Header - Baseball by the Letters

Year: 2013

Autograph Collectors, Don’t Envy Reporters

by

I was impressed seeing this
on www.sportscollectorsdaily.com.
Sports agent Walsh got Ruth
and others to sign in 1947. These days,
an autographed press pass
seen by team officials
would be grounds for eviction!
 

Frustrated TTM collectors might wish to trade places with the all-access journalists who are swarming about the World Series. Look at the players they have at their fingertips.

Not for autographs!

The press passes include the warning. Signs are posted, too.

The team prints their law on every press pass. Asking for autographs means you can ejected from the clubhouse or field quicker than a mouthy manager.

And, unlike the school principal who threatened to put this on your imaginary “permanent record,” I believe that an infraction might make it impossible to get a press pass in the future.

Think of The Coasters singing Poison Ivy:

“You can look but you better not touch!”

Expect Treats, Not Tricks, This Hobby Halloween

by

Why collect autographed baseballs?
These would hold more autographs.
The Post-Dispatch store sold a
carving kit for $12.95.

Expect treats, not tricks, for your hobby this post-season.

In 40 years of writing to former players, I’ve found:

During the season, some retirees try to forget baseball. They feel their summer with travel and outdoor activities like golf or fishing.

Come the World Series, they start missing baseball. Your letter makes them feel young again.

Watch your mailbox fill up like a kid’s treat bag this year. I can’t wait!

MLB Player Poll: What’s The Strangest Thing You’ve Ever Been Asked to Sign?

by

One of the most meaningful moments of the baseball season came when I viewed a segment of the MLB Player Poll.

I’ve always dismissed the show as a “Baseball TMZ” or “Diamond Talking Heads.”

However, the answers pointed out a problem real collectors are facing.

Once, I thought the guy who wanted a used hot dog wrapper autographed made us look bad.

Now, we’re the ones who get the stink-eye.

Autographing a body part or someone’s baby is easy. “I don’t think you could sell your own kid on eBay, just to get rich off my autograph,” thinks the current player.

However, if you take the time to present a meaningful artifact, then the paranoia ensues. “That’s so nice, I’m sure you’ll sell and make a profit off me! I’d rather sign bits of garbage, knowing that you’ll throw the autographs away.”

Whether in person or by mail, be ready to tell about your collection to a potential signer. In the hobby’s “new normal,” we need to redefine what autographs mean to us.

Sharing A Moment With Two Hall of Famers

by

Mickey Mantle. Juan Marichal. Me?

We were all born October 20. I have no baseball card to prove mine, but it’s true.

This blog was born in 2010. I haven’t bombarded this site with advertising.

I am asking for a small birthday present from all of you, however.

No, not free cake. I’m willing to sing (or write) for my supper.

I wrote my first book of poetry this year:

101 PO’ed Poems: Frustrations in Free Verse

I do have one snarky baseball-related poem in the bunch of 102 ditties. (Hey, a free bonus!)

The Kindle e-book is a mere 99 cents. That’s less than a penny a poem!

Please, help support my postage stamp addiction. (I mean, corresponding with the witnesses to baseball history.) Seriously, any success with the poetry collection will keep this blog thriving into 2014. I’m planning on making the next 900 posts even more fun.

I’d welcome any kind reviews on Amazon.com, as well as mentioning the title to other possible readers.

My poems are as glib, sarcastic and irreverent as possible. In the process, I poke the most fun at myself.

As an ALCS watcher, I loved watching Tim McCarver fear for his life on his 72nd birthday (the blazing cake was in a cardboard box, with no fire extinguisher near). My blaze will be a bit smaller on Sunday.

I want to thank you for reading. Every post feels like a celebration.

Knuckleball Movie Perfect Pre-World Series Warmup

by

Better late than never.

I kept putting off the DVD viewing of Knuckleball. I was like the kid determined to make my Halloween candy stash last until Christmas goodies were available.

Sure enough, this baseball feast waited for me, helping to stave off the hunger I felt as the regular season ended.

First of all, I’m calling this a movie. Nope, it’s not fiction. Doesn’t matter. “Documentary” makes some viewers squirm. As in, “that sounds good for me, like a platter of turnips. Can’t we watch a movie.”

That’s code for “movie = fun.”

Knuckleball is fun. We see the characteristics of the pitchers brave enough to throw a maligned pitch. Hall of Famer Phil Niekro is a Hall of Fame storyteller, a skill never showcased before this movie.

Credit directors Annie Sundberg (no relation to Jim) and Ricki Stern with coaxing great answers from R.A. Dickey, Tim Wakefield and Charlie Hough, too. I was amazed at the golf-weekend conversations captured as the four knuckleballers interviewed each other.

There’s more than an hour of bonus materials. Sundberg and Stern did their homework with these extended interviews.

My favorite moment in the movie? Dickey asks Hough to review one of his past games by video. They watch, only to giggle delightedly when a struck-out Pirates batsman goes nuts in the dugout, smashing his lumber.

“Sure. Blame the bat,” Hough chides.

I’ve written before about asking good questions. Red Sox catcher Doug Mirabelli speaks at length about “Wakey.” It’s easy to imagine the pitch, harder to appreciate the men who’ve depended on the alternative. Such moments stress how to get at the “how does it feel?” aspect of baseball.

The World Series doesn’t last forever. If you fret about being able to survive until spring training, here’s the solution. This Knuckleball is the perfect pitch for this off-season.