Capped

The Chicago Cubs are not having a good season. Their record, as of today, is third-worst in baseball; the injury bug has not been kind; bad multiyear contracts abound; the players in the bad contracts aren't good trade bait; they're owed too much money to release; you can't very well send them to the minors and bring up someone else, so all you can do is watch bad players lose again and again. Manager Mike Quade and general manager Jim Hendry are both on the hot seat. I have contemplated wearing a paper bag over my head.

But I'm a Cubs fan. It could be worse.

MLB Network likes to do what they call a Prime 9 list- a top-ten list, but with nine items. "Why nine? That's baseball. Nine players, nine innings, Prime 9." With apologies to them, here's my Prime 9- or Subprime 9, more to the point- of the darkest hours in Chicago Cubs history...

9. Sammy Sosa's role in the steroid era
8. The June Swoon, 1977-79
7. The College of Coaches
6. Ball goes through Leon Durham's legs in 1984 NLCS
5. The black cat at Shea Stadium heralding the collapse of 1969
4. Trading Lou Brock for Ernie Broglio
3. Curse of the Billy Goat placed
2. Steve Bartman's foul ball in 2003 NLCS
1. Cap Anson

Cap Anson was one of baseball's first all-time greats. He was the first man to reach 3,000 hits (though the exact number has long been in dispute), played a still-record 27 consecutive seasons (and was the only player to do so at all until Nolan Ryan), and pioneered such things as the third-base coach, spring training, the hit-and-run, and the pitching rotation. His name is still, to this day, featured prominently in the Cubs' record book.

Because of his skill, he was also a very influential racist.

In the 1880's, Reconstruction was on the ropes, as ex-Confederates in the south took any means they deemed necessary to restore their pre-Civil War way of life. And, of course, the pre-Civil War way of life entailed treating blacks as subhuman, and treating people who gave blacks basic humanity as an enemy to be dealt with harshly. The period was rapidly approaching, 1890-1940, that historian Rayford Logan described first as "the nadir of American race relations", a period that might make one wonder if the Civil War had actually settled anything at all.

It is in this environment that the first black player in major league history took the field. It wasn't Jackie Robinson; he would not break through until 1947, after the nadir had passed. In order for Robinson to break through the color barrier, someone had to have put it up.

And so we return to the 1880's. In 1883, Moses Fleetwood Walker signed as a catcher with the Toledo Blue Stockings. It should be noted that catchers did not have any of the equipment back then that they do today. There was no catcher's mask, no pads, not even a glove. Nobody had a glove. You were catching everything the pitcher threw barehanded. Catchers as a result proved a perpetually-endangered species by default. (Here is an 1889 photo of the hands of catcher Doug Allison. Either that year or the year after, Allison would become the first known catcher to don a glove.) Despite several prior years of strong play, Walker was subjected several times to opponents who refused to play if he was permitted on the field. Sometimes he was allowed to play. Sometimes he wasn't.

On August 10, 1883, the then-Chicago White Stockings, led by Anson, arrived in Toledo for an exhibition game. Anson, like the others before him, refused to play with Walker on the field.

Or, as Anson put it that day, "Get that n****r off the field!"

Anson relented only when told that the White Stockings would forfeit unless Walker was allowed to play-- "We'll play this game here, but we won't play never no more with the n****r in." The irony here is that Walker was scheduled to take an off day anyway, but after Anson spoke up, Walker was inserted. Not to make a statement, but rather to see if Anson would forfeit, and therefore, give up his share of the gate receipts.

Walker, who was suffering injury, played in right field. Chicago won 7-6; (PDF) Walker was the only Toledo player without a hit. He did, however, reach base on an error, scored a run, and was serviceable in right due to having a much better glove (so to speak) than bat.

The following year, Toledo had joined the professional ranks of the American Association, and would see the White Stockings again on July 25, but this time, Anson had procured an agreement in writing that Walker would not play. (Chicago won that game 10-8. Anson had a home run in the 4th.)

Walker was not in much of a position to perform in any case. His batterymate, pitcher Tony Mullane, also harbored racist tendencies. According to Mullane, "[Walker] was the best catcher I ever worked with, but I disliked a Negro and whenever I had to pitch to him I used anything I wanted without looking at his signals." As a result, Walker- the unpadded, ungloved catcher- was bombarded all season long with pitches he was not ready for, suffering a series of injuries, and ultimately being limited to 42 games. He batted .263 with 23 runs, two doubles and three triples. RBI's were not recorded. Despite the game limitation, Mullane's deliberate failures in communication caused Walker to lead the league in passed balls.

Walker would not get another chance for Toledo. While he could, with great difficulty, handle the prejudice of other players, Anson's influence was simply too strong. Even for the era, Anson's racism was, for lack of a better word, pioneering. People followed his example. There is dispute as to whether Walker's release at the end of the season was due to his injuries or due to the color barrier being put into place by the American Association.

Walker had not seen the last of Anson, though. He continued his career in the minor leagues, and in 1887, he turned up with the International League's Newark Little Giants, and drew a much friendlier arm: George Stovey, a fellow black player. They formed the first black battery in baseball history.

Stovey had had his own run-in with Anson during the offseason. The New York Giants made an attempt to sign Stovey for 1887. However, after Anson, who shared a league with the Giants, protested vehemently, the Giants relented. Newark claimed Stovey instead.

A few months of harsh treatment from fans later, the White Stockings arrived on July 11. Walker was off that day, but Stovey was set to pitch. Once again, upon seeing a black in uniform, Anson screamed "Get that n****r off the field!" But unlike in 1883, this time he would not back down for anything. Stovey, not wishing to embarrass Newark's management, faked an injury and was forced to the bench.

Cap Anson is not the only racist element in the formation of baseball's color barrier. That has already been shown, and ultimately, the owners could have signed whoever they wanted whether Anson liked it or not. But he was the opinion-driving straw that broke the camel's back. On the same day as Anson's forcing Stovey from the diamond, the International League voted 6-4 to institute what was in the day called the "gentleman's agreement" to not sign any new black players from their rosters. Over the next decade, all other professional leagues would do likewise. Despite winning 33 games, Stovey was released from Newark at the end of the season. (So was everyone else; Newark went bust in 1888.)

Anson was still not done with Walker. In 1888 and 1889, Walker, not a new black player, had found himself with the International League's Syracuse Stars. Anson's White Stockings turned up again in September 1888, and again Walker was forced to the bench.

Walker, for his part, was a shattered man after being so forcibly separated from baseball. He had been born on the Underground Railroad, and now he had been driven back from whence he came. He would try to find other pursuits- he obtained US Patent 458026 (PDF) in 1891 for an exploding artillery shell, applied for other patents on motion-picture equipment, even published a weekly newspaper- but ultimately, he could not escape the nadir of race relations. In April 1891, Walker was confronted and attacked by a group of whites in Syracuse. In self-defense, Walker pulled a knife and stabbed one of his assailants, Patrick Murray. The knife wound, entering Murray's groin, proved fatal. Now the whites wanted to kill Walker. He escaped, but was later arrested and charged with second-degree murder. In the nadir of race relations, especially in the South, a black could expect to be convicted, but in Syracuse, Walker was acquitted. Amazingly, the jury that acquitted him was all-white.

Walker, however, over the years would turn to the bottle, and as race relations deteriorated further, he abandoned all hope of integration. In 1908, Walker, fully embittered by a nation that had repeatedly wronged him, published a pamphlet (47 pages was considered a pamphlet back then) titled Our Home Colony: A Treatise on the Past, Present, and Future of the Negro Race in America. In the pamphlet, Walker advocated that blacks return to Africa, feeling that "separation of the races is the only true solution."

Meanwhile, in 1907, Anson created a semipro team called Anson's Colts. One theory goes that Anson, being the best player in his day, was concerned about black talent potentially overshadowing him, and that part of his campaign against integration was a desire to shrink the talent pool so that he might maintain his status at the top. This may explain why, after his prime had passed and he was relegated to the semipro ranks, Anson was willing to take the field against black players. In fact, in 1908, the same year Walker released Our Home Colony, Anson's Colts played against an all-black team, Leland's Giants. Anson would even consent to a photo with black manager Rube Foster.

But it no longer mattered what Anson thought of black baseball players. The damage he had contributed to, caused and inspired had been done. Foster had no alternative but to found the Negro Leagues, and all other black players had no alternative but to bide their time until 1947.

