Header - Baseball by the Letters

Joe McCarthy Thanked Me

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Joe McCarthy, manager of seven New York Yankees World Champion teams, earned his Hall of Fame membership in 1957.

He earned my fandom shortly before his death in 1978 at age 90.

Dear Tom, Thanks so much for your very nice letter. Joe McCarthy

When he returned my autograph request with a bonus, I knew that he’d been signing fan mail for decades. Nevertheless, I felt like an all-star.

Our letters do get read — and appreciated. A batting average keeps track
of hits, not outs. Savor your hits in this hobby, learn from your misses, and you’ll be destined for a Hall of Fame collecting career.

Autograph Collectors: Asking is Free

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I’m marveling over the newest edition of Harvey Meiselman’s comprehensive baseball address list. A whopping 246 pages, the list is a collector’s greatest ally in making the most of your efforts. Every collector should own one.

I have an interview with Harvey that I did eons ago. I’ll be sharing that on the blog in the future.

For now, I wanted to focus on the 4-1/2 pages of “Players Who Charge.”

The fees vary, some as low as $1 per signature for Kevin Elster or Reggie Cleveland. Some former players demand cash. Although this statement might sound like some autograph signers are hoping to dodge the IRS, I think some of the motivation is in avoiding hassles with the bank.

During a 1980s card show I covered for Sports Collectors Digest, I listened to Johnny Vander Meer grumble to Luke Appling that he was trying to solicit donations for the Baseball Assistance Team — only to have collectors bounce checks.

I think the list will keep growing. Everyone has the right not to respond, or to charge for their autograph.

I’ll remain grateful for what I receive. I’m not sending any items to be signed. Just 2-3 questions. Furthermore, I don’t second-guess someone who answers questions without signing his name. I read that one ex-player who responded (now in his 80s) has macular degeneration. His “reply” looked dictated. The ornate, loopy cursive appeared to be that of a teen female. No matter. Someone cared enough to give me the gift of his insight.

It is a gift. Every reply. A reply I send a thank-you note for.

An autograph for a fee is a product, with buyers and sellers.

Roy Sievers, St. Louis Cardinal?

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Long before spring training, the Hot Stove League of my mind
battled the Iowa winter. Instead of forecasting baseball 2010,
I pondered several possibilities of seasons past.

One “what if?” that’s called to me has been the
case of Roy Sievers.

The five-time All-Star finished his career with 318 home runs and 1,147 RBI.

The 1949 American League Rookie of the Year, this St.
Louis native chose the Browns over the Cardinals.
Redbirds super-scout Walter Shannon knew how talented
Sievers was. Still, Sievers slipped away.

When he did, Sievers saw his career shaped by
owner Bill Veeck.

What did he remember about considering the Cardinals?
How did Veeck inspire him?

Sievers wrote:

“Walter Shannon was a close friend of mine — watching me play ball and he even managed our baseball team (American Legion). He came out to my house every week to get me to sign with the Cardinals. Back then, the Cardinals had a great ball club — a lot of them were just starting.

My dad and I thought it best to sign with the Browns, due to the fact I could make it to the big leagues faster. As it turned out, everything worked out alright. Playing with the Cardinals would have been great. They were a good club.

Bill Veeck was a great owner to play for. He saved my career with the things he did medical wise. Sent me to the best hospital and doctor in Baltimore, John Hopkins. Doctor wrote me up in the medical books as the best operation performed on a ballplayer. Ended up playing 17-1/2 years in the big leagues.

Bill and Mary Frances were always great people. He treated players great. He knew their values. he was a showman. People loved him. All the things he did were for the good of the game.”

Since 1949, one other person has focused on “the good of the game.” Whether with the Browns or the Cardinals, Roy Sievers seemed destined to be a local hero.

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.