Destined to be a Yankee

Posted About Three Months Ago

Charles Jeter answered the phone and handed it to his son. “Derek, you’re going to be a Yankee,” said the voice on the other end. Derek could not believe it.” Neither could the rest of the baseball world. Derek quickly called Michigan Baseball Head Coach Bill Freehan, a former 11 time All-Star catcher with the Detroit Tigers, told him the particulars, and said four words, “What should I do?” Freehan answered with four words of his own, “You’ve got to sign.” Derek Jeter signed a New York Yankee contract on June 28, 1992, just two days after his 18^th birthday. The amount was for $800,000. Jeter had become the first high school player selected in the 1992 Major League draft. It would become the pick of a lifetime. So, sit back, relax, put your feet up, and let me tell you the incredible story of how Derek Jeter became a Yankee.

Derek Sanderson Jeter was born June 26, 1974, with good genes. In the late 1960’s, his dad, Charles, an African-American from Alabama, had played shortstop and second base at Fisk University located in Nashville, Tennessee. After Fisk, Charles moved to New Jersey were he met his future bride-to-be. She was of Irish descent, white, and her name was Dorothy. They moved their family to Kalamazoo, Michigan, when Derek was four. Charles Jeter taught his son many things, but through it all, Derek Jeter was better then everyone else the first day he played at anything.

He was tall, and very skinny; some said he had to run around in the shower just to get wet. Derek was the leader of his team at shortstop. He was quiet, respectful, and said “yes sir” and “no sir.” When others were heading to the mall, he was going to the baseball diamond to play catch. Derek Jeter hit over .500 and only struck out once in 23 games, his senior year of high school. His hands were educated and soft like cotton candy. His footwork labeled him as a tap dancer, a Gregory Hines at shortstop. He played basketball in high school to stay in shape for baseball, and he predicted two things: “When I grow up, I’m going to play for the New York Yankees and marry Mariah Carey.”

The University of Michigan, Notre Dame, and The University of Miami all offered him a scholarship to continue his education, while playing baseball for them. Dot Jeter wanted her son to go to Notre Dame, while Derek leaned towards Miami, but then he met Bill Freehan of Michigan and changed his mind. Michigan was coming off of probation and the program was down.

But lying like a snake in the grass was New York Yankee scout Dick Groch. One story had Groch telling a Michigan State recruiter who was adding Jeter’s name to a mailing list, “You’d better save your postage; that kid’s not going to school, he’s going to Cooperstown.” Groch later said that Ken Griffey Jr. had been the best he had ever seen in high school until he saw Jeter. Now, he placed them right there together. There was only one problem, the New York Yankees picked sixth in the draft. No one in their wildest dreams thought Jeter would be there when it came time for the Bombers to pick.

Here’s how the June 1, 1992, draft would commence. The Houston Astros owned the first pick. They also knew there were some issues with their starting third baseman, Ken Caminiti, and the use of steroids. Infielder Phil Nevin from Cal State Fullerton had been named the College Player of the Year. Houston Scouting Director, Dan O’Brian, liked both Nevin and Jeter and felt that their scout Hal Newhouser was right about Jeter. Bob Watson, Houston’s Assistant General Manager, leaned toward Nevin, a college kid versus a high school kid. The Astros felt that Jeter would be easier to sign, but owner John McMullen wanted someone who would move through their system more quickly. They called Jeter’s advisor, Steve Caruso and asked what it would take to sign Jeter. The answer: $750,000 to $800,000, not a bad price for the Number One pick. The Astros made their choice.

Former pitcher and now Astros scout, Hal Newhouser, took the call from his boss, Dan O’Brian, upstairs. “Well, I’m through,” he said to his wife when he came down the stairs. “They picked Nevin.” Newhouser never spent another day in baseball after that, except when he was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame later that same summer. He was beside himself with the Astros’ decision. “He’s the best I’ve ever seen,” said Newhouser. Hal never used a radar gun. He didn’t need a gun to tell him that Jeter threw fast. Other scouts with radar guns said he topped out at 90 mph from shortstop to first base. Turns out Hal didn’t need stat sheets or box scores either. The Houston Astros had lost 97 games during the 1991 season, and that’s one of the reasons Newhouser had been hired to scout for their team. Hal had made the long round trip from Bloomfield to Kalamazoo to see young Derek Jeter play in high school numerous times, all with joy. “I don’t know if Derek will play shortstop or end up in centerfield. Either way, he’s going to play in the Majors for 20 years,” exclaimed Newhouser.

