It is a small thing but baseball is not right

Orioles, Tigers, Twins and, of course, Yankees.

 By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Little League baseball came to Dolores the first year I was eligible to play — when I was eight-years-old, and about three-feet tall.

Four teams, new uniforms and practice fields ripped out of the alfalfa patches on the upriver edge of town characterized that first season. New dugouts at the high school diamond were built out of plywood and 2” x 4s,” painted with green-colored paint and the floors lined with new sawdust and wood shavings. Most fathers and (a lot of mothers) around town picked up hammer and saw, rake and shovel, brush and fence tool to make that first season happen.

Empire Electric, Nielsons, Inc., Dolores State Bank and others ponied up the cash to pay for the new uniforms, and as a result, had the company logos sewn on to the back. But the new unis didn’t arrive until late in the season, just in time for the parade at the annual celebration. Fungo bats, regular ‘Louisville Sluggers” from 28 to 32, chest protectors, catchers masks, boxes of balls, and ‘special’ gear were provided for from either Howard’s or Jerry’s in Cortez. A concession stand was built and schedule set for parents willing to work it to raise more money for more improvements.

Orioles, Tigers, Twins and, of course, Yankees.

Some kind of draft, based on age, ability, siblings? … I’m not sure what all … was conducted and the aspiring hall of famers donned blue, black, navy or red caps.

I ended up a Yankee, which is good, because my Grandma (who spent a lifetime following Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle and the like) always wanted me to be a Yankee. Fortunately, I didn’t disappoint.

Most of us were new to baseball and it showed. Couldn’t hit, couldn’t catch, couldn’t throw, and in some cases couldn’t stay out of the way. That first summer, as an Oriole, I believe, Bill Butler sported one of the meanest, purple and black, puffed-up shiners I have ever seen (before or since) when he caught a pop fly with his eye socket, rather than a glove, in practice one day. Others displayed various ball- or bat-induced maladies as well.

In time, we learned most elements of the game and could put on a passable show four days a week at 5:30 sharp with alternating schedule. It was competitive (It is not baseball without competition) but encouraging, for the talented and others. The older players saw more playing time but rules required that others make an appearance as well.

As an eight year old, I was very fortunate, because of my unique talent, or trait.

Yankee Coaches Earl Carver and Ray Stevinson, must have been James Thurber fans, or perhaps followers of the St. Louis Browns, because right from game one of that season, I found myself not only starting in right field for the Yankees, but in the line-up as lead off batter.

Reasoning was tied directly to the 1941 short story by Thurber, “You Could Look It Up,” and indirectly to the strange case of Edward Carl “Eddie” Gaedel.

Thurber's story was about a midget’s appearance in the big leagues, and Eddie Gaedel gained immortality in the second game of a double header between St. Louis and Detroit on Sunday, August 19, 1951.

Gaedel, who was 3 feet, 7 inches tall and weighed 65 pounds, was the shortest to ever play the game in the major leagues. He appeared at the plate only once and walked on 4 consecutive balls. A pinch runner replaced him on first. His jersey, with the number 1/8, now is displayed in the baseball hall of fame.

Gaedel, who had worked as a riveter during World War II because he was able to crawl inside the airplane wings, was secretly hired by Browns owner, Bill Veeck.

In a promotion for Falstaff Beer, the small player came out of a cake between games and his appearance was first considered a major disappointment until the first pitch of the second game, according to ESPN’s Darren Rovell .

“But before Cain could throw the first pitch, the P.A. announcer introduced a pinch-hitter, No. 1/8 -- Eddie Gaedel,” wrote Rovell.

“Umpire Ed Hurley questioned Gaedel's ability to play, but Taylor came out with Gaedel’s contract in hand. Gaedel got in his crouch. Veeck, in his autobiography, said he had instructed Gaedel to make his strike zone as small as possible -- about 1½ inches -- but Gaedel was excited and stood up a bit.Gaedel did follow the other important instruction, though. "Eddie, I'm going to be up on the roof with a high-powered rifle watching every move you make," Veeck wrote. "If you so much as look as if you're going to swing, I'm going to shoot you dead.

"Ball. Ball.

"(Bob) Cain is laughing so hard that he's practically falling off the mound with each pitch," Bill Christine, a Browns fan in attendance during the game, told ESPN.

"Ball. Ball."

According to Rovell's story, all four pitches sailed over Gaedel's head.

That was pretty similar to my experience in that first season in Dolores Little League. Although I don’t think they ever threatened to shoot me if I were to swing the bat.

But they did have extensive instruction on how to tell a strike from a ball.

Baseball is not right, I thought to myself. Everybody knows a man with four balls can't walk.

