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Bisbee,
Arizona news, reviews, art, events, history, business and entertainment
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From the editor
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We all know a rose is a rose is rose. Well, most of us do anyway. Strikeouts, however, are another matter. Not all strikeouts are the same. Some are more than simply a "K" marked on a scorekeeper's pad. Some strikeouts end games. Others end entire seasons. Still others establish new baseball records: records of success for pitchers … records of futility for batters. Did you know that for decades Babe Ruth held the record for most strikeouts in a career? That's right. The Babe not only was the Sultan of Swat. He also was the King of K. It's yet another of those things that make us go "hmmmmmmmm" when we take time to consider them. Mudville and Bisbee … linked But what was the most famous strikeout of all? Most folks know. It was when Casey, the Mighty Casey, struck out. It brought gloom to Mudville. Do you remember the poem? Some say it's perhaps the most famous doggerel verse in American literature: Casey at the Bat. Back before TV, baseball brought communities together. Folks went out to the ballpark. It was okay that baseball was played at human, not TV-induced, speeds. Hot dogs, Cracker Jacks, mustard, ketchup, soda, cold beer, acrid dust off the infield, verdant smells of watered grass: those were the tastes and odors that dominated the senses. Communities rallied 'round their ball teams. The shortstop always had a nickname. It had to do with agility, wiriness, or grit. The pitching ace played other positions on days he wasn't throwing pitches (genus ball, species fast, curve, and spit). The folks in the bleachers and grandstands got to know these things. Coming together at the ballpark was THE American tradition. Casey at the Bat reminds us of those days. The poem's whole title is Casey at the Bat: A Ballad of the Republic. Ernest Thayer, using the pseudonym "Phin," wrote the poem in 1888: 115 years ago. The baseball caps were cylindrical pill boxes. Umpires wore the old short-billed black caps. Uniforms were baggy. A month ago, Bisbee was like that. The community was rallying 'round the Copper Kings. The nights at the Warren Ballpark seemed to sparkle, didn't they? The grass was a darker green, and the stars twinkled brighter, as you sipped your drink, munched your hot dog, and laughed with your buddy seated next to you. Today, after the Arizona - Mexico Baseball League did its own strike-three at the plate, Bisbee is a modern Mudville. We went to the games. We cheered. We fussed at the umpires. We groaned at errors. We jumped and hollered at runners sliding into third. We encouraged the pitchers: "Strike 'im out!" We spurred on the batters: "Knock the cover off the ball!" For Bisbee, the entire Copper Kings organization, and even the League itself, were our Casey. We wanted so much for them to clobber a homer over the Phelps-Dodge scoreboard in left. Instead, today we are reliving the famous poem. It's got 13 rhyming verses, but the final two are enough to remind us of our fate: The
sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate; Oh,
somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
I'll never forget the joy I did feel at being able to umpire the Copper Kings' first games. It's a beautiful sensation, smelling the dust as a fastball smacks into the catcher's leather mitt. For a brief moment, it's hurts my eyes - which I keep wide open as an umpire needs to do - as particles of grit slice through the black face mask. But would I trade standing my ground, hunched over the catcher, waiting for the split second when I know to signal Ball, or Strike, for the safety of the third row of the grandstand? Never. Regardless of the League's first-season failure, and despite the Copper Kings' demise, I'll always be proud that I announced those two magic words at the start of the season. At 7:05 p.m., on Friday, May 30, 2003, I took a last look at the field, being sure all was in order. I quietly asked the catcher, "ready?" Then, I stood straight. Stretching my right arm forward, and pointing to the Copper Kings pitcher, I yelled out for all to hear … PLAY BALL! It was beautiful. Speaking of Baseball Lore So, Bisbee's 2003 foray into organized baseball reminded us of days gone by. It brought forth memories from our youth, when we settled into our seats to watch a Sunday afternoon game. It was our ("root, root, root for the") home team against the bad guys. Or just maybe we had the chance to watch a Major League game at a Major League ballpark. What a treat! Do you have such memories? I do. My dad and I would travel from our house in Reading, PA and drive to Phillies games played at Connie Mack Stadium in Philadelphia. There was no Veterans Stadium then. Old, worn out, goofy in its idiosyncrasies, Connie Mack was a magical experience for a kid like me. We watched Robin Roberts and Richie Ashburn, great National League stars, who played for a lot of really bad Phillies teams. Do you know for whom Connie Mack Stadium was named? I wonder how many Bisbee baseball fans would know the answer. It was named after the great turn-of-the-century (the OTHER turn-of-the-century) manager Cornelius McGillicuddy. He managed the original Philadelphia Athletics, the franchise that played in the American League and were the precursors of the modern A's, who later moved to Kansas City and then to Oakland. Actually, I do know one Bisbonian who would have known the answer. Bruce MacAlister would've known. Bruce and his wife Martha often can be found relaxing away the time at the Bisbee Coffee Company. Or, which I truly appreciate, you can see them volunteering at the Bisbee Visitor Center. They are MOST EXCELLENT volunteers. Bruce knows his baseball. He can ask baseball trivia questions, and - most conveniently - can answer them. The other week Bruce lent me an exquisite scrapbook he had compiled as a youth. It contains pictures and articles from the 1946 and 1947 New York Yankees seasons. Does Bruce's scrapbook focus on one player specifically? You bet! Like most fans, Bruce has his own answer to the question, who was the greatest all-around baseball player of all time. Bruce is a fan of center fielder Joe DiMaggio. The Yankee Clipper. Joltin' Joe. The scrapbook is a treasure. The clippings follow the re-started careers of Yankee players coming home from World War II. Joe DiMaggio was ex-Army; right fielder Tom Henrich was ex-Coast Guard; catcher (and future Yankee manager) Bill Dicky was ex-Navy; left fielder Charley Keller was ex-Merchant Marine. Bruce includes in the scrapbook a clipping from a significant game he himself attended. It was the first night game ever played at Yankee Stadium. Lots of history. It's fun to read the financial discussions. Today, individual ballplayers earn millions each year. In 1946, the Yankees announced a ticket-price hike. General admission rose a nickel, from $1.20 to $1.25. Why? One reason was the Yankee's high team payroll: $308,662 (which included Joltin' Joe's amazing $40,000 per year). Want to talk baseball? Find Bruce MacAlister, and get him started.
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