The Southpaw

The Strangest Cancellation in Baseball History

The article below I wrote for the Spring 2007 issue of 108 Magazine. If you like this story, consider picking up a copy at a bookstore -- or subscribing.

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Spring 2007 Issue
108 Magazine

Attack of the Grasshoppers
No one in Hollywood could have scripted a horror flick with this ending

By Jeff Merron

In the early 1970s, former Cub and Royal Pete LaCock was the leading hitter for the Midland Cubs, spending most of his days and nights prowling the outfield at Christensen Stadium. This was an old ballpark but the new home of the Cubs Double-A affiliate, which was playing its first season in the Texas League.

There he experienced his share of Texas-style wildlife. Outfielders like LaCock especially had to watch out for tarantulas: “They were there all the time,” says LaCock. “We used to stand in the outfield and they used to climb up the walls. We’ d throw balls and hit them.” And as for rattlesnakes: “They had to stop the game a couple of times because rattlesnakes would come up through the fence. And they would run out with a .410 shotgun — BOOM! — shoot it, throw it over the fence, and the game would continue.”

LaCock talks tarantulas and rattlesnakes for only one reason — to put perhaps the strangest game cancellation in minor league history into perspective. LaCock seemed to imply that if a movie script required a baseball game to be called because of a plague of grasshoppers, Midland, Texas, would be a logical choice for the setting.

On August 6, 1972, the Midland Cubs were playing a typically slow Sunday twilight doubleheader. Ted Battles covered the twin bill as sports editor of the Midland Reporter-Telegram. The Amarillo Giants had won the first game, 5-4, in extra innings, and Battles made his way to the clubhouse to get his information in order for the nightcap. “I remember I went down to get the lineups between games and somebody said, ‘Do you think they’ll play the second game?’ And I said, ‘Sure, why not? It’s a beautiful night.’”

Battles hadn’t been aware that just beyond the center-field wall a cluster of grasshoppers had been huddling, trying to stay warm. They’d been out in the fields for weeks, according to Bobby Dunn, who was a spectator that night (he would later become the team’s official scorer). But after 10 days of dry heat, Dunn recalls, “It cooled off, and the temperature went down into the 80s.” Dunn has a good memory — a UPI report that appeared the following day said that the grasshoppers were “chased across Texas by a cool front and farmers’ insect sprays.

”When Christensen Stadium’s mercury- vapor lights were turned on for the second game, at around 9 p.m., the grasshoppers literally leapt up and flew toward the new heat source.

“We began to see these bugs going up into the light fixtures, then they’d dive into the stands, and dive towards the fans,” said Midland manager Al Spangler. “They weren’t hurting anybody, but it was more or less frightening. You’d look up and whole light fixtures would be covered.”

Meet the Mets!

A beautiful, clean recording of the 1962 version of "Meet the Mets," written by Ruth Roberts and Bill Katz. Click on Mr. Met to have a listen.

Lyrics follow after the jump.

New issue of 108: Attack of the Grasshoppers

It's been a long wait, but the Spring 2007 issue of 108 Magazine is finally on its way to newsstands and subscribers' mailboxes. If you're not familiar with the magazine, you can find a generous helping of article excerpts via the online Table of Contents.

This issue includes a great range of quality material. I've written two articles for the issue: one about the great friendship between Mets teammates Cleon Jones and Tommie Agee, and the second about one of the strangest game cancellations in pro baseball history. That article, "Attack of the Grasshoppers," is available online in PDF format. I enjoyed talking about the game to both Leo Mazzone and Pete LaCock, who played in the game (Mazzone was the starting pitcher), and also to the managers of both teams, who clearly remembered the contest. Because it was, simply, unforgettable.

And if you like what you see, think about subscribing to 108 or buying a copy on the newsstand. It's baseball history the way it oughta be.

A Very Mellow Billy Martin

1981 was Billy Martin's second year managing the Oakland A's. And he was unusually ... content. Free of George Steinbrenner. Free to make deals (though the A's GM still signed off on them). And he had a pretty good ballclub, too.

So it probably wasn't too hard to coax him into doing this commercial urging fans to come out to the ballpark, beginning with the home opener against the Mariners on April 17. A commercial touting a different kind of baseball -- Billy Ball.

By the time the home opener rolled around, the A's would already be 8-0 and would run their early-season record to 20-3. In the strike-shortened split season they'd win their division by beating the Royals in a three-game playoff before losing to the Yankees in the ALCS.