The second pick was owned by the Cleveland Indians. In 1989, the Tribe had just signed Jim Thome and Manny Ramirez, and they were in dire need of pitching. A big hard-throwing right-hander named Paul Shuey, a pitcher from the University of North Carolina, was right there for the choosing. They took Shuey.

The third pick belonged to the Montreal Expos who also needed pitching. They liked left-hander B. J. Wallace of Mississippi State University. Wallace went north to Canada with the Expos.

The fourth pick rested with the Baltimore Orioles. With Cal Ripken Jr. at shortstop the O’s grabbed up power-hitting outfielder, Jeffery Hammonds, of Stanford University.

Pick number five fell to the Cincinnati Reds. They wanted Jeter but future Hall-of-Fame shortstop Barry Larkin was in the way. They chose the next best player in outfielder Chad Mottola, from the University of Central Florida.

George Steinbrenner had been banned for life from day-to-day operations of the Yankees by Commissioner Fay Vincent, for paying Howie Spira $40,000 to spy on Derek Jeter’s idol, Dave Winfield. Nevertheless, George made it clear that he still owned the team and he approved Jeter as their pick if he fell that far. The Yankees were in need of some luck as they had not been in the playoffs since 1981. “Captain Luck” was staring them right in the face with the sixth pick. Anthony Robbins once said, “You see, in life, lots of people know what to do; but few people actually do what they know. Knowing isn’t enough. You must take action.”

And so it began with the sixth pick of the 1992 draft. Kevin Elfering, the Assistant Scouting Coordinator, and Director of Minor League Operations for the New York Yankees had never seen Derek Jeter play. All he was required to do was say, “Derek Sanderson Jeter of Kalamazoo Central,” and he was a Yankee. Unbelievably, the best baseball player in the land fell to the New York Yankees.

In about 40 days, Derek Jeter will begin his 19^th season in pinstripes. He has collected 3,304 hits, five Gold Gloves, and five World Series rings, all while playing in 12 All-Star Games. To think, he could have been a Houston Astro. All they had to do was say his name into the telephone. What a difference it might have made, especially since Houston will now play in the American League.

Andy Purvis is a local author. His books "In the Company of Greatness" and "Remembered Greatness" are on the shelves at the local Barnes and Noble, at Beamer's Sports Grill 5922 S Staples, and online at many different sites including Amazon, bn.com, booksamillion, Google Books, etc. They are also available in e-reader format. Contact him at www.purvisbooks.com, orandy.purvis@grandecom.net.

Baseball Royalty

Posted About Three Months Ago

Winston Churchill once said, “The farther backward you can look, the farther forward you will see.” This fellow must be able to see for miles. He never acted his age his whole life. He was born mature and remained young. The heavens are weeping today in Houston, Texas, because 84-year-old Milo Hamilton announced he will be retiring from the daily broadcasting of the Houston Astros at the end of the 2012 season. I had tears the size of hubcaps streaming down my face. We became friends over the years. For some of us, baseball is life. He realized that the only thing we get to decide in life is what to do with the time we are given. I believe he has used his time wisely. He always believed that the best announcing does not come from your memory; it comes from living through your experiences. And he had experience in spades.

I wondered about the places he’s been, the players he’s interviewed and the scores of fans he’s entertained. For most of us, he’s Uncle Milo. He was family; he came into our homes 162 times a year, until these last couple of years. He doesn’t travel as much as he once did. I even listened to his call when I was at the Astros game. He always stirred my imagination. One of the secrets of baseball is that you play almost every day. Therefore redemption was only hours away. Milo used the game to help people discover themselves. They could use those discoveries to confront anything in their life. Baseball is a teacher; it reveals your heart and soul and the game is designed to reveal it to you.

