Jim Abbott talks about believing in yourself, being determined -- and a little creative

One of the best parts of my job is that I get to meet really special Michiganders -- like Jim Abbott.

The pitcher, and Flint native, was in Lansing today, joining the Lieutenant Governor and a Supreme Court Justice on the Mi Hidden Talent tour. The events are aimed at employers to help them realize that there are people with special skills who might not get considered because they might have a disability.

Abbott, of course, is the former pitcher who didn't let being born without a right hand stop him from being successful in college, in the Olympics and in the Major Leagues. 

His inspirational message was the people with disabilities can succeed if they believe in themselves, are determined to do their best -- and can be creative in finding ways to do things to get around their disability.

As an example, Abbott demonstrated how he learned to catch a ball in his glove and quickly be ready to throw it again. 

Watching him demonstrate this brought back memories of the first time I saw him do this -- on the mound at Yankee Stadium.

I had some time with Jim today, and we talked about that day in 1989. I remembered the ovation he received -- and he remembered that he got the win.

He was gracious with his time, and a very nice person -- with an amazing story. 

Here's a tale from the archives about one of my favorite baseball memories.:

Only twice have I witnessed visiting players get a standing ovation at Yankee Stadium.

And one of those times shouldn’t count. It was August 4, 1985, the day Tom Seaver won his 300th game, and we Mets fans pretty much took over the Yankees’ home that day.

But the other time was May 24, 1989, coming when a rookie pitcher was doing something as ordinary as making warm-up tosses.

Jim Abbott was already pretty famous. He was on the mound when the United States won the Olympic gold medal in 1988, was drafted in the first round by the California Angels and went straight to the Major Leagues.

What amazed a lot of people was that Abbott was born without a right hand.

The disability didn’t seem to hold him back at all. He pitched and was the quarterback at Flint Central High and played for the University of Michigan’s baseball team. There were stories about how an opposing college team tried to take advantage of him, sending the first four batters to the plate bunting. The team changed its strategy after Abbott fielded each attempt cleanly.

What amazed me was how gracefully Abbott would catch the ball and get ready to pitch.

He would wear a left-hander’s glove, catch the ball, tuck the glove under his arm, take the ball out and place the palm of his glove over the stump at the end of his right wrist. After throwing the ball he’d quickly slip his left hand back into the glove to be ready to catch the return throw.

Abbott could complete the cycle so smoothly and quickly that it looked like he wasn’t even thinking about it. It was completely natural to him.

So I was excited when the Angels rolled into town in 1989 – a month and a half into Abbott’s rookie season – and that he would pitch in the series.

I scammed seats in the lower level of the first base side so I could get a good view. There was polite applause for Abbott when the line-ups were introduced. But I was surprised by what happened when the Angels took the field in the bottom of the first.

There was quiet as he walked to the mound, at least as quiet as ballparks get. Then Abbott started taking warm-up pitches, making the complicated maneuvers with the glove.

It started with more polite applause, and it started to swell with each throw, building and building. Finally, everyone in the stadium was on their feet cheering. It was really emotional. And all he was doing was throwing warm-up pitches.

I think it was a sign of respect. This guy had a disability, and there he is standing on the mound in what is perhaps the most famous ballpark in the world. It wasn’t an Eddie Gaedel-like stunt. Abbott earned his way.

But keep in mind, this was the Bronx. As the applause died down, I remember a guy a couple rows ahead of me saying, “All right, you got your applause. Now let’s kick his ass.”

If there was any butt-kicking that day, it was done by the Angels, who beat the Yanks 11-4, making it a good day all around. Abbott got the win, pitching 5 and a third innings allowing three runs on 10 hits.

Abbott, of course, got another ovation from Yankee fans when he pitched for them several years later and threw a fantastic no-hitter, the high point of his 10-year career in the majors.

A year after I saw Abbott pitch I moved to Michigan to work for the Flint Journal, and our coed softball used to practice at Central High, where Abbott once pitched. Occasionally I’d stand on the mound, look around and think of that day in Yankee Stadium.

Baseball Place No. 4: Monument Park, Yankee Stadium

All the ambiance of a McDonald's drive-through.

I have a bone to pick with Josh Pahigian.

How in the heck is Yankee Stadium’s Monument Park stop No. 4 in his “101 Baseball Places to See Before You Strike Out?”

I’d place it a little lower, like around No. 102. Maybe 103 if I can find the spot where Rollie Fingers first bought mustache wax.

Alas, Josh is driving. So our next stop is the Bronx.

I actually went to a fair number of games at Yankee Stadium from 1987 to 1989, when I was a Connecticut resident.

My wife worked nights, and Yankee Stadium was fairly easy to get to from the northern approach, and without the bridge tolls.

I was in a Rotisserie league in the brief time when such things were cool, using American League players.

That was a down era for the Yankees, so I knew I could buy an upper deck ticket and grab pretty much the seat of my choice behind the visitor’s dugout and cheer on Kelly Gruber, BJ Surhoff, Joe Carter and the rest of my players. I didn’t draft Yankees, of course.

And once in a while I’d stroll through Monument Park because I like to explore every inch of every ballpark, a trait that drives friends and relatives nuts.

The last time I went out there was in 1991, when we were working on a ballpark story for the Flint Journal.

It seemed to have been “tarted up,” since my last visit, with the little walk way of retired numbers and a faux marble finish painted on the wall. The Yankees can’t afford real marble?

You just know Roger was counting on getting himself a plaque in Monument Park.

Then something totally freaky happened. You have access to the park during part of batting practice, and a batted ball came bouncing in, stopping at the foot of a teen-ager who was absolutely thrilled, holding it high and showing to his friends.