I doubt Martin remained as laid back as he appears in this spot, which is a lot of fun to watch.

Ted Williams Blooper? Not the Williams I've Heard About ...

The video below is labeled at YouTube as a Ted Williams "blooper." It's a 30-second commercial gone awry. There's some language, not safe for work viewing. But the language is kind of the point. After watching, read how Ted's portrayed in Ball Four.

This is from Bouton's June 25 entry:

In the bullpen tonight Jim Pagliaroni was telling us how Ted Williams, when he was still playing, would psyche himself up for a game during batting practice, usually early practice before the fans or reporters got there.

He'd go into the cage, wave his bat at the pitcher and start screaming at the top of his voice, "My name is Ted fucking Williams and I'm the greatest hitter in baseball."

He'd swing and hit a line drive.

"Jesus H. Christ Himself couldn't get me out."

And he'd hit another.

Then he'd say, "Here comes Jim Bunning. Jim fucking Bunning and that little shit slider of his."

Wham!

"He doesn't really think he's gonna get me out with that shit."

Blam!

"I'm Ted fucking Williams."

Sock!

That botched commercial doesn't sound like a blooper to me. Just Ted being Ted. It didn't make him a bad person.

Video of Jimmy Qualls Talking About Breaking up Tom Seaver's 1969 Perfecto

The Mets hold the dubious distinction of being the major league team that's gone longest without a no-hitter. The Mets have completed 45 seasons, and have yet to see those first two zeros, signifying no runs and no hits, on their scoreboard line.

But on July 9, 1969, Tom Seaver, pitching at Shea Stadium against Chicago, came very, very close. He was perfect through eight innings. In the top of the ninth, with a comfortable 4-0 lead, Seaver grabbed Cubs catcher Randy Hundley's bunt attempt and threw to first baseman Donn Clendenon for out number 25. Two more and the record 59,083 fans at Shea would get to see history.

Next up: Jimmy Qualls. A rookie outfielder, Qualls would have a short career, hitting only .223 with 0 homers and 10 RBI in 139 big league at bats. You would also call it an undistinguished career -- except for what he did when he followed Hundley to the plate as the second Cubs batter in the ninth.  Which was: he hit Seaver's the first pitch, an outside fastball, hard to left-center. It hit the turf long before the speedy Tommie Agee could reach it. Perfect game: over. No hitter: nope. The Mets went on to win, 4-0, and blew by the Cubs in September to win the NL East, but Qualls would be the equivalent of a curse word in New York that summer, and he got the hate mail to prove it, as you'll see in the video.

"It was a base hit," said Ron Swoboda, quoted in Peter Golenbock's oral history, Amazin'. "There was no way it wasn't. And it was a shame. You ask, How much worse is a one-hitter? It's the difference between being a virgin and not."

Seaver got the last two outs, an enormous ovation from the huge crowd, and an important victory. He'd needed only 99 pitches to get the one-hit win. But he was heartbroken. "Never in any aspect of my life, in baseball or outside, had I experienced such a disappointment," he said.

In the video below, Qualls talks about his career, and that game.

So Long, Bowie Kuhn

Bowie Kuhn, who as the fifth commissioner of baseball oversaw the game from 1969 to 1984 -- an extraordinary era -- died Thursday at the age of 80.

I'm not inclined to say too many nice things about Kuhn. He should get some credit for keeping baseball alive and thriving through the tumultuous transition to free agency. He should also get enormous discredit for ordering the Braves to play Hank Aaron in Cincinnati at the start of the 1974 season, where he tied Babe Ruth's home run record. Conveniently, Kuhn was there for Opening Day, and saw the tying homer. But Kuhn wasn't in Atlanta on April 8 when Aaron broke the record. Instead, he sent Monte Irvin as his emissary. Kuhn was in Cleveland during the historic moment.

To remember Kuhn, I'll leave you with a few quotes, courtesy of collections compiled by Paul Dickson and David H. Nathan.

• "We're not really seeing into the bowels of the minds of the parties across the table." --Kuhn explaining why a strike couldn't be avoided in 1994.


• "Bowie Kuhn is the best commissioner in baseball today." -- Jim Bouton, Atlanta Braves, 1978.


• "If I hear him say just once more he's doing something for the betterment of baseball, I'm going to throw up." -- Reds manager Sparky Anderson, 1978.


