Only Three More Days

Until outdoor baseball returns to Minnesota.

Being 400 miles away, I'm not sure when I'll see the new stadium in person, but I'm glad to see the old logo -- which they never should have gotten rid of -- figures prominently therein:



For them that don't know, here's the backstory on the logo:

The name "Twins" was derived from the popular name of the region, the Twin Cities. The NBA's Minneapolis Lakers had re-located to Los Angeles in 1960 due to poor attendance which was believed to have been caused in part by the reluctance of fans in St. Paul to support the team. [Team owner Calvin] Griffith was determined not to alienate fans in either city by naming the team after one city or the other, so the team became known as the Minnesota Twins. However, the original "Twin Cities Twins" TC logo was kept, and the team logo showed two men, one in a Minneapolis Millers uniform and one in a St. Paul Saints uniform, shaking hands across the Mississippi River. This remained the team's primary logo until 1987, when the team felt it was established enough to put an "M" on its cap without having St. Paul fans think it stood for Minneapolis.

And here's the backstory's backstory on the bitter, longstanding Millers-Saints rivalry:

“EVEN DURING THE DEPRESSION we could always count on a good crowd when the Saints and Millers played each other," recalled Oscar Roettger, a pitcher and first baseman for St. Paul during the 1920s and 1930s. "Pay days - that's what those games were."

The diamond rivalry between Minneapolis and St. Paul was in its golden years during Roettger's playing days, but its roots were part of the post-Civil War baseball boom in America. Minnesota veterans returning home from Bull Run, Shiloh and Gettysburg began waging their own War Between the Cities, a battle fought with less lethal weapons - bats and balls - but one that lacked a cease-fire for nearly a hundred years.

From the town teams of the 1860s and 1870s, the professional nines of the latter 1800s and finally the great Saints and Millers clubs of the twentieth century, they fought - player vs. player, fan vs. fan, sometimes player vs. fan.

The newspapers even fired their artillery at enemy camps across the river. In the 1890s, when both cities were represented in the Western League, the Minneapolis Tribune leveled a charge of "dirty ball" against its neighbors to the east, then owned and managed by Charles Comiskey. "Manager Comiskey," reported the Tribune, "will be served with a formal notice that the Minneapolis club will not play today's game unless guaranteed that there will be no spiking of Minneapolis players, no interference on the part of the crowd, no throwing of rocks, no throwing of dust and dirt in the eyes of the Minneapolis players, and a few other tricks which the game yesterday was featurized by."

Read the whole thing.

Baseball Loyalties

I've written before of my affinity for the Cubs. I guess I became a Cubs fan when I moved to Chicago in 1996, for my freshman year of college at Loyola.

As a then-North Side transplant, I figured, you know, "When in Rome..." Plus, I saw no contradiction in simultaneously remaining a Twins fan, as I had been (to varying extents) since I was a wee lad, at a time when I was unaware that there were other benighted tots outside our state who thought, whilst playing "Duck, Duck, Goose" that they were playing the real thing.

But I digress.

These days, I still see no contradiction in being both a Twins and a Cubs fan. After all, who is the Twins' archrival—who they just swept—huzzah!—to take over sole possession of first place in the tradition-rich AL Central? The White Sox, of course.

And what American League do Cubs fans hate the most? Obviously, the White Sox.

As the old saying goes: My enemy's enemy is my friend.

"...[I]t remains the most famous do-over in a sport where there are no do-overs."

Today marks the 100th anniversary of one of the most famous incidents in baseball history, which has long since been known as "the Merkle Blunder".

What with the Cubs' history of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory since the Curse of the Billy Goat was visited on them 37 years later, it's somewhat ironic that this putative miscue was committed not by the Cubs, but by their opponents—specifically, Fred Merkle of the New York Giants.

Not insigifnicantly, the incident played a major role in allowing the Cubs to make the playoffs that year. They would, of course, go on to win the World Series.

It needn't be mentioned that they haven't won a World Series since.

The New York Daily News offers a fascinating look back:

One hundred years ago this afternoon, the New York Giants and the Chicago Cubs played a game that can still be found on baseball's figurative Mount Rushmore, next to the Bobby Thompson home run game, the Sandy Amoros catch game, Don Larsen's perfect game, and the game where Carlton Fisk waved it fair.

No one who played in or saw the game is alive. The Polo Grounds, where it was played, was demolished a half century ago. Doesn't matter. Some games just endure.

More specifically, what happened on Sept. 23, 1908, was this.

With the first breezes of autumn in the air, Giants' Hall of Famer Christy Matthewson had allowed only a solo home run by Cubs' shortstop Joe Tinker in the first nine innings. On the Cubs' side, Jack Pfeister also gave up just one run through eight.

But in the bottom of the ninth, the Giants' Moose McCormick reached on a fielder's choice with two out and was singled to third by rookie Fred Merkle. As Cait Murphy noted in her marvelous book "Crazy '08" (Smithsonian. $24.95), some reporters felt Merkle could have gotten himself a double. But his decision to stay at first was considered smart baseball, since he would gain little by trying for second. In the bottom of the ninth of a 1-1 game, only McCormick's run mattered.

