NOTES #142

NOTES FROM THE SHADOWS OF COOPERSTOWN

Observations from Outside the Lines

By Two Finger Carney (carneya6@adelphia.net)
#142 JULY 28, 1996

PEANUTS AND CRACKER JACK

That’s the heading I use for pages where I collect all kinds of unrelated baseball stuff, and this is that kind of issue. No main theme, no big events, just a lazy, hazy week in July.

Let me correct two typos in #141, without further ado. In What’s in a Position? (page 2), I noted that Honus Wagner played the equivalent of about six seasons at positions other than shortstop, “including two on the mound” — that’s two games on the mound. He did well enough — no earned runs and six K’s in eight and one-third innings — but his glove was mightier than his arm, and that early Pirate dynasty was pitching-rich anyway.

The other typo was in Just Went Too Far (page 6), when referring to Marge’s Memo. I wrote “probably two (or 27) sentences” were not controversial, and it should have been “two (of 27).” There were just 27 sentences in the thing. I doubt that all 27 are Marge’s, but probably at least two are.

I will thank Ed Luteran up front (and again later) for sharing with me his research into the all-time record for triples in a season, by J. Owen “Chief” Wilson. The more I looked at this record, the more impressed I became. Wilson’s mark defies logic and the infamous Law of Averages, and my question now is why baseball didn’t set up a special committee to investigate it, back in 1912. Hope you all enjoy The Trouble With Triples , and if you want to use it in your publication(s), let me know ASAP.

The Law of Averages comes up here again later, too ( What Goes Up ), as does one extraordinary exception to it — see my non-baseball book review on mega-savant Kim Peek. I must remember to ask Kim for his take on the D.H., that embattled rule that has heated up more stoves in the last twenty-three years than coal.

I noticed just one baseball game on the Olympic TV schedule, the USA-Cuba showdown. I plan to watch it (how many Cuban players will defect during the seventh-inning stretch?) There have been many major league stars from Cuba — something I noticed in my all-time APBA league: Camilio Pascual, Tony Oliva, Minnie Minoso, Bert Campaneris, Jose Canseco, Mike Cuellar, Luis Tiant, Leo Cardenas, Tony Perez, Dolph Luque, Tony Taylor. Unfortunately, Fidel Castro was only good enough to dream. With the right tutor, and maybe a split-finger fastball, there would be one less dictator today. We can only speculate on how many Cubans would be in the majors today, if the political barrier was overcome. Reserve the gold medal for the folks who pull that off.

THE ENDANGERED D.H.

With the advent of Interleague Plague, the Designated Hitter Rule has become a bargaining chip. I’ve heard fans who hate the idea of I.P. say, “At least maybe baseball will get rid of the D.H.” — as if that would offset the loss of league identities. My take on this is (a) the owners are pushing I.P. either because they cannot agree on which leagues the newest franchises will be in, or because they feel (mistakenly, I believe) that the Strike has forced them to shake up MLB and re-package it “for the fans,” who they think (mistakenly) want I.P.; and (b) the same owners are seizing this opportunity to jettison the D.H., because carrying a D.H. on the roster is more expensive for them than not carrying a D.H. And they think this will please fans, too.

About that last idea, they are partly correct. Some fans hate the D.H. with a venom usually reserved for politicians. I never minded it that much. In fact, I was disappointed when the Pirates won their recent flags in odd years, when the D.H. wasn’t used (before the current home park system was adopted.)

I know that the D.H. is such an emotional issue, that no minds are likely to be changed by logic or persuasion. But I’d like to see the debate (the D.H. is a great conversation piece, and for that reason alone, ought to be kept) include these points:

* The D.H. has always been an option . If managers (at every level) thought it was a bad idea, why do they unanimously use it?

* Fans like offense. The D.H. provides more offense. No one ever paid to go see pitchers swing the bat. In fact, that’s a good time to hit the rest rooms (I almost said “hit the concession stands” — that would hurt the D.H.’s chances.)

