Good-bye Vin Scully

thLos Angeles Dodgers broadcaster Vin Scully, who works the radio side on his own, is retiring from 67 years’ painting the word picture. The Bronx native and Fordham Heights alum followed the Dodgers from Brooklyn to L.A. a mere 60 years ago: He had already been calling the games before Red Barber switched to the New York Yankees; in fact, 7 summers before the great migration. In Curt Smith’s now moderately dated yet valuable Voices of the Game, a book cited in Right off the Bat, only “The Voice” (Mel Allen) is generally held in such high esteem. Good luck, Mr. Scully: You’re as young as you feel. Major League Baseball already misses you.

Pull up a chair! Here is Vin Scully, 50-plus years ago, 9/9/65, calling Sandy Koufax’s ultra-rare perfect game.

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Twilight of the Roids

Alex Rodriguez retires and leaves many questions.

Alex Rodriguez is released and leaves many questions. “At 18, I just wanted to make the team [Seattle Mariners]…a guy like me who’s been to hell and back.”

The baseball world has moved on.

Unless unforeseen circumstances (e.g., a rainout; another club hoping to catch lightning in a bottle in 2018, or by some arrangement even in 2017) prevail, Alex Rodriguez will not play major-league ball after August 12, when he is released by the New York Yankees.

Against a backdrop of what absorbs the rest of the sports world, the 2016 Summer Olympic Games—a spectacle that has its share of performance-enhancing scandals—the timing is typically questionable. Welcome to A-Rod Land. Tomorrow, 8/8, is midsummer. For unknown reasons, the makeshift Sunday-morning announcement could not be delayed for Meridian Monday.

Whether there’s a curtain call round the Green Monster in Boston this week, where the Yankees play, is a question. Maybe, aetat. 45, he’d seek to Simonize his profile by managing a national team—USA or Dominican Republic—in the 2020 Olympics. He has made no secret of a desire to own, or have controlling interest in, a major-league team.

No doubt Rodriguez is one of the most gifted athletes ever on a baseball field. His work of personal redemption continues.

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2020 Foresight

Baseball and its closest relative, softball, return to the world stage in Tokyo: praise be.

Baseball and its closest relative, softball, return to the world stage in Tokyo: praise be.

Baseball and softball return to the Summer Olympics in 2020. From the standpoint of the Right off the Bat Project, irony of ironies, these sports had been voted out of the 2012 London Olympics.

In our book, Martin and I discuss the history of baseball/softball as Olympic spectacles. Baseball was commissioned an unofficial sport in 1900, was played in Paris in 1904, and surfaced at the notorious 1936 Berlin Games, where the largest crowd (to the present) to see a baseball game, some 120,000 largely baffled Bewunderers, witnessed one of the first night games of significance. In 1964, a throng of 114,000 undoubtedly more appreciative fans rooted in Tokyo. Baseball became an official Olympic sport in 1992, but was inexplicably dropped…as it turns out for well more than a generation.

For anyone assuming a U.S. cakewalk comes this startling fact: Cuba has won three Gold Medals, the U.S. and South Korean National Teams have come away with one apiece. Unlike the WBC, which in 2017 commences March 17 (spring training), the Summer Olympics, of course, is scheduled during the heat of the pennant races. Most of the best North and South American players would be largely unavailable.

More or less on the subject of foresight and its own closest relative, eyesight, those often-hooted-eyesight-challenged-impersonal guardians of the rules, baseball umpires, are (one at least is) even taking on unruly fans. For the first time in memory, an umpire ejected a fan from a major-league game. Who said the umpires are out of control?

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Life Begins at 50-straight Games

75 years ago, Joe DiMaggio’s amazing hitting streak reached 50 of an eventual 56 games. This picture, truly, is worth a thousand words. (But I [Evander] will stop the wordage here—except to note Right off the Bat was likewise published on memorable 7/11: the 70th anniversary of DiMaggio reaching base via a hit thro 50-straight games. Incomparable!)

By consensus, the greatest offensive feat in major-league baseball history, possibly in any sport

By consensus the greatest offensive feat in major-league baseball history, possibly of any professional sport

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A Memoir of Teenage Obsession and Terrible Cricket

English-cricket fan extraordinaire Emma John: sui generis product of a good if not entirely supportive home

English-cricket enthusiast extraordinaire Emma John: sui generis, product of a together if not altogether supportive home (author photo: copyright Justin John Doherty)

A mere 48 hours away at this writing is the 75th anniversary of the start of Joe DiMaggio’s 56-game hitting streak. How the Yankee Clipper came to accomplish it puzzles the will. I have no intention of soliloquizing: What more need I or anyone say? I want to talk about cricket, English cricket, when Joe D.’s streak was being celebrated during its golden anniversary, and about some memorable writing on the subject.

I was treated to a book by my long-ago CCNY mentors, now permanently residing in the UK. In Following On, journalist Emma John writes with sly humor and wisdom about her teenage obsession with cricket: specifically, English cricket during its early 1990s nadir.