Were Walker to gaze upon Wrigley Field today, the home of the Cubs, he would see something that would please him, and something that would not. The names of six players fly from the foul poles at Wrigley, their names honored and their numbers retired. Two commentators, Jack Brickhouse and Harry Caray, are also honored, albeit not with flags. The bad news for Walker is that Jackie Robinson, the man whose number 42 was retired across Major League Baseball in 1997, is not among those names.

The good news for Walker is that Anson, a future Hall of Famer, is not honored at Wrigley either.

Rapid-Fire Book Club, Get Somebody Warming Up Edition

As I've said before, the early days of a professional sports league always seems to have the most fascinating stories, due to the low-budget, start-up, we-don't-really-know-what-we're-doing-yet nature of things. And yet, they rarely get brought up much when talking about established leagues, due to a tendency to trend towards recent happenings and to limit lists, records and tracked statistics to the "modern era".

Which brings us to today's entry, Fifty-nine in '84: Old Hoss Radbourn, Barehanded Baseball & the Greatest Season a Pitcher Ever Had by Edward Achorn. In 1884, Radbourn had 59 wins and 12 losses, though due to imperfections in stat-keeping back then, other places put him at 60 (the Hall of Fame) or 62 (Radbourn's tombstone). No matter how you count it, it's the all-time record. He pitched 678 2/3 innings, second all-time and four outs shy of the record set by Will White of the Cincinnati Reds five years prior. The record of Radbourne's team, the Providence Grays, was 84-28.

This was, to say the least, in the days before five-man pitching rotations. Or four-man rotations. Or three-man rotations. From July to the end of the 1884 season, Providence didn't even have a two-man rotation. Radbourne didn't pitch every day, but as he started 40 of the Gray's final 43 games, he essentially was their rotation. That's how he wound up becoming the pitcher of record in 63% of the team's games.

This is back when the win-loss record really meant something.

It's Opening Day

The Cubs are tied for first. And, at least for today (they play tomorrow), they have a perfect record.

This year, dang it.

Don Larsen vs. Roy Halladay

Spring training's underway, so time to get into baseball mode again. If you'll recall, last season Roy Halladay no-hit the Reds in Game 1 of the NLDS, only the second no-hitter ever thrown in postseason history. The other, of course, was Don Larsen's perfect game against the Brooklyn Dodgers in Game 5 of the 1956 World Series.

I intend to prove to you today that Roy Halladay went to bed having had the better day than Don Larsen did.

Let's run through all the particulars:

STATUS OF GAME
Halladay: No-hitter (walked Jay Bruce in the 5th)
Larsen: Perfect game

PREVIOUS NO-HITTERS
Halladay: 1 (a perfect game earlier in the season; lifetime record so far is 169-86 with 1,714 strikeouts)
Larsen: 0 (Larsen was otherwise a journeyman pitcher with a lifetime record of 81-91 and 849 strikeouts)

ROUND OF PLAY
Halladay: NLDS
Larsen: World Series

STATUS OF SERIES UPON CONCLUSION OF GAME
Halladay: Phillies lead Reds, 1-0
Larsen: Yankees lead Dodgers, 3-2

STRIKEOUTS
Halladay: 8
Larsen: 7

GROUNDOUT/LINEOUT/FLYOUT RATIO (groundballs are preferred)
Halladay: 12/1/6
Larsen: 6/4/10

PITCH COUNT
Halladay: 104
Larsen: 98

RUN SUPPORT
Halladay: 4 runs off 5 hits
Larsen: 2 runs off 5 hits, with a home run by Mickey Mantle

HOW THE PITCHER DID WHEN BATTING THEMSELVES
Halladay: 1-3, 1 run, 1 RBI
Larsen: 0-2, 1 strikeout, sacrifice bunt in 6th that sent Andy Carey to 2nd (Carey would score on the next at-bat)

TIME OF GAME
Halladay: 2:34
Larsen: 2:06

So far, it looks rather debatable. Larsen had the better result, brought his team closer to a title, and got his game over in 6 fewer pitches, 28 minutes faster. However, Halladay had his second no-hitter of the season, kept the ball on the ground more, had that one extra strikeout, got more support, and drove one of the Phillies' runs in himself.

There is, however, one more category to examine. Remember, we're asking who went to bed happier.

DID WIFE FILE DIVORCE PAPERS ON SAME DAY?
Halladay: No.
Larsen: Yes. They would split a month after the season; Don remarried a month after that. It was the prototypical shotgun marriage: Larsen had gotten his spouse, Vivian, pregnant, and married her out of a sense of honor. However, according to Vivian, he bolted three months afterward and failed to provide support; in addition to divorce papers, she wished his World Series money withheld.

Seems like a bit of a tiebreaker.

Orioles Magic, Feel It Happen

You should know, if you're a baseball fan, that a forfeited game is put into the books with a score of 9-0. That's not really the whole story, though, as it takes rather extraordinary circumstances to cause a game to be forfeited. From the beginnings of pro baseball to today, there have only been 139, and only five since 1954. The most famous of these is, of course, Disco Demolition Night, in which a 1979 Bill Veeck promotion to blow up disco records between games of a Tigers-White Sox doubleheader resulted in a riot and so many fans storming the field uncontrollably that the diamond at Comiskey Park was rendered unusable and the White Sox forfeited Game 2.

That's the most famous. But I wager there's another forfeited game from way back in the old days that is perhaps even more spectacular than that.

We have to go back to 1902. The St. Louis Browns of the American League were playing the Baltimore Orioles. No, not the Baltimore Orioles you know from today; the current Orioles are the St. Louis Browns from this particular story. What about the Orioles you see here? Well, we'll get to that.

But first, we must cast our gaze on New York. In 1902, Tammany Hall, the most notorious political machine in American history, was 30 years past the arrest of Boss Tweed, the most notoriously corrupt politician in American history, and was as strong as if he had never left.

Part of Tammany Hall in 1902 was a man named Andrew Freedman, who had bought the New York Giants in 1895. In 1902, the Giants were awful. After the games of July 16, they were 22-50 and in dead last, 33.5 games back on the league-leading Pittsburgh Pirates. They would ultimately finish 48-88, 53.5 games behind Pittsburgh. Freedman wanted to pull the Giants out of the tailspin and, being a member of Tammany Hall, he had his ways.

Meanwhile, in Baltimore, the Orioles were in 7th place- next-to-last- 31-40, 13.5 games off the pace set by the Chicago White Sox. By the close of business July 16, they were riding a 6-game losing streak, their longest of the season to that point. John McGraw, player-manager of the Orioles, hated his job. He didn't hate managing. Just managing for the Orioles, and managing in the American League, which was at war with the National League over player contracts. The World Series would not start until 1903, and until then leagues would commonly raid the talent of other leagues. McGraw and Ban Johnson, president of the American League, were feuding. McGraw had earned multiple suspensions and gotten in multiple fights with umpires, and by June 1902, he had had about enough.

Enter Andrew Freedman. He wanted talent. McGraw, a future Hall of Famer, wanted out of Baltimore. According to Kiss 'Em Goodbye: An ESPN Treasury of Failed, Forgotten and Departed Teams by Dennis Purdy, they concocted a plan. The first thing McGraw needed to do was get himself suspended. Easy. On June 28 against the Boston Red Sox, he got the Orioles riled up enough to attack umpire Tom Connolly and forfeit the game.

That's not the forfeit we're looking at.

McGraw next had to get out of Baltimore. Done. Baltimore was fed up with him anyway. As McGraw was packing for (where else?) the Giants, though, McGraw sold some shares in the Orioles that he had purchased in 1901 when the franchise was granted. The buyer of these shares- and enough additional shares to claim majority control- was Joseph C. France, a frontman for Freedman. This was done on July 16. Effectively, the New York Giants, as of July 16, 1902, owned the Baltimore Orioles.

Freedman spent the next 20 hours thoroughly gutting the Orioles, systematically stripping the team of everyone of any quality and placing them with his Giants and, to a lesser degree, the Cincinnati Reds, whose owner, John T. Brush, had also put up some money for this little adventure and thus got some players as a thank-you gesture. The Giants sniped, among others, two future Hall of Famers, Roger Bresnahan and Joe McGinnity. The Reds' gains were led by Mike Donlin, who would go on to finish second in the NL in hitting in 1903, batting .351.

By the scheduled first pitch of the next day, July 17, the Orioles had only five players remaining on the roster: Jimmy Williams, Billy Gilbert, Kip Selbach, Harry Howell, and Wilbert Robinson. Freedman had not been overly concerned with replacing the players he had taken. It takes nine to play, and when the Browns showed up with their full complement, there wasn't anything the Orioles could do except forfeit to the Browns.

