The history of our national pastime is a rich tapestry of drunkenness, wife swapping, and synchronized vomiting. Geez—maybe we shoulda tried out…
Who doesn’t have fond boyhood memories of going to a ball game? The crack of the bat, the smell of freshly mowed grass, Dad’s arm around your shoulder because he can’t stand so good with five beers in him? But the real history of baseball is no walk in the park. For every bit of heartwarming nostalgia, there’s a big slice of stomach-churning nonsense that goes with it. There’s baseball as the misty-eyed sportswriters would like it remembered, and then there’s baseball as it actually was. Join us as we rob the great American sport of whatever dignity it may have left.
Strange Bedfellows
Baseball has seen its share of bad trades: future legends swapped for piles of cash, even managers swapped for radio announcers. But no trade was more bizarre than one involving Yankee pitchers Mike Kekich and Fritz Peterson. Taking the liberated spirit of the era about five steps too far, on March 5, 1973, the two announced that Kekich had divorced his wife, Susanne, and that Peterson had divorced his wife, Marilyn. Each pitcher then married the other’s ex. The players moved into each other’s houses, where each raised the other man’s younger child. Yankees GM Lee MacPhail lamented, “We may have to call off Family Day.” While Kekich and Marilyn Peterson-Kekich didn’t last a year, Peterson and Susanne Kekich-Peterson remain a couple to this day. It’s unclear who pays for the kids’ therapy.
Deadly Delivery
You’d never guess from looking at him, but Steve Dalkowski was the most dangerous man in baseball. Coaches say his fastball was around 110 miles per hour. “Fastest ever,” Ted Williams said after whiffing. “I never want to face him again.” Dalko just couldn’t get his arm under control: One of his pitches shattered an umpire’s mask; another tore through the welded mesh screen 60 feet behind home plate. He once pitched a no-hitter, striking out 24 batters—but he walked 18, threw six wild pitches, and lost 8–4. After fanning Roger Maris in a 1963 spring training game, he fielded a bunt, threw to first…and felt a pop in his arm. After that his fastball topped out at 90 mph, and the Orioles released him. Dalko drifted to California and became a migrant farmworker. He’s currently residing in a mental hospital, suffering from alcohol-induced dementia.
Bases Loaded
Who was the drunkest man ever to stumble onto the field? A case can be made for The Babe or for the St. Louis Browns’ Curt Welch—who hid a bottle of whiskey in the outfield fence and would sneak a drink after snaring a fly ball—but the Golden Liver goes to the Louisville Eclipses’ Pete Browning. “I can’t hit the ball until I hit the bottle,” ol’ Pete once said, and he must have hit the bottle quite a bit: Over 13 seasons, he batted .341, the 12th highest average in baseball history (though he’s not in the Hall of Fame). In 1887 he missed a game because he was too drunk to find his way to the train. He arrived for the next game still blitzed and doubled to start a rally. Taking a 15-foot lead off second base, he fell asleep and was tagged out.
Anything to Sell a Seat
As a patron at any baseball outing you need to prepare yourself to sit with thousands of people who get charged up about the dumbest things.
10-cent-beer night
On June 4, 1974, in an effort to increase attendance at the prehistoric Cleveland Stadium, the Indians offered their fans a 10-cent-beer night. At a game when the Indians were already scheduled to take on their bitter rivals, the Texas Rangers, the promotion promised to make the night especially memorable. All told, the 25,000 fans downed 60,000 cups of beer, and many started streaking through the stadium and spilling their drinks on players. In the ninth the scene escalated into a full-blown riot. Umpire Nestor Chylak and Indians relief pitcher Tom Hilgendorf both were hit over the head with chairs. Never one to pass up a good fight, Rangers manager Billy Martin grabbed a bat and cried, “Let’s get ’em, boys!” Luckily he was restrained, and instead both teams were escorted out of the park by the police. Incidentally, Maxim has scrapped plans for its own promotion, Liquor and Lawn Darts Night.
Any sort of giveaway
Tote bags, umbrellas, key chains… Are any of these worth getting to the stadium two hours early? Do yourself a favor and hit up eBay if you really need that bobblehead doll of your team's backup middle infielder.
Trivia on the Jumbotron
Note to everyone sitting around us: The giant scoreboard can't hear you and we're not impressed that you knew the correct number of fans at tonight's game. So stop yelling.
Fireworks Night
Let's see…stay in your uncomfortable seat after a four-hour snoozefest to see some pretty sparklers or beat the traffic out of the lot? We know which one we're picking.
