Baseball: Past and Present

1. Don Larsen, 1956 World Series: Larsen is and may always be number one here, at least until another man throws a perfect game in the postseason.

2. Roy Halladay, 2010 National League Division Playoffs: This season, Halladay became the latest pitcher with 20 wins his first year in a new league, and on Wednesday, he threw the second no-hitter in the postseason history. Right now, Halladay looks like the National League Cy Young, and his Phillies look unstoppable.

3. Christy Matthewson, 1905 World Series: Aside from the individual efforts of Larsen and Halladay, this is perhaps the greatest overall postseason performance. Matthewson was the New York Giants in the 1905 Fall Classic, winning three of their four games, all by shutouts. More impressively, he did it in the span of six days.

4. Howard Ehmke, 1929 World Series: Ehmke was an aging junk baller who sat the A’s bench most of 1929. Years later in Ehmke’s obituary, Red Smith wrote how late that season, A’s manager Connie Mack summoned Ehmke to release him. Ehmke responded, “Mr. Mack, I have always wanted to to pitch in a World Series. Mr. Mack, there is one great game left in this old arm.” Mack ordered Ehmke to stay behind when Philadelphia went on a road trip and scout the Cubs. “Learn all you can about their hitters,” Mack told Ehmke. “Say nothing to anybody. You are my opening pitcher for the World Series.” Ehmke set a World Series record with 13 strikeouts, winning 3-1 in a complete game.

5. Johnny Podres, 1955 World Series: It wasn’t so much Podres’ performance in that World Series that gets him here– not that he wasn’t  excellent, with two complete game wins. The key is that Podres helped the long-suffering Brooklyn Dodgers finally win a championship, ensuring their victory with his Game Seven shutout.

6. Orel Hershisher, 1988 postseason: Hershiser rode his record-setting scoreless inning streak into the playoffs and then went 3-0 with a 1.05 ERA between the NLCS and the World Series, recording the winning games in both stages of the postseason. He even had a save in the NLCS and went 3-3 at the plate in the World Series with two doubles and an RBI.

7. Jack Morris, 1991 World Series: If Morris is elected to the Hall of Fame, a television should be set up next to his plaque, keeping a constant loop of his masterful, 10-inning victory in Game Seven in 1991. His opponent that day, John Smoltz, was impressive too and could rate as an honorable mention here.

8. Curt Schilling, 2004 American League Championship Series: Like Podres, Schilling helped his team break a long spell of postseason futility. And he did so with panache, winning Game Six of the ALCS for Boston while pitching with a sock bloodied from an ankle injury. The image is the baseball equivalent of Willis Reed limping through the tunnel to the NBA Finals.

9. Mickey Lolich, 1968 World Series: How did the Detroit Tigers beat Bob Gibson, his 1.12 regular season ERA, and his St. Louis Cardinals in 1968? By getting three wins from Lolich, including a Game Seven victory over Gibson.

10. Sandy Koufax, 1965 World Series: Koufax and his Dodgers had a forgettable Fall Classic in his final season, 1966, getting swept by the Orioles. The year before, however, Koufax shut out the Twins twice in leading Los Angeles to a seven-game victory.

Related: A collection of lists

What he did: In essence, Clemente transcended his era. Playing in a time when pitchers ruled, Clemente won four batting titles in a seven-year stretch in the 1960s and hit above .330 four times in the decade. He also won 12 consecutive Gold Gloves from 1961 through 1972 and was known for his cannon arm in right field. Much as he thrived and put together a Hall of Fame career in his day, imagine if Clemente played in an age better suited to his abilities.

Era he might have thrived in: Assuming we suspend debate over whether Clemente’s skin complexion would keep him from playing before 1947, he might have excelled with the Philadelphia Athletics in the early 1900s.

Why: There are a number of reasons I could see this working.

First off, the Deadball Era in general offered huge ballparks that would have suited Clemente’s spray contact hitting abilities and not hampered his defense, given his arm. In fact, I think Clemente might have stood out defensively in the time. He wouldn’t have won Gold Gloves, since the award wasn’t given out prior to 1957, but he’d probably still be remembered for his defense today. After all, Deadball Era first baseman Hal Chase got included in a book on the 100 greatest players of all-time in 1981 primarily for his fielding work. Clemente’s 266 career assists are lower than many Deadball Era outfielders, but I still have a hunch he’d thrive.