There will never be another like him as far as I’m concerned; I love the old man. As he got older, he began to look tired, frail, and almost sickly until he found his way into the announcer booth or onto the field of play. It was like flipping a switch. A microphone made his eyes light up like lanterns. The game simply turned him on. Milo could sing “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” and make you laugh. He walked every day into his radio booth intoxicated by the promise of that day’s game. He didn’t like being surprised; he studied and saved his information in a satchel that may have been as old as him. He loved baseball so much; even his computer wore batting gloves. No one wanted to talk to Milo Hamilton about another announcer or player; they wanted to talk about Milo Hamilton. The longer an announcer stays with the same team the more the fans identify with that team. Fathers, sons, and sons of sons, all become a part of his history.

There I sat in the booth next to his; looking out at the glory of Minute Maid Park, home of the Houston Astros. The sun was setting in the west and the afternoon shadows moved across the field like a first baseman creeping toward home plate with the bunt sign on. So this is what he sees, far different than from my regular season seats, or so I thought. How untrue. His educated eyes could fill books with the magic of the grand old game. Most of us know about his calls of eleven no-hitters, the grand slams, and historic home runs. For sixty-seven years, he opened his scorecard and charted baseball history. He taught us how to figure batting averages, told us how players got their nicknames and why. He described routine double-plays, the importance of a bunt single, why stealing third increases the chances of scoring by nine, and the reason so many players strike out looking. He taught us about Uncle Charlie, twin killings, chin music, and frozen ropes. Seeing-Eye singles, right down Kirby and “Holy Toledo, what a play!” became his signature calls. Every play reminded him of days gone by, when only the player, the city, and the circumstances were different. I would love to see through his eyes, if only for a moment. Listening to him call a game made me feel like a hundred dollar bill in a two dollar wallet. Writer Phil Hirsh once wrote, “Baseball is the only game you can see on the radio.” Milo made it easy for all of us. His canyon deep voice was unmistakable. He was always “in” the game. You could never tell by his tone of voice whether his team was behind or ahead. Everybody wanted to be connected, to be a part of him. Let’s call that a professional.

Baseball looks so easy to play from your seat. It is, in fact, the hardest of them all. I know I can’t run the hundred yard dash in under ten seconds. I can’t jump high enough to dunk a basketball; but let a ground ball go through the shortstops legs, and I’m all over that guy like horseflies on spareribs. I know I could have caught it. The game also moves at a pace where a grandfather can talk about what’s happening on the field with his grandson. They see and experience virtually the same game. Milo taught me how to score a game, what to look for, how to anticipate a great play. He gave us a history lesson every night and allowed us to dream about what it would be like to play Major League baseball. All words seemed better to me when spoken by Milo Hamilton.

He lost his wife, Arlene, a few years back, and now his days in the booth are numbered. Every man needs someone to tell him how wonderful he is or that they did well or said the right thing. It may be the wife’s number one job. Without Arlene and baseball, what does he have left? He has us, legions of fans who grew up listening to him.

As we sat together at Minute Maid Park, I saw him stare at the field as if he were lost in thought. The one thing we can never do is get inside a person’s head completely. No one knows exactly what you’re thinking. A lot of people don’t want to be different and, if they are, they hide it so no one judges them badly. Will Roger once said, “You wouldn’t worry so much what people thought about you if you knew how seldom they did.” What you saw was what you got with Milo. Not many of us find our true place in life; that does not hold true for Milo Hamilton. I can’t imagine him doing anything else.

Milo has been a part of the Dennis & Andy’s Q & A Session radio show for over fifteen years. Twice every year he joined us on the air, live from Houston, Texas. My partner Dennis Quinn always referred to our interviews as “Milo unplugged.” On two different occasions, we took our show on the road to Minute Maid Park, and Milo was nice enough to join us there, in the booth, talking baseball. We talked old school baseball; from “Stan the Man” and “Hammerin’ Hank” to “The Ryan Express.” We covered everything from the disappearance of the hook slide to the tragedy of steroids and everything in between. There is never a time I did not learn something. It has been said that the greatest classroom often lies at the feet of the elderly. How true.

