Baseball, Life, and Other Stuff

Great Sports Museums in Baltimore

Want to see a bat that Shoeless Joe Jackson gave to Babe Ruth, one of Brooks Robinson's Gold Gloves, a World Series trophy or any of hundreds of other interesting and historic sports pieces?  Then head over to Baltimore's Sports Legends Museum and the Babe Ruth Birthplace and Museum.  The former is located right at Camden Yards, while the latter is only several blocks away.

The Babe Ruth Birthplace and Museum is housed in the Bambino's actual birthplace as the name implies.  Many interesting items are on display from Ruth's career, especially his early days in Baltimore.  The Sports Legends Museum contains Baltimore Orioles memorabilia from their days in the National League in the 1890s, their time in the International League, and the current franchise which was born in 1954.  There are "9 innings" of history encompassing 9 different eras in team history.  The 1970, as well as the 1983 World Series trophies are on display as are uniforms, equipment, photographs, and autographs.  An entire display is dedicated to Cal Ripken and contains the actual "2,131" numbers that hung on the B. & O. Warehouse at Camden Yards marking Cal's record-breaking consecutive games streak.

Home to the Orioles' Hall of Fame and the Maryland Sports Hall of Fame, the Sports Legends Museum also houses an excellent display on Johnny Unitas and the Baltimore Colts.  Indeed, through June of 2009, the Museum is presenting a special exhibit on the 1958 NFL Championship game, dubbed, "The Greatest Game Ever Played."  If you grew up in Baltimore, you'll get chills viewing the many items on display from that day.  One of the most fascinating displays,however, is an area set up to look like a typical living room from 1958 with highlights of the game playing on the television!

It was Alan Ameche, of course, who scored the winning touchdown and seeing as how Sunday would have been his 76th birthday, it is only fitting to post this review now.  Since Sunday's doubleheader at Rebel Park has been canceled, you can get over there this weekend!  Unless it snows, of course.  This weekend or not, if you're an Orioles,Colts, or Babe Ruth fan you owe it to yourself to travel to Baltimore and take in these museums.

Click here for the link to the museums.

Baltimore living room, December 28, 1958.

The Serious Business of Being a Fan

Rooting for your favorite sports team can be a very stressful business.  You’ve invested an entire afternoon—or an entire 6 months—following the Hometown Heroes, and now here you are, in front of the TV, score tied in the bottom of the 9^th, a man on second, the count is 2-2, the pitch is on the way . . . and all you can do is watch.  That’s the stressful part:  We fans are completely involved and totally helpless.  This combination of stress and helplessness may often lead to some strange, even violent behavior.  What, you’ve never yelled at the television in anger/disgust/rage/despair/anger/hopelessness/anger?

I've been known to bolt out of my seat as if the couch suddenly caught fire, trying to hold a runner at third who was obviously about to be thrown out at the plate.  In fact, the very first time Martha felt our first daughter, Rebecca, move in the womb, occurred when Oriole relief pitcher Tom Niedenfuer was busy yielding 3 consecutive home runs to the Detroit Tigers.  Martha says that Becky started kicking because she was scared by all the yelling as the second homer made its way toward the upper deck at Tiger Stadium.  I say she was kicking in disgust.  Becky, now age 21, has turned out to be a real baseball fan, so I think I’m right.

I suppose that yelling at the TV is at least logical on some level.  The superstitions that most of us develop in order to influence the action, however, are somewhat less rational.  Now, I don’t know about your remote control, but the mute button on my remote control has a tremendous telepathic influence. 

Throughout the waning days of the summer of 1989, the Orioles were locked in a duel with the Toronto Blue Jays for the American League East pennant, I discovered that good things happened if I pressed the mute button.  I think it started when The Birds would play an away game and I couldn’t stand to hear the cheering of the opponent’s fans.  Lo and behold, whenever I pressed the mute button, good things happened.  I began to learn the intricacies of the mute; press it when the pitch was on its way, and use it sparingly.  Throughout September, if we needed a strike or an out or a timely hit, I would press the mute button in that split second that the ball was traveling from the pitcher to the batter.  It worked, right up until the 8^th inning of that first game of the last series of the season against the Blue Jays.  The Orioles ended up losing two out of three games, and thus the pennant.