I also see Clemente working well with longtime A’s manager Connie Mack, a low-key gentleman who asked nothing less from his players. Mack might have welcomed a man as fine as Clemente, who died in a plane crash in 1972, transporting relief supplies to earthquake victims. Their temperaments would have suited one another.

Clemente also might have significantly upped his batting average playing in the Deadball Era. Depending on when he debuted, Clemente might hit .400, something he never did during his career. In real life, Clemente peaked at .357 in 1967, winning his fourth and final batting title in a year where the National League ERA was 3.38. On the A’s in 1901, when the American League ERA was 3.66, the Baseball-Reference.com converter tool shows Clemente hitting .410 for his 1967 season. Playing every year of his career on a team like those A’s, Clemente would hit .352 lifetime, 35 points better than his actual career average and fourth best all-time.

Last, but not least, here’s an interesting bit of trivia. On the 1901 A’s, assuming the converter is correct, Clemente and Nap Lajoie would be .400 hitting teammates. In all of baseball history, this has happened once, on the 1894 Philadelphia Phillies who boasted a .400-hitting outfield, hit .350 as a team, and still finished fourth. The A’s also finished fourth in 1901, employing a mostly forgettable outfield few modern fans would know. With Clemente in place, I’m guessing those A’s might have had a much more memorable year.

Any player/Any era is a Thursday feature here that looks at how a player might have done in an era besides his own.

Others in this series: Albert Pujols, Barry Bonds, Bob Caruthers, Dom DiMaggio, Fritz Maisel, George Case, Harmon Killebrew, Home Run Baker, Johnny Frederick, Josh Hamilton, Ken Griffey Jr., Nate Colbert, Pete Rose,Rickey Henderson, Sandy Koufax, Shoeless Joe Jackson, The Meusel Brothers, Ty Cobb

Here’s the latest from Joe Guzzardi, a regular Wednesday contributor here. Today, Joe provides some wonderful insight into Sal Maglie on the eve of his impressive, but losing, effort in Don Larsen’s perfect game in the 1956 World Series.

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Earlier this month while I was researching Sal Maglie for my post “Bring Back the High Hard One,” I came across the You Tube video from the television program What’s My Line? Maglie appears as the mystery guest.

I’ve since watched the video maybe a dozen times and noticed a few things that I missed the first time around. All provide interesting insights into that long ago baseball era and, specifically, to the famous 1956 Don Larsen-Maglie perfect game World Series match up.

The first thing I caught was Arlene Francis, in a reference to her fellow panelist Phil Rizzuto, ask Maglie if he would be worried about Scooter if he were still with the New York Yankees “where he belongs…”

This was a swipe at Yankee general manager George Weiss and Casey Stengel whose horrible treatment of Rizzuto angered the team’s fans.

On August 25, 1956, the Yankees in a most inglorious way released Rizzuto despite his outstanding career. The Yankees, having reacquired Enos Slaughter who had been with the team in 1954–55, summoned Rizzuto to the front office allegedly to discuss the postseason roster.

Weiss asked Rizzuto to review the current list of Yankee players and to suggest which ones might be cut to make room for Slaughter. For each name Rizzuto mentioned, Weiss offered a reason why that player had to be kept.

Finally, Rizzuto realized that he was the expendable player. For years, although Rizzuto never publicly complained, he harbored deep resentment toward the Yankees.

Back to What’s My Line?

When after very little time the panel identified Maglie, moderator John Daly suggested that the purpose for their blindfolds wasn’t because they would instantly recognize the famous Dodger pitcher but that Rizzuto would identify him by the suit he was wearing.

After a few more listens and more digging, I realized that Maglie bought his coat at All American Clothing, a men’s store in Bayonne, New Jersey where Rizzuto and other Yankees worked part time to make ends meet.

Can you imagine anyone in baseball today having a winter job in retail sales?

Finally, Bennett Cerf asked Maglie: “How about tomorrow, Sal?”

“Tomorrow,” I learned, was Monday, October 8, when Maglie pitched against Larsen in Game Five.