* The most strategic moves any manager makes, and this is true of every game, are the decisions about the lineup. The D.H. gives managers a stronger lineup. Most fans do not care that much about the “real strategy” that the NL managers occasionally use late in games.

* Pitchers batting and running the bases, are pitchers at risk of injury (ask Zane Smith), and pitching is so thin already.

The strongest objection to the D.H. seems to be that it bucks tradition. Twenty-some years later, there are now fans who grew up with the D.H., who must wonder why the NL lets their pitchers bat. Just once, I’d like to see the fans who call the D.H. an abomination (and worse), show some excitement when the number eight batter is walked to load the bases with two out, so their pitcher can pretend he’s a hitter. Something in them groans , I know. The D.H. is fan-friendly.

All change is not progress — artificial turf, for instance. But all change is not bad, either. When night baseball was introduced, it was not welcomed with open arms by everyone. It met with a lot of resistance, but eventually clubs saw that most fans liked night games. Twenty-some years later, the D.H. has also proved to be popular. But not everyone sees the light, or sees the issue in that light. The Year of the Gopher is probably not the best time to propose that the NL end its too-long tradition and join the rest of the world of baseball. But this fan wouldn’t mind that at all.

A NOTE ON “THE REAL RAINMAN”

One of the most unusual items to ever appear in the nearly 1400 pages of Notes over the years, was At the Hall With Rainman (#102), in spring 1995. It took six small-print pages to describe my most memorable visit to Cooperstown — accompanying Kim Peek, the mega-savant from Salt Lake City, and the person who inspired the film Rainman , and his father Fran Peek.

I recently received copy of the book Fran was working on at the time. “… we often talk about you and that special day with you at Cooperstown. Hope you enjoy our book as much as we enjoyed those memories, and the story At the Hall with Rainman ,” goes the inscription inside. (I’d sent them a copy of the article, and received their OK to have it published.)

I don’t recommend many non-baseball books in these pages, but I’m making an exception here. The Real Rainman, Kim Peek is a neat 137-page paperback, very readable, and written in a creative style — with “KimKwips” and anecdotes scattered about, but always connected. If my article piqued your curiosity about this amazing man and his incredible mind, it was just an appetizer for this full-course tour. “Incredible” is the right word — if I hadn’t spent a day or so with Kim, the book would seem fictitious, or at best, far-fetched.

I don’t think I mentioned in my story, that Kim can not just devour books with near-perfect recall, and comprehension. He can also read the left page with his left eye, and simultaneously, the right page with his right eye. And he has a rare form of dyslexia that enables him to read pages that are turned sideways, or upside-down, or as mirrored images!

I can go on — but if you want more, get the book. You can phone 1-800-871-2522, or send $11.95 (S & H is included) to Harkness Publishing, PO Box 27611, 2370 South Redwood Rd, Salt Lake City, Utah 84119. Mentioning my name will get you no discount, but go ahead anyway.

WHITE FLAG II

According to the August 1996 Giant Gold , there is another flag of surrender flying, this one on the Barbary Coast. “The Giants drop like a rock,” goes the headline, and underneath, “Comeback anything like 1951 very unlikely.” You know your team is in trouble when your superstar’s season is highlighted by a win in the Home Run Derby at the ‘Star break. Another headline says “We must now admit it: the Giants … uh … suck.” And the issue concludes with a rousing, “So .. would anyone like to talk football?” At least there’s a nice feature on Sal Maglie, and a chunk of the first (of two) Oldtyme BB News articles on Christy Mathewson, as played on the stage by Eddie Frierson. Last time I looked, the Giants were still in the league — they hadn’t fallen as far as this issue would have us believe. Gotta have heart!