I've continued to use the mute button on certain occasions in order to influence the action on the field. It cannot be used in hopeless situations, however, which explains why it hasn’t been used much during the Orioles’ past 11 seasons.  Most recently, I've used it with football and I'm happy to say that my mute button sent the Tennessee Titans down to defeat against the Ravens in this year’s playoffs.  Our younger daughter Sarah was watching the game with me, but it was not until two of her friends came over that the tide began to turn in the Ravens’ favor.  I knew that Jenn sitting in the rocker and Jessa sitting on the couch was creating a positive Ravens vibe in Nashville.

Still, it was a tight game, and so Sarah suggested that I hit the mute.  I did so, selectively of course, and by my count, the mute button resulted in a sack by Terrell Suggs, a crucial third-down stop by the Baltimore defense, a critical Ravens first down, and two Ravens field goals.  No one who was there—and by that I mean Sarah, Jenn, and Jessa—dared question the POWER OF THE MUTE!

I don’t know what happened against Pittsburgh.  I think the batteries must have been low.  Or maybe I wasn’t wearing my lucky sweatshirt.  Or maybe I should have brought Jenn and Jessa over to the house again and made them sit in the same seats.  I’m sure that it was something like that . . .  In any case, as I said, rooting for your favorite sports team can be stressful!

Happy Birthday, George Washington

Today is the actual birthday of the greatest American who ever lived.  Students aren't taught much, if anything about George Washington anymore and all most people can say about him is that he had wooden teeth and chopped down a cherry tree.  What a pity.  Without George Washington, there would be no America.

As Commander of the Continental Army, he possessed the two traits absolutely necessary for success.  First, he learned from his mistakes and second, and more importantly, he refused to quit.  Along the banks of the Delaware, at Valley Forge, at Morristown, he refused to admit defeat and an argument can be made that it was Washington's willpower alone that transformed the united colonies into the United States.

After victory was secured, came his greatest moment.  With his officers restless about not being paid and bitter toward Congress for its lack of concern about the army's welfare, there was talk of marching on Philadelphia to take control of the government.  Washington met with his officers in Newburgh, New York in an attempt to persuade them against carrying out their inflamed passions.  His words did not convince the hard-bitten soldiers, but when he pulled a pair of spectacles from his pocket to read a reassuring note from a Virginia congressman, he said, "Gentlemen, you must pardon me.  I have grown gray in your service and now Ifind myself growing blind."  This gesture, symbolizing the meaning of sacrifice, hit the mark.  To continue from A. J. Langguth's Patriots:

Tears welled up it the eyes of many of the men.  Washington finished reading the letter and left the hall.  When he had gone, the assembled officers voted unanimously to express their confidence in the Congress and to ask George Washington to continue as their spokesman.

In December of 1783, Washington resigned his commission to return to his farm.  After two terms as President, he voluntarily left the office.  Imagine, a political leader who sees public service as a duty and not a career.  Now imagine one who warned against "foreign entanglements" and party politics and you may begin to appreciate George Washington.

King George III proclaimed that Washington "would be the greatest character of his age" if he voluntarily surrendered power and gave up the Presidency.  King George almost got it right:  George Washington was the greatest character of his age--and every age since.

For further reading on George Washington:

His Excellency by Joseph Ellis

Patriarch by Richard Norton Smith

The Indispensable Man by James Thomas Flexner

Patirots by A. J. Langguth.  An excellent history of the Revolution, this work is the best book that I have ever read, period.  A review will appear in the near future.

Why Rebel Baseball in New Market, Virginia?

Many readers might ask, why travel 90 miles one way to pay $5.00 to see a bunch of college kids play for the New Market Rebels, a member of the summer wooden-bat league, Valley Baseball League.  The answer is because it is a far more enjoyable experience than traveling 90 miles one way to Baltimore to pay $50.00 to see major leaguers play.  Don't get me wrong--the Orioles will always be my favorite major league team and I will always root hard for them, but the game itself is much more enjoyable in New Market.

