Notes #446 — Change of Pace

                             NOTES FROM THE SHADOWS OF COOPERSTOWN
                                           Observations from Outside the Lines
                                     By Two Finger Carney (carneya6@adelphia.net)
 

#446                                                                                                                            MAY 8, 2008
                                             CHANGE OF PACE
 

            This was supposed to be an issue covering the 1990s, but it turns out that it just covers the first five years of that span. I predicted a somewhat different take on this decade, and I was right about that. But I had not expected my excerpting and reflecting on my old scorebooks, to take up so much space. Rather than post a 30-page issue, I’ll return to the Nineties in #447 .
 

            I decided not to cover The Strike here at all — but I did post, for all those interested, my “coverage” of the Strike (of 1994-95) in the Notes Archive — see below for details.
 

            Since Notes was born in 1993, I have never had the chance to write here about a winning Pirates team. Maybe after reading here my take on the last Pirate winners, 1990-92, Notes readers will be glad of that. If I was a Pirate broadcaster, I would be called a “homer” — I would publicly root for the Pirates, as Bob Prince did, and as Harry Caray did for the teams he broadcast, and there were others. If it bothers you, tune in another station.
 

            So without further intro, here is the next installment, not the last. And again — it will be a little different from the rest. For many readers, this will be a first exposure to “the early days” of Notes . One of these days, I’ll get all of those old issues into the Archives.
 

 

BASEBALL HISTORY — AS SEEN FROM THE SHADOWS OF COOPERSTOWN  
 

PART TEN: 1990-1994
 

Introduction  
 

            If it is true that we remember better, things that we see and hear and do, things we talk about, and things we write about, then I ought to remember baseball in the Nineties better than anything. I had started writing baseball soon after “the Earthquake Series” in Fall of 1989, and the result was Dear Patrick , whose seventeen chapters have found their way into Notes at various times, most recently in issues #294 ff . I tinkered with that book on into 1991, the year I joined SABR. By 1993 I had begun doing Notes from the Shadows of Cooperstown , and McFarland published Romancing the Horsehide . I was becoming a regular contributor to FAN Magazine , and occasionally to Spitball and Elysian Field Quarterly . Not to mention a number of “fanzines” and newsletters. In its pre-internet days, Notes went mostly to baseball editors, and most of them sent me their publications in exchange for mine. I was swamped with baseball.
 

            I now look back on the Nineties and see it in three distinct parts. The first part, 1990-1992, is bathed in black and gold. The Pirates won the National League East all three years, and each time, were stopped in the playoffs. The second part is just black — baseball was eclipsed by The Strike, which technically started August 12, 1994, but anyone with eyes could see it coming from a long way off. When it ended — thanks to a judge, not MLB — part of the 1995 season was lost, too. The Strike turned off many fans, and some baseball publications never recovered.
 

            The third part, the seasons that followed, were not the same as the seasons before the Strike. The home runs hit by Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa in 1998 were a shot in the arm for MLB (or maybe the shots were a bit lower), and brought some fans back. But as the decade ended, even as the Strike faded into the past, even as MLB seemed wealthier (if not healthier) than ever, the playing field seemed less level than ever. October’s Games, baseball’s showcase, seemed to end later and later, reminding fans on the East Coast, at least, that television was the tail wagging the MLB dog.
 

            Change of Pace:In this issue, I’m going to cover just 1990 thru 1994; I’ll pick up next time after the Strike years.
 

            As I said last time, my take on the Nineties will be a bit different than the previous nine installments of my Baseball History. I’ll be leaning on different sources — my scorebooks, and on Notes . Let’s get started.
 

 

1990  
 

            My scorebooks remind me just how immersed in baseball I was. My kids started playing ball in 1991 — after a couple years of AYSO (soccer), my daughter tried softball (then stuck with piano), and my son joined the Minors (I helped manage), before his three years of Little League (he then moved on to guitar). I was a regular at the Utica Blue Sox games and taking in other minor leagues whenever I could. But for the three summers of 1990, ’91 and ’92, I was also seriously hooked on the Pirates.
 