At this point, Ban Johnson stepped in and invoked a rule allowing the league to take control of any club that can't field a team, and ordered the other seven teams in the AL to send Baltimore a player each so they could finish out the year. Wilbert Robinson was asked to serve as player-manager the rest of the way. Unsurprisingly, the Orioles finished last.

So what ultimately happened to these Orioles? Freedman had until 1902 used his Tammany Hall muscle to prevent any local competition to the Giants. According to Field of Screams: The Dark Underside of America's National Pastime by Richard Scheinin, every time Johnson scoped out a site to put a team, Freedman would threaten to have a street run right through the middle of it. But later in the season, Freedman sold the Giants to John T. Brush, who in turn handed over the Reds to August Herrmann. After the 1902 season drew to a close, Freedman lost political clout in the ensuing election to a reformist slate of candidates led by incoming Tammany boss Charles Francis Murphy. Johnson had his opportunity, and took it.

The Baltimore Orioles were moved to New York for the 1903 season, and renamed the Highlanders. You know them today as the New York Yankees.

Wrigley Field Parking

Here is a map of the area known as 'Wrigleyville'- the area in Chicago surrounding Wrigley Field.



If you arrive via bus, as I did yesterday for the Cubs' 3-0 loss to the Reds, you will likely be parked in the Green Lot, entering the stadium via Gate K. When you exit after the game, you will see a fire station, to the left of which is Seminary Avenue. Walk down that street, and then turn left at Grace Street. Go down Grace for about a block, and at about the corner of Grace and Clifton, you will see the Green Lot, noted by the P on the map.

Do not- do NOT- continue down Seminary, even if the Cubs employee at the corner of Grace and Seminary tells you otherwise. If you start seeing tombstones on your left, you have gone too far. That is Wunders Cemetary, right behind the Green Lot. Do not, for the love of God, continue all the way down to Irving Park Road. And if a man selling water bottles has trouble telling whether you are asking about the Green Lot or the Green Line- a train route- turn your ass around and get back to Grace.

Why am I telling you this? Er..... no reason.

The Hall of Very Good

(NOTE: Broken link fixed.)

On Sunday, Andre Dawson, Whitey Herzog and umpire Doug Harvey were inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame, to forever take their place among the immortals of the sport.

This is not about those immortals.

This is about those who remain just outside the Hall. Always hoping to be enshrined, but always falling short; some never coming close, some tantalizingly so but always seeing the Hall remain just out of reach.

This is the Hall of Very Good.

The key names in the Hall of Very Good are well known to those who hope for their eventual enshrinement. Ron Santo. Gil Hodges. Dick Allen. Buck O'Neill. All have made their attempts at induction, all have failed, all (or at least all their supporters, as some are now dead) wondering not just when, but if. Will it ever happen?

The first and best clue as to whether you will get in falls on the results of the BBWAA ballot. So does the second-best clue. Note the rankings of where everybody finishes. Specifically, note the top five votegetters. Expect all five players to eventually be enshrined. (If you're on the 1945 ballot, in fact, expect to be in if you're in the top 33, because you are.) The list of Top Fivers not currently on the ballot to still be out is tiny.

Gil Hodges (topped at 3rd in 1970, 1976, 1977, 1981)
Roger Maris (topped at 5th in 1986, 1987, 1988)
Tony Oliva (topped at 3rd in 1988)
Steve Garvey (topped at 4th in 1996)
Ron Santo (topped at 3rd in 1998)

That's it. That's the whole group. Those on the ballot now that meet the Top Five criteria:

Bert Blyleven (topped at 2nd in 2010)
Roberto Alomar (topped at 3rd in 2010)
Jack Morris (topped at 4th in 2010)
Barry Larkin (topped at 5th in 2010)
Lee Smith (topped at 5th in 2008, 2009)

The other thing to note is the vote percentage. Famously, it takes 75% of the vote to be elected, and though the other voting rules have changed over the years, that has remained constant. But even if you've blanked out, that's not a lifelong condemnation to the Hall of Very Good. It in all likelihood is. Don't hold your breath. But there is precedent. Charlie Gehringer and Gabby Hartnett both got zero votes in the original 1936 ballot, and they both got in. Candy Cummings pulled the same stunt on the 'Old Timers Committee' ballot that same year, and he's in. All likely blanked due to an epic backlog-- 42 of the 50 players on the 'modern' ballot and 31 of the 60 on the 'old timers' ballot would eventually gain enshrinement- which puts a bit of a dent in the age-old argument of 'if he's not a Hall of Famer the first time, he's not a Hall of Famer the other times either'. Backlogs happen. Sometimes you want to vote for more people than you're allowed to vote for. And sometimes, someone's greatness only becomes apparent over time, when the years pass, their successors take over, and it becomes more and more apparent that they don't make them like that anymore.

The inverse can also happen- someone that looked one-of-a-kind when they first got on the ballot can look downright obsolete by their 15th. Look at Lee Smith. For a while, he held the record for career saves. He looked like it was only a matter of time. And then Trevor Hoffman and Mariano Rivera showed themselves to be the next level of closer. Smith looks more like a Hall of Very Gooder every day.

But what percentage guarantees eventual enshrinement? Well, the highest percentage of a person not on the 2011 ballot to not yet be in is 60.1%, by Gil Hodges. Top 60.1%, and even if you don't get in right there, it's just a matter of time.

And if you're not Hodges, the news gets even better. The 75% threshold is regarded as a safeguard against enshrining anyone but the very, very best.

What if I told you it didn't even take majority rule? That Hodges is the only person to ever top 47.3% that is not yet in or still on the ballot?

What follows at the end of this piece is a list of the 185 people on the BBWAA ballot- or its pre-BBWAA equivalent- who ever gained at least 2% of the vote that are not yet in. That's 185 people, compared with the 203 in the Hall of Fame right now. They are listed in order of the highest percentage they ever gained, which precedes their names.

The percentages of those who make it into the Hall are often maligned- this person got in with a higher percentage than that person, look who got more votes than Babe Ruth, etc. The thing about that is that you only get voted in once. And you're voted in alongside a ballot whose contents are highly variable. Sometimes you're the only person on the ballot that looks worthy at the time. Sometimes you're part of a competitive group who bring down each other's vote totals. And there's always a couple people who hand in blank ballots for whatever reason that can affect the final percentage.

The people in the Hall of Very Good have had as many as 15 ballots to drive their totals as high as possible, among a variety of ballot types- first-ballot years, backlog-clearance years, deep years, shallow years, a significant amount of historical context. Their high scores are much more indicative of their comparative quality as players.

I present you with the contents of the Hall of Very Good-- the best place a baseball player never wants to be. Those slated for the 2011 ballot are bolded.

