Baseball, Life, and Other Stuff

Hall of Fame Names

John Leonard over at All Things Valley League recently posted a great entry entitled, "Moniker Madness" which detailed minorleaguebaseball.com's contest for the most interesting names in the minor leagues.  Naturally, that got me to thinking about the most interesting names that have ever appeared on a major league roster.

For me, there was never a more interesting name than that of Cub hurler Orval Overall, who debuted with Cincinnati in 1905.  The Cubs picked him up the next season and he won 15 games for them in 1908, which, as all Cub fans know, was the last time the Chicago Northsiders were World Champions.  In fact, Orval ranks 13th in career ERA with a 2.233 mark.  I'm not sure why this name has left such an impression on me since I first heard it as a child.  Maybe it's because whenever I hear it, I envision someone on the mound raking it and planting seed instead of toeing the rubber and hurling a ball. 

This is the only person I know with the name "Overall."  For that matter, I don't think that I've ever heard of anyone named "Orval" (Orville yes, but not Orval) either.  And does anyone else think that Mr. Overall had a cousin who used to co-star on Captain Kangaroo who was named Mr. Greenjeans?

I invite all my readers to chime in on this one, be it your favorite name or strangest name or any name you wish to comment upon.  Feel free to make up categories and suggest which players' names would fit best.  For example, in the Most Likely to Become a Butler After Retirement there would be Rome Chambers, who pitched in 1 game for 4 innings in his big league career, registering an 11.25 ERA, but who recorded the save(!) and Virgil Cheeves, who ended a 6 year career with a mark of 26-27.  No nicknames, however; stick with the player's given name.

No one would be more assured of a first-ballot election to the Hall of Fame for Names, however, than Orval Overall.

Playing the Numbers

What do Brooks Robinson, Johnny Bench, Joe DiMaggio, George Brett, Lou Boudreau, Hank Greenburg, Jeff Bagwell, Willard Hershberger, and Carl Barger have in common?  All have had the number 5 retired by a major league baseball team in their honor, making #5 the most retired uniform number in the majors.

Now, if you're thinking, "Hey, two of these names don't seem to belong on this list!" you're right;  they don't seem to, but they do.  Willard Hershberger, like Johnny Bench, was a Cincinnati Reds catcher who wore #5.  Unfortunately, he committed suicide August 3, 1940, the only player to do so during the season.  Subsequently, the Reds retired his number, but brought it back into service a mere two years later.

Carl Barger was the first president of the Florida Marlins, but died before the Marlins inaugural season.  As Barger's favorite player was Joe DiMaggio, Florida retired #5 in Barger's honor.

There is an excellent discussion of baseball's retired numbers, including a list of all retired numbers at Wikipedia.  I do not routinely recommend Wikipedia as a solid source of information, but whoever wrote this entry did fantastic work.

Death to Coupons

When I become Emperor of the World--I believe in starting at the top--I will outlaw coupons.  The paperwork involved in surviving the 21st century already pushes me to the brink, and coupon craziness takes me right over the edge.  Oh sure, I can save a dollar--if I buy 6 dozen boxes of Shredded Wheat.  And hand in my coupon, which I often forget to do even though I have diligently carried it to the store (at Martha's insistence) with the intention of turning it in.  No, when I am Emperor, manufacturers will quit printing coupons and simply drop their prices by the amount it cost to print all those coupons.

Instant coupons are the most inane coupons of all.  If a bag of salad costs $3.00 and the salad people had to spend money to print a "$1.00 off Instant Coupon!" and stick it on the bag, then why didn't they just print "$2.00" on the bag to start with?  That would have saved a great deal of aggravation, especially since neither I nor the cashier ever remembers to peel off the instant coupon.  All I get is instantly irritated.

And that's another thing:  Why are there so many different kinds of bagged salads?  Or frozen pot pies?  Or potato chips or root beer or razor blades or anything else that requires more decision-making than being a safety manager at a nuclear power plant?  These choices not only prolong my grocery shopping, they make me something less than a safety manager at a nuclear power plant.  The make me something more like a drooling idiot because I am paralyzed in front of 6 dozen kinds of toothpaste trying to figure out if I want minty fresh, striped, or sparkly; paste or gel; for sensitive teeth, regular teeth, or cavity prone teeth.

Furthermore, if you are going to use coupons and you're in front of me in line, then have them ready when it comes time to pay!!!  No one, especially me, wants to wait around while you stick your fingers into every crevice of your purse until it gags and spews pens and change and little pieces of paper and a solitary stick of gum; your keys, your credit cards, three different checkbooks, and the tire iron from your mini-van all over the bagging area just so you can save 25 cents on 12 cans of tomato paste.