• "We've got a commissioner who doesn't represent both sides. He doesn't even know who's playing the game. I've been introduced to him eight or nine times over the years and every time he says, 'Nice to meet you.'" -- Rangers third baseman Buddy Bell, 1978.


• "I have often called Bowie Kuhn the village idiot. I apologize to the village idiots of America. He's the nation's idiot." -- A's owner Charlie Finley, 1980.

South Park: The Losing Edge

The South Park Little League baseball team wins the league title ... and advances all the way to the state championship game against Denver at Coors Field. But they can't wait for their season to be over, and try to do everything they can to lose. Complete with trash talk, brawling dads, the opposite of a ringer, and homages to "Rocky," the suspense builds until we find out, at the very end, if South Park will spend the summer playing the national Little League circuit, or the summer goofing off at home.

Scully Calls Koufax's Perfect Ninth

There couldn't have been a more perfect combination -- Sandy Koufax and Vin Scully. On Sept. 9, 1965, Koufax was on the mound at Chavez Ravine, throwing a perfect game against the Cubs. Scully was there, too -- up in the booth, narrating with incredible improvised poetry that had a magic all its own, a broadcast equivalent of Koufax's achievement on the mound.

"[Koufax] was just great," said Cubs first baseman Ernie Banks after the game. "It was beautiful. The first five innings he was getting the curve ball over real good. Then he got tremendous momentum. I thought he'd be a little less tough, but he just kept throwing the ball right on through. And throwing strikes."

Jeff Torborg, behind the plate for the Dodgers, said that Koufax "was throwing much faster at the end than at the beginning."

It was Koufax's fourth no-hitter, a record, and fourth in four years. His unfortunate opponent, fellow lefty Bob Hendley, suffered the loss despite throwing a one-hitter and allowing only one run -- unearned. At the time, it was only the third perfect game in NL history and the ninth in major league annals.

Torborg, one of the few major league backstops to catch three no-hitters (he caught Nolan Ryan's first on May 15, 1973), later said, "You really feel [the pressure], no doubt about it. Your heart's pounding. With Sandy's perfect game, Sandy was so special that I couldn't have put down the wrong sign. There wasn't too much I could've done wrong there. I just had to catch the ball."

And Scully just had to tell listeners what he was seeing. But he did so much more.

Listen.

An Interview with J.C. Bradbury, author of The Baseball Economist

On March 15, J.C. Bradbury's book The Baseball Economist will be arriving in bookstores. Bradbury, an economist at Kennesaw State University in Georgia, has been analyzing and writing about baseball issues using tools of the economic trade for years, primarily using his popular Sabernomics blog as a forum for his ideas.

It's a good thing that a selection of Bradbury's wide-ranging essays have made it between hard covers. While many popular bloggers have published books that consist of little more than polished versions of their Web musings, The Baseball Economist consists almost entirely of new studies and new writing.

The range of topics Bradbury covers is impressive. The first chapter is on hit batsmen and how differences between rates iin the AL and NL can be explained by the "price" of hitting a batter (which has changed over the years). The second chapter presents a surprising finding about how much "protection" on-deck batters really provide. The topics then expand in scope, to scouts vs. stat-heads, player salaries, steroids, the issue of whether or not MLB is a monopoly, and finally expansion. This is a book you can dip into at random: each chapter stands alone. And you'll find plenty of variety.

Although Bradbury is an academic, his writing style is fluid and accessible. He doesn't use many technical terms, but when he does, he explains them clearly and briefly, in a fashion that makes the material more easily understood. This is a book that's worth your buck. Let's hope we'll see another collection from Bradbury in a couple of years.

Read my interview with J.C. after the jump.

Robinson vs. Sain: It's a hook, but will it also be a s(t)inker?

As I mentioned yesterday, Lou Brock is writing a book about the Johnny Sain-Jackie Robinson matchup in Robinson's first big league game on Opening Day,1947. It makes some sense to focus on the batter-pitcher rivalry, as a way to shape the book. But I've done a lot of research on Sain, and what's notable is how he doesn't talk about being the first Major Leaguer to pitch to Robinson. If you read enough about Sain you become aware of his place in history, but it goes nowhere. Maybe Brock will fix that, but it's not clear how.