The T-shirt launch
The cornerstone of any good crowd frenzy are the geniuses in the upper deck who must think the T-shirt cannon was designed by Lockheed Martin. If you want a free shirt at the ballpark, do it the right way and sign up for a credit card using a fake social security number.
Getting a foul ball from the ball girl
The ball girl picks up a foul grounder, places it in some douche's glove, and he turns to the crowd triumphantly. Way to go, big guy! Can't believe you didn't pull a hammie on that one!
Ground crews that dance
We're way too compassionate to enjoy such humiliation. Can you imagine that job interview? "Well, Mr. Smith, your ability to water down dirt is exceptional, but we have one last question: Can you do the Macarena?"
Marriage proposals
Call us old-fashioned, but it's hard to find the romance in a proposal that takes place in between the whiny kid eating ice cream out of a batting helmet and the fat guy with three decades worth of collector's pins on his hat.
The Kiss Cam
It's the proposal's ugly little sister, featuring some lame couple sitting together passionless until the hyperactive crowd forces them to share a peck on the cheek. Wake us up when someone invents the Blow Job Cam.
"Charge!"
Does that octogenarian organ player think everyone in the crowd is sheep? Oh, wait. They are. We're pretty sure this is what Germany looked like in the '30s.
The Wave
We just paid $25 for a nosebleed seat and eight bucks for a warm beer. Now if you'll pardon us, we're going to sit on our ass and let the rich guys on the field do all the moving.
Peanut vendors who throw the bag
Every section's got one and, somehow, every section is filled with people who are impressed. Go ahead and whoop it up for the 50-year-old man in the neon shirt whose only skill is throwing bags of snacks accurately, but we choose to pity him.
Now, That's a Ball Club
There’s an old baseball saying: You can beat the other team, and you can hit the ball with a bat, but you can’t beat the other team’s catcher over the head with a bat until he bleeds. Pitcher Juan Marichal ignored this piece of wisdom. The 1965 pennant race was tight when Marichal’s San Francisco Giants faced off against the Los Angeles Dodgers at Candlestick Park. Marichal stepped up to the plate in the third inning against Sandy Koufax, whose first pitch was a curve ball in the dirt. Dodgers catcher Johnny Roseboro then threw the ball back to Koufax (Marichal later claimed that it nicked his ear on the way). Marichal stared at the catcher for a moment, raised his bat, then slammed it down on Roseboro’s head. The umpire tackled Marichal, but the pitcher broke free and began taunting Roseboro: “You want some more? Come on! Come on!” Roseboro was hospitalized; he was lucky to be alive. Marichal was suspended for nine days and fined $1,750. He was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1983.
Mr. Tinkle Toes
No baseball record lasts forever. Roger Maris’ Herculean tally of 61 home runs was eventually bested by Mark McGwire, and even Lou Gehrig’s seemingly immortal 2,130 consecutive-game streak was toppled by Cal Ripken. But if there’s one feat that just might manage to stand the test of time, it’s the accomplishment of Rick Bosetti, an outfielder who played for the Toronto Blue Jays in the late 1970s. By the end of his career, Bosetti claimed, he’d urinated on the outfield of every American League ballpark. At first Bosetti only drained the lizard during pre-game warmups, when no one could catch him in the act, but when word of his quest was leaked to the press, he began whizzing during games, using his glove to cover up Li’l Rick.
At The Height of His Career
In baseball, as in all team sports, every player’s contribution counts, no matter how small. And no player made a smaller contribution than Eddie Gaedel. On August 19, 1951, Browns owner Bill Veeck introduced fans to Gaedel, a 3'7", 65-pound midget who leaped from a cake brought onto the field between the halves of a doubleheader. Wearing the jersey number 1/8, Gaedel took the batter’s box, having been told by Veeck that he would be shot if he tried to swing the bat. Detroit pitcher Bob Cain couldn’t find the munchkin’s pea-size strike zone, and Gaedel was walked on four straight pitches. When he reached first, Gaedel was yanked for pinch runner Jim Delsing, ending his debut—and his career: The following day, the commissioner’s office voided Gaedel’s contract. Veeck would later refer lovingly to Gaedel as “the best darn midget who ever played big-league ball.”
