Header - Baseball by the Letters

Year: 2010

Jim Roland, Perfect Pitcher

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Left-hander Jim Roland, a 10-year hurler for the Twins, Athletics, Yankees and Rangers, died at age 67 this month.

To most fans, Roland didn’t have Hall of Fame stats. Don’t tell that to autograph collectors.

According to www.sportscollectors.net, Roland was perfect.

Collectors log their through-the-mail attempts. The hobby scorecard read:

68 attempts
68 successes

Roland is just one of some two dozen baseball deaths in 2010. In the last four weeks, I’ve seen the loss of Frank Bertaina and Jim Bibby, two more hurlers from my childhood who were decent signers.

Baseball has no time clock. Baseball autograph collecting does. Whether you request a signature, ask a question, or say thanks for a memory, don’t wait. Time doesn’t.

Jim Greengrass of Home (in Cincy)

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Some players couldn’t dream up such a great stage name.

GREENGRASS. What a perfect name for baseball. Well, maybe “Homerun” would be a decent substitute for “Owens.”

Jim Greengrass began baseball’s wild career ride at age 16, signed as an amateur free agent by the Yankees. Two years in the minors. Two years in the military. An attempt to become a pitcher, scrapped after five straight losses.

Debuting with Cincinnati in September, 1952, Greengrass became a Reds regular in 1953, posting totals of 20 homers, 100 RBI and a .285 average. In 1954, Greengrass smashed a career-best 27 home runs.

However, phlebitis (painful inflammation of leg veins) short-circuited Greengrass’s career. His final big-league days would come with the 1956 Phillies.

Now 82, Greengrass took time to field three questions.

“Hi, Tom,

Thanks for the kind words and hope this note finds you and your family in good health and happy.

1. No making your contracts in those days. Highest salary was $40,000. Stan Musial and Ted Williams.

2. It was my ___ number (#23) through the years and my first at Cincy, so I kept it my whole Cincy career. Phillies first baseman had it when I went to them, so I got #10.

3. I have had that (phlebitis) since then, so you can see not much known about (phlebitis). And there is no cure. It’s tough but I have learned to live with pain. My blood is cloddish. Both legs. But still manage to get around some.

Many happy innings to you, Tom

— Jim”

In the last month, this is the first time I’ve been thrown a curve with any handwriting. Jim’s tight, small cursive is tricky here. He’s saying that #23 was his “basic” number or his “luckie” number. Both sound good to me.

A swell name. Someone who’s been there that still says CINCY. Let’s hope the 2010 season brings teams some more “green grasses.” Thanks to Jim, I know I’ll have many happy innings.

Autograph Collector Investigates Mysterious SASEs

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I’m writing today from the fringe of the autograph collecting hobby.

I haven’t been zoned on building sets of autographed cards. I cheer the
collectors who have the patience (and postage stamps) for such a goal.

From collecting back into the 1970s, I remember hearing from an elderly
retired player. “Is this card yours? If not, please send it back.”
I admire anyone who can keep track of who sent what, getting all
the cards autographed and back to their proper homes.

What puzzled me was the taped returned. In the last month, I’ve seen
tape on the back of a half-dozen envelopes.

Theories:

1. Homeland Security is monitoring my collecting progress? Nah…
2. The retiree had switched my letter with another SASE and had to reshuffle his replies.
3. The former player wanted to share more insight about his past, diving
back into the envelope to add one more anecdote.

I liked the third “explanation” most.

Actually, I’ll never be a CSI regular. My detective skills are slipping. The truth is that autograph signers have tired of “spit or sponge?” as the only choices for moistening each SASE. Or, they saw the Seinfeld episode in which George’s girlfriend keels over from toxic envelope glue?

I peeled some tape from a few replies. Each time, the glue remains. I applaud the major league minds who honed such a skill. Sign on!

Dave Garcia, Baseball’s Living History

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Dave Garcia is a library of baseball’s untold stories.

In 2009, the New York Times honored Garcia’s deep roots in baseball. I was hooked by the headline: A Baseball Elder’s Feel for the Game Endures.

I knew Garcia only as the toiling manager of the California Angels (1977-78) and Cleveland Indians (1979-82). That’s only one chapter in his baseball history. Garcia’s career in the game dates back to 1937, when he began his playing career as a St. Louis Browns minor leaguer. The reporter noted that, aside from Garcia’s three years in the Air Force, he made his living from baseball, all the way to being a part-time scout for the Cubs in 2009.

Garcia earned his shot at a big league managerial post. He owns 890 career wins as a minor league skipper.

I wrote, asking Garcia two questions. First, who were some of the players his was proudest of, ones who he helped reach the majors or achieve new levels of success? Secondly, how did he cope with the media during his managerial career?

Garcia’s reply began with a list:

“* Hoyt Wilhelm — Right hand pitcher, pitched in 1948, Knoxville, TN.
* Bill White — 1st base. 1954 Sioux City. Major league career with St. Louis. Became president of National League.
* Mike Hargrove — 1st base, Cleveland, 1979-82. Manager in majors with Cleveland, Seattle.
* Orlando Cepeda, 1955 — for short time in Kokomo, Indiana.
* Andre Thornton — 1st base, Cleveland, 1979-82.

Many more…

2. I had no problem with media. Many were very fair with me.
I didn’t pay attention to their criticism. I knew my players better than anyone else.”

Dodgers coach Manny Mota said that Garcia helped him learn English as
a minor leaguer. He called Garcia his “white father.”

Ralph “Putsy” Caballero, Proud “Whiz Kid”

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Ralph “Putsy” Caballero became the National League’s youngest third baseman ever when he debuted with the 1944 Phillies at age 16. Through 1952, he provided Philadelphia with utility infielder skills and one winning personality. Teammates marveled at his card-playing ability. In retirement, Caballero joked he may have won more money at cards than he made in baseball.

Caballero’s major league challenges pale to what he faced in 2005. The Louisiana resident lost his home and memorabilia from his Philadelphia days to Hurricane Katrina. He salvaged a Phillies uniform and autographed team picture from his 1950 “Whiz Kids” teammates. The World Series ring seems to have remained on his finger since 1950.

The baseball memories may have been the secret to his success. He wrote:

“Richie Ashburn was my teammate.

My home run (in 1951, the only one in 322 career games) was a thrill. Off George Spencer, the Giants ace relief pitcher.

(Our) batboys were 12 years old then. Not much older than me.

P.S. – I named my first son after Richie Ashburn”