The Valley League is comprised of kids who will play no further than college, professional prospects, and potential major league stars.  Indeed, the Orioles' Chris Ray and Luke Scott played in the Valley among many other major leaguers.  The dreams of these young men are palpable and as refreshing as the warm breezes that drift over the ballparks during the summer evenings on which they play.

No ballpark frames the game and the dreams better than Rebel Park in New Market.  The outfield fence would remind any old-timer of the 1930s as advertising covers virtually every inch of the plywood fence.  It also has its version of the big green monster, that is to say the third base bleachers look out about Massanutten Mountain, rising straight up off the Shenandoah Valley floor about 2 miles distant.  To see the full moon rise above Massanutten is a sight not to be forgotten.

More memorable than the moon are the fans who frequent Rebel Park.  If you are a stranger, you will not feel as though you have wondered into someone else's park.  Instead, you'll feel as if you are being welcomed into someone else's home.  Folks come there to watch the game in the company of their friends and neighbors and this, perhaps more than any other quality, makes baseball in New Market, Virginia a field of dreams.  Hopefully, this brief description answers why I feel the need to write a book about Rebel baseball!

Opening Day for the Rebels this year is June 5, but you don't have to wait to see a game at Rebel park!  On Sunday, March 1, the University of Pittsburgh-Bradford will play a doubleheader against Lincoln College from Pennsylvania.  Admission is free and the concession stand will be open.  For directions to Rebel Park, visit their website listed at right.

 

Rebel Park

Why Baseball?

Former student Kim Brown asked me a very intelligent question regarding baseball:  Why am I and others so “fascinated” by it?  Allow me to begin this answer with a story.

I have had the privilege of interviewing Mo Weber, the New Market Rebels’ hitting instructor, on several occasions, a man whom I now have the even greater privilege of calling my friend.  Mo will be 86 in June of this year and has been active in college or semi-pro baseball since 1946.  I put this very question to Mo, a thoughtful and articulate man with interests ranging from art to the stock market.  This intelligent man who has spent 63 years in the game gave me an immediate and unhesitating answer, “I don’t know,” he said, “I’ve often asked myself that same question.”  Later in our conversation he talked about the thrill of watching a well-turned double play, stating that it’s better than attending the ballet or reading “great literature,” but he never could give me a definitive answer.

I, too, have given this question much thought over the course of my life (which isn’t even as long as Mo’s coaching career!), and I can’t answer the question to my own complete satisfaction, but I’ve come up with a couple of observations.  Baseball does not attract a single mindset, as both scientists and poets are fascinated by the game.  It is certainly a game of numbers, but perhaps it is the infinite possibilities in which those numbers play out that gives the game a certain poetic quality.  While it is a very mathematical game, it is anybody’s guess where the ball is going on a given play.  Football is such a marvelous game for television because the ball moves across the screen in a very ordered fashion.  This is why flea-flicker plays and double reverses are loved by football fans, because it breaks the constant pattern of left to right or right to left across your TV screen.

There is also something very personable about baseball.  We feel as if we know the players and recognize them by their very mannerisms.  True baseball fans instantly recognize their heroes; if I saw, even from a distance, Brooks Robinson set himself at third base in civilian clothes, I would know who it was.

There is also something very human about failing 7 times out of 10 and still being regarded as successful.  We humans fail at an awful lot in the course of the day, and I wonder if 3/10 is some kind of archetypal number for us Homo sapiens.  Indeed, I suspect that there is something primal about baseball that appeals to our deepest instincts concerning the success of the individual within the context of a bonded community, that is, team.  There’s a master’s thesis in psychology there somewhere.