Field of Screams
In 1944, with a war raging in Europe, the St. Louis Browns had a dozen players ineligible for military service. Judging by their performance in Game 2 of the World Series, we’re lucky the fate of the free world didn’t depend on these guys. In one play the Browns committed six potential errors attempting to field a bunt. Error 1: Pitcher Nelson Potter and third baseman Mark Christman both stopped running for the ball. Error 2: When Potter finally picked up the ball, it rolled up his arm. Error 3: Potter’s throw missed first base and rolled up the right-field line. Error 4: Outfielder Chet Laabs let the ball roll between his legs. Error 5: After picking the ball up, Laabs dropped it. Error 6: Laabs threw the ball away. Mercifully, batter Max Lanier had stopped at first base, and the Browns were officially charged with only two errors. They would lose the game, the series, and their fans’ respect—not necessarily in that order.
2 Strikes, Yer Out
On August 17, 1957, Alice Roth and her two grandsons were watching the Philadelphia Phillies play the New York Giants when a foul by Richie Ashburn hit her in the face, knocking her unconscious. Medical personnel rushed to the aid of the injured woman and loaded her onto a stretcher. But as soon as play resumed, Ashburn whacked another foul and hit Roth again as she was being carted away. The resilient old bag suffered a broken nose, a black eye, and a bruised thigh, while her grandkids got to tell all their friends about the day they rode in the front of the ambulance.
What Game Are You Watching?
If you think all umpires are arrogant, pigheaded morons…this won’t change your mind. In the first game of the 1970 World Series, the Baltimore Orioles were leading the Cincinnati Reds 4–3. With Bernie Carbo on third, the Reds’ Ty Cline hit a high chopper in front of the plate. As Orioles catcher Elrod Hendricks dashed out to field it, umpire Ken Burkhart moved up and straddled the third-base line, unaware that Carbo was barreling home. With the ump blocking the plate, Carbo had to slide around him. Hendricks collided with Burkhart as he lunged for Carbo and tagged the runner...with an empty glove. The ball was in his other hand. Even though he had had his back to the play, Burkhart didn’t consult with the other umps on the field—he just called Carbo out. The Reds went on to lose the series, prompting major-league baseball to institute a policy of hiring umps too morbidly obese to move from behind the plate.
Great Expectorations
With their amazing athletic abilities, baseball’s greats often aren’t appreciated for their other talents. David Wells plays the guitar. Jim Palmer can loan you money in his underwear. And Seattle’s Jay Buhner can vomit on command, a skill he calls blurping. It’s this ability that earned the Mariners an unusual distinction in the 1990s: They were the first team to have all three outfielders vomit on the diamond in a single game. One of Buhner’s blurps grossed Kevin Mitchell out enough to make him chunder, and when Ken Griffey, Jr., saw what his teammates were up to, he couldn’t help blowing chunks of his own. It wasn’t the first time Buhner had set off a chain reaction of puking: On another occasion, he compelled manager Lou Piniella to make a dash for the trainers’ room.
Mound Pounding
Paul Foytack of the Los Angeles Angels must have felt like a travel agent on July 31, 1963, ’cause he was giving everybody round trips. Coming to the mound in the sixth, reliever Foytack faced batter Woody Held, who blasted Foytack’s pitch into the seats. Then pitcher Pedro Ramos, batting .109, stepped to the plate and smashed a homer. The next batter was Tito Francona—gone. Then rookie Larry Brown came up, having never hit a major-league dinger, and…you guessed it. Four batters, four fourbaggers. “You may not believe this,” Foytack told reporters, “but I was trying to knock him down with the pitch. That shows you what kind of control I had.”
Blowing the Play
Plenty of professional athletes have been accused of being full of hot air in their time, but at least former Mariners third baseman Lenny Randle can say that he put it to good use. On May 27, 1981, in a game against the Royals, Kansas City slugger Amos Otis barely tapped a hit up the third-base line. As the ball wavered between fair and foul territory, Randle, a hot-tempered player who had once punched out his own manager, figured out a more constructive way to let off steam: He dropped down to his hands and knees and blew on the ball. Eventually the ball rolled foul and Otis returned to the plate, but when the Royals’ manager complained of player interference, the umps restored Otis’ hit. Following the game, Randle insisted that he hadn’t blown the ball but had only “used the power of suggestion” on it. And if you don’t buy his explanation, you can use the power of suggestion on him.
Evelyn, could you come here for a second? Which team do you play for? Well, I'm a Peach. (Evelyn Gardner) Well I was just wonderin' why you would throw home when we got a two-run lead. You let the tying run get on second base and we lost the lead because of you. Start using your head. That's the lump that's three feet above your ass. [Evelyn starts to cry] Are you crying? Are you crying? Are You Crying? There's no crying! There's No Crying In Baseball!