Milo was inducted into the Broadcast Wing of the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1992. He was inducted into the National Radio Hall of Fame in 2000. He has been an announcer for 67 years. His first job in Major League baseball started in 1953, with the St. Louis Browns. He has also announced for six other Major League clubs.

I once told him how much he was loved as I was leaving his company. We had spent some time together in a suite at Whataburger Field, home of the Corpus Christi Hooks, the Class AA affiliate of the Astros. I think it may have surprised him. He didn’t know how to respond, but he smiled. I’m absolutely sure he knows he’s loved, but does not hear it enough. We are always more appreciative of something we had and have now lost.

During our most recent interview that occurred last week, Milo informed us that he would stay on with the Astros as a consultant to the owner, Jim Crane, for the next three years. “Seventy years in baseball is the rabbit I’m chasing now,” said Milo. Crane will also give him a chance to call a game or two and perhaps create a day during the week where we can relive the memories of Milo Hamilton and this great game. He will also travel with the team to new parks that he has not yet visited.

Milo will be visiting Corpus Christi on January23, 2013. He will be receiving a Lifetime Achievement Award at the Hooks Winter Baseball Banquet held at the Omni Hotel. I can’t wait to see him then. Afterwards we will have a laugh or two and I’ll pick his brain and try like heck to see the past through his eyes. What wonderful visions of a great game.

Dreams Do Come True

Posted About Three Months Ago

He’s a local kid who would rather shoot the three. “I loved playing basketball, but being less than six feet tall, I knew my chances were better in baseball,” he said. A fine looking kid with a built in fire to get the job done; he was just one of the many hardball jewels that had been dug up and polished in the Sparkling City by the Sea. Players like him are part of the reason the Coastal Bend is listed as one of the richest areas for baseball talent in America. Major League players like Nolan Ryan, Bart Shirley, Doug Drabek, Ron Gant, Burt Hooten, Rocky Bridges, Bobby Cuellar, fellow Carroll graduate Brooks Kieschnick, and Jessie Garcia are just a few of the many that came before him. Current players like Mark Williamson, Mike Gonzales, Mark Blackmar, David Freese, and Mike Adams, now take their turn in the professional baseball ranks.

This fellow is an infielder with a slingshot right arm and the grit to turn it loose. Only two things scared him, losing and not winning. Carroll Head Coach Lee Yeager dreamed of athletes like Cliff. “He was the kind of player that made you want to coach,” said Yeager. Cliff Pennington Jr. graduated from Mary Carroll High School while a scholarship to Texas A&M awaited his signature. His junior year as an Aggie would find him batting .363 while scouts began to take notice. Cliff Pennington was a grinder and the only thing faster than his bat speed was his feet. His middle name should have been “triples” instead of Randolph; the kid could outrun raindrops. The scouting reports listed him as patient at the plate, fast, athletic, good glove, an everyday shortstop with upside. Pennington was drafted in the 1st round of the 2005 MLB draft by the Oakland A’s. By 2008, at the age of 24, he made his big league debut. Dreams really do come true.

Cliff Pennington joined me and my longtime partner, Dennis Quinn on the radio, Tuesday night, November 20, 2012, on “Dennis & Andy’s Q & A Session,” broadcast weekly on ESPN 1440 KEYS. Pennington, now in his fifth year, was the starting shortstop for the 2012 American League Western Division champion Oakland Athletes. “No one saw us coming.” said Cliff. “I know people say it all the time, but we really just focused on ourselves and tried to get better every day.” Oakland finished September and the first week of October with a 20-11 win-loss record, by sweeping the vaunted Texas Rangers out of first place and into a wild-card spot. “When it became clear that we could win the division with a sweep of the Rangers, things got fun. Our pitching staff, especially the bullpen, was incredible,” said Cliff. “Bob Melvin, the 2012 American League Manager of the Year, made all the right decisions by placing everyone on that pitching staff in a position to be successful.” The Oakland A’s, along with the Baltimore Orioles, would produce the best stories of the year in baseball. When we asked Cliff about the movie “Moneyball” and what kind of liberties Hollywood may have taken with the story, his response was interesting. “Well that 20-game win streak in Oakland happened before I got there, but some of the core beliefs are still in place. We place a lot of emphasis on on-base percentage, and getting outs instead of batting average and stolen bases. A walk and a double will yield the same result as three singles, a run scored,” exclaimed Pennington. “As for General Manager Billy Beane, I understand that he still does not watch the games. He works out or finds something else to do and gets the results by phone. He’s a pretty intense guy.”