And then a security guard came over and demanded the ball, saying that was stadium policy. The kid, completely heartbroken, gave it up.

I think the guard just wanted the ball, because even the Yankees, loathsome as they most certainly are, wouldn’t have such a policy.

Had that been me, I would have kicked up a major fuss and demanded to see his supervisor, at which point the “policy” would have quickly been forgotten.

But I digress.

Monument Park started as a decent thing, with stone monuments to Miller Huggins, Lou Gehirg and Babe Ruth actually out there on the field, and plaques to owner Jacob Ruppert and General Manager Ed Barow on the outfield wall.

Fans were allowed to walk on the field and see them after the game.

But we’re dealing with the Yankees here, and excess is the norm. The plaques kept coming and were moved behind the outfield wall when the stadium was torn down and replaced with Yankee Stadium II.

In all, there are now plaques for 25 assorted Yankee players, front office types and announcers, plus Jackie Robinson, two popes and a memorial to the Sept. 11 victims.

I was present when the thing jumped the shark for certain, on Aug. 4, 1985, when Phil Rizzuto got a plaque. Luckily, Tom Seaver was on hand to redeem the day.

This is bad.

This is worse. And who wrote that copy? "Later as a manager he became one of the greatest Yankee managers." Um, how about: "He later became a great Yankee manager." Then, I would add: "Who was fired by the team five times. But he was great."

Adding Reggie Jackson and Billy Martin didn’t help. And if Red Ruffing was such a True Yankee, why’d they wait 58 years before giving him a plaque?

I’m sure Melky Cabrera and Kyle Farnsworth already have spaces reserved for their plaques in the new Yankee Death Star. Derek F. Jeter gets a monument. ARod, probably not.

I’ll grant that the Yankees were the first to do this, but others have followed and have offered spaces that are less tacky.

The Yankees are like the nouveau riche people who move into a neighborhood, tear down a perfectly nice home to build a McMansion and park their new red Hummer in the street so everyone has to see it. Subtlety is not in their playbook.

But the Phillies, Indians and Tigers, for example, did a nice job with a similar concept. And you can visit their parks throughout the game, not just during batting practice.

And the Mets, of course, display their retired numbers in a way that shows dignity and class.

Bidding farewell to the place where Tom Seaver won No. 300 and the rest of the Friday Five

There won’t be tears shed in these parts on Sunday when the Yankees close out their ballpark, but it’s not an entirely bad place. You can't blame the building for the people who play there.

In fact, I’ve had four special moments at Yankee Stadium II. I tried to come up with five to kick start this week’s Deezo Friday Five, but we are talking about the Yankees here. I could only come up with four.

I’ve posted on each of these moments before. Some of my favorites, in fact. So I direct you to them, and look forward to the finale of a much better ballpark, which hopefully won’t arrive until sometime very late next month.

1) Tom Seaver's glorious 300th win

2) Mets vs Yankees in the second inter-league game in 1997.

3) Meeting Richard M. Nixon in the press box.

4) Watching Jim Abbott's New York debut.

2) I might be joining my daugher as a squished penny collector.

The people who design these things published books to commemorate the demise of Bronx dump and the passing of glorious Shea. Plus, they are creating two player squished pennies — actually nickels — for the event.

I expected Derek F. Jeter, because it’s always Derek F. Jeter, and maybe someone cool like David Wright.

But you can imagine how excited to see the Mets representative was Tom Seaver! Yes! A new Seaver collectible! And the other player is Don Mattingly, who I think is trying to clense the Yankee taint by serving as the Dodgers’ hitting coach.

3) My son started his first job as a lifeguard. I have mixed emotions about this.

When I was a summer seasonal at Marjorie Post Park in Massapequa in the early 1980s, the lifeguards were our sworn enemies.

While we were busting our butts maintaining the grounds and cleaning the bathhouses and pool deck, the lifeguards were sitting on theirs, twirling their whistles and shouting "Walk!" and "Stay off the rope!" to terrified 6-year-olds.

Plus, they had a lounge area with overstuffed sofas while we ate lunch on old picnic tables in the smelly garage.

One day, the lifeguards complained about mice in their lounge. The big boss — a former seasonal with no love for the lifeguards — suggested we use the firehose to clean the lounge from the walls to the floor.

Many surfer dude posters were lost that day. Never did find the mice, though.

4) I grumbled loudly about the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame enshrining all those 1960s people I’d never heard of. But I’m learning some wonderful things.

When I saw the Hall of Fame’s video of Etta James, I saw the platinum hair and extreme make-up and didn’t give a thought to the music.

But I’ve been making an iPod playlist with a song from each honoree, and picked up an Etta greatest hits CD from my library.

Now I’m entranced! I’ve learned her life story is, well, on the messy side. But that voice! And now that I recognize her hit, "At Last," I’m noticing it turning up in ER episodes and movie trailers. "Tell Mama," "Something’s Got a Hold of Me" and "I’d Rather Go Blind" are amazing, too.

I’ve since made extensive use of my library card to find Etta’s blues and live discs, and even came across a jazzy Christmas album.

None of this excuses the lack of Rush and Twisted Sister in Cleveland, but it’s nice to expand my musical horizon.

5) I was pretty happy with this Favre kid in Week 1 and not as happy in Week 2. Let’s see what he can do on a Monday night, a spot where the J-E-T-S usually shine.

Topps has its computer artists busy revamping Brett’s card to show him riding his mower through Times Square. I like that all the people walking nearby hardly notice. They’ve seen stranger things.