74.2 Bert Blyleven
73.7 Roberto Alomar
60.1 Gil Hodges
52.3 Jack Morris
51.6 Barry Larkin
47.3 Lee Smith
47.3 Tony Oliva
43.1 Roger Maris
43.1 Ron Santo
42.6 Steve Garvey
40.6 Maury Wills
40.0 Marty Marion
39.3 Harvey Kuenn
36.2 Edgar Martinez
35.9 Hank Gowdy
35.6 Phil Cavarretta
34.0 Johnny Sain
33.6 Allie Reynolds
31.7 Tommy John
30.9 Luis Tiant
30.4 Tim Raines
29.8 Johnny Vander Meer
29.6 Jim Kaat
28.2 Don Mattingly
25.5 Ken Boyer
25.5 Mickey Lolich
25.4 Mel Harder
24.9 Mickey Vernon
24.5 Dave Parker
23.7 Bucky Walters
23.7 Mark McGwire
23.2 Dale Murphy
23.2 Lew Burdette
22.4 Alan Trammell
22.2 Joe Torre
21.5 Fred McGriff
21.1 Minnie Minoso
20.7 Elston Howard
20.7 Tommy Henrich
18.9 Roy Face
18.5 Al Dark
18.0 Smoky Joe Wood
17.3 Pepper Martin
16.9 Dave Concepcion
16.7 Dick Allen
16.7 Lefty O'Doul
15.7 Vada Pinson
15.5 Thurman Munson
15.3 Don Newcombe
14.4 Ted Kluszewski
14.4 Walker Cooper
13.7 Babe Adams
13.5 Duffy Lewis
13.1 Sparky Lyle
12.8 Curt Flood
12.3 Don Larsen
11.7 Terry Moore
11.3 Dom DiMaggio
11.2 Orel Hershiser
10.8 Keith Hernandez
10.6 Bobby Bonds
10.4 Dwight Evans
10.2 Vic Raschi
10.0 Dickey Kerr
10.0 Jimmy Dykes
9.9 Johnny Kling
9.8 Charlie Grimm
9.5 Pete Rose
9.4 Bobo Newsom
9.0 Hal Chase
8.8 Jimmie Wilson
8.8 Ron Guidry
8.7 Vida Blue
8.3 Graig Nettles
8.3 Muddy Ruel
8.0 Lou Criger
7.9 Hank Bauer
7.9 Rusty Staub
7.7 Albert Belle
7.7 Bob Boone
7.5 Nick Altrock
7.5 Tommy Bridges
7.4 Dave Stewart
7.0 Wilbur Wood
6.9 George Foster
6.7 Glenn Wright
6.5 Lon Warneke
6.5 Sal Maglie
6.4 Nap Rucker
6.2 Fernando Valenzuela
6.2 Paul Derringer
6.1 Charlie Keller
6.1 Harold Baines
6.0 Doc Cramer
6.0 Freddie Fitzsimmons
5.7 Babe Herman
5.7 Cy Williams
5.6 Dolf Luque
5.6 Joe Judge
5.5 Fred Lynn
5.3 Frankie Crosetti
5.2 Stuffy McInnis
5.0 Bob Meusel
5.0 Fred Hutchinson
5.0 Hal Schumacher
5.0 Rudy York
5.0 Schoolboy Rowe
5.0 Willie McGee
4.9 Art Nehf
4.9 Red Rolfe
4.9 Steve O'Neill
4.8 Jeff Reardon
4.8 Stan Hack
4.7 Ewell Blackwell
4.7 Ken Griffey Sr.
4.6 Bobby Thomson
4.5 Bill Madlock
4.5 Eddie Rommel
4.5 Howard Ehmke
4.4 Wilbur Cooper
4.4 Will Clark
4.3 Al Oliver
4.2 Manny Mota
4.1 Andres Galarraga
4.1 Mark Grace
4.1 Wally Schang
3.9 David Cone
3.9 Del Crandall
3.8 Dan Quisenberry
3.8 Earl Whitehill
3.8 Frank White
3.8 Joe Carter
3.8 Tim McCarver
3.7 Mark Belanger
3.7 Ted Simmons
3.6 Wes Ferrell
3.4 Jack Quinn
3.3 Dwight Gooden
3.2 Carl Erskine
3.2 Dennis Martinez
3.2 Everett Scott
3.1 Bert Campaneris
3.1 Fred Tenney
3.0 Birdie Tebbetts
3.0 Dixie Walker
3.0 Frank McCormick
3.0 Jimmy Archer
3.0 Joe Dugan
3.0 Mike Donlin
3.0 Pete Reiser
3.0 Spud Chandler
2.9 Lou Whitaker
2.8 Dave McNally
2.8 Harvey Haddix
2.6 Bill Dinneen
2.6 Bobby Grich
2.6 Don Baylor
2.6 Harry Bracheen
2.6 John Hiller
2.6 Orval Grove
2.5 Art Fletcher
2.5 Bill Bradley
2.5 Bill Carrigan
2.5 Charlie Root
2.5 George Earnshaw
2.5 Jim Abbott
2.5 Kirk Gibson
2.5 Larry Bowa
2.4 Bob O'Farrell
2.4 Clyde Milan
2.4 Vern Law
2.3 Bobby Shantz
2.3 Carl Mays
2.3 Pinky Higgins
2.3 Roy McMillan
2.2 Bing Miller
2.2 Paul O'Neill
2.1 Bill Buckner
2.0 Bill Donovan
2.0 Bill Wambsganss
2.0 Bob Elliott
2.0 Bobby Richardson
2.0 Heinie Groh
2.0 Virgil Trucks
2.0 Willie Wilson

Stay strong, Hodges. One day.

Back To The Soccer Well

Internet has been down on me for much of the day, leaving me unable to press forward on what it was I was trying to do. So I guess we go back to the soccer well. And since that's what we're doing, it's as good a time as any to address without debate the biggest question concerning American sports fans.

Just what IS it about soccer, anyway? Nobody ever scores! Halfback passes to center, back to wing, back to center! Center holds it! Holds it! Holds it!

Here's what is it about soccer.

By purely looking at the scoreline, you're not really watching the right thing. The excitement of a soccer match doesn't so much come from the actual goals- though those make fans go nuts- so much as it comes from scoring chances, which are much more frequent... or so everyone hopes. Those are where matches live or die. Scoring chances equal excitement. The ball remaining in midfield all day, it's true, is boring. You will get no arguments there. Soccer fans think those games boring too. But when the game is moving back and forth, decent shots are being taken, excitement is generated regardless of whether or not the ball actually goes in the net. (The US/England game, for reference, saw 18 shots on goal by England, and 13 by the US. 31 shots, about one every three minutes... it doesn't look like 'center holds it, holds it, holds it' anymore, does it?)

If a team marches down the field, takes a screamer of a shot, and it has a real chance but it ends up going juuuuuust wide of the post, sure, no goal was scored. If the shot is deflected by the goalkeeper's fingertips and ends up volleyed just over the crossbar, sure, no goal was scored.

But wasn't that fun to watch?

Now imagine the ball ricochets off the keeper, or the crossbar, back into play, and a second shot is taken almost immediately afterwards. The goalkeeper, having just sacrificed his body to make the first save, has to get up immediately and save another. And maybe a third, or even a fourth if the offense is bearing down particularly hard. Even if none of these shots go in, the excitement of the original scoring chance hasn't yet worn off, and while the fans are still coming down from that, they see one or more additional shots in quick succession. The excitement builds with each attempt on goal. By the time the assault is over, the fans are delirious.

And because actual goals are so rare, the appreciation for each goal that does occur increases accordingly. Each and every goal has a huge bearing on the match, because you don't know when or if another one is coming, if any are coming at all. So when a goal does get scored, the fans go absolutely crazy.

Compare to basketball. If Lionel Messi scores a goal, it's huge. It's almost a religious experince for some fans. If you're at that match, 30 years later you can tell your kids "I saw Lionel Messi score a goal." Now imagine saying "I saw Kobe Bryant score a basket." Just the one. You're not thrilled. You're disappointed, because you expected, nay demanded him to score 10-15 more just like it. Your reaction to any one basket is likely "(clap clap) All right." And that's it. On to the next possession.

A good analog in 'American' sports comes in baseball. Not runs, of course; those are much more common than goals. Think instead of home runs, which occur at something resembling equivalent frequency: not every day, and when they do, only one or a couple usually. Home runs pass the tell-your-grandkids test- "I saw Albert Pujols hit a home run."

And if you're at the ballpark, if Pujols gets that home run, you're going nuts if you're a Cardinals fan. But not quite as nuts as you would if Messi scored a goal. Why is that?

Simple: baseball has other ways to score, and more points at stake. Take a baseball game, and keeping everything else the same, make two simple rule changes:

*Home runs are the only way to put runs on the board. Hits are well and good, baserunners are well and good, but you only want to drive them home so they don't get thrown out on the basepaths.
*All home runs score one run, regardless of how many men are on base.

Now the scoring frequency, and scoreline, is brought in line with soccer. Without those additional runs, without those additional ways to score, attention focuses onto the home runs. You're going to be a lot more excited, fanatical even, when one happens. And in addition, if you've ever been to a ballgame, you know how the crowd gets excited over any long fly ball that they don't know yet will end up dying somewhere in the outfield. Imagine how much more they're going to react when they know that ball getting over the wall is the only way to score. Imagine how much more they're going to react when the outfielder goes up the wall and robs a home run. Note how excited you'll get when any powerful batter merely steps up to the plate.

Conversely, note how much you will cease to care about line drives and pitching duels and most of what goes on in the infield.

Welcome to soccer.

DH Minutiae

Ah yes. The designated hitter. If you want a baseball argument guaranteed to devolve into a shouting match inside of five seconds, just say "DH" and run.

Just so you're aware, the DH is an evil evil thing. Bob Gibson wasn't above hitting. Walter Johnson wasn't above hitting. Satchel Paige wasn't above hitting, or Cy Young, or Sandy Koufax, or Lefty Grove, or Dizzy Dean. Three Finger Brown had to hit, and Three Finger Brown had three fingers.

And here's the other thing. Babe Ruth started as a pitcher. Had the DH been around back then...