Interestingly, the Dodgers and Yankees had played a Sunday game. Maglie must have left the Dodger club house immediately after the fourth World Series game, gone to the CBS network (on a subway?) to participate in a prime time game show and then headed home to rest up before his start against the Yankees the next afternoon.

Maglie promised Cerf that he would “give ‘em all I’ve got,” and noted that the Yankees had “a great ball club” and “let the best team win.” In the series opener, Maglie had outpitched Whitey Ford, 6-3, tossing a complete game.

And Maglie certainly did give it his best. He held the Yankees to five hits, one a Mickey Mantle solo homer, and two earned runs. As we all know, it wasn’t enough.

But even some of the most avid Yankee rooters pulled for Sal. As Yankee fan Daly told Maglie at the end of the show, the only time he wants to see his team lose is when Sal pitches.

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Joe Guzzardi belongs to the Society for American Baseball Research, as well as the Internet Baseball Writers Association of America. Email him at guzzjoe@yahoo.com

When I was in seventh grade, I participated for the first time in an event called the 24 Hour Relay. Held at the track of a high school I later attended, the event had teams of ten students take turns running a mile. I was a fairly decent miler, as were a few of my friends on the team, and we wound up winning. Our victory was not without controversy, though, as a few of our teammates were accused of skipping laps in the dead of night. We protested vociferously, and our victory was upheld, but the teammates admitted privately a year or two later that they cheated. No one ever found out, so far as I know, but it tainted the achievement, at least for me.

I was reminded of this on Sunday as I listened on the radio as the San Francisco Giants clinched the National League West with a 3-0 win over the San Diego Padres. I grew up in Northern California and have been a Giants fan since I was old enough to cheer for them. I started going to Giants games just after the Battle of the Bay, had my young hopes crushed when they lost the NL West on the last day of the 1993 season, and then watched them soar to greater heights by the end of the decade. Their rise culminated with a trip to the 2002 World Series, but this wasn’t without controversy either, as several members of the team were implicated for using performance enhancing drugs, most notably megastar Barry Bonds. It tainted the achievement, at least for me.

Several years have passed now, the Giants have a completely different team. There is no Bonds on this team, no ragtag squad united a steroid-addled hulk. The feeling’s different with these guys, and their playoff berth doesn’t feel like a bogus, non-achievement. It feels honorable, decent. I don’t know what the Giants will do in the playoffs (Atlanta? Philadelphia after? yikes) but if they don’t go any further, I’m proud of what they have done.

Now if only I can reunite my friends for another rendition of the 24 Hour Relay.

Here’s the latest guest post from Joe Guzzardi, a regular contributor here. Every Saturday for the past few months, Joe has been offering “Double the fun,” looking at one memorable doubleheader each week. This will be the final edition of the column until next baseball season.

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Pitch count fanatics take note.

On September 26, 1908 the Chicago Cubs’ “Big” Ed Reulbach pitched two complete game shut outs, allowing only eight hits, in both ends of a double header against the arch rival Brooklyn Supurbas. Reulbach prevailed 5-0 and 3-0. The nightcap took 1:12.

For good measure, Reulbach followed up with a 6-0 October 1 shut out at Cincinnati before ending his season with another win over the Reds on October 3, 16-2.

The Cubs along with the Pittsburgh Pirates and New York Giants were locked in a tight pennant race. With the Chicago pitching staff worn out, Reulbach stepped up to help the Cubs finish first and go on to its last winning World Series appearance by knocking off the Detroit Tigers, 4-1.

By the time the Cubs got to the series, Reulbach was worn out, too. The Tigers knocked him out in the seventh inning of the first game which the Cubs eventually won in a 10-6 slugfest. In game three, Reulbach pitched one scoreless inning in relief in the Cubs only loss, 8-3.

Cut from the same cloth as Christy Mathewson, Reulbach was an outstanding dead ball era hurler on the field. Off it, like Mathewson, Reulbach promoted clean living and followed his own advice.