Liam notes "essential" Bronx games we'll never see

Curt Schilling bleeds all over the hallowed ground of Yankee Stadium.

As you know, Liam won the “Essential Games of Shea Stadium” DVDs, showing exceptional knowledge of both presidents and Mets.

When he e-mailed me his address, he added the following, which is just too good to keep to myself.

Clearly, Liam is a bad-ass from way back!

“I'm looking forward to seeing Seaver in his prime, and I'm hoping they do a similar box set with all the great games in Yankee Stadium history.
-- Schilling's "Bloody Sock" game
-- Game 7 of the 2004 ACLS
-- Josh Beckett's World Series shutout in 2003
-- Tom Seaver's 300th win
-- Koufax's 15 K performance in '63 World Series
-- The 22-0 drubbing by the Indians
-- The one where Tim McCarver tells us about Derek Jeter's calm eyes.

I'm looking up Yankees with presidential names, just in case ;)

Outstanding, Liam. And he was kind, because I would have added the no-hitter tossed by five Astros -- including Billy Wagner and Octavio Dotel -- and the shameful bat-tossing incident of Game 2 of the 2000 Series.

Readers, let me know if we missed any!

Snakes in the pressbox and Hillary, too

The Associated Press reported last week that a 3-foot black snake sent reporters into a tizzy after it appeared in the press box as the Mets were enroute to beating the Indians in a spring training game at Chain of Lakes Park in Winter Haven.

I was tempted to dismiss this article at first. My experience in press boxes has been that not only would a snake not cause a stir, but he’d we welcomed and probably have his own seat and laptop.

OK, that’s a little harsh. But truth be told, I’ve been in a number of minor league and major league press boxes and the experiences largely have not been fun.

One time I was so repulsed by the behavior that I went and sat in the stands — and found them to be a much better place to enjoy the game.

My first time, in Yankee Stadium, was not reflective of future encounters. That, of course, was the oft-mentioned meeting of Richard Nixon, Dave Winfield and Matthew "Pop" Shortell, which you can read it here if you have not already heard the wild tale. It's gone downhill from there.

Unless they’ve changed with the newest round of stadium construction, press boxes are pretty much the same. There are rows bar-like connected desks, arranged steeply so the head of the writer in front of you is not obstructing your view. There’s usually a hallway along the back, and wipe board for things like the line-ups and other facts of the day.

Usually there piles of copied game notes and stats, assembled to be easily dropped into stories. I’m often envious because school reporters have to work a little harder to get information.

And, usually, not too many steps away is some kind of free food. Nothing that you’d skip dinner for, but it’s free so the sportswriters like it.

The old Tiger Stadium had one of the worst press boxes. Clearly added during one of the old yard’s many renovations, it was up at the level of the upper deck. You had to take the world’s slowest elevator then walk down a hallway added atop the roof to get to it. And the windows were closed every time I was there, so you couldn’t hear the sounds of the ballpark.

But usually it’s the people and not the facilities that make them unpleasant.

Basically there are a lot of openly surly people up there. I got a sense that the athletes don’t treat a lot of these guys all that well, and when you spend all that time in such an environment you tend to pass it on to whomever you come in contact with.

We were at a game in Baltimore’s old Memorial Stadium the year before Camden Yards opened. You need to know that there are semi-assigned seats. Some of the little desks bear the name of the news outlet, and others are just kind of claimed because the same people sit in them every game. Visiting media usually sit in the last couple rows.

So I had my seat in the last row and was enjoying my crab cakes -- seemed like the frozen kind, but they were free -- and about two innings into the game the staff ushered in a dad and his elementary school-aged son.

I think there were contest winners or something, and both were dressed in Orioles gear. The staffer scanned the box, saw a couple open seats in the first row and placed them there. Both seemed thrilled.

It wasn’t too much later when a late-arriving writer -- I didn’t catch who it was or who he worked for -- saw these two in his seat and went nuts. I don’t mean some grumbling, this guy was yelling.

The Orioles media relations guy told him to calm down and pointed him to a spot in the last row, next to me. The guy walked up and slammed -- and I mean slammed! -- his stuff down on the desk.

"Do you believe this?" he said, as if I would share in his outrage. Since he was all worked up and all, I was going to ask him if I could eat his crab cakes, but I thought better of it.

Shea was a little rough, but it was the staff instead of the other writers.

We grabbed a seat in the back for a game in 1988, and were told to move to auxiliary press box down the hall, which was fine with us. We took our seats and spread out our game notes.

Then a staff member walked over, saw us and said, "You! Out!" complete with pointing and the thumb gesture. Two other guys standing next to him came and took our places. I asked where it would be OK for us to sit, and he said something along the lines of "Not my problem."

I suppose I would have preferred, "Hey fellas, these guys usually sit there and because they’re regulars we need to take care of them first." But that wouldn’t be New York or Shea, and "You! Out!" has become one of our catch phrases.



What was she thinking?

Speaking of New Yorkers. Well, people who are kind of New Yorkers. As a political observer I’ve wondered how Hillary Clinton would fare on the campaign trail. Then I saw this quote from Newsday:

"I cannot let stand that I have ever, ever been a Mets fan: Let's set the record straight," Clinton said. "The Cubs and the Yankees — those were my teams and remained my teams growing up and now in my mature years."

Goodness, is she trying to throw the election? Why not come out and say she'll name Derek F. Jeter as her running mate?

Yankee love? Open Mets hating? That’s quite a confession. Who does she think she is, Tom Verducci? Obama’s people must be doing cartwheels.