For me personally, baseball represents among other things a return to childhood.  It’s the sport I grew up playing, and I dreamed of buying a pack of baseball cards, opening it, and seeing me on top of the stack.  In fact, I have a membership in our local Extra Innings, which is an indoor batting facility.  Once a week, I go there for ½ hour of batting practice.  I’m not as strong or as fast or as quick or as coordinated as I was when I was younger, but the joy is just as intense as it was when I was young.  I have no problems or responsibilities in the cage; it’s just me and the ball and the sights and sounds that have been the backdrop for some of my happiest moments over these (almost) 52 years.

I typed “why is baseball so popular” into the Google search engine and received 26,400,000 results.  I suspect that Mo and I could read all of them and still feel as if no one had quite explained exactly what is so fascinating about baseball.

My mother was and still is a baseball fan.  I am and so is Becky, our older daughter; but Sarah, our younger daughter, is not.  Kim, I guess it’s like this:  Why do any of us fall in love with another person?  I can give many explanations and cite reasons, but ultimately . . . there’s just a certain something.

***

The second part to why baseball, is why baseball in New Market, Virginia.  That is the subject for the next post!

Happy 100th Birthday, Hugh Beaumont

Today, February 16, 2009 would have been the 100^th birthday of Hugh Beaumont, the actor who gave life to Ward Cleaver on Leave It to Beaver.  The show debuted in 1957, the same year that I did.  I watched reruns of Leave It to Beaver as I was growing up and I still watch them today.  The first show to be written from a kid’s point of view, I identified with Wally and Lumpy and Whitey and the Beave.  Since I have become a father, I identify with the show even more as I watch Hugh Beaumont as Ward do his best to set a good example for his sons and try to teach them the lessons they will need to succeed in life.  Ward showed that father didn’t always know best and reminded us that fatherhood is an inexact science to say the least.  I take comfort in Ward’s struggles.

I’ve heard people say that Leave It to Beaver had no basis in reality, but that is certainly not true.  My life growing up in suburban Baltimore was very similar to the Beaver’s at least in terms of innocence.  All the kids and dogs roamed the neighborhood at will and all were subject to discipline from everybody’s mom.  When we walked to the general store, we took the direct route; right across two farms and one creek.  In 6^th grade, I would sometimes walk the four miles home on Fridays (no weekend homework and hence no books to carry!) during the spring just because it was nice out and I could.  No one worried.

I certainly learned many of the same lessons that The Beaver learned.  Don’t cheat, don’t lie, mind your manners, don’t do something just because everyone else does it.

There has been a great deal of change and very little progress since those days, and I can’t watch Leave It to Beaver anymore without a tinge of sadness.  There is so much more to do now, but we are more bored than ever.  We have many more means of communication now, but nothing much to say to one another.  We accumulate more and more stuff and are less and less satisfied.  We are self-actualized, self-impressed, and self-centered.  We are sick of ourselves.

Ward was always telling Beaver that he should think for himself and act for himself, but not exist for himself.  We would be a happier people if we embraced that lesson today.

Here's to Ward Cleaver and thanks, Hugh Beaumont for bringing him to life.  Happy Birthday.

Happy 1st Day of Spring!

Forget what your calendar says:  Pitchers and catchers have their first workouts of the season today!

Love & Idiocy on Valentine's Day

On this day when we in America, especially Hallmark, Hershey's, and your local FTD florist, celebrate St. Valentine and true love, let us put to rest the notion that Romeo and Juliet is the greatest love story ever told.  It is not.  Romeo and Juliet meet, marry, and kill themselves all within a week's time.  If the Darwin Awards existed in the 16th century, these two certainly would have been in the running for a top ten finish, with a distinct possibility of being named Grand Champions.  Love did not produce the tragedy in this play.  As with most tragedies that befall those under 20, this one occurred when a lethal mixture of teenage hormones and stupidity came together.

If you want to read a real love story, pick up O. Henry's, "The Gift of the Magi," a very short story, that you will all recognize from school, but now that you are older and many of you are married, you'll appreciate it more than ever.

Having been married almost thirty years, I present three pieces of advice about falling, being, and staying in love:

1)  Jealousy has no place in love.  Love does not mean that you can't live without someone, it means that you can, but that you choose not to.