The Oakland Athletics, with the 29^th lowest payroll in the Majors and the co-owner of the second best record in the American League at 94-68, earned the right to meet Jim Leyland and his Detroit Tigers. Although Oakland pitched and played well, they fell to the Tigers three games to two in the playoffs and their season was over.

“How did you find out you were traded and how did you react?” I asked. “I was at a Texas A&M football game and I could not hear my cell phone ring. My agent had called several times and finally texted me to call him right away, I had been traded. For the next several minutes, as I tried to make my way out of the stands to a place where my cell would work, my mind was racing. I had been traded and did not know where. When he told me Arizona, I immediately thought about the results we had when we played them in interleague that season. We went into Phoenix with an eight game win streak, and they swept us. We left and started another eight-game win streak. You are always concerned when you’re traded, but I knew this was a good team,” said Pennington. “Then I thought about how much better it would be to hit at Chase Field, it’s a bigger park, and I love National League pitching.” We enjoyed our twenty minutes with Cliff and wished him well. I think Cliff has this figured out, and we hope his dream continues.

Coach Lee Yeager had told me in advance that there was a possibility that Cliff Pennington may have his high school number retired. Yeager made me promise not to tell Cliff. I kept my promise. It has just been announced that Cliff Pennington’s #7 will be retired by Mary Carroll High School on February 2, 2013. The ceremony will include an autograph signing by Cliff as well as other events. Stay tuned to your local sports broadcast for further information. Congratulations Cliff from your friends at ESPN Corpus. That’s one dream down and several more to go.

Earl of Baltimore

Posted About Three Months Ago

How do you satisfy a manager who’s not satisfied by anything but perfection? He was so undone by loss. After defeat, his face looked like he had just eaten a really big lemon, and he could get madder than a mosquito in a mannequin factory. He spoke through unclean lips and would rather curse than spit. He enjoyed kicking dirt on home plate or an umpire’s shoe as much as he liked playing golf. He was short (five feet, six inches), fiery, and a showman without peers. When his cap wasn’t turned around backwards or sideways, the “O” on the front could have stood for outrageous. Friends and players used words like passionate, father figure, winner, brilliant and relentlessly entertaining to describe him. Umpires used words like hothead, irate, nut job, and crazy. He imposed his will and hated umpires. They hated him back. He was a hard guy to like but easy to respect. Watching him bait an umpire was like two grizzlies fighting over a salmon. He was once ejected from both games of a doubleheader.

He knew that baseball was a subtle game. Sometimes one pitch, one call or one hit can change the game completely. At game time, he was seated but already squirming. In baseball, the anticipation is everything. It’s like waiting for Christmas. What you like most about it is not so much what you get, but the buildup is the real gift, the worry and wonder, the anticipation. His players fed off of his energy. It was like he had an extra motor. A wiry bunch of nerves and muscle, he was so smart; he was always playing chess when everyone else around him was playing checkers. Arguing with this guy was like wrestling with a pig in the mud. After awhile you realized the pig was enjoying it.

Earl Weaver was Zeus with a lightning bolt, and he had no issues with bringing down fire and brimstone on umpires. He was just smarter and always ahead of the game. Weaver versus umpires was hostile, like Grant against Lee. He seemed to own a pocket full of miracles. It was always an empty feeling when you looked into the opposing dugout and there stood Earl Weaver. You realized you may be at a disadvantage before the game even started. Writers loved him because he was so funny.

