PASSING: Bud Harrelson, January 11, 2024
Derrel McKinley “Bud” Harrelson passed on January 11, 2024 in his home in East Northport, N.Y. of Alzheimer’s disease. Harrelson was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in 2016 and went public with his malady in 2018.
At the time of his passing Harrelson was a partner in the Long Island Ducks North Atlantic Independent League, Islip, Long Island based team team he helped to found in 2000. The link below tells the story:
One of my earliest trivia questions for my confounded schoolmates was:
Q: What is Bud Harrelson’s real name?
A: Derrel McKinley Harrelson!
No, Bud Harrelson was not related to Ken “Hawk” Harrelson.
Bud Harrelson was signed by the Mets as a free agent in 1963, before the free agent amateur draft which began in 1965, after a year at San Francisco State.
Bud’s professional career began in 1963 with the Salinas Mets in California League A ball. Bud was called up to The Show in September 1965 where he caddied for Roy McMillan.
That very same year Bud began his 5 year hitch in the National Guard for 1 weekend a month which partially accounts for Bud’s relatively low number of games played.
Fielding statistics give Bud short shrift. During his Gold Glove campaign of 1971 his % of chances to league average was a pretty good but not great. However it must be factored in that during his career Harrelson played behind Tom Seaver, Nolan Ryan, Jon Matlack, Jerry Koosman and Tug McGraw all of whom were fastball/K/fly out pitchers.
https://www.baseball-reference.com
Harrelson had a cannon for an arm and could hurl overhand from deep in the hole, whip sidearm from a set position and “shovel,” as Mets broadcaster Lindsey Nelson would put it to the 2nd. bagger for a 6-4-3 twin killing.
Harrelson had offensive value. After the success of Maury Wills, who finally made it to the Dodgers after 1100 minor league games by embracing switch hitting, speedy infielders such as Harrelson and his contemporary Don Kessinger were made into switch hitters during their minor league apprenticeships. Bud drew a good number of walks long before OBA became obsessional.
I recall a neighbor chortling with delight when Bud, hitting lefty, beat out a push bunt.
The 1973 Mets vs. Reds NLCS saw Harrelson gain national attention when the 160 lb. Harrelson clashed with the 200 lb. Pete Rose. The fracas had been precipitated by some verbal jousting following the Mets Game 2 9-2 victory lead by Jon Matlack’s 9 K complete game and Rusty Staub’s 2 HRs.
My brother and I were watching the game on a 12″ black and white TV perched precariously on the counter of Mr. Washington’s Sherwin Williams Main St, Port Washington paint store on a sunny afternoon…back when an NLCS game was still played in the afternoon!
On a double play ball Harrelson and Rose collided and Harrelson and Rose began throwing punches.
To my surprise and delight Harrelson did not back down and the Shea crowd cheered Bud even as the imbroglio was broken up by umpires.
Interestingly enough, neither player was ejected. This is hard to imagine happening in today’s MLB!
https://youtu.be/K8xKLbn04h)s?si=FbSHUy98PFLGb3Ar
What did happen was that Reds skipper Sparky Anderson pulled his team from the field for 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, the Shea loyalists began shouting that Rose was ingesting fecal material and did not cease until manager Yogi Berra, Cleon Jones, Rusty Staub, Tom Seaver and Willie Mays calmed the crowd.
The ‘Ya Gotta Believe’ Mets shocked the Reds and wound up pushing the mighty 1973 A’s to 7 games before going down swinging…just like Bud!
From 1965 until 1975 the Mets were New York’s team, especially on the North Shore of Long Island where a train from my home burg of Port Washington could travel to Shea Stadium in 22 minutes.
As the 70’s stumbled on my interest in baseball cards, street baseball and live games was supplanted by televised games, SPORTS ILLUSTRATED and Steely Dan’s PRETZEL LOGIC. Embarrassment too played a role as I recall an LRY girl telling me that baseball was “so 6th. grade” so I kept my fandom to myself even while rooting for Bud Harrelson and the diminishing number of players who had played for the Miracle Mets and the Ya Gotta Believe Mets.
By 1977 the residue of the Miracle Mets and Ya Gotta Believe had been washed away by the dispatching of Dave Kingman, the auctioning off of Tom Seaver, the passing of Mets’ matriarch and majority owner Joan Payson and the resurgent Yankees who had returned to the Bronx and the 1976 World Series.
From 1977 on the Mets would remain mired in the sub .500 mire of the old N.L. East; absorbing countless pummelings from the Pirates and Phillies until re-emerging as contenders in 1984 under the ownership of Nelson Doubleday.
Fans were few and hostile.
A brief digression…
Anyone who thinks that Joe Torre is a great manager should look at the winning %s of the Mets during his reign. And while this is not entirely Torre’s fault, the dis-invested ownership of Linda DeRoulet, Joan Payson’s sister, surely played a major role, Torre’s management of the careers of Dave Kingman, Joel Youngblood and especially Lee Mazzilli says nothing good about Torre’s talent judgement.