Somewhere Gary Hart is sitting there with his Monkey Business T-shirt thinking, "I did some dumb things, but nothing that dumb."

Can you imagine the first primary debate?

Moderator: Sen. Obama, we’ll start with you. What’s your plan for Iraq?

Obama: (Pointing) She’s a Yankee fan. (Gasps in the audience)

Moderator: That’s it? You have plenty of time.

Obama: As if I needed to say anything else. Did you hear me? She roots for the Yankees.

Clinton: Ah, ah ... Yankee pride! Twenty-six world championships! Derek Jeter was robbed last year! Vast right-wing conspiracy!

Moderator: Well hell, this one’s over. That’s a wrap.

Clinton (voice trailing off): ...he dove into the stands to catch the ball...

Should be interesting to see how this plays out.

Is Shea a tough place to play?

Looks like a nice place to me.

The congressional elections aren’t to far off, so that means we get subjected to all kinds of polls. Apparently Sports Illustrated decided to do some polling of its own, asking 415 players what is the toughest stadium to play as a visiting player.

Some of places make sense, some don’t. And of course we have to deal with the typical SI Yankee bias. Here’s the list and some choice comments.

10) Shea Stadium: We knew this was coming. Every couple of days Yankee-lovin’ Sports Illustrated remembers that it hasn’t trashed the Mets and runs something goofy like this: "Did John Rocker have a vote in this survey? The constant roar from airplanes heading in and out of LaGuardia can be a distraction, as can the baseball-crazed fans who have been waiting 20 years for another World Series winner."

First of all, can we stop with the Rocker references? We are so over that. He’s been suspended, he apologized, he started sucking rocks in the majors, minors and independent leagues. Let it go.

As for the rest, sure the airplanes are loud and so are the fans. You got a problem with that?

9) Dolphins Stadium: The Marlins are so desperate to get their own yard that they’ve apparently started paying players to say bad things about they one they rent now. It’s not that bad. There are gripes about the way they’re treated by the guy who owns the stadium, but those shouldn’t affect the players. I’ve actually been in the dugout and clubhouse here, and it seemed kind of nice.

8) U.S. Cellular Field: No doubt about that. Shirtless, tattooed and somewhat drunk South Siders have been known to run out of the stands and attack first-base coaches. But the biggest fear is that some poor fan will get dizzy in the highest reaches of the park’s legendary steep upper deck -- you practically need seatbelts -- tumble out, pick up speed falling past the three -- yes, three! -- levels of luxury boxes and land right on top of a poor rightfielder.

7) AT&T Park: I think confusion is the issue here. They’ve changed the name of the place so many times -- this is the third one in six years -- that they must have to constantly replace the directional signs. And given the speed DOT crews seem to work, they’re probably two name changes behind, making it hard for bus drivers to get to the yard. That’s not counting the confusion in the stands, where they actually cheer Barry Bonds.

6) Metrodome: Can’t argue with this one. Loud, ugly and charmless -- and those are just the Twins uniforms. They stadium’s no treat, either.

5) McAfee Coliseum: It’s a football stadium, and a bad one at that. But it so favors football that I think they actually schedule Raiders games right in the middle of Athletics games. Sure, there’s so much downtime in a football game that it doesn’t affect the A’s much. The problem is that players have a hard time getting back into the dugout because they have to pass through all the glad-handers and hangers-on that fill the sidelines of any given NFL game. Seriously, who are all those people? You don’t see baseball filling the foul areas with assorted friends of the owners, cheerleaders and whomever could pretend to be in the media and wrangle a credential. And I think the head coach can wear a headset without requiring an employee whose sole job is to keep track of the wire.

4) Citizens Bank Park: No freaking kidding. I think the Mets games on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday tell us all we need to know about this horror show. Not that it stopped Jose Reyes. Last year, at this very park, I was openly mocked for voting for Jose on my All-Star ballot. Guess he showed them!

3) Wrigley Field: It must be tough to play there because their players occasionally resort to cheating, corked bats and all. And it’s tough one the fans. I thought one died right in front of me. True story.

2) Fenway: SI’s explanation: "The Red Sox have the best home record (38-18) in the majors this season and have won at least 50 games at home in each of the last three years." Could this be because the team has good players?

1) Yankee Stadium: Here’s what SI says: Among the 415 current major league players surveyed, 83 (21.2 percent) voted Yankee Stadium as the most difficult place to play as a visiting player. The numbers back them up: Since Joe Torre took over as manager in 1996 through 2005, the Yankees are 513-292 (.805) at home in the Bronx, where the fans are close to the field and into the action."

Just Yankee fans being Yankee fans.

Where to start? Forget for a second the notion that when you spend nearly twice as much as everyone else in the league, you’d darn well better be winning a lot of games. That says nothing about the stadium itself.

But I won’t deny that it’s tough for a visiting player.

First, you have to walk through all kinds of vermin getting to the field. Oh, the rats are nasty, too, but I was talking about the fans.

What’s this "close to the action" stuff? That space between home plate and the backstop is so huge it has three Electoral votes. (All of them cast for Jeter in every election, of course) The seats in left are separated from the field by the walkway to The Shine To Over-rated Yankees Of The Past. There’s even enough room there for a walkway and the line of retired numbers. And it’s a long walk because the Skanks retire so many. You know they’re just waiting for Tanyon Sturtze to retire so they can hand ole No. 56 out there with the Scooter and Reggie.

I suppose the players are closer to Yankee fans than anybody in their right mind would want to be without disinfectant. But they’re no closer than in any other yard.

By the way, Alex Rodriguez says the place is the hardest place for home players, too. It’s not his fault, he swears.

