Despite the over-commercialization of all sports, not least baseball, "pitchers and catchers have reported to spring training" remains one of the greatest
sentences in the English language. l didn't make my first baseball trip to Florida until 1979 when I was starting my first book about the labor history of baseball, THE IMPERFECT DIAMOND. (Arizona would come a few years later).
I will never forget that on the same day in early March, I met two Hall of Famers, Al Lopez (inducted in 1976) and Robin Roberts (inducted in 1977). Nicknamed the Senor because he was born in Spain, Lopez greeted me in mid-morning at his home on a canal in Tampa's Ybor City. He had been a highly regarded catcher during his long playing career and became the only manager to break Casey Stengel's amazing streak of Yankee pennants, leading Cleveland in 1954 and the White Sox in 1959 to the World Series.
Lopez professed that he had no memories of being part of the 1946 Pittsburgh Pirates that briefly voted to strike during the season over Pittsburgh management's failure to recognize the short-lived American Players Guild. Lopez did share humorous stories about playing at Ebbets Field for the Daffy Dodgers in the 1920s.
He remembered one fan in particular who constantly razzed the Dodgers and manager Wilbert Robinson from the upper deck at Ebbets Field. One day before a game, the harassed skipper summoned the fan to the dugout with an offer. "Here's a box seat for the rest of the season," Robinson said, "if you promise to shut up." In a thick Yiddish accent, Lopez recalled the fan's reply: "Uncle Robbie, you got a deal." Of course, the truce didn't last for more than a game or two. When the fan renewed his bellowing, the ticket was taken away and without missing a beat the fan took his leather lungs back to his old perch in the upper stands.
Later that day I met Robin Roberts, who was coaching baseball at the University of South Florida in Tampa. I'll never forget Roberts' first words to me: "Fire away!" meaning that I could ask him any questions I might have about his instrumental role in hiring Marvin Miller from the United Steelworkers of America to modernize the moribund Players Association. It is a part of baseball labor history that is not widely known that the players during Miller's first visit to Arizona spring training camps in 1966 rejected his candidacy. It took primarily the efforts of Roberts and pitchers Jim Bunning and Bob Friend, all training in Florida, to rally the players in Miller's behalf.
Roberts was easy to converse with on many topics. One of his sons was going to Michigan State where Robin had starred before signing a bonus contract with the Phillies. "Wait until you see Magic Johnson, Dad!" Robin recalled his son's awe. Robin's career coaching USF would not last much longer. One of the issues
was he resisted the pressure to call pitches from the dugout. He wanted them to call their own games. At the end of his playing career, Roberts had been the first roommate of Orioles rookie Jim Palmer, another future Hall of Famer. His only advice to Palmer was "throw the hell out of the ball!"
Another indelible memory from my visit with Roberts was his expressing surprise that southpaw Tommy John had recently left the Dodgers as a free agent to sign with the Yankees. Having played in the age of the reserve system that was perpetual but at times genuinely paternalistic, Roberts thought it almost shocking that John left the Dodgers after the team paid for the career-saving elbow operation performed by Dr. Frank Jobe. Roberts sensed in 1979 that a new world was coming and he was glad that players were getting paid better but he also loved the traditions of the game. He was almost wistful discussing the trip northward at the end of spring training when the Phillies (and most other teams) played games in smaller cities on the way North and each team let the varsity play five innings so the fans in the small towns could watch them.
Roberts was one of the kindest and most thoughtful baseball people I've ever interviewed. He expressed more of these thoughts in "We Would Have Played For Nothing," one of the oral histories that late commissioner of baseball Fay Vincent wrote after he retired. Roberts mentioned to Vincent, who died on Feb 1 at the age of 86, that he still treasured the keepsake gift Phillies owner Bob Carpenter sent him when he was called up from the minors to make his major league debut. The story brings back to mind a radio interview that I made 40 years ago with Mrs. Ron Hunt, the wife of second baseman Ron Hunt, the Mets' first All-Star. She still treasured the silver spoon that Mets owner Joan Whitney Payson gave her when she had a child.
That's all for this post. I'm heading to see Columbia women's basketball, riding a 9-game winning streak atop the Ivy League by itself for the first time.
Dartmouth is not a contender but youneverknow in any sport. The matchup with Harvard on Sun at noon EST on ESPNU should be barnburner.
We'll see how my other team Wisconsin men do at Purdue at 1p tomorrow Sa Feb 15 on CBS. And then Illinois on Peacock (alas) on Tu Feb 18.
More thoughts on today's baseball in later posts. Glad I could share now some of the stories of baseball's rich past.
Take it easy but take it and stay healthy and sane and test negative (for as long as we are allowed to have government health tests!)