...well, actually, had the DH been around back then, Ruth could still have hit. For you see, the designated hitter is an opt-in proposition. If the pitcher wants to hit, the pitcher can hit.

And, at least by American League rules, there is a potential stupid tax: you can lose the privilege of a DH.

*The DH cannot field; if you take out a field player and move the DH into that position, the DH is forfeit, and the pitcher must bat.
*If the DH chooses to pitch, for some reason, well, he's not a DH anymore; he's a pitcher who bats. And the pitcher must then bat.
*If a pinch-hitter comes in for some other position, and then goes in to pitch... he's now a pitcher who bats. Bye bye, DH.
*If the manager simply forgets to name a designated hitter? Well, that was stupid. Pay the stupid tax.

Also, there is no double-switching. That, for those not familiar, is when you replace two players at once and swap their corresponding positions' spots in the lineup- for example, if the catcher bats third and the shortstop eighth, and you replace them at the same time, you can end up having the shortstop bat third and the catcher eighth. You can't do that with a DH.

It doesn't happen often, though a DH forfeiture occurred on four occasions last season, including Game 3 of the ALCS, when DH Jerry Hairston Jr. replaced right-fielder Johnny Damon in the 10th inning. When Mariano Rivera's turn subsequently came up in the top of the 11th, he was pinch-hit for by Francisco Cervelli, who struck out. The Los Angeles Angels, no longer having to deal with Rivera, scored and won in the bottom of the 11th. Alfredo Aceves, who gave up the run, got the loss.

Of course, this is something the Yankees should have already had to deal with: bat Rivera, or pinch-hit for him, lose him, and hand the ball to the dregs of the bullpen you didn't really want to send to the mound?

Disrespect The Met

Having returned from Minneapolis, the obvious must be noted that Twins fans are eternally grateful for the return of outdoor baseball, and their new home, Target Field, is every bit as spectacular as you've heard. It's no Wrigley- Wrigley is a baseball religious experience that no new stadium can match, something sports fans are told they have to do before they die- but it's an outstanding, amazing ballpark. (And the Twins ran away early, winning 10-4.)

But now that it's here, even given the constant nods to the history of Minnesota baseball, not just Twins baseball (but only Minnesota- don't try looking for the Washington Senators because you won't find them), with memories invoked in all corners of the park, with all Twins logos prominent, all teams at all levels, all five retired Twins numbers (Jackie Robinson's #42 excepted) commemorated with their own individual entry gate, every single person who ever played for the Twins noted outside between Gates #29 and #34 on 'Tradition Wall', the walkway to Gate #29 showcasing every vaguely professional stadium ever built in the Twin Cities and every member of the Twins Hall of Fame... I worry that one part of that history may end up unduly forgotten: their previous outdoor stadium, Metropolitan Stadium, aka 'The Met'.

Metropolitan Stadium was the Twins', and for that matter the Vikings' home as well, from 1961-1981, and previously the home of the minor-league Minneapolis Millers from 1956-1960, deserves a degree of enduring affection even as Target Field shines anew. After all, had it not been for the Met, the Twins may not have come into town in the first place. It was built specifically to lure a major-league club from somewhere else.

The Millers, like all Minnesota baseball teams, stand fondly remembered in Target Field, as is, admittedly, Metropolitan Stadium, most notably commemorated by the flagpole used during the Met's life and seeing service at a local American Legion after the Met was demolished. Also remembered, very prominently, is the Twins' immediately preceding stadium, the Metrodome.

The Metrodome is not remembered fondly, mind you. But it is remembered prominently, particularly in the vast majority of the nostalgic clips played in the introductory vignette prior to the start of the game as the Twins display their finest hours.

This was the Metrodome's strength. While a bare-bones venue for fans- a spokesman at the time, according to the Baseball Hall of Shame 2, was quoted as saying "The idea is to get the fans in, let 'em see a game, and then let 'em go home," the noise kept in by the dome, as well as the unique conditions crated by a bouncy turf, the white roof that could conceal fly balls, and the 'Baggie' in right field, created a powerful home-field advantage that ultimately brought the Twins two World Series championships in 1987 and 1991, to the degree that the Twins were lucky to have home-field advantage for both Series, as in each case they would win all four home games and lose all three road games.

But it was a terrible place to be for a fan. Or an opponent. As Blue Jays coach Bob Didler said after Alfredo Griffin lost a hop over the mound in the lights, also according to the Baseball Hall of Shame 2, "Only in Minnesota could someone lose a ground ball in the lights during the day."

The day prior, I had been to the Mall of America, a much nicer place to be than the Metrodome in any sense of the word. After Metropolitan Stadium was demolished in 1985, the Mall of America was built on the site. I had heard that the place home plate stood in the Met was marked somewhere in the Mall, and resolved to, along with the other in-mall destinations I had set, find home plate.

It wasn't easy. Home plate was not marked on any of the Mall's maps or directories. I'd have to find it manually. Also preserved was a red seat commemorating the exact landing spot, elevation included, of the longest home run ever hit in the stadium, a 520-foot blast by Harmon Killebrew in 1967.

I would never find the seat. Nor could any Mall employee I asked tell me where it could be found.

It's a confusing thing. The Met saw an American League champion Twins side as well, in 1965, though here they would be defeated by the Dodgers, again in 7 games. Again, the Twins would lose all their road games, but in 1965, they only won three of four home games, with Sandy Koufax throwing a three-hitter in Game 7.

Metropolitan Stadium was built with no team in particular in mind, but in Minnesota, it really didn't need to be. Though common and in fact expected now, the Met was revolutionary in respect to its wholly cantilevered grandstands, drastically reducing obstructed-view seats. Even modern stadiums don't go all the way with it like the Met did; only New Yankee Stadium does this today as much as Metropolitan Stadium. And besides, what the stadium wouldn't do, the weather would. Minnesota in late March/early April, and deep into October, is not known for its warmth. Prior to their Metrodome days, the Vikings were as feared as any current cold-weather team, going 8-3 in home playoff games at the Met.

The big knock was the Met's poor state at the end of its life- in its final season, the upper deck was condemned as a safety hazard. But this was the Twins' fault; they failed to perform any sort of substansive maintenance on the Met. The other big knock was the poor sightlines. But the Metrodome was a multipurpose stadium built for football first and baseball second, and sightlines are never good in that circumstance either.

As BallparkTour puts it, "The final baseball game ever played there was on Sept. 30, 1981. It was played in a light rain, a condition similar to that of the major league opener 21 seasons earlier. Between those rains an entire generation was introduced to professional sports at the Met. That it was all outdoors will stand as the Met's lone heritage."

Outdoor baseball, though, is played heavily on by the Twins, whether at the Met or elsewhere. A banner just outside Target Field, on a nearby skyscraper, reads 'Outdoor Baseball Is Back'. In the second home game of the season against the Red Sox, rain fell, and the fans responded by chanting "OUT-door BASE-ball".

And then there's the Town Ball Tavern, situated by the left field foul pole, celebrating the heritage of amateur baseball in Minnesota. Outside are team photos of various state town ball champions. Inside are photographs of an assortment of local ballparks throughout Minnesota.

But even though outdoor baseball was back, nobody at Target Field, as I strolled throughout the park over the course of the game, gave off a real sense of why they were using the word 'back'. They were simply happy to not be in the Metrodome anymore and knew they played outdoors somewhere prior to that. Some wouldn't even say 'back' at all; the most prominent phrase used by Twins personnel to refer to the stadium was simply "the new capital of Twins Territory". This simply indicates a new stadium of some sort, not a restoration of what once was.

After nearly six hours of traversing the Mall of America the day before, I finally found what once was: home plate of Metropolitan Stadium. That's how long it took for me, amidst my shopping, to find enough people who knew enough of home plate's very existence to slowly direct me to its exact location: somewhere on the floor of the in-mall theme park, Nickelodeon Universe.

As my last act before exiting the mall, I found home plate. It stood utterly uncelebrated. Nobody else nearby, including multiple people wearing Twins paraphernalia, seemed interested or even aware of it. One person, while knowing of the Metrodome, was unaware that Metropolitan Stadium ever existed, despite standing no more than 30 feet from the home plate marker.

I tried, for a time, to imagine the stadium that lured professional baseball to Minnesota, to imagine Sandy Koufax bearing down on Harmon Killebrew, to try and look into the bleachers of the Met.

Had I looked just above the Log Chute ride, there, 520 feet away, was sitting the spot where Harmon Killebrew hit his home run in 1967.

No matter. It proved impossible.

The Rugrats Reptarmobiles were blocking my view five feet in front of me.