Al Bridwell followed Merkle and slammed a clean line drive single to center, sending McCormick home and Giants fans pouring out onto the field to celebrate their 2-1 win.

Except there was a problem.

Running toward second base, Merkle had seen McCormick cross the plate and the crowd start to overrun the field. Following the custom of the day, then, he took a right turn and headed for the clubhouse, which in the Polo Grounds was behind dead center field.

When he did, Cubs second baseman Johnny Evers yelled for center fielder Art Hofman to throw him the ball.

What happened after that, Murphy notes, is lost in the mists of time - mists that closed in rapidly. The next day's newspapers contained at least a half dozen radically different accounts of the events at the apparent end of the game.

In some of them, Merkle was intercepted by Mathewson and steered back to second base. Some accounts said he got there, which he didn't.

In most accounts, Giants' pitcher "Iron Man" Joe McGinnity dashed from the first base coach's box to intercept the ball Hofman threw back to the infield and fling it deep into the stands.

That was that, McGinnity figured, except Evers was still yelling. If that ball was gone, he wanted another one.

Eventually he found one. Some say it was the real one, ripped away from a fan in the stands by little-used relief pitcher Rube Kroh. Others say it was another ball, relayed to Evers by shortstop Joe Tinker and maybe even third baseman Harry Steinfeldt, in a bizarre alternate version of the Cubs' famous Tinker-to-Evers-to Chance double play combination.

Whatever the ball's origin, Evers secured it, touched second base and asked the umpires – R.D. Emslie at second base and Henry O'Day behind the plate – to call Merkle out on a force play, which would nullify McCormick's winning run.

Emslie, who fell to the ground avoiding Bridwell's single, said he didn't see whether Merkle touched second and therefore couldn't make a call.

O'Day said he did see and no, Merkle did not touch second. Therefore, yes, he was out. McCormick's run did not count. The score was still 1-1.

The reason the home plate umpire was watching second base on this play was a story in itself. Nineteen days earlier, on Sept. 4, O'Day was behind the plate when Evers had attempted a similar appeal after a Cubs' game against Pittsburgh ended with a similar walk-off single.

Back in Pittsburgh, O'Day said he could not call the runner out because he had not been watching whether he touched second. Umpires never like having to say they didn't see something they should have, so obviously O'Day had made a mental note not to let that happen again.

By the time Merkle was called out, it was also getting dark, and given the logistics of clearing the field, O'Day saw no way for the game to resume. He called it on account of darkness and left National League President Harry Pulliam to decide what to do next.

Since there were still two weeks left in the season, Pulliam joined the general hope that in the end this game wouldn't affect the standings and he wouldn't have to do anything.

No such luck. The season ended with the Giants and Cubs tied for first place at 98-55.

So on Oct. 8 they all trooped back to the Polo Grounds to replay what was already being called The Merkle Game or, less kindly, The Merkle Blunder.

Read the rest here.

The New York Times notes:

On the afternoon of Oct. 8, an enormous crowd engulfed the Polo Grounds, willing to do anything to see a game that would decide the pennant. They teetered along Coogan’s Bluff above the ballpark; climbed up on the grandstand roof; perched on the elevated train viaduct out past left field. One man fell to his death from the el; another fell from a telegraph pole and broke his neck. A wedge of fans broke through a wooden fence into the outfield and had to be pushed back by mounted police. Later, they tried setting the fence on fire.

A second crowd gathered down at Grand Central Station to jeer the Cubs as they arrived after a 14-hour train ride. The Cubs players literally shouldered their way into the park. Once inside, they were allotted only 15 minutes of warm-ups, after which McGinnity came on the field, ringing a bell and telling them their time was up.

Some accounts at the time said McGinnity went right up to Frank Chance, the Cubs’ manager and best player, cursing and spitting and apparently trying to start a fight that would get Chance thrown out of the game.

Nevertheless, Chance and the Cubs kept their heads. The Giants fans set up a perpetual roar, ringing cowbells and blowing trumpets. They went wild when the great Christy Mathewson made his slow walk to the mound from center field, but what they did not know was that Mathewson, who had thrown 110 innings in September alone, had a dead arm. The Cubs pushed across four runs early and held on behind their own ace, Mordecai Brown, better known as Three Finger.

“From the stands there was a steady roar of abuse,” Brown said later. “I never heard anybody or any set of men called as many foul names as the Giant fans called us that day.”

Foul names might have been the least of their worries. The New York Journal reported that Cubs catcher Johnny Kling, chasing a pop foul, had to dodge “two beer bottles, a drinking glass and a derby hat.”

The moment Brown got the last out in the Cubs’ 4-2 victory, he and his teammates ran as fast as they could to the center-field clubhouse.

They were not fast enough. Pitcher Jack Pfiester was knifed in the shoulder, and Chance was punched so hard in the throat that he sustained broken cartilage. At least three other Cubs were struck, and the police had to hold shut the clubhouse doors with guns drawn.

So what happened to Merkle?

Merkle's career went up hill from there. He went on to play another 18 seasons, compiling a respectable .273 batting average.