Forget Sports Illustrated. Here's the REAL Ballpark Ranking

Shea is so heavenly that St. Peter rips your tickets as you enter.

It’s no secret that Sports Illustrated is a football rag. I think baseball appears on the cover of Popular Mechanics more than it does of SI. And its stable of Yankee-apologist hacks like Tom Verducci ensures that the Mets will get bashed in the rare times they get mentioned at all.

So I wasn’t shocked that the magazine ranked that slice of God’s Country called Shea Stadium as the very worst ballpark in the Major Leagues.

My man Metstradamus posted this nonsense on his awesome site, knowing that all our goats would be gotten. So I mobilized the Thruth Squad to set the record straight with real rankings.

First a couple things to get out of the way. The SI piece ranks ballparks on stuff like food selection, neighborhoods, and the number of toilets. All of that is nonsense.

Hey, if you are going to a stadium for a fine dining, then you’re going to the wrong place. My criteria for ballpark food: Fill my stomach until I can hit the White Castle drive-through on the way home. Or, in the case of a Lemon Chill, occupy my kids when they get a little restless. Those wooden scrapers, er, spoons, keep them busy.

As for neighborhoods, if I want to hang out in some trendy sports bar, I can do it without going to the stadium first. Restrooms? I might care a little more if I was in the other gender, but it’s not like guys require a lot here. I plan to spend as little time in them as possible.

So here is how the stadiums should have been ranked, at least the ones that I have visited.

Elegant and classy Shea Stadium, with tasteful giant neon ballplayers.

1) Shea Stadium: The Mets play here. That negates any kind of shortcoming. Really, what else could you want? The skyline atop the scoreboard is a fine tribute to New York. The apple in the cap is a far better decoration for centerfield than some plaques with dead Yankees on them. And it’s so convenient to have that nice airport across the street, allowing visiting teams to quickly depart the fair city with their tails between their legs. I pretty much go to a ballpark to see a game, and if that game includes the Mets, then everything else doesn’t really matter.

Details like giant baseball cards make PNC a fun place to see a bad team.

2) PNC Park: I was ready to pledge allegiance to this fine yard until I had to pay about $5 for a Diet Coke. Other than that, this is a magnificent ballpark. The view is awesome, our upper deck seats were not ridiculously high and the Bucs do a fine job of celebrating their tradition and history.

3) Fenway Park: Fenway is Wrigley without the idiots. You're never going to get closer to the players. The Green Monster is a cool quirk, the Citgo sign is a classic and the rest of the place was like a museum until they started putting seats atop the wall.

Busch looked cool even before they added real grass.

4) Busch Stadium:I'm a sucker for landmarks, and the view of the Arch from the first base side is just perfect. Add baseball's second-best fans and you have a multi-purpose bowl that still seems like a great night at the ballpark. Sadly, you have less than a month to see Busch, at least this version of it.
I didn't see a game, but they let me take photos.

5) Dodger Stadium: I’ve never seen a game here, but the team allowed me to hit a gift shop and walk around the upper deck one morning when I was attending a conference in Los Angeles. The place was beautiful. I was amazed that at a point I could see the ocean, the Hollywood sign and the mountains. It was also cool that it’s built right into a mountain. I parked and walked right into the upper deck.

Will inspecting Miller Park while it was still under construction.

6) Miller Park: I took in a game at Miller last year, and was greeted by the commissioner of baseball. True story. We had a fun time and the brats with secret sauce actually made me care about stadium food. The roof opened and closed during the game, which was neat, and a massive gift shop was well-stocked with retor cap-and-glovev logo merchandise. And check out the Little League field on the site of old County Stadium.

Coors right before the first exhibition game with real players.

7) Coors Field: One of the first of the retro stadiums, Coors is bricks and steel, pine trees in the bullpens and a line of purple seats at the mile-high mark. And it made Mike Hampton pay for leaving the Mets in 2001 -- though the schools in Denver are really good. Sure, Mike.

We got to see the All-Star Game Home Run Derby at the Jake.

8) Jacobs Field: They passed on the bricks to come up with a modern ballpark that has some of the touches of the retro yards, just not as nice looking from the outside. But this is still a fine ballpark. Execpt, of course, for whatever spell it cast on Roberto Alomar to make him suck as soon as he left it's diamond.
Pay homge to my friend Kelly Gruber at the dome.

9) SkyDome: I'm not calling it the Rogers Centre or whatever the heck they tacked on the sign outside. People whine about this place, but I think it's fun. Not saying I'd want to see every game there, but it's like baseball in a pinball machine. Embrace the Canadian aspects, despite the new owners' attempts to Americanize the place. And the "OK, Blue Jays" song is pretty cool. And it's hard to not keep looking up at the CN Tower.

10) Kauffman Stadium: I went to college in Missouri, but never had the chance to see this heralded yard. But in 1995 I had two hours to kill before a flight out of Kansas City made it a mission to see the stadium. The folks inside were kind enough to open a gift shop and let we wander around taking photos.

Buy your cheese steak sandwich at Pat's, then go to the game.
11) Citizens Bank Park: From outside this must be the most confusing stadium I've ever seen. It looks like a big pile of stuff in the middle of the parking lot. Inside's a different story, a fine yard. And the giant, light-up Liberty Bell that bongs after each home run is a classic.

