Holy cow!

Actual quote from an e-mail from my father: “Better you should have never been born, than to post something good about
Harry Caray.” Obviously, I can’t resist now. Bill James on Harry Caray, from the 1985 Baseball Abstract:

Cable television has arrived to the distant Balkan outland that I call home, and I have been watching Harry Caray whenever I get the time. It’s the first significant exposure to Harry that I’ve had in fifteen years, and I realize with a sense of shock how much of my own attitude about the game and about my profession, which I thought I had found by myself, I may in fact have picked up from hundreds of hours of listening to Harry Caray as a child.

Or perhaps it is a false pride, but I love Harry Caray. You have to understand what Harry Caray was to the Midwest in my childhood. In the years when baseball stopped at the Mississippi, KMOX radio built a network of stations across the midwest and into the Far West that brought major league baseball into every little urb across the landscape. Harry’s remarkable talents and enthusiasm were the spearhead of their efforts, and forged a link between the Cardinals and the midwest that remains to this day; even now, some of my neighbors are Cardinal fans.

This effect covers a huge area and encompasses millions of people, many times as many people as live in New York. A Harry Caray-for-the-Hall-of-Fame debate is in progress. To us, to hear New Yorkers or Californians suggest that Harry Caray might not be worthy of the honors given to Mel Allen or Vince Scully is a) almost comically ignorant, sort of like hearing a midwesterner suggest that the Statue of Liberty was never of any real national significance and should be turned into scrap metal, and b) personally offensive. That Harry should have to wait in line behind these wonderful men but comparatively insignificant figures is, beyond any question, an egregious example of the regional bias of the nation’s media.

But besides that, the man is really good. His unflagging enthusiasm, his love of the game, and his intense focus and involvement in every detail of the contest make every inning enjoyable, no matter what the score or the pace of the game. His humor, his affection for language and his vibrant images are the tools of a craftsman; only Garagiola, his one-time protégé, can match him in this way. He is criticized for not being objective, which is preposterous; he is the most objective baseball announcer I’ve ever witnessed. He is criticized for being “critical” of the players, when in fact Harry will bend over backwards to avoid saying something negative about a player or a manager. But Harry also knows that he does the fans no service when he closes his eyes and pretends not to see things. A player misses the cut-off man, Harry says that he missed the cut-off man, the player complains to the press, and some sweetlicking journalist, trying to ingratiate himself to a potential source, rips Harry for being critical of the player.

Harry is involved in another controversy now over the firing of Milo Hamilton, onetime heir apparent to Jack Brickhouse. Hamilton as a broadcaster is a model of professionalism, fluency, and deportment; he is, in short, as interesting as the weather channel, to which I would frequently dial while he was on. Milo’s skills would serve him well as a lawyer, an executive, or a broker. He broadcasts baseball games in a tone that would be more appropriate for a man reviewing a loan application. He projects no sense at all that he is enjoying the game or that we ought to be, and I frankly find it difficult to believe that the writers who ripped the Cubs for firing Hamilton actually watch the broadcasts. Is Harry to be faulted because the fans love him and find Hamilton a dry substitute?

People confuse “objectivity” with “neutralism.” If you look up “neutral” in the dictionary it says “of no particular kind, color, characteristics, etc.; indefinite. Gray; without hue; of zero chromel; achromatic. Neuter.” That pretty well describes Milo Hamilton. To Harry Caray, the greatest sports broadcaster who ever lived. This Bud’s for you.

Dad, you’ll be pleased to know that Bill James lost me somewhere around “Vince Scully.” Surprised he didn’t also refer to “Melvin Allen.” Also, it seems Milo Hamilton must have run over his dog or something.

Another quibble is that broadcasters don’t go into the Hall of Fame per se, they just win the Ford Frick Award. Harry Caray won in 1989, and despite Bill James’s best efforts, Milo Hamilton won in 1992.

10 innings

Acting as if I’m a real columnist having a lazy day, I present a “News and Notes” column!

1) Headline in the Sun-Times following the Palmeiro news: Caught ‘roid-handed. Another good headline this week, despite not being baseball-related, was the Trib’s headline announcing the appointment of a federal monitor to watch the city’s hiring practices: City gets a Hall monitor. I imagine the headline writers are all staying up late these days practicing their headlines in the hopes of Daley being indicted. Me, I’m just practicing my gleeful chortle. Maybe I’ll get to warm it up chortling over Rove.