            I recently lunched with a couple Mets friends, and we all recalled how the Mets and Pirates battled in those days. (When Bobby Bonilla jumped the Pirates for the Mets, after 1991, it looked like the balance of power shifted sharply to NY — but that turned out to be a mirage; the 1992 Mets were awful.)  So when I open my scorebook to 1990 and see a NY-Pgh doubleheader from September 5, it brings back so much. In Game One, Zane Smith, a much-travelled lefty I always liked (he was to the ’90 Bucs what Vinegar Bend Mizell was to the 1960 team), game up a leadoff single — then nothing else. OK, a third-inning walk with two outs, then nothing . But shades of the Haddix perfecto, the Pirates had runners and chances galore, stranding 15, but plated a run in the bottom of the ninth to win it, 1-0. After a 3-1 win in the nightcap, the Buc lead was two and a half. Another win the next day. But it took a while to clinch; the final margin was four games. The Pirates had gone 0-for-the 80s, and the post-season drought was over.
 

            I scored all six playoff games against the Reds, and I can see my growing frustration. For those who were not there, this was the Pirate team of “Killer B’s”: Barry Bonds, Bonilla, Sid Bream, Jay Bell; and of gold glovers Jose Lind, Andy Van Slyke; of Jeff King, Don Slaught; of Doug Drabek, John Smiley, and Zane Smith. But the Reds had a very good team, too, Paul O’Neill, Barry Larkin, Eric Davis, Chris Sabo; and a bullpen that was as nasty as their nickname, Rob Dibble, Norm Charlton, Randy Myers. The Reds finished five ahead of LA. It was a great series, with the Reds taking it in six. Danny Jackson (and company) held the Pirates to one hit in the finale, a 2-1 win, saved by reserve RF Braggs when the Bucs’ Carmelo Martinez’s long fly in the ninth, with a man on, fell short.
 

            I did not score any of the World Series games, as the Reds swept Oakland. The A’s had won the AL West by 9 over Chicago, while Boston won by two over Toronto. Oakland then swept Boston, while I was glued to the Pirates-Reds duel. I may be wrong, but I think Oakland was a heavy favorite in the Series, but I was not at all surprised when the Reds swept them.
 

            Checking my history, I noticed that there were some memorable no-hitters in 1990: Randy Johnson, Nolan Ryan (#6 of 7), Dave Stewart and Fernando Valenzuela on the same day, and (at last!) Dave Stieb.
 

 

1991    
 

            Maybe the most memorable game from ’91 was one played in April, on a very cold, rainy afternoon at Three Rivers, the Pirates against the Cubs. With my kids (then 11 & 9) along, we “braved the elements” in a slugfest, as the Cubs took a 7-2 lead into the 8th. But the Bucs scored 4 in the 8th and tied it in the ninth — extra innings. By the 11th inning we could sit anywhere we wanted as the crowd thinned and the rain continued. When the Cubs scored five — Andre Dawson’s second grand slam in 3 days being the killer — we headed for the car, soaking wet and hoping to avoid pneumonia. As we drove home, we listened to the Pirates score six in their 11th, for the 13-12 win. As usual, I took this game as a good omen for the season ahead, and it was.
 

            The Pirates coasted home by 14 over St Louis (20.5 over the Mets), while the Atlanta Braves, last in the NL West in 1990, finished on top, by one, over the Dodgers. Minnesota also went “from worst to first” in the AL West (finishing eight up on the White Sox), and Toronto finished seven ahead of Boston and Detroit. My scorebook for 1991 is filled mostly with minor league and Little League games — it was that easy a summer, for Pirate fans.
 

            The Atlanta Braves, however, were not at all easy in October. While Minnesota was handling Toronto easily in five, the Braves and Pirates went the full seven, in a series as hard-fought as they come. Because both teams had a local connection, Mark Lemke for the Braves and Andy van Slyke for the Pirates, the series became the event of the Fall here in the shadows of Cooperstown.
 