Watertown's Most Famous Resident

My hometown has three citizens of note over its history. If you came to Watertown, you'd see two of them displayed prominently.

The first one is Carl Schurz, a former US Senator and Secretary of the Interior famous for the saying "My country right or wrong; if right, to be kept right, and if wrong, to be set right." He also served in the Union Army during the Civil war, taking part in Gettysburg, Chancellorsville, and the Second Battle of Bull Run, and, as ambassador to Spain, kept that country from supporting the South. Unfortunately for Watertown, this was only one of several places Schurz hung his hat; he was born in Germany and died in New York City, and when he was elected to the Senate, he represented Missouri, not Wisconsin.

But, we named a street and an elementary school after him.

The second one is Dan Brandenstein, an astronaut who logged 32 days, 21 hours, 3 minutes in space over his career over four separate missions, serving as pilot and commander. He's still alive, age 67, but he's gotten a park named after him, and a prominent park at that on one of Watertown's more prominent streets. I might say more about him, but I'm not very up on my astronaut terminology. It is, after all, rocket science.

But this is surely the first you've heard of Dan Brandenstein unless you live in Watertown, and quite possibly the first you've heard of Schurz as well.

Do you know who Fred Merkle is?

(Every baseball fan in America is reacting in some way, shape or form.)

Fred Merkle is the primary reason the Chicago Cubs' World Series drought is ONLY 102 years. In 1908, his rookie season, the Cubs and the Giants were fighting it out for the NL pennant. On September 23, the Cubs were visiting the Polo Grounds (which back then did not yet have walls totally enclosing the outfield, but rather a rope behind which was essentially a parking lot).

Bottom of the 9th, two outs, the score is tied at 1. Merkle comes to bat with Moose McCormick on first. Merkle singles and advances McCormick to third. Al Bridwell, batting behind Merkle, hits another single and drives McCormick home.

Game over, right? The fans thought so; they stormed the field.

Except Merkle had left the basepaths before reaching second, heading for the clubhouse as soon as McCormick had crossed the plate. McCormick's run would not count until and unless he touched second. Cubs second baseman- and future Hall of Famer- Johnny Evers took note, found the ball- or at least A ball- touched second, and appealed to the umpire to call Merkle out. The ump agreed, McCormick's run didn't count. They couldn't restart the game due to all the fans on the field and the fact that it was getting dark, so the game would have to end in a tie.

Evers had done a similar thing previously in a game against the Pirates, but didn't get the call that time; his appeal on Merkle was helped by the fact that the umps knew it might be coming. And as luck would have it, the ump in particular, Frank O'Day, was the specific ump Evers had warned.

As luck would have it, the Cubs and Giants ended the season in a tie for first, and so everyone went back to the Polo Grounds to replay the game. This time, the Cubs won 4-2, the Cubs putting the game away early with all their runs coming in the 3rd, and relying on Three Finger Brown to carry the day on his end after starting pitcher Jack Pfiester couldn't find the plate in the 1st, hitting one, walking two, and allowing a run. The baserunning error that caused it all has since been called "Merkle's Boner", and Merkle would never live it down.

Fast forward to the 1912 World Series. The Giants were facing off against the Boston Red Sox, in Game 8 of a seven-game series.

No, that's not a typo. Game 2 went 11 innings and ended in a 6-6 tie due to darkness.

Game 8 is at Fenway Park. It's the bottom of the 10th with the Giants up 2-1. Christy Mathewson- who also pitched the 1908 tiebreaker game for New York- had pitched well, allowing seven hits but stranding seven on base as well. It wouldn't be his pitching that got him in hot water.

Clyde Engel, leading off the bottom of the 10th for Boston, hit a fly to center that outfielder Fred Snodgrass couldn't hang onto. It was now Snodgrass' turn to be eternally linked to an error, this one known as 'Snodgrass's Muff'.

But it wasn't even the biggest muff of the inning.

Engle would reach second on the error. The next batter, Harry Hooper, gave the ball a ride, but this time Snodgrass was ready for it, making an amazing catch and saving what might had been the end of the game right there. Mathewson would walk Steve Yerkes, and then came Tris Speaker, who Mathewson got to pop up into foul territory on the first base side. Three people converged on it- Mathewson, catcher Chief Meyers... and first baseman Fred Merkle.

Absent any instruction, this was Merkle's ball. But Mathewson called him off and signaled for Meyers to catch it. Meyers, however, didn't hear Mathewson, and deferred to Merkle. The ball landed harmlessly.

Through no fault of his own, Merkle was involved in his second pennant-losing choke.

Speaker had a second life, and knew it, taunting Mathewson, "Well, you just called for the wrong man, and it's gonna cost you the ball game!" He then made good on his taunt, singling home Engel and sending Yerkes to third, followed by an intentional walk to load the bases and Larry Gardner sacrifice-flying Yerkes home. Series over. Red Sox win.

Watertown doesn't make much note of Merkle, aside from one local baseball diamond across from Webster Elementary, labeled in a subdued manner, 'Fred Merkle Field'.

And In Conclusion, I Have No Life

A large part of the experience of going to a baseball game is the stadium itself. Stadiums carry a certain character in baseball, moreso than any other sport. (Seriously, about a quarter of the stadiums in the NFL look like each other. The only way you can tell whether you're in Charlotte, Washington, Baltimore or New York is the seat color. Same with Nashville, Jacksonville and Buffalo.)

So that said, let's kick the season off with naming the best stadium every MLB franchise has ever had. And by 'best' I of course will be using completely personal and subjective criteria.

The ground rules:

*Any stadium ever used as a home stadium in the history of the franchise is eligible as long as there's some documentation as to what it looks like. This includes all the rinky-dink 19th century stadiums long forgotten.
*No groundsharing. First dibs go to the team that used it the most and in the best condition.
*I reserve the right to specify a particular era of the stadium. This will come into play.

ARIZONA DIAMONDBACKS: Chase Field. They've only ever had the one stadium, so not much debate here.

ATLANTA BRAVES: South End Grounds, Congress Street Grounds, Fenway Park, Braves Field, Milwaukee County Stadium, Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium, Turner Field
The Brewers have dibs on County Stadium (spoiler alert), so the Braves can't have it. Same with Fenway and the Red Sox. Braves Field, used from 1915-1952, makes a case for the sheer difficulty in getting a ball over the fence. The foul poles were at 400 feet, distance would max out at 550 feet, plus the dead ball era, plus the wind blowing in, plus a gigantic foul territory, equals some very happy pitchers. Ty Cobb once said "Nobody will ever hit a ball out of this park." As it happened, it took ten years. Then came Fulton County Stadium, the 'Launching Pad'. It is unloved. Turner Field - or possibly Centennial Olympic Stadium- was originally built for that purpose. (Baseball during the Olympics used Fulton County Stadium.) It's fine, but a major part of the choice here is character. Braves Field has far more character than Turner Field, so that's the call.

BALTIMORE ORIOLES: Borchert Field, Lloyd Street Grounds, Sportsman's Park 3, Memorial Stadium, Oriole Park at Camden Yards
It would be easy to say Camden Yards and move on. So that's exactly what we'll do.

BOSTON RED SOX: Huntington Avenue Grounds, Fenway Park
The Huntington Avenue Grounds were used from 1901-1911. There were patches of sand in the outfield, a tool shed in center field was in play, it was a dump. Though Cy Young did throw his perfect game there. Fenway is the easy call. Though I want the pre-2003 Fenway, before they added seats on top of the Green Monster. The seats are nice and all, but I prefer balls just disappearing over the wall never to be seen again. You're a visitor and you get a ball over the Monster, Red Sox Nation shouldn't get the courtesy of being able to throw it back. That's a Cubs thing, anyway.

CHICAGO CUBS: Ogden Park, Dexter Park, Union Base-Ball Grounds, 23rd Street Grounds, Lakefront Park 1, Lakefront Park 2, West Side Park 1, South Side Park, West Side Park 2, Wrigley Field
It's easily Wrigley, but one note on the Union Base-Ball Grounds. It had a very short porch in right, only 200 feet. It was so far in that the ground rules originally only gave it ground-rule double status until its final year in use, 1884. Result: home runs all over the place, at least as far as that era was concerned. Ned Williamson had 27, a mark that would stand until 1919, when Babe Ruth came along and smacked 29, then 60.

What version of Wrigley? Pre-lights, with Harry Caray in the booth.