Earl Sidney Weaver was born in St. Louis, Missouri, on August 14, 1930. He played baseball at Beaumont High School. In 1948, he signed a contract with the hometown St. Louis Cardinals, as a second baseman. For the next several years, Earl worked his way up in the Texas League and landed with the Houston Buffaloes in 1951. By 1956, Earl found himself managing the Knoxville Smokies of the South Atlantic League. In 1957, you could find Weaver managing the Orioles’ Minor League team in the Georgia-Florida League located in Fitzgerald, Georgia. Earl moved in 1958 to Dublin, Georgia, and then again in 1959 to Aberdeen, South Dakota. The Wisconsin Fox City Foxes of the Class-B Independent League called Earl Weaver their manager in 1960. In 1962, Earl was promoted to the Double-A Elmira Pioneers and then promoted again to the Rochester Red Wings, the Triple-A club of the Baltimore Orioles, in 1966. Along the way, Earl played in 1,431 games in the Minor Leagues with the Cardinals, Pirates, and Orioles. Earl’s teams won three Minor League Championships. He also sold used cars in the off-season and could talk anybody into anything. Although he never played in the big leagues, Earl Weaver joined the Baltimore Orioles as a first-base coach at the beginning of the 1968 season. By July 7, 1968, Weaver had replaced former O’s Manager Hank Bauer as manager. He would stay for 17 years.

On October 6, 1986, Earl Weaver said to the Washington Post, “I’m the sorest loser that every lived. That’s what I want written on my tombstone.” Weaver understood that one of the secrets of baseball is what’s next. The pauses permit conversation. It’s a game of limitless possibilities and the odds of failure are enormous. We don’t know anymore about what will happen than we know about life. Even the best fail seven out of ten times. It’s a game of democracy; you can be any size or color or nationality. It’s a fair game and, no matter how hard the owners try to screw it up, it just keeps going on and on.

Earl always claimed that if he had instant replay when he managed, it would have saved him from a lot of embarrassment. Weaver and umpires mixed together like water and oil. Their conflicts became the greatest show on earth. Twice he was thrown out of a game by umpire Ron Luciano, before the game started. Once after an altercation with an umpire, Earl stormed back to the dugout screaming, “I’m going to check the rule book on that.” The ump yelled, “Here, use mine.” Weaver shouted back, “That’s no good, I can’t read Braille.” Weaver hated most umpires but especially Marty Springstead, Joe Brinkman, Don Denkinger and Ron Luciano. One time in 1973, while Weaver was arguing with Luciano, Earl threw his cap on the ground. Don Denkinger, Luciano crewmate, walked over and stepped on Weaver’s cap with his sharp spikes and slowly twisted it back and forth. Writer Tom Verducci claims that umpire Bill Haller once said, “When Weaver dies, the family will have to pay for pallbearers.” Weaver was ejected a total of 98 times in his career.

ESPN reporter and baseball writer, Tim Kurkjian, once wrote, when the Orioles were playing the Tigers in 1986 and Baltimore starter John Habyan had just been brought up from the Minor Leagues, John proceeded to walk the first four Tigers before Weaver pulled him. After the game Kurkjian asked Earl, “So, Habyan was a little off with his control, huh?” Weaver said, “Yeah, I guess home plate at Triple-A is 17 feet wide instead of 17 inches, and the players must all be eight feet tall.” This next story is my favorite. It seems that it was Earl Weaver Day at Memorial Stadium in Baltimore, and the Orioles had Earl riding on the back of a convertible waving to the crowd. As the umpires watched, this one umpire leaned over to the others and said, “If there is a God, that little SOB will fall off the back of that convertible and get run over.” Another story finds a slumping Al Bumby heading to chapel one Sunday when he heard Weaver say, “Al, take your bat.” Kurkjian also wrote about a mediocre outfielder for the Orioles named Pat Kelly. Pat was a fine Christian young man and wanted one day to become a minister. Once after Kelly had struck out with the bases loaded, Weaver flew into a rage. When Kelly got back to the dugout he said, “Earl, “I hope you walk with the Lord one day.” Weaver, with his head always in the game responded, “I hope you walk with the bases loaded one day!”

