves would suffer through three decades of incompetence. The town of Milwaukee would be stripped of its beloved team, and an entire generation of fine players would never be permitted to sip of the championship Champagne.

Here are the key elements to the collapse:
1) 1960, Braves traded Juan Pizarro (one of two Hispanics on the club) and Joey Jay for Roy McMillan. Since those who executed the trades are dead, we can only surmise that they were convinced a good fielding, poor hitting,aging shortstop would put the Braves back in the thick of things. Joey Jay enjoyed TWO 21-win seasons with Cincinnati, leading them to the Series in 1961. He would win 75 games post-Braves before he retires. Juan Pizarro would play for 14 MORE seasons in the majors as a starter and reliever, winning more than 100 games. McMillan had 2-plus mediocre seasons and was soon out of the game. The Braves had an excellent shortstop on the team at the time--Felix Mantilla--but refused to start him and let him go the Mets in the '62 draft. Mantilla would have four outstanding seasons as the Braves entered their nosedive. Hispanic prejudice? Maybe. How else do you explain it? (I always loved his 1960 baseball card and still own it.)
2) 1960: Billy Bruton and Terry Fox are traded for Tigers second sacker Frank Bolling. Bruton has four more excellent years with the Tigers. Fox becomes the premier relief pitcher in the majors over the next 5 years as the Braves search for relief help. Bolling does OK, but again, Felix Mantilla could also play second. Why give up four outstanding regulars for two middling infielders, when you had a young stud infielder right on the roster? At least one of these trades was superfluous. STUPID!

(it gets worse)

3) As the Braves slump further, more trades follow. The team's one solid relief ace, Don McMahon, is sold. He enjoys 12 more years of slamming the door in close games. Meantime, Joe Adcock, so sorely abused as a platoon hitter by the Braves, is traded to Cleveland for--are you ready?--TY CLINE, DON DILLARD AND FRANK FUNK! Adcock will hit more than 60 homers in the next four years. Funk is gone from the game in one year, and Cline and Dillard shine the regulars shoes for a couple of years before opening a dry goods store in Crampton, AK. Gene Oliver plays first base for the Braves. Need we say more?

(seat belt time for Braves fans)

4) in 1961, the unforgivable happens: The Braves WAIVE Wes Covington! One of the finest left-handed hitting sluggers of his day or any day, The Cov was a hitting machine along the lines of Jerry Lynch, Claudell Washington and Ellis Valentine. And the Braves get NOTHING for him. Covington will rack up a slugging percentage of .450 in the next 4 years with 54 homers as a platoon player. Meantime, the Braves feature Mack Jones in his place. Who is basically Wes Covington once he gets in the groove by 1965. But by then, the Braves have blown four years when they could have been contending.

(we're not done yet. Barf bags suggested for Braves fans)

5)In a final insult to the senses, Lee Maye, another solid hitter and Aaron's new outfield counterpart, is traded during the 1965 season to Houston for Ken Johnson and Jim Beauchamp (one of those eternal prospects who never got it together). Of course, Johnson hangs in there for 3 years and retires, while Maye enjoys another 6 years in the show.

What does all this mean? Simply this: Braves management could not judge baseball talent. How could they? They did not see the talent they already had on the roster in 1960. Think about it: The club was loaded! This team in 1960 had pitching: McMahon in the bullpen, with Terry Fox coming up. Instead, these guys were dumped in favor of Ron Piche, Frank Funk, Billy frickin O'Dell, and (I'm not making this up), Bobby Tiefenauer.

Starters: Jay, Pizarro and Buhl were good for an average of 16 wins apiece in the 61-64 period when the Braves should have been contending. But those wins were for someone else.

Hitters and fielders: The bosses completely undervalued Bruton, Covington, Mantilla, Adcock and Lee Maye. Yet these riches were squandered in an ill-advised campaign to shuffle the deck and create a winner through trades.

This team should have been in first and second place every year from 1961 to 1964. Attendence in Milwaukee would have been through the roof. Instead, just as the Braves fled Boston for Milwaukee a decade earlier, management would blame the town and seek success in a new place. What Atlantans witnessed by 1968 was a Braves team that featured the likes of an aging Tito Francona, Milt Pappas (did he kill his wife or not? Should he be in the HOF or not??), Clete Boyer, Tommy Aaron and Mike Lum.

Would you pay to see this team?

Tomorrow: Atlanta inherits Milwaukee's suffering, enjoys a brief yee-Ha! in 1969, then watches as the team goes into the toilet for 21 years. Only this franchise could have made Ted Turner a respectable human being!