"Hey kids, I caught a home run ball today!" "Cool! let's see it!" "Ah, some drunks told me to throw it back on the field."
12) Wrigley Field: Wrigley in romantic theory is much better than Wrigley in reality. In theory, it’s got bleachers full of knowledgeable baseball diehards who live for the ups and downs — mostly downs — of their beloved Cubbies. In reality, the bleachers are packed with drunk posers who think throwing home run balls back on the field is a good idea. In theory, residents of the cute houses across the street climb on their roofs so they can peek the action. In reality, the rooftops are owned by corporations that rent them out for mega-bucks. In theory, fans spill out of the stadium to toss back an Old Style with fellow Cubbie devotees at a local watering hole. In reality, the watering holes are tourist traps. I know. I was one. I know, I know...ivy...Harry..the El. It’s just not real. It’s like people going there are following a script instead of stuff just happening.


My view of Charlie Hough throwing the first pitch in Marlins history -- to current Met Jose Offerman.

13: Dolphins Stadium: People wail on this place like it's some hell-pit, and I just don't get it. It's a lot better than some of the other multi-purpose stadiums, and there is some local latin flavor that the team is starting to recognize. Former owner Wayne Huizenga -- who owns the stadium -- seems to go out of his way to make the Marlins seem like second-class citizens in their own home, but I still enjoy going here.

14) Minute Maid Park: I've only been in the gift shop and walked around the building, but I could see they had the train that rides atop the left field wall decorated for Christmas. It looked like a pretty cool place, and I like the hill in centerfield. The statues of Bigs and Bags were OK. As a bonus treat, it was the scene of Roger "Bat-tosser" Clemens' complete All-Star game meltdown.

I drove my rental car right under the Big A!
15) Angels Stadium: This time team let me in the gift shop but would not let me inside to take photos. Disney did wonders by making this a baseball-only stadium again, though I have no idea what's going on with the rocks in centerfield. I like the giant caps and Hollywood-style hands in cement near the entrance. And the former "Big A" scoreboard is a landmark.

This yard should always be called Comiskey Park.
16) U.S. Cellular Field: I don’t care if they lop off a couple rows and add a roof, the upper deck is just plain disasterous. It’s as steep as everyone says — you’re afraid to lean forward — and three, count ‘em, three levels of luxury boxes make it seem so high that the observation deck of the Sears Tower is anticlimactic. The lower level is a different story, and the Sox have enough side attractions and promotions to add to the fun. The team gouges on the parking, knowing that no sane person would park in the projects and walk to the yard. I still have no clue why they painted everything black, but the exploding scoreboard is a treat.

17) The Metrodome: We already know that security at the dome is lax. (Read about it here) It's plastic and ugly, but still a step up from where the Twins used to play.

A tiger choking on a baseball is not the image you want to project.

18) Comerica Park: I took my kids to see a game there in the stadium's first year. I asked for three tickets, and the seller said all he had were upper deck seats for $50. "Three upper deck seats are $50? You gotta be kidding me!" Then the guys said, "No, they're $50 EACH." That made me kind of bitter about Comerica. They've lowered the prices, but I still only go once a year. And if you need a Ferris wheel to keep fans amused, your team must really suck.

19 - 29) Bank One Ballpark, Great American Ballpark, Petco Field, Safeco Field, SBC Park, Newtork Associates Coliseum, Tropicana Dome, Ameriquest Field, Turner Stadium, RFK Stadium, Camden yards: I have not been to these stadiums, though I got a hard hat tour of Camden while it was under construction. So it would be unfair to rank them. Except for one thing -- I can assure you they are better than this dump:

30) Yankee Stadium: Otherwise known as “The House of Shame.” A vile hell hole that serves as a tribute to self-glorification with all the beauty and splendor of the South Bronx. The fact that Steinbrenner periodically threatens to move the team to New Jersey — New Jersey! — tells you all you need to know about this landfill. And no, Derek Freaking Jeter is not some stud because he can loft what would be a shallow fly in any other park into that short porch in left. And is there anything stupider that that "roll call" cheer? It makes "the wave" look intelligent. Watch the ballgame and leave the players alone, darn it! Fans, this is where SI got it so wrong.

Phew, I feel better now.

The Forces That Heal: Tom Seaver's 300th Win

You just know there are cosmic forces at work in baseball.

Usually the forces show their hands with a foul ball to Steve Bartman or a slow roller to Bill Buckner, keeping ancient storylines alive.

But sometimes the forces work to heal. I submit Aug. 4, 1985, twenty years ago this month, as proof.

If M. Donald Grant stabbed Mets fans in the heart by trading Tom Seaver to the Reds in 1977, losing him a second time in 1984 was like taking the wounded pump and throwing it out on the tracks in front of the No. 7 train.

Back then, teams that lost a player through free agency were allowed to compensate by selecting from a pool of unprotected players from each of the other teams.

The Mets, with a rotation of decent starters and Dwight Gooden on the horizon, figured no one would take an icon with a 9-14 record.

Wrong. The White Sox lost pitcher Dennis Lamp to the Blue Jays, they picked Seaver from the pool.

I didn’t take this well.

Just a hunch, but I think I was the only community college newspaper editor in the country to direct his cartoonist to take general manager Frank Cashen to task.

Tom pitched well in Chicago over the next season and a half and I closely followed his march toward 300 wins. He aimed at No. 299 against the Red Sox on July 30, and a win there would mean he’d get to go for the historic milestone in New York, where he never should have left.

Here’s were cosmic forces come into play. Seaver pitched nine innings in a 4-4 tie. But the Chisox threw three runs on the board atop the tenth to get Tom the win.

The next day, my dad bought tickets so the entire family could make our first trip to Yankee Stadium. I was beyond thrilled, and it was appropriate that we could experience it together. Lord knows my folks suffered through my devotion to the Mets and Seaver over the years. And I was leaving for the University of Missouri in a couple weeks, and this would be a meaningful send-off.