2)  Fight fairly.  Just because you know exactly your dearly beloved's most vulnerable spot doesn't mean you should exploit it.  After all, you're not besieging the Alamo, you're just fighting with your spouse.

3)  Love and marriage should be fun.  If it ain't, something's wrong.  Don't spend time "working on your relationship."  This is Life, not Dr. Phil; it shouldn't be work it should be fun.  Therefore, go out and fall helplessly, irrationally, and insanely in love.

Happy Valentine's Day!

I Want You To Literally Stop Using "Literally"!

If you are one of those people who misuses the word literally then I want you to stop it right now.  Literally does NOT mean very, really, or absolutely.  So if you say, “The chili at the Hi Neighbor will knock your socks off, literally!” you don’t mean that.  You see, I’ve had the chili at the Hi Neighbor and while it is excellent, my socks have never suddenly shot off my feet, flown around the dining area, landed at a different table and asked for their own menus.  Nor have they simply hopped out of my shoes and sat patiently by my feet, waiting for me to put them back on.  They haven’t even drooped.  Not even a little.  When you misuse literally I can no longer pay attention to what you’re saying.  All I can think of is the (usually) idiotic mental picture that you’ve just placed in my head.  (By the way, have any of you actually tried to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps?)

Sportscasters may be the worst at misusing literally.

“Well, John, the Little Sisters of the Poor are down three games to none in this best of seven playoff and they literally have their backs against the wall now.”

“That’s right, Jim.  They’ve literally dug a huge hole for themselves.”

“Yeah, John, they’re literally behind the eight-ball now.”

Well, I think that I’m literally going to be sick as in actually heaving up my lunch for real.

It’s bad enough that sportscasters use clichés such as those above, but to take a figure of speech and state that you mean it literally is oxymoronic in the extreme.  It’s mind blowing; but not literally.

Roger Angell and A-Rod

Whatever the pace of the particular baseball game we are watching, whatever its outcome, it holds us in its own continuum and mercifully releases us from our own.  Any persistent effort to destroy this unique phenomenon, to “use up” baseball’s time with planned distractions, will in fact transform the sport into another mere entertainment and thus hasten its descent to the status of a boring and stylized curiosity.

So wrote Roger Angell in The Summer Game, in 1966.  As someone who despises the idea espoused by a growing number of baseball executives that it doesn’t matter if fans don’t remember the score of the game they’ve just witnessed, I view Roger Angell as a prophet.  Think about his words from over 40 years ago in light of the news that Alex Rodriguez was using steroids.  Without making any excuses for Rodriguez or any other player, it has been the Lords of Baseball who have reduced the game to another “stylized curiosity.”  For any real baseball fan, the well-turned double play is just as thrilling to watch as a home run, but the owners clearly do not understand the appeal of their own game.  It is not much of a leap from an exploding scoreboard to an exploding Mark McGwire.  (What the owners have done to baseball is another post altogether!)

I don’t care about Alex Rodriguez nor do I much care anymore about the “stylized curiosity” into which major league owners have turned major league baseball.  An excellent antidote to steroids, Congressional hearings, perjury charges, etc. is Angell’s The Summer Game.

 Angell is certainly a gifted Philosopher of Baseball and The Summer Game contains many insightful observations about, and beautiful descriptions of baseball.  The final chapter, “The Interior Stadium” is worth the price of the book itself.  In it, Angell describes how baseball sticks in ones memory:  This inner game—baseball in the mind—has no season, but it is best played in the winter, without the distraction of other baseball news.

The Summer Game is based on a collection of Angell’s essays that cover the game from 1962 to 1971.  Most of the book is devoted to the World Series from each of those years.  It is probably best enjoyed by those who can conjure up memories of players such as Dick McAuliffe, Don Buford, Ed Kranepool, Jim Lonborg, and others from that era.  All true baseball fans regardless of age will enjoy this work, however, if for nothing else than the poetic musings about our favorite game.

A fairly quick read, I highly recommend The Summer Game.  It will take your mind off Alex Rodriguez, not that you should pay him much mind anyway.

BELOW:  The Summer Game in New Market