WHAT GOES UP

Franchises are funny things. There has never been one which has known only success, or only failure. Sooner or later, the worst teams improve. Sooner or later, the greatest dynasties sink. This was true before the draft, and before free agency, a couple of theoretical levelling factors. In baseball, natural forces erode the tallest mountains: injuries, age, complacency, and you can complete the list yourself.

I’ve played a few simulated seasons (APBA) in my day, and there’s no escaping this nagging feeling, that given an infinite number of monkeys to roll the dice, somewhere down the road all teams will wind up with a lifetime .500 percentage. Talent waxes and wanes, rookies rise up as aging stars fall, you win some and you lose some, but ultimately, you split. That’s how it feels .

But feelings are not facts, and an article in Oldtyme Baseball News (7-6) by William Wagner has the facts. Mr Wagner has taken the time and trouble to compile all-time stats, from 1886 through 1992, on a number of categories, to see which fans have had more (or less) of their share of the ecstasy of winning, or the agony of losing. I’m not sure why, but he’s lumped together his stats by city , as if Cardinal and Browns fans actually breathed the same air, or the Yankees/Giants, Cubs/White Sox, etc. (Brooklyn was kept separate — America’s team.)

Drum roll, please. The results. New York has the highest winning percentage, .5430 over 208 seasons, with a 16,754-14,099 record. The Pirates (8887-8292, .5173 over 114 seasons) are in second, but in hot pursuit — I’m predicting they’ll overtake the New Yorkers by the year 2525 (if man is still alive.) Don’t bother, I already checked — even if you throw in Brooklyn, the Bucs are still Number Two. (Washington holds down last place, .4420 over 91 summers.)

The real action is in the batting race: Pittsburgh is hitting .26540, to Chicago’s .26442, and Detroit’s .26440. I’m sure that Mr Wagner’s article, posted in the locker rooms around the league, has already caused these teams to take extra BP.

In case you’re interested, New York has the lowest all-time ERA (3.473, to Chicago’s 3.527 and Pittsburgh’s 3.569). The Tigers are out-slugging everyone else, with New York .0024 points behind (followed again by Chicago and Pittsburgh), while Cincinnati is fielding at a remarkable .9770 clip. Washington is dead last in every category.

I ought to mention that in his all-time standings, Mr Wagner insisted that cities host at least 10,000 games, which seems fair. Washington looks pretty good, compared to Louisville, Seattle, and some of the early cities whose awful teams caused their franchises to fold after one or two summers. All for now, gotta run, there’s a batting race I need to follow closely….

WHITE FLAG UP

The Pirates’ trade of Danny Darwin to Houston for prospect Rich Loiselle, signalled the lowering of the Jolly Roger in the ’96 pennant race. Stuck ten games out of it , but with four ships to overtake, the swap made perfect sense.

Darwin and Zane Smith were flotsam and jetsam, washed up on the Florida beaches and discovered by beachcombers Skipper Jim Leyland and his first mate Ray Miller, last spring. Both earned their roster spots, then proceeded to duel for Comeback of the Year, with strong efforts all spring.

There was a time, of course, when all ballplayers were “old men” to me — when all adults were old. But players grow younger as our years go by. Probably a lot of fans can remember when the last player their age retired (for me, it was Nolan.) So when Darwin and Smith caught on as “the old men” of the Pirates (and how many others over forty are still going?), I chuckled.

Zane went down with injuries and finally could come back no more. Darwin was 7-9 and 3.02 when he was traded, but any Buc fan knows that he could easily have had a dozen or more wins, with just a little more help from his pen, or a few more supportive runs.

So I wish Danny well with the Astros (except when he pitches against the Bucs), and hope he’s still pitching, come October. Of course, I also hope the Pirates get fifteen terrific summers from Rich Loiselle.

Paul Wagner, the other Buc pitcher in that Comeback race, was put on the DL the same day that Darwin was traded, and faces Tommy John-type surgery. Like his older teammates, Wagner had started this spring tossing goose eggs, til his arm failed. Denny Neagle must feel like Custer, the lone survivor of the rotation of April, hanging in there waiting for the reinforcements. But the white flag is up, it won’t happen this summer.