            The Pirates won the opener 5-1 behind Drabek, beating Glavine. But Steve Avery tossed a 1-0 shutout to even the Series, Zane Smith yielding the run on a Lemke double. “Braves Chop Up Pirates” was the headline after the 10-3 Game Three Atlanta win; “Van Slyke Scores Winner” after the Pirates’ 3-2, ten-inning win in Game Four. Then “Pittsburgh Game Away From Series” when Zane Smith and a reliever named Mason combined to shut out the Braves 1-0, Glavine losing again. But Avery came back, another 1-0 win, Drabek yielding the lone run in the visitors’ ninth. In my scorebook, near catcher Olson’s RBI double (circled) is the question “Why pitch to him???” Oh well. John Smiley, a 20-game winner, started Game Seven against Smoltz, and never made it out of the first inning. Three hits (Brian Hunter, a 2-run HR) and a walk, goodbye; later he said he wasn’t feeling that well, and I thought of all the times folks have dragged themselves to the office, when they should have stayed in bed. 4-0 Braves.
 

            This meant that two teams who had finished last in 1990 would play each other in the Series. I had no trouble rooting for the NL Reds in ’90, but I couldn’t root for the Braves. The 1991 Series was one of the all-timers. The home team won all seven, just like ’87, and that meant the Twins were on top again. They took the first two at the Dome, 5-2 and 3-2; then lost three in Atlanta, 5-4 (in twelve), 3-2 (the winning run coming in the home ninth), and 14-5. Game Six is best remembered for Kirby Puckett’s 11th-inning HR, 4-3. And then the fans’ dream game finale, a 0-0 tie into extra innings, Jack Morris dueling Smoltz; but Pena was on the mound at the end, when Gene Larkin’s hit ended it, 1-0.
 

 

1992  
 

            This was the last winning Pirate season, Barry Bonds’ last with Pittsburgh. Bonds’ departure hung over the season and the post-season like an ominous cloud. The Pirates offered him $25 million for five years, which they probably could not afford; but he took $42+ million for seven years to play with the Giants. The Pirates lost more than Bonds, to free-agency and the economics that plague small-income teams, but no loss felt more painful.
 

            So the last season on the plus side rolled by all too swiftly. The Pirates won by nine over Montreal. Atlanta, now a true dynasty, won by eight over the Reds. Over in the AL, Toronto won by four over the Brewers, Oakland by six over the Twins. This time Toronto would move on to the Series, taking 4 of 6 in the playoffs, while my attention was again focused on the Pirates and Braves, Van Slyke versus Lemke II, and perhaps the cruelest ending of a season in my memory.
 

            The Braves took the opener in Atlanta, 5-1, Smoltz again. Then they rocked the Pirates 13-5. But the Pirates came back at home, 3-2. “Pirates Refuse to Knuckle Under” was a reference to the Pirate rookie, Tim Wakefield. 8-1, 2.15 after joining the team in August, his knuckle balls in October were dazzling.
 

            I was at Game Four, and although the Pirates lost 6-4 (Otis Nixon four hits, and Smoltz again), I have rarely had more fun at a game. Three Rivers was jam-packed, and the foam-tomahawk chopping Braves fans, mixed in with the Buc fans armed with foam hooks, created an atmosphere I can only compare to a high school football game featuring arch-rivals. We were all hoarse.
 

            Barry Bonds had been stymied by the Braves, a single and some walks. But he came alive in Gave Five, and so did the Pirates, with four in the first (off Avery ) in a 7-1 win; Bob Walk tossed a three-hitter. Then the Bucs forced a Game Seven with a 13-4 rout of Glavine, Wakefield on top again.
 

            Buc ace Doug Drabek, who had won 22 in 1990 and was the ace of the staff, started Game Seven. If he lost, it might be his last game as a Pirate. But if he won, maybe the victory would change his mind, and Bonds’, too, and the extra cash would help the Pirates stop the bleeding away of their talent. There seemed to be a lot riding on this Game seven.
 

            That Drabek took a 2-0 lead into the ninth is painful to remember. Like the error by Jose Lind that followed a hit. After a walk to Sid Bream, Drabek was gone, enter Stan Belinda. I felt sick, I wanted Drabek to stay on, or Wakefield to put it away. When Belinda got two outs, I felt he had over-achieved. He also yielded a walk, so when Francisco Cabrera smacked a 2-1 pitch to left, Bream was able to hobble home an inch ahead of Barry Bonds’ ever-so-slightly off-line peg. It still seems surreal. The Braves had won, 3-2.
 

            I recall rooting for Canada in the World Series that followed, and sure enough, the Toronto Blue Jays did it, in six. Atlanta won the opener, 3-1, then dropped three close ones, 5-4, 3-2, and 2-1. They rallied to win Game Five, 7-2, but the Jays took Game Six, 2-1 in 11 innings.
 