Weaver always smoked Raleigh cigarettes in the tunnel to the clubhouse and claimed “Every time I fail to smoke a cigarette between innings, the opposition will score.” Earl would position himself at the corner of the dugout closest to the runway to the clubhouse, so he could sneak a smoke. Closer Don Stenhouse for the Orioles was always referred to by manager Earl Weaver as “Full Pack,” as if saying Weaver smoked a full pack of cigarettes while watching Stenhouse pitch.

While managing the O’s, Weaver hosted a radio show called “The Manager’s Corner.” His partner was Orioles’ play-by-play announcer, Tom Marr. He has also written three books: Weaver on Strategy (1984), It’s What You Learn After You Know It All That Counts (1983), and Winning (1972). One of his favorite sayings was, “If you know how to cheat, start now.” Earl Weaver hated mental mistakes. He did not care for the DL (Disabled List). He called it the Dead List, “If I can’t use them, then they are dead to me.” He quoted Shakespeare, grew tomatoes, claimed a seven handicap in golf, bet the horses, and played gin rummy.

Someone once said, “Wisdom does not always come with age. Sometimes age just shows up by itself.” When Earl retired, he commented, “Just once, I want to see the sky turn to dusk without the stadium lights coming on.” Weaver got credit for pioneering the use of the radar gun to measure pitchers’ velocity, during the 1975 Spring Training season. He won three Manager-of-the-Year Awards. Earl Weaver managed in the big leagues for a total of 17 years, from 1968-1982 and 1985-1986. Baltimore retired his # 4 at the end of the 1982 season. He returned after a short rest in 1985 and retired for good after the 1986 season. It was the worst year in his career. At that time, things were too bad to be exaggerated. “We’re so bad right now that for us to hit back-to-back home runs means one today and another one tomorrow,” exclaimed Weaver. The last game he managed occurred on October 5, 1986.

Between his stints as manager, Earl became a color commentator for ABC television. He called the 1983 World Series with Al Michaels and Howard Cosell. He later called the 1984 National League Championship Series for ABC with Don Drysdale and Reggie Jackson, before returning to the Orioles as manager again.

Several of Earl’s players commented. “If he has to bite you to win a game, he will,” said Dennis Martinez. Sammy Stewart said, “Having Earl as manager gives us a four-game lead on anybody.” The great players always reflect on what they have, not what they don’t have. For six months a year they were gods in wool uniforms, and the other six months they sold cars and hardware.

Weaver’s philosophy on how to win could be summed up like this: “Pitching, defense, and the three-run homer. If you play for one run, that’s all you’ll get.” He also valued outs as if they were gold. “You only get 27 of them; don’t give then away by putting on the hit-and-run sign,” said Earl.

His larger-than-life statue stands seven feet tall and is located in the “Garden of Giants” behind the centerfield wall at Camden Yards, home to the Baltimore Orioles. The statue depicts him standing with both of his hands in his back pockets. Earl received a three-foot replica when his statue was unveiled.

Earl managed in 2,540 games and won 1,480 while losing 1,060. His 1,480 wins are the third most by any manager to never play in the big leagues, behind Joe McCarthy and Jim Leyland. Baltimore won 90 or more games 11 times, with Weaver in charge, and more than 100 games five times. His Oriole teams won six Eastern Division titles, four American League Pennants, and one World Series in 1970. He was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1996 by the Veterans’ Committee. Earl Weaver, “The Little Genius,” died at approximately 2 a.m. on January 18, 2013, of an apparent heart attack. Earl and his wife Marianna were guests on an Orioles’ fantasy cruise in the Caribbean Sea. He had experienced a mild attack in 1998, but recovered. He was 82 years old and living in Pembroke Pines, Florida.

Famous sports photographer, Charles M. Conlon once said, “The game which seems to breathe the restless spirit of American life, that calls for quick action and quicker thinking, that seems characteristic of a great nation itself, is baseball.” I wonder if Conlon knew about Weaver?