* * * * *

Since I jotted the notes above, the Pirates have put together a modest five-game-and-counting win streak — at Three Rivers, no less, where they have struggled all season. At the same time, the Cardinals, who had jetted ahead in the NL Central, lost their engines, five of six, and first place — to the Houston Astros. Eleven back less than a week ago, the Pirate ship is now just 6? out of it — but still running fifth.

Such is baseball. The Giants, cellar-dwellers in the NL-W, went up against the Braves a few days ago (and Maddux, I think), prompting one sports-radio commentator to confidently predict a 4-1 Atlanta win. The Giants took them, 4-3. Buddha must have been a baseball fan: expect the unexpected, grasshopper. Is that the Jolly Roger I see, being hoisted back up the mast?

SEPTEMBER 8, 1958

That was the last time a ballplayer hit three consecutive triples in a single game. It had been done multiple times in both leagues before then, but it hasn’t been accomplished since. The author of the 9-8-58 triple-trifecta was Roberto Clemente. And I think I kept score of the game.

My old scorebook is long gone, so I can’t look it up. But stuck in the cobwebs of my mental attic is an image, like the one at right. That’s how I would have scored three triples, filling in the box in the center, if Roberto scored.

I still score this way, filling in a quarter of the box for a single, half for a double, and the whole thing for a home run. Not very fancy — I wish I used a system that tells me where the hits landed. (I use margins for that sometimes, or scribble where I can, or jot down “deep” beside the 7, 8, or 9 on long flies that are caught (with stars for above-average fielding plays — the size of the star says how far above.)

Some day I’ll get to The Joy of Keeping Score , out this season, by Paul Dickson. Since learning the basics as a kid, I’ve added a few personal twists, and I’m always on the lookout for variations on the themes. For example, I sometimes circle the box of a “crucial” at bat — before the result of the at bat is decided. Most circles appear in the late innings, but perhaps a third-inning bases-loaded at bat against Greg Maddux would rate a circle. Might be the best, or the only shot at him, all game.

Because I fill in hits darkly, I can look at my scorecard from a distance and tell low-hitters from slugfests. Why I would want to read my scorebook from across the room is a good question, but I could , if I had to.

I don’t know if Dickson covers this in his book, but I’ve always enjoyed the symmetry of certain events, as they appear in my scorebook: back-to-back homers forming a dark rectangle, or back-to-back-to- back HRs, a column visible for miles. Again, I can’t prove this, but I think I had one of those columns in my possession once, compliments of Messrs. Mathews, Aaron and Adcock. I also had a disconnected horizontal column in there, Roman Mejias’ three clouts into the jet stream at Candlestick.

I’ve never scored a no-hitter, but that would appear absolutely antiseptic in my book — except that I’d probably start the circles in the 7th inning, making them larger and darker with each successive out! If you have any scoring idiosyncracies you’d like to share — that what Notes is for!

ANOTHER OBSCURE PIRATE OUTFIELDER

Pirate, batting champion. Immediately, we think of Honus Wagner, who led his league eight times between 1900 and 1911. (No, my headline does not refer to Ginger Beaumont, whose .357 bested even his Dutchman teammate, in 1902. Good guess.)

Add “obscure.” Arky Vaughan played a little outfield, and hit .385 (the best Buc BA ever), but he’s not obscure. Neither are Paul Waner, Roberto Clemente, Dave Parker, or Matty Alou, although Dave has a shot (Matty is safe, being one of a trio of Alous, and Moises looks like he’ll keep the family name in the news for a long time.) Al Oliver won a title in 1982, but he was an Expo at the time (it’s hard for me to believe he never won one as a Pirate.) Bill Madlock? No, he won the ’81 crown as a Buc, but played third, and because he also won two titles as a Cubbie, he’ll never become nearly as obscure as ….