Perhaps ironically, he was known as a smart player, someone who paid attention to the nuances of the game. After he retired he managed for almost 10 years before he took some government jobs and later went into the fishing equipment business.

With some trepidation he returned to the Polo Grounds for Old-Timers Day in 1950 and was greeted with cheers.

Still, the legacy of Sept. 23, 1908, followed him.

"I suppose when I die," he told a reporter, "they'll put on my tombstone, 'Here Lies Bonehead Merkle.'"

For what it's worth, they didn't.

A Sign of Things to Come?

Today, the Democratic Convention begins in Denver. The last time the Democratic Convention was held in Denver, the year was 1908.

The last time the Cubs won the World Series, the year was 1908.

I'm just sayin'.

Say It Ain't So

MLB getting closer to rolling out replay

Major League Baseball is working out technical issues to start instant replay for boundary calls such as home runs, hoping to institute the system before the end of the season.

"We've got lots of time in August," Bob DuPuy, the sport's chief operating officer, said Wednesday as a two-day owners' meeting began. "There's plenty of August still to go."

Replay was among the topics discussed but doesn't require a vote because it is not a rule change.

"There's not any opposition to it that I've heard," DuPuy said.

Commissioner Bud Selig, once a staunch opponent, appears to be more comfortable with the use of replay. Agreements are needed with the players' association and umpires' union.

"We don't need a lot of lead-up," DuPuy said. "What we need is stuff installed, and what we need is people to make sure it's going to work, and what we need is for the umpires to understand the protocol. What we need is to make sure that everyone understands it."

No, what we really need is for the guys in charge to realize instant replay is a REALLY STUPID IDEA.

Selig should be ashamed of himself for caving.

A rash of missed boundary calls — fair or foul, over the fence or not — prompted the Selig to alter his opposition. Replays would not be used to review close plays on the bases or balls and strikes.

Oh, sure, now they say that. But once the cat's out of the bag...

Say It Ain't So

Baseball general managers recommend that instant replay be used

Call me a neo-Luddite curmudgeon if you must, but I'm of the opinion that using instant replay in sports is among the Most Boneheaded Decisions Ever Made.

(Other such decisions in this category include, but are not limited to: Adam and Eve's decision to eat the apple; Coke executives' decision to introduce New Coke; Pepsi executives' decision to introduce Crystal Pepsi; the decision made by whoever it was who invented light beer to invent light beer; Steven Bochco's decision to produce Cop Rock; and the Weimar Republic's decision to let Hitler take over.)

Don't drink the Kool-Aid, Bud. Stick to your guns.

Words Can't Describe How Pathetic the Cubs' Performance Was in the 2007 NLDS

But this picture more or less sums it up:

It's Gonna Happen

For fear that the Curse of the Billy Goat has not yet been broken, I've been reluctant to say publicly what I've been wanting to say for a few months now, but John Kass's column yesterday in the Chicago Tribune has served as a kick in the pants for me. Titled "Note to Cubs fans: Go all in or pack it in", it begins thusly:

All right Cubs fans. It's time to decide. Are you all in? Or are you out?

It's the last week of the season. The Cubs are fighting to get into the playoffs. No more hiding. No more wussification in the Cubs nation.

Are you in? Or not?

I ask this not as a White Sox fan who, like my Sox brothers and sisters, has been where you are now. I ask as Mr. Predictor, co-founder of the proposed Chumbolone Museum of Grant Park and dean of the new University of Chumbolone.

Don't be a chumbolone, Cubs fans. Believe in these Cubs.

Remember June? Cubs fans were in the fetal position, cursing Jacque Jones, damning Carlos Zambrano, giving Lou Piniella the finger for not knowing anything about baseball.

It was mass hysteria, and I could have fanned the flames of self loathing. Instead, I channeled Mr. Predictor. And what did Mr. Predictor tell you back in June?

That the Cubs would win this thing. They'd win it, they'd win it, they'd win it.

Now, in the last week of the season, don't take a turn to negativity town. You can still get on the bus, but the door closes Sunday afternoon.

I was able to get on the bus yesterday afternoon before the door closed. I'm all in.

Why not? After all, my "other team" (the team I've rooted for since childhood, the team that played its home games mere miles from the house I grew up in -- the Minnesota Twins) has been in a free fall for the better part of two months now, and will now be lucky to finish above .500.

So I now add my voice to the chorus of voices that have been proclaiming since late July, seemingly against all odds: It's gonna happen.

Passing the Time by Experiencing the National Pastime the Way It Was Played in a Past Time

If you ask me, bringing together baseball and history results in the best combination since nuts and gum peanut butter and chocolate.

Imagine my glee, then, when I read this article about the growing nationwide popularity of vintage baseball teams:

For members of the year-old vintage baseball team, it's about playing like it's 1858 -- when the sport was two words, "base ball," and the lightweight uniforms and protective mitts of today had not been invented.

Vintage baseball is part sport, part historical re-enactment for the amateur teams popping up all over the United States. Many, including the [Lockport, IL] Sleepers, are named after actual teams from back in the day, when games were both gentlemanly competition and social events to bring neighboring towns together.

I defy anyone to say vintage baseball isn't cool.