            The Atlanta losses in the Series in 1991 and 1992 took some of the sting out of the Pirate defeats. Had the Pirates got that last out in Game Seven, I would have tried to attend a Series game. But they didn’t, and I didn’t, and the Pirates have not had a winning season since ’92, let alone a post-season game. The three-peat of 1990-91-92 has had to sustain Pirate fans through a lot, and of course, fans my age have ’79 and ’71 and ’60 to pull us through, too … but there are many young fans who have never tasted .500 ball. This is no consolation, I know, but that’s how it was when I started rooting, a drought . I think we knew in ’92 that it would be a while before Pittsburgh fielded a team that was that good again. But fifteen years and counting?
 

COMMENT:
I started writing baseball in ’89, but I started commenting on the seasons, starting with the NL playoff, in 1990. After the 1992 playoffs, my descriptions filled five pages. I wasn’t doing anything with this, I just enjoyed the writing. Then in March 1993, along came NOTES . I became a weekly columnist, except my column covered baseball from MLB on up to Little League, and included fiction as well as history, reviews, humor — you name it. So for 1993-2000, I am dipping into the NOTES archive.
 

 

1993  
 

From NOTES #11, April 25, my final words here on the Pirates.
 

“THERE GOES THE SEASON”  
 

            No doubt we all feel that way after our team blows a big lead or loses a game that everyone knows they should have won. I like to look for games where you feel: “However THIS game goes, so goes the season.”  I don’t actually go looking for them, but I try to notice them when they happen … the turning points.
 

            On Wednesday night, 4/21/93, one of those games came along. This time it was the Reds and Pirates. First, Mitchell tags Belinda for a three-run homer (the mega-gopher was the trademark of last year’s Buc bullpen) in the top of the 8th, to give Cincy a 7-5 lead. Rob Dibble is brought in for the kill, throwing in the high-90’s (sixty points above the temperature). But he’s wild, and with a hit, the sacks are soon full. With two outs, a harmless fly to left twists away from Cesar Hernandez (in for defense), and two runs score to tie the game. The winning run is on third.
 

            Then Dibble gets a save: his hummer into the dirt bounces away from Oliver, but not too far. Dibble hustles in, and with his back turned to the runner crashing home, he blindly, instinctively swipes around to make a perfect tag out. The collision, I learn the next day, cost him a broken bone and 4-6 weeks. Extra innings.
 

            I have this game on tape, and I’d love to write in detail about the final frames. Van Slyke, who chased a bad pitch and whiffed in the 9th, makes a highlight-film gave-saving grab. Hernandez redeems himself with a diving catch. Candelaria’s dueling, always against the background of his rookie NLCS gem against the Reds in ’75, and his walking in the scale-tipper.
 

                                                                        * * * * *
 

            It was see-saw, full of close plays, tiny but costly errors, full of heroes and almost-heroes, of goats and near-goats (off-the-hookers), full of chances for both sides, the kind that you want to see go on forever, like a Playoff Game 7. It brimmed with irony and redemption, individual and collective (on both sides), It unmasked the character of the combatants: no giving in. Hell, it was a great game. Both teams deserved to win — and lose!
 

                                                                        * * * * *
            Thursday morning, the ground was white here in Utica, and wet, heavy flakes were falling. It was winter again, the Bucs’ +5 was gone, gone with the spring. Time to start all over.
 

                                                                        * * * * *
 

            Thursday evening , the Pirate youngster with the knuckler, Tim Wakefield, took the hill, and broke the losing streak at five, with a CG 5-4 win. Nine walks, including three in the ninth. All winter I’ve wondered: how good is this kid?   Hopes grew unchecked, fed by his 8-1 down-the-stretch clutch hurling, and his dazzling poise in the Playoffs (as dominant as Avery the October before.)  It’s still early, but it appears that he will not be the next thirty-game winner, at least not this summer. But he’s still and always fun to watch, and that’s something.
 