Debs Garmsis the fellow I was thinking about. “Tex” hit .355 in 1940, with just 358 at bats, but in those days, that was enough. Like Chief Wilson, Debs was a Texan who batted from the left side. His Conlon card suggests that Garms is better known for stopping Vander Meer’s no-hit streak (at 21+ innings), but I didn’t know that. Did you? Ken Kelter is more famous than the Indian pitchers who stopped DiMaggio. But it seems to me that most famous streak-stoppers are pitchers. (Cookie Lavagetto and Joe Adcock instantly occur to me as exceptions, in Bevens’ bid for a WS no-hitter, and of course, in Haddix’ Perfect Loss.)

But Debs Garms is a familiar name to me , nonetheless, because (a) any Pirate jumped out from the lists of league leaders, in the old Sporting News record books I’d peruse as a young fan; and (b) what the hell kind of name is Debs ? It stuck out, too, like Nap and Frenchy and Edd (Roush).

Debs is probably a family name, and I’m not poking fun at it. I think it’s safe to say, he’s the most famous Debs.

Garms played with the Browns and Braves before the Bucs — he apparently favored B teams — then finished up with the Cardinals. In 1945, at age 37, Garms hit .336 in 74 games for St Louis. With no DH — and a lot of talent back from the military — Garms was cut. Today, he could probably sign on for a few million, with incentive clauses galore. But that was then, and Debs instead entered Tough Trivia Retirement Village.

WILSONIAN HITS

— that oughtta be the nickname for triples slashed over the infield, between the outfielders (except in right center), or down the lines, that result in three bases. Forget “gappers”: let’s honor the fellow who pulled off something astounding, and whose record seems as secure as any in the books (except Hoss Radbourn’s 60-win season, and darn few others.)

Who was Owen “Chief” Wilson? I find little about him in my baseball library. Born in Austin, Texas, in 1883, Wilson was a 25-year-old rookie when he broke in with the 1908 Bucs. For six summers he was a regular in the lineup, and strictly an outfielder. He batted .300 in 1911 (and drove in 107 runs), and again in 1912 — his wonder year. His fielding seemed to improve after he was traded to the Cardinals in 1914, as his percentage was the league’s highest his first two summers away from Forbes.

He was not the most famous Wilson, of the dozens who made it to the majors (Hack, Mookie and Earl come to mind as more famous), and he was not the most famous Chief (Bender and Hogsett are two, and of course Allie Reynolds was Superchief.) Owen Wilson seems condemned to obscurity — unlike Earl Webb, whose record seems much more reachable.

Wilson’s only hope is that the triple some day gets its due, and fans notice what an exceptional season 1912 was for him.

Of course, the popularity of the home run has helped make Wilson’s mark safer. Parks are smaller now, and the trend seems in that direction. Are outfielders faster? Perhaps, but their gloves are certainly larger and surer. Those big traps that snap shut even if you don’t use both hands , are (to borrow a phrase) where triples go to die .

Yes, I had to give Mr Wilson three pages. And if I find out more about his life before and after baseball (the Cooperstown library is alerted), I’ll pass it along, in about three weeks.

THE TROUBLE WITH TRIPLES

Many fans agree that the triple is baseball’s most exciting play, or at least it’s right up there with its cousin, the inside-the-park home run, and with stealing home. But the triple, a hit that clears the bases, sets up another run, and is just 90 feet shy of the homer, just doesn’t get due respect. Owen Wilson remains tough trivia, while Aaron and Ruth, Mays and Mantle, Maris and Reggie Jackson are all known on a first-name basis.

Owen “Chief” Wilson hit 36 triples in 1912, for the Pirates, a fact we discussed here back in #119 (“Sam, Earl & the Chief.”) I wrote then, “I wonder if some SABRite has tracked down those three dozen three-baggers? Wilson never hit more than 14 in any other season. The answer to my question is Yes: Ed Luteran, of the Forbes Field Chapter of SABR did it, and presented his research at the ’92 Convention in St Louis.

