Along with the induction materials, I spent some time this weekend scanning, scanning, and scanning a boatload of old newspaper clippings Pop gave me documenting the events that went down back in the day. These hardcopies are quite large, and don’t fit on my scanner, so I currently don’t have digital copies of the complete newspaper articles that were written during the years of 1961, ’62, and ’63, which chronicle his games and the numbers he put up. THE DUDE WAS A WITCH. But I did grab a bunch of scans from the parts of these artificacts that had his handsome face. Enjoy.
I’m going to the motherland tomorrow for a long weekend. Honolulu, where it all began. For me, anyway. Pop’s getting inducted to the Punahou Athletic Hall of Fame. I finally spent a couple hours this weekend scanning some of the materials my old man gave me. Below are a few of the letters of his recommendation submitted to the Hall from coaches and teammates. One name you may already know: Uncle Norm Chow.
I have a vague memory of Mike Lum, the big lefthand stick my old man was once teammates with. Mike went on to play in the bigs with the Cubs, the Braves, and the Cincinnati Reds. One night my dad took me to a Dodger game to play the Reds here in Los Angeles. It was my generation’s good old Dodger days; Garvey, Lopes, Cey, Yeager, Baker, et al. Pop’s buddy Mike was in town. I must’ve been about six or seven years old. We went to the game, Mike had a hit. After that, the only memories I have were waking up on my dad’s shoulder in a dark hotel lounge. Dad and I were chilling with a bunch of guys in leisure suits holding cocktails. One of them, Uncle Mike, gave me the old “pat the buddy’s kid on the head and pretend like you mean it” maneuver, along with a baseball signed by the Cincinnati Reds. I’d imagine they had several barrels of those balls for the guys to use on these types of occasions.
To put things in an on-field perspective: a traveling U.S. team of fourteen players was chosen to play Japan back in 1961, with talent pulled from two states in the union, California and Hawaii. Mike and Dad both came from the Hawaii pool. Mike Lum batted fourth. Pop? Third. THAT DUDE HAD STICK.
Below, some of the paperwork involving the induction gig:
Righteous. Our book Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs By Writers Famous and Obscure has found its way into the offline pages of ESPN Magazine in the April 07 2008 issue. Fifteen athletes gave their six-word memoir; see if you can match the memoir to the athlete.
Page 34 fyi. Here’s the cover of the April 07 2008 issue. Look for it on the newsstand: [click to continue…]
Renowned blogger and fellow six-word memoirist Rebecca Woolf has her new book hitting the shelves today. It’s called Rockabye: From Wild to Child. Rebecca’s a killer writer with a distinctive voice, and I’m confident the book’s gonna touch a lot of people from all parts of the spectrum. Buy it, read it, enjoy it.
Being somewhat in the loop with the SMITH community, I’ve been looking forward to this one and just dropped by Rebecca’s blog to see how the the vibe was over there. She had a recent post memorializing her late Nana, who was the third and final wife of John Lloyd Wright. John Lloyd Wright invented Lincoln Logs, and was the son of the legendary Frank Lloyd Wright. Now, I don’t know about you, but I think THAT IS PRETTY FUCKING COOL. Big fan. Much love and respect. I put master Frank up there with my Rod Serling, my M.C. Escher, and my Dimebag Darrell; I put Lincoln logs up there with my Legos, my Hot Wheels, and my Slime.
I also think it’s kinda cool to be sharing the Storytelling section of our book’s index with Rebecca, and Elizabeth Gilbert for that matter. I suppose one could call it my brush with greatness, if you will. Well, you know. Except for this guy.
A Rockabye review in Zink: [click to continue…]
I read this yesterday. If you’ve done the same, and you’d care to discuss it, remind me about it sometime over cocktails.
To begin that loaded conversation, bring an answer to the following question, which I’ve phrased a few different ways:
What is more important in Life: having a dream that does come true, or having a dream that can come true? Is it the fulfillment that matters, or is it the dream itself that keeps us alive? Is it about the kill, or the chase?
Therein lies the philosophical difference between Santiago and the crystal merchant, and what I believe to be the proverbial backbone of the entire piece. Decide which rationale you identify with more, and we’ll go from there.
That one should take all night.
Via ESPN:
1. Walk
2. Intentional walk
3. Hit by pitch
4. Dropped 3rd strike
5. Failure to deliver pitch in 20 seconds
6. Catcher interference
7. Fielder interference
8. Spectator interference
9. Fan obstruction
10. Fair ball hits ump
11. Fair ball hits runner
12. Fielder obstructs runner
13. Pinch-runner
14. Fielder’s choice
15. Force out at another base
16. Preceding runner put-out allows batter to reach first
17. Sac bunt fails to advance runner
18. Sacrifice fly dropped
19. Runner called out on appeal
20. Error
21. Four illegal pitches
22. Single
23. Game suspended with runner on first, that player is traded prior to the makeup; new player is allowed to take his place
I must poke at this one for a couple seconds, pointing out that not all of these are legitimate “ways” per the scorecards. I can actually only count eight ways; all of the 23 listed above would officially be recorded as one of the following: Hit, Base on Balls, Hit by Pitch, Error, Fielder’s Choice, Catcher’s Interference, Dropped Third Strike, and (up for debate) Pinch Runner.
Rebuttals welcome.
Last night, to commemorate the 50th anniversary of calling Los Angeles home, the Dodgers played an exhibition game against the Boston Red Sox at the Los Angeles Coliseum located several miles south of downtown. For those who don’t know, the Dodgers played their games at the Coliseum in South Central Los Angeles for their first four years here (’58, ’59, ’60, and ’61) while their permanent home at Chavez Ravine was being built just north of downtown.
And so we rallied, braving traffic, parking fees, and the scalping scene to take in the experience. What a trip. A gummer in the hood! We joined 115,000 other people with the same idea, packing the Coliseum to capacity. That’s like packing Dodger Stadium more than twice. To quote KFWB News: “Not since the Christians were thrown to the lions has the Coliseum been this full.”
Two of the first things we noticed were the glaring absence of Dodger Dogs (replaced by bratwursts; did the Farmer John deal come after 1961?), and a left field that looked smaller than my backyard. With this set-up, the Left Fielder assumes more of a Rover role, which most of the time equated to having three middle-infielders.
The photo above was taken from our scalped seats on the southwest curve of the venue. I imagine this is what it looked like fifty years ago, although, if I’m not mistaken, they didn’t play night games back then. I also doubt they ever drew 115,000 people to one game. And I guarantee you beers weren’t ten bucks a pop.
And yeah, I kept expecting the Trojan horse guy to come galloping out at any minute.