From NOTES #37, October 17, 1993:
 

ONE GIANT STEP SHORT  
 

            At the end, I didn’t know hardly anyone who was not rooting for the Giants. My son has stuck with Barry Bonds through the switch of uniforms. My daughter has a friend with a Braves’ jacket, so was rooting against . My wife dreaded more October evenings with that awful chanting they do in Atlanta. And me, I was hoping that all those who handed the pennant to the Braves last March, before the opening gun, would get to experience the wonderful unpredictability of baseball.
 

            And at the end, I was rooting Playoff , rooting for the chance to let these two terrific teams go at it one more time. It seemed wrong, somehow, that the Braves finished at home against the Rockies — although Colorado played well down the stretch. It seemed wrong that the Giants had to send out a rookie, to attempt the sweep in Los Angeles.
 

            Much will be made of this marathon, won by a hair, after a two-team sprint to the finish line. Some will say the do-or-die aspect of the final games gave them a quality that is essential to the baseball season, a quality lost if wild cards are let into the Playoffs. Others will argue that the wild card will add a new layer of drama: imagine San Francisco, edged out and dejected, but still alive , and four wins away from a showdown with the team that won the division crown. It will still, after all, always come down to do-or-die. Would either the Braves or Giants have played it differently, less intensely, the final weeks, with that safety net of wild card in place?  I don’t think so.
 

            By sheer coincidence, I picked the final days of the season to read Pafko at the Wall , Don DeLillo’s novella that appeared in Harper’s Magazine , in October 1992. I suspect many of you have read it — a masterpiece of writing, set against the background of the Polo Grounds, October 3, 1951. Then there was Bobby Thomson sitting with Willie Mays, good luck charms — once upon a time, but not this time. I finished Pafko while watching Saturday’s games, so I was fairly drooling for a Playoff Game, come Sunday. We’ll remember Piazza, but 12-1 games are not very memorable. I suspect we’ll remember best from ’93, a gallant Giant team that almost pulled off an upset, and too bad it didn’t happen a year later … what a duel there might have been … should have been .
 

When you think about the textured histories of the teams and the faith and the passion of the fans and the way these forces are entwined city-wide, and when you think about the game itself, live-or-die, the third game in a three-game playoff, and you say the names Giants and Dodgers, and you calculate the way the players hate each other openly, and you recall the kind of year this has turned out to be, the pennant race that has brought the city to a strangulated rapture, an end-shudder requiring a German loanword to put across the mingling of pleasure and dread and suspense, the fatalism that sighs through the long rivalry and the soul’s melodious hope twisted by bitterness ….
                                                                           — from PAFKO AT THE WALL , by Don DeLillo
 

 

AFTERTHOUGHTS ON A LONG SUMMER  
 

            When the pennant is won by a single game, looking back on the long season, on the pile of games 162 high, can be painful. Any one outcome, reversed from W to L … or L to W … depending on whether you’re looking at Atlanta’s games or ‘Frisco’s…ouch!
 

            I’m looking back now to May 4th. In April, you may recall, the Pirates started off 9-2 (the two losses were to SF), then fell back to .500, where they hovered for a few months (before sinking.) They beat the Braves twice in April, in Atlanta, and on May 4, the teams faced off again in the ‘Burg. The Bucs were at .500 (but already 7 behind the 19-6 Phils), the Braves were one game under, 32 back. Tim Wakefield (3-2) vs Glavine (3-0).
 

            The game was won by Atlanta, 3-2, on a hit by (Utica’s) Mark Lemke, that caromed off Wakefield’s arm and rolled meekly into the hole at short, for a “double.” I mentioned it in NFSCwith this comment: “An inch or so, and it’s in Wakefield’s glove … the feeling for this Buc fan is that the bounces ain’t going our way this season, not so far.” I had that game on tape for a long time, and maybe I still do, and if I watch it again, that inch will seem so much more significant.
 

            The Bucs split with Barry’s Giants in SF, but dropped 4 of 6 at Three Rivers. In their final meeting, the Bucs rallied for two in the 8th, got perfect late relief, and won 4-3. This was September 7, and Mark Whiten’s hittin’ got the headlines, deservedly. No one would guess that this Giant loss would be followed by seven more, a slide that proved one too deep.
 