Ed recently sent me his notes, listing the date, site, and details of each of the 36 triples. (Think of how many times you have seen lists of Ruth’s 60 and Maris’ 61, along with who yielded the HR. I’ve known about Wilson’s record since I was a kid, and Ed’s list is the only one I’ve ever seen.)

Here are a few things that stick out to me. Hitting 20+ triples in a single season is a remarkable achievement, on the same level as 50+ doubles or 45+ home runs. Hitting 30+ triples has been accomplished just three times (Heinie Reitz, in 1894, and Dave Orr, in 1886; both hit 31.) Since 1900, only three players have hit 26 (most recently, Kiki Cuyler in 1925), and only three have hit 25 (most recently, Tommy Long in 1915!)

Take a deep breath. Owen Wilson had 33 triples going into September 1912 — he was on a pace to challenge 40. He hit 5 in April, 6 in May and June, 9in July, and 7 in August. So 7 more before the season’s end was within his reach — he hit #36 on October 6.

If hitting 20 triples is as rare as 50 doubles or 45 HRs, Wilson was actually approaching a record as unthinkable as 100 doubles or 90 HRs! How close did he come to 40? According to Ed Luteran (who looked at every plate appearance Wilson made that season), Owen slugged 11 HRs. One (on 7/15) bounced into the stands, a HR by the rules of the day. A shorter bounce, a possible triple. Ed also documented ten “long outs” (six in September — the defense finally realized they should play this guy deep .) The impossible 40 was not missed by much.

When we looked at Earl Webb’s 1931 record for doubles (67), which may be spared if Edgar is on the DH long, we wondered if he had mastered the technique of slapping hits off Fenway’s Green Monster. But that was not the case, the Monster came along later.

When we look at the great HR seasons of Ruth and Maris, we know Yankee Stadium was a big factor, as the Polo Grounds was for Mel Ott. (Ralph Kiner and others slugged HRs despite unfriendly confines at home.)

So we naturally wonder if Owen Wilson had a special groove at Forbes Field. Thanks to Ed, here’s the answer. Wilson hit 24 of his 36 triples at Forbes. But what is really remarkable, is that he had no groove at all, he sprayed them all over the joint. All except in right-center (Wilson batted left-handed), the one place where we expect triples to flourish. Not a one to right center at Forbes , or on the road!

Wilson hit 8 triples to left (including two right down the line at Forbes), 17to center, and 7 to right; 4 to left-center. Forbes Field always was a paradise for tripplers: in 1912, it was 360′ down the line in left, 376′ in right, and the flag pole in center was just in front of the 402′ mark. Opposing teams keeping a chart on Wilson would have been baffled on how to play him. I wonder if any manager moved his shortstop into the outfield, to close the gaps.

According to the DeValerias, in Honus Wagner , Wilson’s record has never been equalled in any minor league. That cannot be said, I would think, for too many major league records.

Wilson hit six triples in a five-game stretch, June 17-20, hitting a pair in the nightcap of the July 20 twin bill. He hit three on August 26th. Conclusion: Wilson sure did hit triples!

[From Notes #22 ] Philip Roth in The Great American Novel : Asked why he loved triples more than anything else, hero Luke Gofannin replies —

“Smackin’ it, first off. Off the wall, up the alley, down the line, however it goes, it goes with that there crack. Then runnin’ like blazes. ‘Round first and into second, and the coach down there cryin’ out to ya’, ‘Keep comin’.’ So ya’ make the turn at second and ya’ head for third — and now ya’ know that throw is comin’, ya’ know it is right on your tail. So ya’ slide. Two hunerd and seventy feet of runnin’ behind ya’, and with all that there momentum, ya’ hit it — whack, into the bag. Over he goes. Legs. Arms. Dust. Hell, ya’ might be in a tornado. Then ya’ hear the ump — ‘Safe!’ And y’re in there … only that ain’t all…. The best part, in a way, is standin’ up. Dustin’ off y’r breeches and standin’ up there on that bag…. Nothin’ like it.”