CHICAGO WHITE SOX: South Side Park 3, Comiskey Park, Milwaukee County Stadium, US Cellular Field
South Side Park wasn't much of anything and County Stadium belongs to the Brewers. Ask any White Sox fan what their pick is and they'll probably tell you "Old Comiskey". Because there's every chance they'll still be calling US Cellular Field "New Comiskey". The White Sox have renovated the Cell over and over to try and make amends, but... Old Comiskey all the way.

CINCINNATI REDS: Bank Street Grounds, League Park 1, League Park 2, Palace of the Fans, Crosley Field, Riverfront Stadium, Great American Ball Park
Great American Ball Park is fine, it's a hell of a name for a baseball stadium, but it ain't no Crosley.

CLEVELAND INDIANS: League Park, Cleveland Municipal Stadium, Progressive Field
League Park makes a case- 290 feet to a 60-foot fence in right, 375 feet to a 5-foot fence in left. 460 feet to center. Have fun. Cleveland Municipal had more fun with fences, as Bill Veeck would, for as long as the AL would tolerate it, move the fences as much as 15 feet between games. It would also have a berm- a mini hill- instead of a warning track in center field. Not that it mattered much; the berm was at 470 feet and nobody ever managed to reach it. Progressive Field has the groundskeepers shoot off fireworks after every half-inning to ward off seagulls, cozy, downtown, and is the fan favorite. Tough call for a neutral. Municipal was ugly, cold, filthy, housed a horrible Indians team, it was downright frightening being in the upper deck, but... it was THEIR ugly, cold, filthy, frightening home of a horrible team.

I give it to League Park. Even after Municipal Stadium was built in 1933, even when it was new, the Indians used League Park concurrently until 1946. That has to say something for League Park.

COLORADO ROCKIES: Mile High Stadium, Coors Field
Mile High Stadium was only used for two seasons before moving to Coors. But oh, those two seasons. Major League attendance records. 75,000 a game. What a noise. That said, Coors is still the better personality. The fans aren't much quieter, particularly when the Rockies are contending. And the fact that they have to use a humidor to keep the balls from ending up in Wyoming, and the thin air keeping breaking balls from actually breaking...

DETROIT TIGERS: Boulevard Park, Burns Park, Bennett Park, Tiger Stadium, Comerica Park
Why did Tiger Stadium have to go? Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?

FLORIDA MARLINS: Joe Robbie... er, Dolphin... um, Landshark... uh, Pro Player... Now it's Sun Life Stadium?! COME ON! Am I glad they're moving out of that thing next season. It's only here by default.

HOUSTON ASTROS: Colt Stadium, Astrodome, Minute Maid Park
Colt Stadium was a freaking oven. You don't go there for baseball. You go there to get grill marks. Also there were rattlesnakes. The stadium was relocated to Mexico, where it still stands. The Astrodome is a dome, but Houston has a bit of love for it. But let's not kid ourselves; it's Minute Maid easily.

KANSAS CITY ROYALS: Municipal Stadum, Kaufmann Stadium
Kaufmann easily. Beautiful ballpark. Just as long as it's post-1995, when they got rid of the turf.

LOS ANGELES ANGELS OF ANAHEIM: Wrigley Field LA, Dodger Stadium (then called Chavez Ravine), Angel Stadium of Anaheim
We'll get to Chavez Ravine in a sec, but it's not really what you'd call the Angels'. Wrigley? When Home Run Derby needed a stadium bland enough and symmetrical enough to not favor any particular kind of hitter, they went to Wrigley. It's the Big A.

LOS ANGELES DODGERS: Washington Park 1, Ridgewood Park, Eastern Park, Washington Park 2, Ebbets Field, LA Memorial Coliseum, Dodger Stadium
A hard one to call, those last three, but really it's Ebbets or Dodger.

The Dodgers have now spent longer at Dodger than at Ebbets, and even though Ebbets is more lamented than any other former ballpark, the fans who were actually there recall it as actually kind of decrepit towards the end of its life and not really standing out. Dodger Stadium, once you read into its history, actually leaves kind of a bad taste in your mouth, once you read up on what's been called the Battle of Chavez Ravine.

For me, if Dodger Stadium, when you get right down to it, doesn't have enough special about it, enough character, to even keep the fans at the park the whole game, how's it going to beat Ebbets in its prime? Especially with that bad karma hanging over it?

MILWAUKEE BREWERS: Sick's Stadium, Milwaukee County Stadium, Miller Park
Having been to both County Stadium and Miller Park... Miller Park is nice, it really is, enjoy seeing games there, but it's County Stadium all the way. It's the stadium Major League was filmed at, Bernie Brewer actually slid into a beer stein, you could actually see some of the rest of Milwaukee even if the part of Milwaukee you actually wanted to look at was somewhere behind the left-field seating bowl and you were actually looking at the Masterson factory. We liked to play with Miller Park's retractable roof for a little while, then we got bored. Also it broke. And leaked.

Besides, the people outside could stand to be able to see in a little bit. It's a gigantic parking lot either way and we use every inch of it for tailgating. Also, prior to a 1973 expansion, patients at a nearby V.A. hospital had an unobstructed view of the games from their rooms, which they could therefore watch for free. That was nice. So let's take that configuration: after they added the beer stein, before they blocked off the veterans' view of the game.

MINNESOTA TWINS: American League Park, Boundary Field, Griffith Stadium, Metropolitan Stadium, Metrodome, Target Field
Minnesota got a retroactive affinity for Metropolitan Stadium, but largely because it was outside and the Metrodome wasn't. The love shifted completely to Target Field when it came along, because really, Metropolitan Stadium wasn't all that much of a ballpark. It was an upgraded minor league park with nothing special about it. Griffith Stadium had a center field fence that had to originally come in because the owner of the land there refused to sell it. The path between home plate and first was slightly downhill. The Metrodome, despite everything, has flavor to it, most notably the 'baggie' serving as an outfield wall and the dome that can be hit by a batted ball. Target Field has a good chance, but technically, no games have been played there yet, so let's not call it. For now? It's going to go to Griffith.

NEW YORK METS: Polo Grounds, Shea Stadium, Citi Field
You'd think it'd be the Polo Grounds. Uh uh. Even if the Giants didn't have squatter's rights on it, uh uh. They only spent two seasons there, when the Polo Grounds were old and dilapidated and they were just waiting for Shea Stadium to get built. They never got the Polo Grounds in its prime. And Shea is nobody's idea of a nice place to play baseball. Citi Field is the first actually pleasant stadium the Mets have ever had, so that's where they go here.

NEW YORK YANKEES: Oriole Park, Hilltop Park, Polo Grounds, Shea Stadium, Yankee Stadium 1, Yankee Stadium 2
Not New Yankee. Not until they fix that utterly broken wind tunnel out to right. And stop invoking class warfare behind home plate. It's clearly the House That Ruth Built. My chosen era of Yankee 1 is going to be the early 50's, when there was 'Death Valley' in deep center. Monument Park used to be in play, with a flagpole directly behind. So you could be chasing down a deep fly ball and all of a sudden have to contend with a whole other outfield patrol consisting of Miller Huggins, Lou Gehrig and Babe Ruth. It was like that well into the 70's. And in the process you'd be dealing with rowdy fans from the Bronx.

I can say these things because I'm not the one shagging fly balls.

OAKLAND ATHLETICS: Columbia Park, Shibe Park, Municipal Stadium, Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum
Oh, are the A's happy they get first rights to Shibe over the Phillies. It's the clear choice. Columbia wasn't bad in the ancient, black-and-white, why-is-this-video-sped-up-so-it-looks-like-everyone's-on-some-sort-of-whimsical-steroid era. Municipal Stadium for the A's was mainly used to cause shenanigans with the right field fence to try and complain about the Yankee Stadium right field fence. Oakland-Alameda could get hit with a nuke and it'd be a net benefit for baseball.

As for Shibe, let's have it sometime before 1935, when the spite fence went up. The A's had a rooftop contingent similar to the Cubs, charging admission to the rooftops, but Connie Mack didn't even bother negotiating. He just sued, and when he lost, he put up a fence to block their view. The team went downhill afterwards; so did the neighborhood. Let's not have that fence.

PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES: Recreation Park, Baker Bowl, Connie Mack Stadium, Veterans Stadium, Citizens Bank Park
The A's have first rights to Connie Mack, then primarily known as Shibe Park, having used it for 45 years as opposed to the 33 for the Phillies. No matter; the Phillies still have options. Citizen's Bank is great and all, but... if you can believe it, the nouveau-retro style is starting to look a bit too much like itself. A view of the skyline, a giant scoreboard somewhere, a concourse, nothing really distinctive for the style. I give it to the Baker Bowl. If you think the Green Monster is high, try the Baker Bowl's right-field fence. 30 feet closer, but 23 feet higher. 60 feet worth of wall. It was necessary; the place gave up way too many home runs otherwise. The fence was raised that high in 1920; by then the Baker Bowl was starting to fall into disrepair and was gradually becoming more ridiculed. So to maximize the height and minimize the disrepair, let's freeze the Cigar Box at 1920.

PITTSBURGH PIRATES: Exposition Park 1, Recreation Park, Exposition Park 2, Forbes Field, Three Rivers Stadium, PNC Park
Tough call between Forbes and PNC here. Forbes was one of those REALLY old stadiums where they'd allow overflow fans onto the field. It was another epic pitcher's park, starting out with a distance reading of 360-462-376, with 12-foot walls all around. (Although this guy puts left field at 320.) You'd still get home runs, but they were inside-the-park. Which when they happen are loads more fun. The right field walls were moved in to 300 feet in 1925, but the wall was put up to 28 feet to compensate. It also had ivy walls. PNC is beautiful, with nooks and crannies and the Allegheny Bridge in the background and everything, but we've yet to see it with a competitive team and a packed house that thinks it can win something. It'll have to go to Forbes for now.

SAN DIEGO PADRES: Qualcomm Stadium, PETCO Park
It's an easy call. PETCO by a mile.

SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS: Polo Grounds 1, Oakland Park, St. George Grounds, Polo Grounds 2, Polo Grounds 3, Hilltop Park, Polo Grounds 4, Seals Stadium, Candlestick Park, AT&T Park
Oh, this is a toughie. Polo 4 is the one everyone knows and loves, with the jut in dead center above and beyond the cavern the rest of center field already was, coupled with short porches at either pole. AT&T is lovely, with McCovey Cove and the Coke bottle and the giant glove and brick construction and everything. And then there was Seals Stadium, a very intimate minor-league temporary home with no warning track and a little part of center field where if you hit a ball juuuuust right, it could go from being in play to a home run to back in play without anything getting in its way. This is almost a religious question as far as old stadiums vs. new stadiums, and what side of the Mississippi you live on, probably. Being on the east side of the river, I hand it to the Polo Grounds. But that's not a knock on AT&T. Toughest call in the entire league.

SEATTLE MARINERS: Kingdome, Safeco Field
The Kingdome lived and died on its acoustics. It ran into the same sterile why-can't-we-play-outside issues all domes run into, and it felt like a tomb early on. Then the Mariners started getting good and people started showing up, upon which they found, hey, this place can be kinda fun with a lot of people in it. They still wanted to play outside, though. Despite the raucous Kingdome I grew up seeing, I won't get in the way. Safeco is clearly nicer and prettier to boot; we'll go with Safeco.

ST. LOUIS CARDINALS: Sportsman's Park, Robison Field, Sportsman's Park 3, Busch Stadium 1, Busch Stadium 2
Back in its era, Sportsman's 3 didn't stand out all that much. But back then, the bar was high. Goats cut the grass, they had a Budweiser eagle flapping after every home run (you see things like that these days for the Mets and Phillies and Brewers and such, but back then it was a new thing), sportswriter Red Smith characterized the look as "a garish, county fair sort of layout". Neither Busch can match up.

TAMPA BAY RAYS: Not much choice here, it's Tropicana Field by default.

TEXAS RANGERS: Griffith Stadium, RFK Stadium, Arlington Stadium, Rangers Ballpark in Arlington
Not much of a debate here. Griffith already was taken by the Twins, RFK is blah, Arlington Stadium was a minor-league hothouse, and the Ballpark in Arlington's pretty good in its own right.

TORONTO BLUE JAYS: Exhibition Stadium, Rogers Centre
Exhibition Stadium was proof that indoor baseball is not optional in Canada. On April 7, 1977, the Blue Jays played on a snow-covered field, the only time that's ever happened. (The Blue Jays beat the White Sox, 9-5.) Also there were lake-effect winds. And seagulls. And the sightlines were horrible. Rogers Centre in a walkover.

WASHINGTON NATIONALS: Jarry Park Stadium, Olympic Stadium, Hiram Bithorn Stadium, RFK Memorial Stadium, Nationals Park
RFK's a cookie-cutter, Jarry Park was an anonymous minor league stadium they never really bothered to upgrade, Olympic Stadium was a disaster. Hiram Bithorn is okay, but it has to be Nationals Park.

That makes for 16 clubs who have their best face showing this season. Plus potentially the Twins. Not too bad. But really... we could use a couple more caverns in the league. Someone go crazy and put the fences back 475 feet.

An Open Letter To The Racists

It's Black History Month, so this seems like a good time to bring this up. In case you haven't noticed, we have a bit of a race problem in this country. True, we have shown enough progress in race relations to elect a non-white President, in this case black. Good for us.

The problem is that there are people who would not say 'good for us'. Most people who are not these people can take a fairly educated stab at who they are. They're in all likelihood the ones screaming that Barack Obama is Muslim or born in Kenya or Indonesia and thus ineligible to be President, and wanting to 'take our country back'. Sometimes all at the same time.

And the thing is, this isn't just some wild-eyed play-the-race-card conspiracy theory. People have admitted it openly. It hasn't been polled for a year, only as recently as the second half of December 2008 and the first few days of 2009 by ABC News- after Obama's election but before his inauguration- but one would be a fool to think racism has gone completely away since then. And in that poll, 35% of all respondents, and more specifically 34% of white respondents, answered yes to the question "If you honestly assessed yourself, would you say that you have at least some feelings of racial prejudice?"

If I asked you if you were one of these people, you would almost assuredly tell me no, whether you actually are or not. And I will not call any one person a racist in this space. But, just in case one happens to be out there listening, listen carefully.

A black man has been elected President. A black man is serving as President. It's too late to prevent it. You are not Doctor Who, and you cannot change history. What is done is done. Some little reptilian corner of your mind might be driving you to desperately search for some way you can turn back the clock and stop it from happening, but no matter how loud you scream, no matter how much you threaten, no matter how much legislation you pass or prevent from passing, even if you manage to gain sufficient power to strike Obama's name from the rolls and act as if he was never really President, and annul every bill he ever signed into law, nothing you can ever do will change the fact that, from the period spanning January 20, 2009 to today, a black man sat in the Oval Office. That fact will always be true, from now until time immemorial. Even if he were to suffer a heart attack and die tomorrow, he will have served longer than at least one other President.

It's bigger than Obama now. The larger process of acceptance has started, however long it will ultimately take. The first black anything always has to deal with people like you. It doesn't matter what, really. Take baseball. Jackie Robinson was the first player to break the color barrier, and everyone knows what he had to deal with. That was the beginning. Larry Doby, the second black player, didn't have it easy either, coming in only three months after Robinson, and since he wasn't the first, he didn't have the support structure Robinson did.

But things slowly got better. By the time Pumpsie Green integrated the Red Sox 12 years after Robinson, the pressure was less on Green for being black, then it was on the Red Sox for not integrating sooner. Green wasn't a new thing anymore. The grief he got was largely due to the fact that he simply wasn't all that much of a ballplayer; his best year was 1961, in which he hit .260 with 4 home runs and 27 RBI, all career highs. Robinson and Doby never would have been able to get away with those numbers, especially not as career highs.

By the time the Pittsburgh Pirates fielded the first all-black starting lineup in 1971, black ballplayers were so accepted that not even the players noticed until the 2nd inning. (The Pirates won that day, beating the Phillies 10-7.)

The same thing will happen with Obama. Maybe not with you. In fact, almost definitely not with you. But look at those younger than you. Everyone in America born after 12 noon on January 20, 2009 will never know a world in which there was never a black President. They will go to school, open their history textbooks, and when they see that gallery of headshots of all the Presidents in order, from Washington to Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe and on down the line, somewhere in there is going to be Barack Obama. Not a blank space. Not "Barry Soetoro". Barack Obama, with no further context of how he got there or what he dealt with after his election. It will not be a strange thing to them. Maybe a little because for a time he will be the only one there, but he will be there nonetheless. He will be alongside Washington and Jefferson and Lincoln and the Roosevelts and Kennedy and, yes, even Reagan, for as long as the nation endures. The fact that a black man might be President in the future will not shake them as it shakes you. And after they reach voting age, if another qualified candidate comes along who happens to be black, they will not think twice about electing that candidate.

After all, it's happened before, hasn't it?