Sadly for the Yankees, the team had selected that day to honor Phil Rizzuto, retire his number and throw another plaque up in Memorial Park. Because you know, Ruth, Gehrig and the Scooter…all cut from the same cloth. Whatever.

Rizzuto never had a chance. As he was being showered in trips and golf balls, Tom tried to slip down to the bullpen to get warmed up. That’s when the chanting shouted, “SEA-VER…SEA-VER” cascading down from the upper deck.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Seaver, but you’re going to have to get your win in another city,” Rizzuto said in his remarks. Whatever. Phil then got stepped on by a real cow with a fake halo, which is about right.

The game went by like a blur. The Yanks stepped out to an early lead. Several times, “Let’s go Mets” chants broke out -- probably for the first time ever in that yard. The White Sox sent four across in the top of the sixth. The Yanks threatened in the eighth and the ninth, but the baseball forces were clearly determined to right a wrong.

The stadium erupted as Don Baylor, the home team’s slugger, flied out to Reid Nichols, just below our seats out in left. I can still see Seaver jumping into the arms of fellow future Hall-of-Famer Carlton Fisk, then running to the stands to his family while I hugged members of mine.

I’ll never forget the chills and the tears of that sunny afternoon. The uniform might have read SOX, but I didn’t see it. For a day, M. Donald Grant’s spiteful banishing to Cincinnati didn’t happen. For a day, the front office didn’t make the mistake of not protecting “The Franchise.” For a day, he never left and claimed his historic win before the fans who would enjoy seeing it the most.

Do you believe? The final score that day was 4-1, the same as the uniform number that would eventually be retired at Shea. Over in Chicago the Mets were playing the Cubs and Dwight Gooden won his 11th straight game. The score in that game: 4-1.

And give Tom credit for taking care of business, pitching a complete game. Will, me and the rest of the BaseballTruth.com Executive Board were in Detroit the day Roger Clemens made an attempt at his 300th win. He was pulled in the sixth with a 7-1 lead, only to have the Yankee infield kick the ball around and allow an historically bad Tigers team to tie the game. He lost his next game to the Cubs, and only lasted 6.2 innings in the game against the Cardinals when he eventually reached the milestone.

Perhaps it wasn’t Clemens’ fault. He didn’t have the cosmic forces on hand to mend wounded hearts.

In Other Words...

Three Hall-of-Famers played in that game, another -- Rickey Henderson -- is a lock to be a first-ballot inductee. Which active players will join them in Cooperstown? Will analyzes their chances this week on BaseballTruth.com. You can read it here. The Hall-of-Famers were Seaver, Fisk and Dave Winfield. Two guys who fall just short -- Harold Baines and Don Mattingly -- played, as well as future managers Baylor, Ozzie Guillen and Willie Randolph.

A Rare Sight in the Bronx

Jim Abbott pitching for the Angels.

Only twice have I witnessed visiting players get a standing ovation at Yankee Stadium.

And one of those times shouldn’t count. It was August 4, 1985, the day Tom Seaver won his 300th game, and we Mets fans pretty much took over the Yankees’ home that day.

But the other time was May 24, 1989, coming when a rookie pitcher was doing something as ordinary as making warm-up tosses.

Jim Abbott was already pretty famous. He was on the mound when the United States won the Olympic gold medal in 1988, was drafted in the first round by the California Angels and went straight to the major leagues.

What amazed a lot of people was that Abbott was born without a right hand.

The handicap didn’t seem to hold him back at all. He pitched and was the quarterback at Flint Central High and played for the University of Michigan’s baseball team. There were stories about how an opposing college team tried to take advantage of him, sending the first four batters to the plate bunting. The team changed its strategy after Abbott fielded each attempt cleanly.

What amazed me was how gracefully Abbott would catch the ball and get ready to pitch.

He would wear a left-hander’s glove, catch the ball, tuck the glove under his arm, take the ball out and place the palm of his glove over the stump at the end of his right wrist. After throwing the ball he’d quickly slip his left hand back into the glove to be ready to catch the return throw.

Abbott could complete the cycle so smoothly and quickly that it looked like he wasn’t even thinking about it. It was completely natural to him.

So I was excited when the Angels rolled into town in 1989 – a month and a half into Abbott’s rookie season – and that he would pitch in the series. This was well before the Yankee dynasty. Don Mattingly and Rickey Henderson were in the game, but they were surrounded by people like Ken Phelps, Bob Geren and Mike Pagliarulo.

I scammed seats in the lower level of the first base side so I could get a good view. There was polite applause for Abbott when the line-ups were introduced. But I was surprised by what happened when the Angels took the field in the bottom of the first.

There was quiet as he walked to the mound, at least as quiet as ballparks get. Then Abbott started taking warm-up pitches, making the complicated maneuvers with the glove.

It started with more polite applause, and it started to swell with each throw, building and building. Finally, everyone in the stadium was on their feet cheering. It was really emotional. And all he was doing was throwing warm-up pitches.

I think it was a sign of respect. This guy had a handicap, and there he is standing on the mound in what is perhaps the most famous ballpark in the world. It wasn’t an Eddie Gaedel-like stunt. Abbott earned his way.

But keep in mind, this was the Bronx. As the applause died down, I remember a guy a couple rows ahead of me saying, “All right, you got your applause. Now let’s kick his ass.”

If there was any butt-kicking that day, it was done by the Angels, who beat the Yanks 11-4, making it a good day all around. Abbott got the win, pitching 5 and a third innings allowing three runs on 10 hits.

