It's Not Always How Tall You Are

The New York Times published a feature article yesterday about Tim Collins, a rookie pitcher with the Kansas City Royals who stands just 5-foot-7. As much as players (and people in general) have gotten taller since the big leagues began, there are few pitchers who have been successful who were so short.

As it turns out, most players who played in the majors from 1876-2009 have been at least 5-foot-10. Of course, there have some notable short players. Freddie Patek was a fine shortstop for the Kansas City Royals despite being just 5-foot-5. And Eddie Gaedel, signed as a stunt by St. Louis Browns' owner Bill Veeck, is the shortest player ever at 3-foot-8.

But perhaps the greatest short player of all is Hack Wilson, a Hall of Fame slugger for the Chicago Cubs, who was the equal of Babe Ruth and Jimmie Foxx for a short time. In fact, Wilson did something no one else has ever done: He drove in more than 190 runs in a season. The year was 1930, a year when batting statistics were off the charts, and Wilson ended the year with 190 RBI and 56 home runs. In 1999, research showed Wilson had driven in 191 runs.

Tales of Fenway and Wrigley

Fenway Park turns 100 this season. If that sounds amazing, it's even more so if you consider that no major league park has ever been used for so long. Wrigley Field, the nearest to the mark, was built in 1914 and the Cubs moved in two years later.

Both parks are intimate in ways that the the newer, small parks have tried to emulate. But the atmosphere at these two jewels seems more authentic. Perhaps because when they were built they weren't trying to look old.

I had been to Wrigley a few times before I made it to Fenway. The Friendly Confines, the nickname popularized by Cubs' great Ernie Banks, with its ivy-covered walls and ancient scoreboard looks like a postcard. I expected a similar feel to Fenway. My first glimpse coming up the stairs to the seating area shocked me. Fenway looked tiny. Maybe it's the looming Green Monster that makes it seem that way, but all of Fenway appeared like a toy compared to Wrigley.


When you go through the turnstiles at Wrigley or Fenway, you are really entering the past. These parks feel different. And they share a history that can never be duplicated. Babe Ruth is a key figure in both. The Bambino, of course, started his career as a star pitcher for the Sox, before being traded to the Yankees. (Sorry Yankee fans, but the new Yankee Stadium can't claim any Ruthian feats.)

Wrigley has its own special connection to Ruth. In 1932, the Cubs took on the Yanks in the World Series.  In Game 3, the Bambino launched his called-shot homer off of Charlie Root. Whether Ruth's gesture was prediction or he was involved in banter with the Cubs' dugout is a subject of debate that probably will never be resolved.

It's interesting that the two teams who made a business out of going decades without winning the World Series each had a rocky moment with the Babe. The Sox of course sent Ruth packing to the Yankees just as he was becoming the sport's greatest slugger, triggering many fans' belief in the Curse of the Bambino.

Maybe there really is a curse.

The Sounds of Baseball

As a change of pace, I am writing about one of the best parts of baseball: the announcers. Maybe it's because no other game translates as well to words or that the pace of the is perfect for analysis and chatter, but there's something soothing about hearing your favorite broadcasters.

Some of the best announcers shine brighter when the game is dull. My favorite in those situations is Bob Uecker. After 40 years, Uecker has developed into a fine play-by-play man, but early in his career he was strictly there for color. He knew the game, but listeners couldn't wait for his next great line. Whether it was tales of his rookie signing bonus (his Dad couldn't afford to pay the Braves much) or his method of catching a knuckler (wait till it stops rolling and pick it up), Uecker was entertaining, even if the Brewers weren't (which was more often than not).

Harry Caray was another original. He had almost the opposite career of Uecker. By all accounts, he was a fine announcer when he started out with the Cardinals. Sports Illustrated (flip to page 82 of the link) once did a story on him complete with a photo of him wearing only polka-dot boxers while announcing a game on a sweltering St. Louis day. By the time he was with the White Sox, it sounded like his famous carousing was beginning to affect his announcing. He frequently would say players' names backwards (Bill Melton would be Llib Notlem), or he would say things like "This game reminds me of a recipe for chicken salad," leaving the listener to figure out what he meant.

It helped that his broadcast partner, Jimmy Piersall, could be equally obtuse ("Ted Kluszewski must weigh 300 pounds without arms") Piersall was the subject of the movie "Fear Strikes Out."' Later, after a strong first few years with the Cubs, Caray jumped the shark. By the end he was a caricature of himself, even when doing his signature rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame."

Of the present-day announcers, I like the Mets color team of Keith Hernandez and Ron Darling. They both offer sharp analysis and have a goofy sense of humor that keeps them from sounding like know-it-alls. And Hernandez, of all the announcers I have heard, seems most like someone you'd want to have a beer with. His cultural references include mentions of TV and music of the 1960s and 1970s. He really does seem like the guy on "Seinfeld."

Other announcers I enjoyed were Lou Boudreau and Vince Lloyd with the Cubs, Ernie Harwell of the Tigers and Merle Harmon, who was Uecker's early partner.

Who are your favorite announcers? Let's get a discussion going.