NEVER BEFORE … HAPPENS AGAIN  
 

            When I heard that going into that final series against the Rockies, the Braves had a chance to do what no NL team had done before in this century — pull off a sweep of the season against another team — I was surprised. Buried deep in my mind was some vague recollection of the Rickey-dink Pirates, popularized by Joe Garagiola, failing magnificently versus the Brooklyn Boys of Summer, canonized by Roger Kahn. But no, a check back showed the Bucs at 2-20 in 1953, and 3-19 in 1950 and ’52. Poor Ralph.
 

            The other chart we all got to memorize, as we watched the Rockies fan (and this was a hot Colorado team, not a bunch of professional losers, so give Atlanta credit), showed all of the teams that won 100+ games, but finished second.
 

            I thought both items could have been Fricked — oops, I mean asterisked . Is it more of a feat to go 2-20, or 0-13? (I bet the Rockies could’ve won a couple, given nine more chances. Look how Anthony Young’s determination grew, after each loss.) And having 1 62 games does mean a better shot at 100. The 1902 Pirates won 103 of 1 42. Winning 100 is a great achievement, unless you play 200 games — then it’s not so hot. It’s percentage that matters.
 

From NOTES #38, October 24.
 

PHILLIES OVER BRAVES: WERE THEY LUCKY OR GOOD?  
 

            LUCK: Is it the “residue of design” (Branch Rickey) or the “residue of luck” (sportswriter Steve Ostler) — or “the by-product of busting your fanny” (Don Sutton)?
 

            “I’d rather be lucky than good,” said Lefty Gomez — and I think Gordy Coleman said the same thing when his Reds won the NL flag in 1961. (Some of these quotes get around.)
 

            A case might be made that all season long, the Braves were lucky: their front four starting hurlers didn’t miss a turn (except I think Maddux took a 3-day delay?)  Of all the stats that have fallen (like snowflakes: starting slow, then a flurry as the season ends) this time around, that one startles me the most.
 

            In 1938, Lou Gehrig talked about luck, and this was the year before that disease struck, and he made the more famous speech. Lou was speaking at a tribute to Johnny Neun in Newark: “When I tell people I’m just a big lucky guy they don’t seem to believe it. They put it down to modesty … but I’m not trying to be modest or anything like that; I’ve been lucky. You must be lucky to last a long time in the majors.”
 

            Gehrig continued, “I remember Ty Cobb had told me the same thing shortly after he retired. `I was lucky,’ he said, `in the sense that I never was seriously hurt.'”
 

            Stan Musial: “You have to be lucky and stay healthy. And since my retirement, I’ve decided you have to be pretty darn good, too.” Tim McCarver: “Bob Gibson’s the luckiest pitcher I ever saw. He always pitches when the other team doesn’t score any runs.”
 

            By now, you must have guessed that I’m not about to call the Phillies lucky, or the Braves unlucky. The Phils got some calls, no question there — but in the last few summers, my gut feeling has been that the Braves got the benefit of some bad calls, and I’m not just thinking of Cabrera’s Last Stand in ’92 (a close pitch by Belinda called a ball, forced him to throw something hittable?)
 

            Why do fans bother to talk about luck ?  Perhaps because we want to believe the game, The Game, is influenced at least a little bit by outside forces … like our incessant rooting!  Athletes feel lucky simply to have avoided illness and injury, to have the chance to play. I like Don Sutton’s definition best, make your own breaks, seize the opportunities .
 

 

From NOTES #39, October 25:
 

FIVE FGs BEAT TWO TDs  
 

            Maybe fans out west will someday be asking each other, “Where were YOU when the Jays beat the Phillies 15-14 in that wild WS Game 4?”  But in the East, the questions will be, “How long did YOU last that night?” and “Did you have your VCR going?”
 

            If the die-hard, really rabid fans are bailing out early, you know all the borderline, and future fans are, too. We can only hope that CBS was the problem, and the other networks are the answer. If the late start time was an irritation in recent years, then this year, it has been a major pain.
 

            When I left my living room, the Phils were up 13-9 (I think), but I knew I’d miss an ending that won’t be reproduced any time soon. I couldn’t sleep much, but couldn’t get up, either, without risking waking up my wife. No doubt, she was slumbering happily in the knowledge that just a few more baseball nights remained, maybe even just one more.
 

            So I listened to the Toronto rally through the single earplug of my transistor, wondering if the noise of the game was passing through and coming out my other ear. Just like the old days, but I wasn’t in a classroom or at work. It was kinda fun.
 