My co-writer Martin Rowe is a half-generation removed from John: a fellow-traveling sufferer; the age-difference inconsequential. Among the many joys of treating him to his first baseball game mid-’90s style at the old Yankee Stadium, was observing him virtually revel in the atmosphere of a rejuvenated franchise. Like Martin and John, I had endured several not merely fallow seasons with the New York Yankees (the 1980s), but the putrid period of my Wonder Years: 1965 into the 1970s, when winning was a novelty.

I much recommend John’s book to baseball fans. You need know nothing about her sport to get it as she recalls, for example, days-long countdowns to TMS. John slices to the heart of fandom: Why do we feel ourselves inside the bones of these athletes who don’t have a clue regarding our existence? (What is he to Hecuba? someone asks.) From the topsy-turvy clutter of root-root-rooting we reach up to the Promised Land of the championship, with our team in tow—not the other way round. At forty, John finds that golden time in her life also a wonder.

John writes with the authority of a perfectly placed comma. Here are the men who brought respectability first, then pride back to the UK-cricket scene: Gooch, Alec Stewart, Tufnell, Ramprakash, Crawley, Jack Russell, others. Her hero, Michael Atherton—flying over and thro all the words, he might as well be Joe D. himself—is held back till he presents….(For the reader never finishes John’s sentences before she does, and in homage I stop thus: also, no spoilers here.)

John’s clear-sighted observations of her adolescent heroes and a few villains are apposite: “Thanks to the miracle of human optimism, each new failure remained both surprising and disappointing. Growing up, I had been taught I was capable of anything; becoming a grown-up meant learning I wasn’t.” Mentors and mentors….

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Annus Mirabilis 1869: Year of the Rain Out

The Antioch College bombers. Even tho there are 10 of them, there still weren't enough to make an impact on the best pro team of the era.

The Antioch College bombers: even if there were 10 of them, too few to impact the pro team of the era

On July 23, 1866, the Cincinnati Red Stockings were organized, and from 1867 to 1870 their record was 175 wins, 15 losses, 1 draw. Base-ball, to that time, had been “a Gentleman’s game”: even if the Reds beat everyone’s brains in.

It was in 1869 that the club shocked the North American sporting world by turning all-pro. Dominance was so cast iron that, opening on May 4, 1869, the Red Stockings’s record for the season would be an ungentlemanly 70 and 0.

Antioch College—where my (Evander) grandfather worked as a teacher of sculpting and bronze-casting, coming from the old country to start there ca. early 1926—was considered the best amateur ball club in 1869. But since you know the record, no surprise that they lost to the Red Stockings on May 15…by a score of 41-7. (Someone missed the extra point—bad [American] football joke for readers unfamiliar.) On October 24, the game was a little more competitive: only a 45-10 shellacking (speaking of statues: and they ran the bases about as well).

Antioch enters the first-ever category, however, on May 31 of that year. Scheduled to play (who else?) Cincinnati, the game was mercifully called off due to pouring rain in Yellow Springs. Yes, May 31, 2016, is the 147th anniversary—if I did the math correctly—of the first-ever professional-baseball rain out.

Whether Yellow Springs rain checks were issued by its bastion of U.S. liberal-arts education I do not know. But I do thank super-sleuth and Columbus mathematician Paul Ponomarev for once again inspiring a blog with a surprising factoid as a new baseball season gets underway. Paul might also check my “yearly calculation.”

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Getting All Political, but Not What You May Think

Mapmaker bites dog: the Tampa Bay Rays to play the Cuban National Team

Mapmaker bites dog: the Tampa Bay Rays play the Cuban National Team

For several dozen reasons, President Obama’s historic visit to Cuba on the first day of spring 2016 is historic. We at Right off the Bat have covered everything from baseball in Iran to (probably somewhere in this blog, certainly in discussions at Brooklyn ROTB HQ) cricket in Afghanistan.

Tho hardly scientifically based, I (Evander) am on record—having gone out on a pretty safe limb—in claiming Cuba has the greatest natural baseball talent, per capita, in the world. This includes Canada, the Dominican Republic, Japan, Korea, Puerto Rico, Venezuela.

Unless the world crumbles, in two days, on March 22, the Tampa Bay Rays will play the Cuban National Team. The president will be in attendance. It is hoped that this diplomatic meeting over baseball is the beginning not only of real-world reconciliation and peace, but also of another move toward MLB assuming international stature (maybe even a step in salvaging the decaying Hemingway library, too; after all, literature is news that stays news).

It is to be reminded, now-ailing Fidel Castro himself, more or less of the Mickey Mantle generation, was a North American pitching prospect depending whom one believes; and before attaining superstar status with the Yankees (¡yanquis!), then-svelte Ruth barnstormed the country under John McGraw, finishing with the second-highest batting average (.345—fairly close to Ruth’s career average) of anyone on the squad. (Fellow Hall of Famer Beauty Bancroft bombed .363. McGraw is likewise enshrined.)

The time? Roughly the last year a US president set foot in Cuba.

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