Why don't you give her a break, Jimmy... (Doris Murphy) Oh, you zip it, Doris! Rogers Hornsby was my manager, and he called me a talking pile of pigshit. And that was when my parents drove all the way down from Michigan to see me play the game. And did I cry? No. No. And do you know why? Because there's no crying in baseball. There's No Crying In Baseball! No crying!
Jimmy Dugan in A League of Their Own
Unless One Of These Fellas Is Somehow Involved
Mike Piazza, Oakland A's
He regained some man points when, in a scene right out of The Benny Hill Show, he chased reliever Guillermo Mota in, out, and around the stadium following a spring training plunking. Still, memories of the Piazza/Roger Clemens undercard persist—both the World Series incident in which Roger half-chucked a splintered bat in Piazza's direction and the regular-season one in which Roger brained Piazza with a high-and-tight heater. Both situations called for frontier justice; Piazza responded with mild after-the-fact haughtiness.
Chuck Finley, California Angels
Let us be clear: There is nothing funny about domestic abuse. But the idea of the 6'6", 214-pound Finley filing for an order of protection after being smacked around by his then wife, Tawny Kitaen—better known as "the chick from Bachelor Party that used to boink O.J."—confuses us just a little bit. Who knows, maybe we should be applauding him for not responding in kind.
Barry Bonds, San Francisco Giants
Any of y'all see him approach the plate lately? He wears as much body armor as the cast of Gladiator, which allows him to cozy his bloated torso up to the plate without fear of injury. As a teammate, he's a real champ, too, initially attributing an alleged failed amphetamines test on a substance he took from Mark Sweeney's locker. Apropos of nothing, ever notice how it's almost impossible to write anything about Bonds without repeated use of the word "alleged"?
Vince Coleman, New York Mets
Upon leaving the stadium one fair night in the '90s, he decided to chuck what the police reports called "an explosive device equal to a quarter-stick of dynamite" (an M-80, we're guessing…not that we know of such matters) into a gaggle of fans hoping to get an autograph. The resulting explosion, which Coleman didn't stick around to see, left a 2-year-old girl with second-degree facial burns and eye injuries. The press conference that followed might have been among the most sublime moments in off-field baseball wussiness: Coleman didn't apologize, but he trotted out his kids and expressed his hope that the victims would get to know him as "a true friend and loving father."
Jose Canseco, The Surreal Life
Even after inflating himself to the size of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man via the consumption of everything from steroids to wheat germ to horse tranquilizers, Canseco still found it within himself to bully smaller, less rageaholic mortals. You know, like his then wife, who found her BMW on the receiving end of a ramming by his Porsche. Canseco's on-field demeanor wasn't much more noble: Despite his Lundgren-ian girth, you never saw him charging the mound after being buzzed or crashing into the second baseman in order to break up a double play.
John Kruk, Philadelphia Phillies/Baseball Tonight
Remember how he famously bailed out against Randy Johnson during an all-star game a bunch of years ago? Working the game for comedic effect—classy. Somehow his "I'm not an athlete, because I chew tobacco and fart a lot" shtick always struck us as considerably wussier, not to mention less authentic, than Ryne Sandberg's hip-to-be-square solemnity, or Tony Gwynn's glib delight.
Mark Prior, Chicago Cubs
Here's Prior's problem: He's smarter than the people who cover the game. Rather than humoring them with cliches or cozying up to them with a Giambi-esque "duuuuuude," Prior answers questions about his cosmically cursed right shoulder with all the charisma of an actuary. Note to those seeking elevation from wuss bag status: Never, ever, ever acknowledge the possibility that you're hurt, even if a splintered bone is jutting through your skin and splattering the attendant media horde with blood and sinew. A viewing of Monty Python and the Holy Grail ("It's just a flesh wound") would do wonders for some of these guys.
Bobby Crosby, Oakland A's
We don't want to say Bobby Crosby is brittle, but he broke two ribs while swinging a bat on opening day 2005. We don't want to say Bobby Crosby is dainty, but in 2006 alone he went on the shelf with shoulder, hand, triceps, and back injuries, plus an eye infection. We don't want to say Bobby Crosby is the baseball equivalent of a Kewpie doll, but a Google search of "Bobby Crosby injuries" generates about 69,800 responses. The A's might consider devising a foam body suit for his at bats, or perhaps a protective bubble of some sort.
Carl Pavano, New York Yankees
Never mind all the injuries and the fibbing about them. The guy stubbornly refuses to throw inside, trains with the intensity of a 48-year-old couch monkey, and wears the hangdog look of a Little Leaguer on the cusp of breaking into tears after every long ball. He is, in every way that matters, the anti-Smoltz.