From NOTES #40, November 1:
 

LET’S WIN TWO, EH?  
 

            Now we know how Canadians feel when the Stanley Cup goes south of the border. Last year I was pulling for the Jays — they had come so close, so often … like Dave Steib and those 8-inning no-hitters. But this year, I found fans who had been bitter opponents over the NL Playoffs, were united behind the Phils. America’s Team.
 

            The Gashouse Gang was ‘way before my time, but apparently this Phillie club was a kind of reincarnation. Of course, once the media decided on the image, the Phils had to play the part, they wouldn’t dare shave or be caught without at least one swollen cheek. It will be interesting to see how long that lasts.
 

            I think I rooted for the Phils more because they were the best of the NL East, my division — for the last time. And I was hoping for a new World Champion. We are all anti-dynasty, unless of course, it’s our team that is the dynasty!
 

            Mitch Williams now faces a Belinda Winter, and we can only hope that he survives it as well as Stan did. Seems to me Stan did a lot of growing up last winter, and this season past he was really a much stronger closer. The Wild Thing. If Carter grounds into a DP, he’s a hero. A game of centimeters, eh?
 

            I know what you’re all wondering: am I upset because Maz’ Homer is no longer the only homer to end a Series?  Not at all. I am delighted that another generation has such a great event, soon to be memory. (And Maz’ HR happened in the 7th Game .)  For some reason, I was happy for Joe Carter. He reminds me of another fellow from Oklahoma, Willie Stargell. Wouldn’t be surprised to see him wind up “Pops” as an aging Blue Jay. They wouldn’t dare trade him now, would they?
 

            My final word on the Series: I thought it was one of the best … maybe better than the Playoffs, and I can’t remember saying that in a long while. And fittingly, unpredictably better!
 

From NOTES #44, November 27. It’s not mine, but I have to end 1993 with this description of Carter’s Mazeroskian homer that ended the 1993 Series, giving Toronto its second title.
 

            Roger Angell’s latest offering in the 11/22 New Yorker is worth the price of the magazine all by itself … Who else could describe the Carter Home Run like Roger A., in his opening sentence:
 

            “The ball, catching a late flight, soared briefly and perhaps eagerly westward and disappeared over the blue left-field fence — the last excessive act in an excessive and astounding World Series, unless we count the deportment of the batter turned base runner, Joe Carter, who now imitated an Olympic hop-step-and-jump competitor, then a mid-veldt springbok, then a manic May Day solidarity demonstrator as he circled the bases and threw himself at last into the arms of his clustered and joyful teammates back at home plate.”
 

 

1994  
 

            The problem with 1994 was, of course, that there was no post-season, nor even a full season. Could Tony Gwynn have finished strong and batted .400?  Could SF’s Matt Williams or another slugger have eclipsed Maris’ 61?  Would the Expos have won a championship and thanks to that infusion of excitement and money, have hung on in Montreal?  I wrote about the Strike before during and after, and sometime in 1996, I edited together most of my commentary on this horrific event, forty some entries in NOTES from 1993 thru 1996. I’ve posted them in the NOTES Archive , at www.baseball1.com/notes, for anyone interested, under the title STRIKEOUT: When Mudville Stood Still. This can be found at the end of the “Recent Issues” part of the archive, only because I posted it recently (back-dated it 5/6/94).
 

            Occasionally, I am asked which was really “baseball’s darkest hour” (Harold Seymour’s phrase) — the “Black Sox scandal,” or the Strike of 1994-95?  Hmmm, let’s see. A couple players take bribes but perhaps do little to earn them, the Series plays out eight games, whatever tampering there was is quickly covered up by the baseball authorities (who refuse to investigate further); then when the cover-up is ended, a year later, eight players are banned for life, no management are punished. Compared to the loss of the last months of an exciting season, and the beginning of the next, and the entire post-season, too … no one punished but the fans?  Let me think about it. Bud Selig was acting as Commish, and could have stood up for the best interests of baseball; he did not, and was rewarded by the Lords of the Realm with the job he maintains today.
 

 

1995 – 2000  
 

            The last installment in this series will be in the next issue, and will feature more excerpts from NOTES . I could squeeze it in here, but I think that would make this issue too long.