You don't want to irritate the future Emperor.

The New Market Rebels in Print

As many of you know, the New Market Rebels 2009 season will be the subject of my upcoming book, Shenandoah Summer:  Safe at Home in New Market, Virginia.  For those of you unfamiliar with the Rebels, they are a member of the 12 team Valley Baseball league, a wooden bat, collegiate league that plays a 44 game schedule in June and July.  The Valley League is pure baseball and New Market's Rebel Park just might be the best ballpark in America in which to enjoy a baseball game.

Though never the main subject, the Rebels have appeared in previous books, most notably James C. Roberts' Hardball on the Hill:  Baseball Stories from Our Nation's Capital.  This collection of essays examines a wide variety of topics including a chapter entitled, "Shenandoah" that profiles the New Market Rebels.  Written in 2000, the chapter contains quotes from Mo Weber and then-president of the Rebels, Larry Strawderman.  It also discusses a fight that took place between the Rebels and Harrisonburg, and presents an accurate view of New Market's charm and the affection that its citizens have for their team.  Also mentioned is Brad Ziegler, a member of that 2000 squad who just this past summer burst onto the major league scene with the Oakland Athletics by not allowing a run scored in his first 39.1 innings in the majors, a new record.

In researching Shenandoah Summer, I also came across a print-on-demand book entitled, I See Me In Your Eyes by Joe Graves, who as it turned out, was a teammate of Lorenzo Bundy's in New Market in the late '70s.  Bundy is the current Arizona Diamondbacks' first base coach.  This book, in Graves' words, "is a collection of stories about my life, my son Jake, and baseball."  Chapter 4 details his time in the Valley.

Bob Dart, a national correspondent for Cox Newspapers from Vienna Virginia, has also written a book entitled, Down Home:  Dispatches From Dixie that contains a chapter dedicated to the New Market Rebels, but I must confess that I haven't read this work.

The Real George Radbourn

Faithful reader, big-time Rebel fan, and dedicated elementary school teacher Melissa Dodge's favorite book is How Georgie Radbourn Saved Baseball, by David Shannon.  It's an excellent little tale about a day far off into the future when baseball is outlawed.  Naturally, winter is eternal and the sun never shines.  Georgie Radbourn, however, brings back the game and the sun and life and hope and you'll just have to read it to find out how he did it.

As soon as Melissa told me about the book and I heard the name "Radbourn," I immediately thought of Old Hoss Radbourn, a pitcher primarily with the Boston Braves, who played from 1880-1891.  It's no wonder they called him "Old Hoss" as he was indeed, a horse, racking up 489 complete games in only 11 seasons including 1884 when he had 73!  (Yes, that's 73 as in 12 more than the National League totaled last season and only two fewer than the entire American League registered in 2008.)  Of course, he went 59-12 that year pitching for Providence of the National League.  Radbourn, who amassed some amazing totals, particularly by today's standards, died only 6 years after he retired.  Perhaps, his arm fell off.  Old Hoss, whose real name was Charles, was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1939.

Old Hoss, as it turns out, had a brother, who pitched in only 3 games in his big league career for Detroit in 1883.  George Radbourn was 1-2 with a 6.55 ERA, giving up a whopping 38 hits and 7 walks in only 22 innings.

The real George Radbourn never saved baseball, never made the Hall of Fame, as did his brother, and is less famous than his fictional counterpart.  Nevertheless, he's listed in the Baseball Encyclopedia and I'd give almost anything to be listed there, even if it said "He stunk" where the statistics are supposed to go.

So, Melissa and all you How Georgie Radbourn Saved Baseball fans, that's the story of the real George Radbourn.

Happy Birthday, Sarah

Our youngest daughter, Sarah turns 17 today.  In years past, there were birthday parties with Sponge Bob plates and napkins, and a treasure hunt for all the guests.  Then we moved onto birthday sleepovers which evolved from loud, door-banging, step-stomping affairs that brought me out of my bed to silence the herd of elephants that had taken over the downstairs, to quiet, whispering affairs that took place in Sarah's bedroom.  This year we will see Sarah briefly in the morning before she drives off to school and later in the evening, again briefly, at the Rebel Relays track meet at South Hagerstown High School.  Then she'll be off to Buffalo Wild Wings or where ever the track team decides to eat and after that she and several friends will descend on our house once more.

I'm looking forward to every giggle, laugh, and step-stomp . . . even at 3:00 in the morning.  It will be all too quiet around here soon enough.

To our daughter who is loyal to her friends and true to her beliefs:   No parents could ask for more.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SARAH!