2) Palmeiro and Sandberg are linked yet again, this time in Sandberg’s Fire Sermon in Cooperstown on Sunday being followed so closely by Palmeiro essentially giving back his “Redeem in five years” ticket to the Hall. Those of you up on Cubs gossip will know how they were linked before, but if you need a refresher, contact me in some way that enables me to tell you the story while not being sued for libel.

3) Albert Pujols has stolen 11 bases this season without being caught. Next up for Prince Albert: some work in the offseason on his change-up so he can pick up some innings out of the bullpen.

4) Speaking of running, poor Lenny Harris, in legging out a three-run double against the Cardinals the other night in Florida, catapulted himself to the top of my list of worst baserunners in the game. He’s been a slow runner for years, plagued by leg and weight problems, but these days, his build is Kruk-like and he runs as if he’s on two peglegs. If this were a backyard whiffleball game, everyone would agree on special slowness rules for his ghost runner.

5) TV Guide is changing its format to not have nearly so many listings. How will I ever know when Scooter’s going to grace my television? I guess I’ll have to go to Jeanniezelasko.com to find out. I wonder if Jim has any thought about the changes to TV Guide?

6) In a discussion at work the other day about how to encourage bloggers who have written about our products, the idea of just contacting them with a thank-you came up. Or maybe we should send them minor-league baseball tickets?

7) After the Sox/Tigers game I attended recently at Comiskey, I was walking out next to a girl who said to a friend, “There’s my bus, gotta go.” She looked up to the ballpark, blew a kiss, and said, “Love ya, Comiskey.”

8) After today, there’s a third of the season left, and Ken Griffey Jr. has still not visited the DL.

9) For a while a few weeks back, an image search for Johnny Damon brought up a certain pumpkin as the fourth response. It’s fallen back to ninth lately. Get to work, readers!

10) The Post-Dispatch reports today that the Cardinals are, after all, leaving KMOX and buying 550 AM KTRS. I think it’s a big mistake, as do many other Cards fans, and I’m sad to hear about it. KMOX was the Cardinals for me for my childhood. But this is really a topic that deserves its own post soon.

History in the plunking

In 1990 or thereabouts, I won a tremendously ugly waterproof watch from 94.9 WRBT by answering the question of who was the modern-day hit-by-pitch leader. Ugly watch aside, it’s always been one of my favorite records in baseball. Last night, Craig Biggio broke one of my favorite records in baseball, being hit by a pitch for the 268th time to break Don Baylor’s modern record. Biggio still trails two 19th-century players for the all-time lead, Hughie Jennings (287) and Tommy Tucker (272). Among active players, Jason Kendall is next with 183.

Biggio’s top HBP season was 1997, which was his best season all-around. Baylor tops him in that category, having been plunked 35 times in 1986. The Hall of Fame has asked for Biggio’s armor, which seems like an underhanded compliment to me: “Send us your armor so we can put it in a case next to a photo of Baylor’s bare arm.”

How long and dreary is the night?

Said the poet Burns:

How long and dreary is the night,
When I am frae my dearie!
I sleepless lie frae e’en to morn,
Tho’ I were ne’er so weary:
I sleepless lie frae e’en to morn,
Tho’ I were ne’er sae weary!

But even the poet Burns would surely be feeling a bit more of the vim and vigour these days, what with photos of ballplayers in the paper once more.

The rites of spring are upon us: sportswriters in such brackish backwaters as Kansas City and Milwaukee are dusting off their hopeful columns from last spring, Ozzie Guillen is running down his list of former White Sox to run down in the media, and the news that Matthew Wade Stairs has shed both his belly and his mullet is, well, news. If St. John of the Cross were here in my office with me, warming his long-dead insides on a pre-work coffee while we gazed out at the sub-freezing winter wasteland that is Chicago in March, we’d probably find ourselves in general agreement that the dark night of the soul is giving ground to dawn.

I had two dreams of baseball last week. In the first, I simply listened to a WGN broadcast of a Cubs game. Low on action for a dream, maybe, but hearing Pat Hughes‘s voice again after these many months made me wish for extra innings and maybe even a rain delay. Alas, I got my alarm instead.