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Hurling heat for the high altitude hometeam

Learned the trade playing for Ouray town team

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

Great time and distance had separated “Smoky Joe Wood” from his outstanding professional baseball career (mostly with the Boston Red Sox) by the time he was 91 and living in New Haven, Connecticut. But in a UPI story appearing in the Reading Eagle on April 19, 1981, there was still talk of possible inclusion in the Baseball Hall of Fame and still fond memories of how he developed the basic skills and interest on fields of dreams of the San Juan Mountains of Colorado.
Of the Baseball Hall of Fame, “I’m not interested in it now,” Joe Wood was quoted in the UPI story at the time. “So many of those fellows I played against and with are not in. Take our third baseman, Larry Gardner, from Enosburg Falls, Vt., on of the best players that ever played. They never mention him.”
Playing for the town team in Ouray, he learned the trade on the diamonds of his home field and mining towns and camps like Rico, Silverton, and Telluride in the heyday of town team ball.
“Town teams, not professional teams, were the fans’ favorites, favorites they supported with cheers, their turnout at home and away games and their pocketbooks that fattened or withered with the outcome of every game. Betting on the local nine was a primary pastime of the game,” noted San Juan historian Duane A. Smith in his recent book “San Juan Legacy: Life in the Mining Camps.”
From an early age Wood loved and lived the sport.
“I was born with a baseball in my hand. That’s all I thought of. That is all I think of really. That all I used to do as a kid, play ball. Except for making a few nickels and dimes. We were so darn poor.”
Howard Ellsworth Wood was born in Kansas City, Missouri, in 1889 and acquired the moniker “Joe” after he and his family attended a circus and found two clowns so funny that they started calling their two sons by the stage names of the clowns and both nicknames stuck for life.
“Joe Wood’s reign as on of the most dominating pitchers in baseball history lasted a brief two seasons, but it left an indelible impression those who witnessed his greatness first-hand,” wrote Michael Foster in an article for the Baseball Biography Project.
Among those impressed: The Journal Courier noted that the legendary Ty Cobb called him “Without a doubt, one of the best pitchers I ever faced.”
Walter Johnson, considered by some to be the greatest hurler of all time, said when asked to compare himself with Wood. “There is no man alive that can throw harder than Smoky Joe Wood.”
Paul Shannon, a sportswriter of the old Boston Post, labeled Wood “Smoky Joe” because of the heat of his ‘dead ball era’ fastball. Earlier in his career, in the minor leagues, he was known as “Ozone” Wood because he fanned so many batters.
Joe Wood’s father Jonathon, was a one-time successful Chicago Lawyer and later, a country lawyer with a wanderlust for gold. After stints in the Klondike in Yukon Territory, in 1900 he loaded his family in a covered wagon and set out for Colorado, eventually ending up in Ouray. “Working out of the family’s Fifth Street home, he renewed his legal practice and began publishing a weekly newspaper, the Ouray Times,” wrote Foster for the Baseball Biography Project.
Ouray at the time was “the wild and wooly west where guards sat up on the old stage coaches coming down from the mines loaded with bullion,” Joe Wood told UPI in 1981.
By 1905, the family had returned to Ness City, Kansas and Joe, who finished school in Ouray, and began playing for the local Ness City club.
“As the close of the 1906 season approached, baseball fans in Ness City learned from posters posted on storefronts across town that the Ness City Nine was slated to take on an unusual opponent, the National Bloomer Girls out of Kansas City. Though they advertised themselves as an all-girls team, the popular bloomers outfit routinely augmented their strength by adding young boys, ‘toppers,’as they were known, to the roster. Joe sparkled in a 23-2 trouncing of the visitors that afternoon, and at the close of the contest Bloomer owner Logan Galbraith offered him $21 a week to join the team for the duration of the summer,” wrote Foster.
After that summer beginning his pro-baseball career, Joe signed with Cedar Rapids Rabbits, then later Hutchison White Sox, Kansas City Blues and caught the attention of the Big Leagues. His contract eventually ended up being purchased by the Boston Red Sox. He made his Big League debut on August 24, 1908 at the tender age of 18.
In 1911 and 1912, Smoky Joe won 57 games for the Red Sox, including pitching a no-hitter against the St. Louis Browns. He tied an American League 16 straight wins in the last half of the 1912 season. He also won three games for the Sox in 1912 World Series.
The next year he had to fight hard to get his annual salary up to $7,500.
“In baseball, you get paid for what you have done, not what you are going to do. Today, the big money some players get is out of hand,” Joe noted in 1981.
Players also didn’t make huge sums endorsing products.
Wood endorsed one product when he was pictured in an ad for Regal Shoes.
“The whole world loves a winner. How would you like to be in Joe Wood’s shoes? Smoky Joe wears Regals,” said the ad. The company paid him in shoes; a dozen pairs.
In 1913, Joe slipped on wet grass fielding a bunt and broke his thumb. He continued to pitch for several more years maintaining a winning record and low ERA, but because of the injury and recovery time, he was forced to pitch far fewer games. He was eventually traded to the Cleveland Indians where he embarked on a second career, this time as an outfielder, (much like his one-time team-mate Babe Ruth) and batted respectably (.366 in 1921), staying in the league until 1922 when he set a personal best of 92 RBIs.
He went on to coach baseball at Yale University. Among his players there, was his son who went on to a brief career of his own in the majors, and a young George Bush, destined to be President. Later, he and his brother opened a golf range in California.
“I made more money in that seven years than I did my entire time playing and coaching baseball,” Joe is quoted in the Baseball Biography Project. In 1985, at the age of 95, Smoky Joe died while living in a convalescent home in New Haven.
Today, Ouray still remembers him. Youngsters dream of perhaps their own possible place in the Baseball Hall of Fame as they compete with others from Ridgway, Montrose and nearby rivals on Joe Wood Field in Fellin Park in his old hometown.
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