Owen Wilson was a 29 year old Texan, 6’2″ and 185 pounds, who never hit 36 doubles in his nine summers in the majors. He was not a base-stealer (16 his top mark, also in 1912). He never scored more than 80 runs. According to The Ballplayers (not the most reliable source), 31 of his career 59 HRs were inside-the-parkers. I once wrote of Arky Vaughan, “his bat rippled with triples.” Triplicate that image for the amazing Owen Wilson.

SUNSET AT THE SHOW

Readers of Oldtyme Baseball News might expect a baseball obituary to follow that heading. Not so.

I attended a Utica Blue Sox game (7/21) at which the best play of the evening was turned by Mother Nature. If the game had been halted, while the fans and players enjoyed the sunset, I would not have been surprised — it was that good.

If you were standing on the mound at Murnane, and looking over third base, you would see the center of the display, a tremendous pink smear. Its oranges and purples shot all across the outfield, with thin vapors still visible if you were looking over first base, or directly over the grandstand back of the plate, a 270-degree panorama of color.

Several balls were lined or popped foul over the bleachers along third, drawing attention to the phenomenon. It was hard to look back at the pitcher-batter duel. The game was not dull, either, it see-sawed a while before the Sox surrendered the lead, then a tack-on run, then a hammered-on three-run homer in the eighth. But the sun kept on setting, never visible itself, but poking its colored beams between layers of cloud, and lasting several innings, before finally fading into the black sky, and letting the stadium lights take over.

I’ve seen some very good sunsets at Murnane, both this summer and in past seasons, but this one rated a ten. I was disappointed that it wasn’t mentioned in the boxscore the next morning.

Naturally (no pun intended), I think again about domes. I have experienced just two. I thought Montreal’s was awful (even when it was stuck open), giving this fan the sensation of being in a large gym. (The Expos’ fans were really into the game, and this helped to charge the atmosphere.) Skydome is a spectacular building, but with the dome closed, still feels like an indoor cavern, though not as gym-like as Montreal. Open — as it was for the game I attended — it was fine, although they could lose the plastic grass. The Jays’ fans seemed a mix of tourists and loyalists — they were reigning World Champs when I was there, and still not quite down to earth from Carter’s Clout.

Utica will never have a dome, so it’s not my problem , but now that we know how to make retractable domes, that should be the way to go from now on (where domes are more or less needed), and if the technology now permits real grass, obviously that is my preference.

And maybe architects ought to figure out how sunsets can be worked into the plans. (Did I mention a tree or two in the outfield, too?) Sunsets are free, of course, and can be tens anywhere, major league sunsets, at the show.

EXTRA INNINGS

Ed Luteran’s descriptions of each of Wilson’s 36 triples and 11 HRs took me back some to last week’s little essay America the Commercial , and how ballpark signs were never limited to those flashed around the diamond by players and coaches. Some examples: “[Wilson] tripled to the CF fence and tried hard for the blue serge suit but was caught at the plate” … “drove a screaming triple to the LF signboards” … “Wilson lifted one over the whiskey sign and into the RF bleachers at the deepest part.”

Forbes Field, built in 1909, was the Camden Yards of its day, with state-of-the-art fan comforts, like ramps, telephones, and even ladies’ rest rooms! It cost Barney Dreyfuss an unheard-of million dollars, but it paid off. I read somewhere that Dreyfuss refused to put advertising in Forbes. I wonder if that helped make it such a crowd-pleaser. Dreyfuss had an eye for detail: did he design Forbes as a hitter’s park, for the fans who love offense (never a no-no there in sixty-plus summers) — maybe it was also the Coors of its era — and add the final touch, that irregular and deep outfield, that increased the chances for the game’s most exciting play — the triple?