Although he never received a single Hall of Fame vote, Reulbach’s career statistics are imposing. Over Reulbach’s 13-year career, he posted a 182-106 record with a 2.28 ERA

Reulbach hurled two one-hitters, six two-hitters, and 13 three-hitters. In 1906, his best year (24-7; 2.03), Reulbach yielded 5.33 hits per nine innings, still the third-lowest ratio of all time. Reulbach also gave up fewer hits than innings pitched in each of his 13 seasons.

Reulbach’s post-baseball years were a mix of professional success and personal tragedy. Reulbach earned a Columbia University law degree and became one of the founding directors of the Baseball Fraternity, the forerunner of the Player’s Union. In 1945, Reulbach copyrighted the “Leadership Development Plan” that rotated a team’s captain among all nine players, one inning at a time, to encourage team effort.

According to Cubs’ teammate Johnny Evers, Reulbach was always “five years ahead of his time in baseball thought.”

In 1976, 14 years after Reulbach’s death, Esquire Magazine published baseball writer Harry Stein’s “All Time, All Star Argument Starter” that consisted of five ethnic teams. Stein named Reulbach the Jewish right handed starting pitcher.

Unfortunately for Stein and in what serves as a glowing example to journalists everywhere to research carefully and completely, Reulbach was not Jewish but a Roman Catholic who pitched at University of Notre Dame and is buried in Immaculate Conception Cemetery.

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Joe Guzzardi belongs to the Society for American Baseball Research, as well as the Internet Baseball Writers Association of America. Email him at guzzjoe@yahoo.com

What he did: During a Baseball Think Factory forum discussion about my piece on Shoeless Joe Jackson last week, a member referenced Caruthers. The member wrote:

I wish this guy would do Parisian Bob Caruthers. A modern World Series, before the expanded playoffs, would have suited him down to the ground; he could have been Reggie Jackson and Jack Morris in the same series. Obviously in a regular season he’d have to pace himself and so would be less spectacular, but in a short series he might well be uniquely responsible for his side’s victory.

In his career spanning 1884-1893, Caruthers went 218-99 as a pitcher, leading the American Association with 40 wins two times. He also hit .282 lifetime as a sometime outfielder, twice hitting better than .330 and even stealing 49 bases and hitting 11 triples in 1887. As I told the member, I’m happy to feature Caruthers.

Era he could have thrived in: One of my regular readers pointed out that at 5’7″ and 130 pounds, Caruthers might not make the majors today. But with the 2002 World Series champion Anaheim Angels, I think Caruthers could have been an outfield equivalent of another 5’7″ player, David Eckstein. Only Caruthers might add pitching ability to the mix.

Why: Offensively, Eckstein is everything Caruthers could hope to be, a little guy undrafted out of high school and a walk-on in college who’s put together a 10-season career with a .281 lifetime average. Eckstein’s proof ballplayers needn’t always be 6’2″ and 200 pounds, though I’m guessing Caruthers might bulk up to somewhere around Eckstein’s 175 pounds. Each man also boasts reasonable speed.

Pitching-wise, I figure Caruthers was good enough in his day to qualify for at least a bullpen spot or occasional start today. Granted, the 1880s offered vastly inferior talent, particularly in the American Association where Caruthers did best, so I don’t know if he would win 20 today or how his velocity would project. But it seems illogical a man could be an ace in one era and not even big league material in another (the forum member likened Caruthers to Eddie Plank in an email he sent me.) I’d venture the Nationals, Pirates, and Royals have done worse than Caruthers in recent years. If they had a time traveling phone booth, à la Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure and plucked Caruthers off a latter day mound, they might improve.

The question remains: Would Caruthers provide World Series heroics? Eckstein did. After modest success in the 2002 divisional playoffs and American League Championship Series, Eckstein hit .310 in the series, scoring six runs as the Angels triumphed. Could Caruthers compare? While I don’t know much about Caruthers beyond his stats, his Baseball-Reference bio mentions he pitched the winning game in the 1886 equivalent of the World Series, after posting mixed results in earlier games. So who knows. I will say that I think clutch ability is one of the few things in baseball that projects no matter the era. If Caruthers had it then, he’d have it now.

There’s one other thing worth mentioning. John Thorn, a prolific baseball author and an expert on baseball’s early days, mentioned Caruthers in an email exchange we had in July about players who pitched and hit. In preparing for this post, I emailed Thorn on Monday, and he replied, “If you like Bob Caruthers, you’ll love Guy Hecker. Check him out.”