Sain does discuss pitching to Robinson in We Played The Game, an excellent oral history covering  1947-1964. Here's what he says:

I became the first pitcher to face Jackie Robinson. We knew he was going to play although they hadn't announced it, which may be why there were over 6,000 empty seats at Ebbets Field ... I didn't care who I pitched against and was concentrating on what I did against all of the Dodgers, not on an event that would go down in history. There were no incidents or mischief during the game, which is why nobody would remember who pitched to Robinson ... Most of the Braves didn't think Robinson entering the majors was a big deal.

Obviously you can go in a whole lot of different directions with such a book, which seems Brock's only option. It might explain why he was interviewing Ryan Howard on the topic.

Johnny Sain vs. Jackie Robinson: The Book?

Lou Brock is writing a book about Jackie Robinson's first major league at bat -- which happened to come against Johnny Sain on Opening Day, April 15, 1947. While there were many remarkable things about that game, especially Robinson's courage, it almost seems that the Sain-Robinson matchup was the least remarkable. Robinson went hitless; Sain pitched him straight.

But Brock sees it different. He thinks another pitcher would have tried to send Robinson a message, big time. "He [Sain] could have released a missile, but he released a baseball. The question was why? Johnny always said it was because '[he] was a big-league pitcher.'"

Mark "The Bird" Fidrych explains

I remember, in 1976, the mania that surrounded Mark Fidrych, who as a rookie hurler for the 5th-place Detroit Tigers went 19-9. He also started the All-Star game, led the AL with a 2.34 ERA, and also led the junior circuit with 24 complete games. As you probably know, his pitching career was all but over when he injured his arm early in the 1977 season. He attempted minor league comebacks for years, but was never the same.

In the 1985 video, below, Fidrych talks about the many misconceptions about him. For example, he didn't talk to the ball -- he talked to himself, to calm himself down and stay focused. The many times he got down on one knee to dig a hole in the mound, or to fix another: "What am I supposed to do, call out the grounds crew? I just wanted to be comfortable." There's a lot of other good stuff in this video, but I'll give away just one more. It's a segment shown on a sports talk show, and after the segment, the talking heads put in their $0.02.

They're talking about the possibility of Fidrych, then 31, making a comeback after having had arthroscopic shoulder surgery that fixed the problem that dogged him all those years. They mostly agree it won't happen. John Mengelt, a journeyman guard who played in the NBA from 1972-81, including a few years with the Pistons, says he thinks that Fidrych's partying probably took a toll -- too many late nights. Then he adds, "I don't think players do that any more." Right. Baseball players at that time made sure that they took their cocaine responsibly and got a good night's sleep. Seriously, had he no clue about the baseball drug trials that did (or would soon) get underway, implicating more than 20 players directly in taking the powder?

Guess not. What a strange thing to say.

Former Brooklyn Dodgers star pitcher Clem Labine dead at 80

Clem Labine, a long-time right-handed reliever for the Bums, the beloved "Boys of Summer," died yesterday in Florida. In the 1955 World Series, Labine got one win in relief and a save as the Dodgers beat the Yankees. But this was just one highlight in a long career that included 513 games pitched (38 were starts), two All-Star appearances, five World Series (including one with the L.A. Dodgers in 1959 and another with the Pirates in 1960), and the honor of being an Original Met.

Labine also notched two classic starts. In the 1951 playoff, he took the mound in Game 2  against the Giants and shut them out 10-0. And in Game 6 of the 1956 World Series, he blanked the Yankees 1-0 in 10 innings.

In The Boys of Summer, Roger Kahn wrote about Labine as an executive and designer for a men's clothing company after his baseball days ended. The company closed, and after that Labine became a banking executive before retiring. His son, Clem Jr. (know as Jay), stepped on a land mine while serving in Vietnam with the Marines, and lost a leg.

In Tales from the 1962 New York Mets, Janet Paskin tells the story about a spring training incident involving Labine -- who'd been almost officially relegated to a coaching position -- and catcher Joe Ginsberg. They came into the team hotel late one night after playing golf, and went into the dining room to find the only others in the joint were Casey and Edna Stengel.

Stengel, ever the gentleman, signalled to the waiter that he wanted to buy the two players a drink. They accepted, of course. But there was only one problem -- Stengel had a rule barring players from drinking in the hotel.

The following day there was a pre-practice meeting. "Something happened last night," said Stengel. "We had two ballplayers go in that dining room last night and they were drinking beer, and it's going to cost them $50 each. Okay, you two guys stand up."

Labine and Ginsberg stayed put, but eventually admitted their "guilt" to Stengel. But Labine was sure that Stengel had no idea who he'd played his little trick on.

RIP, Clem.