Abbott, of course, got another ovation from Yankee fans when he pitched for them several years later and threw a fantastic no-hitter, the high point of his 10-year career in the majors.

Jim Abbott pitched for the Yankees, but we like him anyway.

A year after I saw Abbott pitch I moved to Michigan to work for the Flint Journal, and our coed softball used to practice at Central High, where Abbott once pitched. Occasionally I’d stand on the mound, look around and think of that day in Yankee Stadium.

Pop Shortell, Dave Winfield and Richard Nixon

Matthew "Pop" Shortell meets sluger Dave Winfield.

I cover schools, but every once in a while I get to work baseball into my job — and it creates memories of a lifetime.

I was working for the Bridgeport Post in Connecticut back in 1987, and a local man, Matthew "Pop" Shortell, was named "Sports Nut of the Year" by a nut company.

Shortell was one of those people you seem to only find in small town America. A lovable, large older man from blue-collar Ansonia, he seemed to be the referee at every high school football and basketball game, and was famous for yelling out the name of the pitcher and catcher at the start of every youth baseball game he umpired.

He also was famous for his devotion to the New York Yankees. And after hearing about the nut company’s promotion, the team invited Shortell to Yankee Stadium.

My colleague and buddy, Rich Nangle, was going to cover the event, and I was able to tag along, ostensibly as the photographer. Shortell is a nice guy and all, but we were thrilled because this was an opportunity to attend a game for free, run around the stadium with our press passes and sit up in the press box.

Before the game, the Yankees public relations manager led Shortell — with us in tow — to the corridor outside the Yankees clubhouse, which is off limits to anyone except the media and sick children.

The staffer ducked into the clubhouse, and walked out with star pitcher Ron Guidry, who came over, thrilled Shortell with some small talk and posed for a photo.

"Pop" Shortell meets Ron Guidry.

The staffer went back into the clubhouse and came back with reliever Dave Righetti, who, like the Gator, was very pleasant and Shortell was beside himself that these guys would take a couple minutes to meet him — not realizing that they probably do this kind of thing a couple times a week.
Dave Raghetti can't bare to watch.

The staffer said, "Hold on, let me see if I can get one more guy" and headed back into the clubhouse. This was already pretty impressive, since Raghetti and Guidry were two of the team's biggest stars. It took a couple minutes and we wondered what was happening.

The clubhouse door slammed open, startling everyone. We heard a booming voice. "WHERE IS SHORTELL? I WANT TO MEET POP SHORTELL RIGHT NOW!"

Future Hall-of-Famer Dave Winfield turned into the tunnel swinging a bat, and compared to Guidry, was HUGE. He walked up to the old guy, gave him a bear hug and told him how glad he was to meet him.

"Pop" was near tears, showed Winfield photos of his late wife and daughter — he had 11 kids — in his wallet and had the time of his life.

I was impressed. Winfield easily could have done what Rags and Gator did -- both of whom where friendly, respectful and polite -- and everyone still would have walked away very happy. Instead, he put on a major show for the guy and made him feel very special -- pretty much rewarding him for a lifetime of fandom.

Once that was over, we made our way up to the press box. Located behind home plate, the box has several rows of seats behind narrow desks with telephones and places for reporters to plug in their computers, which was pretty complicated at the time. There were staff members on hand to look up stats and other materials reporters might need and a guy walked through with a food cart occasionally.

Seemed like kind of a cushy gig. I covered schools and Rich covered city governments. No one ran to answer our questions or walked past with a snack cart.

We were enjoying being around the big New York sportswriters and tried now to look like we belonged there.

Yankee Stadium actually has two press boxes. One is for the established local reporters and media from out of town. The other, called the auxiliary box, is smaller and separated by the radio and television broadcast booths. It’s for the smaller media types and people who don’t normally cover games — like us.

Somehow, we were assigned seats in the main press box and were very happy to see the reporter from our competition, the Ansonia Sentinel, in the auxiliary box.

About halfway through the game, the Sentinel reporter came over and said "You guys are missing out. We’re having fun over there."

"Ah, no. We’re in the main box," I said. "Maybe we can get you a hot dog."

"We have Nixon sitting with us," he said.

We jumped out of our seats and walked quickly along the narrow hallway that ran behind the press boxes. Next to the auxiliary box there was a small section of seats separated from the press boxes by a thick glass wall — a VIP section for sure.

And sure enough, there sat the 37th President of the United States, Richard M. Nixon. I sat there in awe. We went to the main box, picked up our stuff and moved to where we could keep and eye on the president.

All this while, Rich was working on his story and it was time to dictate it to the editors in Bridgeport. He picked a phone in the last row and started talking while I leaned against the wall of the hallway. The glass wall between the VIP box and ours ended at the hallway, and there was only a velvet rope and guard to keep people out.

I noticed Nixon get out of his seat with an empty glass, walk up the aisle into a room, presumably to get it refreshed.

He appeared again shortly. We made eye contact and I held up my hand and gestured that I would like to shake his. Much to my great glee, the president walked my way, reached out and took my hand. I remember that he looked shorter and grayer than I imagined.

I was completely star struck. "Mr. President, it’s an honor to meet you."

"Great night for a ballgame, isn’t it," he responded.

Rich, who was about three feet away dictating, dropped the phone and joined us.

I had seen Ronald Reagan from a distance three years earlier, but this was the first time I had ever shaken the hand of a president. It lasted just a few moments, but I’ll never forget it.I don’t know who enjoyed the night more, Pop Shortell or me.