Later in the week, I dreamed that I was cycling to Wrigley for Opening Day. The game was to start in ten minutes, and I was halfway there. But I was only wearing a t-shirt and pants. No jacket. No hat. No gloves. No mittens. No long underwear. No balaclava. No battery-powered heating socks. No seal oil with which to protect my face from chapping. I was torn: should I return home to properly prepare for the first game of the cruelest month at Wrigley, guaranteeing that I’d miss the first pitch? Or should I proceed to the game, more or less guaranteeing that my death from exposure would be a lead story on WGN that night?

Instead of choosing, I woke up.

Actual games are on tap for today, though Opening Day is still a ways away. But we can surely be patient now, even through the heavy hours. The poet Burns reminds us:

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours,
As ye were wae and weary!
It wasna sae ye glinted by,
When I was wi’ my dearie!
It wasna sae ye glinted by,
When I was wi’ my dearie!

No static at all

So is it time to start thinking about next season yet? This is something that was just announced today, and, Levi, you might want to look into the possibility getting your baseball radio broadcasts through XM. As I understand it, they do make portable receivers that can pick up the satellite signal; it’s not just a car thing.

Original comments…

stacey: this is not related to xm radio, but instead to two things i’m fascinated with: curt schilling and cadavers:

http://chicagosports.chicagotribune.com/sports/baseball/cs-0410210298oct21,1,2783485.story

Bodhisattva: Nice Steely Dan reference in the title (makes up for the previous Cowsills reference).

Jim: I wasn’t thinking of the Cowsills, I was thinking of the “original motion picture soundtrack.”

As predicted, "Clubhouse" isn’t as good as the real baseball playoffs

The “Clubhouse” episode that was promoted last week, in which Doc Brown is uncomfortable with modern technology, was not shown this week. Instead, it was an episode in which there are trade rumors swirling around Dean Cain’s character (who is named “Conrad Dean”; get it?). I forgot to “stay tuned for scenes from next week’s ‘Clubhouse,'” so I don’t know if they showed the same promo from last week.

At any rate, because of disappointing ratings, CBS is soon going to move “Clubhouse” to Saturdays to make room for “The Amazing Race,” which is a better show but is (usually) less baseball-related.

On another note, I’m listening to the Cardinals-Astros game on ESPN Radio. Boy, are these commercials annoying!

The sound of baseball

Thanks to Jon Solomon, everyone who wasn’t listening to WPRB Radio on August 27 can now enjoy a small portion of Levi and Jim talking baseball on Maura’s radio show. (Caution: This is a fairly large MP3 file, about 8 MB.) Sorry, no complete songs, because I don’t want to get in trouble with the RIAA, or the MPAA, or the CIA, or the AAA. There’s also a link to it on the Baseball Songs page.

I should point out that Jon actually sent me the audio file very quickly, so it’s all my fault that it took until now for it to be posted.

Original comments…

Jon Solomon: The following photograph is from the trip Maura and I took to the Phillies game on Friday night: http://keepingscoreathome.com/images/dallas.gif

nice. face.

Dan: As I told Maura when she showed me that picture, I hope you guys didn’t let him anywhere near your arm.

Also, little-known fact: Dallas Green and I share the same dentist (well, the same dentist he had when he was in NY 10 years ago, at least. I assume he doesn’t travel to see Dr. Kohn like I do).

Jason: Wow, it was just like listening to the good ol’ days of WNUR at 3 in the morning.

Pat Hughes, Alliterist

While I was at Tuesday night’s dismal extra-inning loss for the Cubs, Stacey was listening on the radio, where she heard the following roll off the tongue of Pat Hughes:

“There’s a looping liner over a leaping Lee.”

Oh, and in case I haven’t thought to pass it on, Ron Santo recently called Olympic Stadium “The Toilet Bowl of the World.”

Original comments…

stacey: actually, i think it might have been “the toilet bowl of the universe.”

Levi: Oh. I thought that was Mos Eisley Spaceport.

Jim: I bet the poutine is better at Olympic Stadium than it is at Mos Eisley!

Bonus pictures from Princeton et al.

Levi, in a hotel room, doing what he did a third of the time, writing an entry for this site…

Levi, in a hotel room, doing what he did another third of the time, reading Sandy Koufax: A Lefty’s Legacy (sorry, I don’t have any pictures of Levi drinking iced coffee, which is what he did the third third of the time)…

Princeton University (free!) parking pass…

Levi and Maura in the WPRB studio, talking baseball…

Original comments…

maura: as the 9-year-old me would have said to the 29-year-old me, ‘nice face!’