At 6’0″ and 190 pounds, Hecker had size, and at quick glance, he might be the only player besides Babe Ruth to lead the league in both ERA and batting average. In the modern era, I suppose Hecker might eclipse Eckstein and Caruthers.

Any player/Any era is a Thursday feature here that looks at how a player might have done in an era besides his own.

Others in this series: Albert Pujols, Barry Bonds, Dom DiMaggio, Fritz Maisel, George Case, Harmon Killebrew, Home Run Baker, Johnny Frederick, Josh Hamilton, Ken Griffey Jr., Nate Colbert, Pete Rose, Rickey Henderson, Sandy Koufax, Shoeless Joe Jackson, The Meusel Brothers, Ty Cobb

Here’s the latest guest post from Joe Guzzardi, a regular Wednesday and Saturday contributor here. Today’s post centers on a notoriously terrible ball club. To any members of the Pittsburgh Pirates reading, Joe offers a prayer on how to get to another team and what happens when prayers are seemingly answered.

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Exactly a year ago, Matt Capps was a reviled relief pitcher on the Pittsburgh Pirates. Capps, along with the rest of the Bucs, had suffered through a miserable season that ended with 99 losses. But since Capps was the closer and underperformed with a 4-8, 5.80 ERA, he was subjected to more than his share of fan abuse and media scorn.

Then, in the off season, a miracle befell Capps. When the Pirates didn’t tender Capps, he signed with the Washington Nationals.

Capps, whether revitalized because he was lifted from the heavy burden of playing for the Pirates, overjoyed to be reunited with former Pirate refugees Nyjer Morgan and Sean Burnett or whether he simply regained his earlier skills (2006: 9-1; 3.78, 2007: 4-7; 2.28, 2008: 2-3; 3.02) isn’t clear.

Whatever the reason, Capps (3-3; 2.74 with 26 saves) was the only Nat named to the All-Star Game. Then, just as Capps must have been thinking that he was the luckiest player alive to have escaped Pittsburgh and suddenly become a member of the baseball elite, an even bigger miracle took place.

The cellar dwelling Nats traded Capps to the then-pennant contending and now American League Central champion Minnesota Twins, an odds-on favorite to reach and possibly win the World Series.

Capps has proved his worth. Since arriving in Minnesota, he’s 1-0, 2.25 ERA with 15 saves.

Imagine: in less than a year, Capps went from the 18-consecutive losing seasons Pirates to a post-season World Series contender!

I’m happy for Capps. During the baseball season, I’m a PNC Park tour guide for the Pirates. Capps tirelessly signed autographs for the school kids when they visited the park. He graciously signed their shirts, shoes, baseball cards, backpacks. In fact, all the Pirates are great with the fans.

But imagine the impact on the less lucky, remaining Pirates when they see their teammates like Capps, former National League batting champion Freddy Sanchez, Javier Lopez, Nate McLouth, Adam LaRoche, Jason Bay and others land on first division teams.

I imagine them every night on bended knees praying to be traded before their productive playing days end.

Anywhere they might land is a step up.

The Baltimore Orioles, for example, were the American League East’s punching bag for the season’s first months. Under Buck Showalter, the Orioles are reborn.

Consider the Astros. They spent April, May and the first week of June looking up at the Pirates and the rest of the National League Central Division. Since June 4, the Astros have won almost as many games–54– as the Pirates have all season (55).

The Cincinnati Reds trailed the Pirates for a large part of 2009 before pulling away at the end of the season to finish 78-84. On the final game of the year, the Reds shut out the Pirates, 6-0.

The Pirates and Reds picked up in 2010 exactly where they left off: the Reds climbed all the way to first place and division champion and the Pirates plunged down to the worst team in baseball.

Only five games remain in the 2010 season until the Pirates go their separate ways.

They’ll head home, possibly with a detour to their local church, where they’ll offer this plea: “Please, Lord, I promise a lifetime of good works if you get me out of Pittsburgh.”

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Joe Guzzardi belongs to the Society for American Baseball Research as well as the Internet Baseball Writers Association of America. Email him at guzzjoe@yahoo.com