10 Questions I'd Like to Have Answered

There are some things in this world that I just can't figure out.  Here are ten questions that I'd really like to have answered:

1. Does anyone else besides me require a vice, a blowtorch, and a chisel to open an "easy open" package?
2. Why is it that people think "Yield" means "Get Out of My Way"?
3. Why is gambling illegal in states that run lotteries?
4. Why do I have a bag full of single socks?
5. Why are there single socks scattered all over the road?
6. Could my dryer be shooting socks out the vent and into the atmosphere where they slowly glide down to earth and settle on the side of the road?
7. Why do I always pick the wrong line at the grocery store?
8. Why is there a Coast Guard facility in West Virginia?  (Yes, there really is.  Travel south on I-81 and look to your right, just past the Spring Mills exit.  Those three brick buildings belong to the Coast Guard.)
9. Why don't things happen twice in a while?
10. Does anyone else have a cabinet full of old videocassettes of TV episodes that you taped and swore you'd watch, but never have?

Anything you'd like an answer to, readers?

Gregg Zaun: Good catcher, cool website!

Gregg Zaun, the newly acquired catcher for the Baltimore Orioles celebrates his 38th birthday today.  Zaun has impressed everyone on the Orioles with his professionalism, his ability to handle pitchers, and his willingness to step aside and mentor #1 prospect Matt Weiters.  Therefore,he deserves a shout out here on Baseball, Life, & Other Stuff.  Furthermore, Zaun has the coolest website of any player out there that I have seen.  It still has a Toronto Blue Jay motif, but I'm sure that Gregg will fix that soon!

Check it out. You'll enjoy it!

Applying for a Bailout

At the end of last year when the federal government first began to hand out money to any business that came, hat in hand, I wrote my Congressman, Roscoe Bartlett, and asked for a bailout for my landscaping business.  He never responded, and so I sent my letter to our local paper, The Herald-Mail and asked that they print it as an open request.  They printed it yesterday and the link to my plea for federal dollars follows.  I'll certainly keep you posted if I hear anything!  And I won't forget my friends and readers should I hit the jackpot!  Um, I mean, should the government come to my aid.  And I promise not to pay myself an extravagant bonus or send myself on an elaborate retreat.

Read my letter requesting my bailout here.

Honoring Nick Adenhart

As I did my work on the treadmill at the Hagerstown Extra Innings Thursday morning, watching SportsCenter as I walked, I discovered that the Angels-Athletics game from the night before had a distinctly local flavor for me.  I saw that Brad Ziegler, a former New Market Rebel, had saved the game for the A's and that Nick Adenhart, who graduated one year ahead of Becky from Williamsport High School, had thrown 6 scoreless innings in his 4th major league start for the Angels.  Extra Innings was full of kids who were out of school for Easter break.  One group was in a cage learning proper footwork on infield throws, while another was learning the fine art of bunting.  I finished my workout and left for home and what had started out as a very cold morning was turning into a beautiful, warm spring day.

It was on the radio that I heard the news that Adenhart had been killed by a hit-and-run driver not long after the Angels' game had ended.

Williamsport is handling the tragedy as best we can.  A candlelight vigil was held last night at the high school baseball field and this morning's paper contains a front page tribute to Nick.

It is interesting how particularly we are affected when such tragedies befall our athletes.  I have no doubt that it's because they embody perhaps the most valuable commodity known to humanity:  Hope.  They are actually living out their childhood dreams.  As such, those young men out there on the diamond are proof that Hope is real and that Dreams do come true.  We can't get enough of them and so we study how they bat and we collect their signatures as proof that we were in the presence of one who Made It.  Our childhood dreams live on through their accomplishments and when tragedy befalls them, we are reminded that we are not children anymore.  And when tragedy befalls one who came from our town, who was one of us, and therefore, who lived and validated our dreams, the grief is that much more intense.

We can console ourselves with the fact that a drunken driver may have taken Nick's life, but not even Fate can take away that final box score or his listing in the Baseball Encyclopedia.  And so his childhood dream has become immortal.

There is only one proper way, however, for us to remember Nick Adenhart or anyone else who has ever meant anything to us and that is to Live.  In other words, the next time you play catch with your best friend or your dad or your daughter, take a moment, and take in the joy of what you're doing:  Watch the ball as it arcs across a blue sky and zips along the green grass, smell that glove, sense your blood flowing through your arm.  Don't just stand in the sunshine, feel it on your face, take it in, revel in it.  Laugh and run.  And take one moment, one is all that is needed or required, and think of Nick.  You can do him and the others who died with him no greater honor.