In 1977 my brother and I jumped into a packed Port Washington LIRR car for Tom Seaver’s return to Shea as a Red. It was not lost on me that Harrelson had been Tom Seaver’s roommate and that Bud and Pete Rose had been combatants.
When Seaver took the mound an ovation erupted such as nothing I have heard before or since. Seaver stepped off the mound and tipped his cap, which only lengthened the ovation.
Jerry Koosman toed the slab for the Mets. Harrelson, Ed Kranepool and Jerry Grote were penciled into the lineup by Brooklynite Joe Torre.
Of course Harrelson got a hit, of course Ed Kranepool launched a sacrifice fly that proved to be the only run tallied by the Amazins’ and of course Jerry Koosman took the loss.
…but you already knew that…
During spring training in 1978 Harrelson was dispatched to the Phillies for “prospect” Fred Andrews. Harrelson spent 1978 and 1979 with the Phillies spelling the defensively challenged Dave Cash.
In 1980 the Phillies released Harrelson making him a free agent who wound up playing out the string with the Texas Rangers.
As a Ranger Harrelson returned to short where he platooned with the immortal Pepe Frias and played alongside fellow Flushing refugees Rust Staub and Jon Matlack before retiring…but not before hitting his 7th. HR in 5515 PAs!
Harrelson was far from done with baseball and re-emerged as the Mets 1st. base coach and occasional TV commentator for WWOR 9.
In 1984 Bud piloted the short season, 75 games, Little Falls Mets, to 1st. place with a squad featuring future Mets Kevin Elster, Shawn Abner and David West, to a 44-31 record and being named New York-Penn League Manager of the Year.
Harrelson at this point was still on my radar screen as Bud morphed into a company man for the Flushing fiefdom.
1985 found Harrelson at the helm of the of the South Atlantic A ball Columbia Mets which featured future phenom Gregg Jefferies while earning a 79-57 record. During the season Bud bounced to Flushing where he replaced Bobby Valentine who moved to Texas on Davey Johnson’s coaching staff.
1986 saw Harrelson as the 3rd. base coach chasing Ray Knight to home plate in Shea Stadium in the epochal Game 6 of the 1986 World Series.
…Please go to the home page for this blog enter ‘A Night to Remember’ in the Search function for my account of Game 6 while managing Our House in Allston, MA…
Q: Who is the only Met to be in uniform for both the 1969 and 1986 World Series champions?
A: Bud Harrelson!
Sure it is a bit of a trick question but I was still in my 20s!
In 1990 Harrelson replaced Davey Johnson who had gone 20-22 42 games into that season and got the Mets to 91 wins, their 7th. consecutive winning season, although not enough to catch the pre-wild card Bonds, Bonilla, Drabek Buccos of the Jim Leyland era.
1991 saw a near total collapse as Darryl Strawberry went to the Dodgers while Frank Viola and Dwight Gooden failed to repeat their respective 20 and 19 win seasons of 1990 respectively.
As loyal readers of the NEW YORK POST knew there was a significant public dust-up with David Cone that accompanied this plunge. With 2 weeks left in the season and a 74-80 record Harrelson was relieved of his duties and replaced by Mike Cubbage.
At that point Harrelson fell from my radar screen although he was a partner in the Wilmington Blue Rocks, an affiliate of the Kansas City Royals.
Harrelson began blipping again when USA TODAY announced that the Atlantic League of Professional Baseball had placed a team in Islip, Long Island on the footprint of the old Islip Speedway whose Figure 8 track Demolition Derby was featured frequently ABC’s Wide World of Sports. to be called the Long Island Ducks; not to be confused with the Long Island Ducks of the American Hockey league who played for many years in Commack at the Island Arena. Harrelson was the manager as well as an owner for the Ducks maiden voyage.
Harrelson was a Vice President, owner as well as the manager in the Ducks’ 2000 inaugural season and remained as a coach until his 2016 diagnosis of Alzheimer’s Disease. Harrelson retired from baseball in 2018.
Many times Harrelson referred to the founding of the Long Island Ducks as his proudest accomplishment. During his time with the Ducks Harrelson resided in East Northport in Long Island’s Suffolk County where he was well know for being neighborly and his many charitable doings.
Bud Harrelson’s passing effected me far more severely than the passing of Tom Seaver via dementia although both passings were sadly foreseeable.
Bud Harrelson’s saga almost perfectly matched mine…
Baseball cards…getting to The Show…the Miracle Mets…the Ya Gotta Believe Mets…baseball is so 6th. grade…the decline of the Mets franchise from ’77 through ’83…the triumph of Harrelson chasing Ray Knight home with the winning run in game 6 of the 1986 World Series…the maddening ’90’s…minor league management…founding and owning the Long Island Ducks…and passing from Alzheimer’s.
…Bud Harrelson will missed by this narrator for as long as I have left to go...
DEFINITION: Stereotype; steh-ree-oh-tipe
A stereotype is when a teaspoon of truth becomes a mountain of mythology.
2023/2024 Merry Christmas/Happy New Year: Santana ABRAXAS, Version 10
Steve Gallanter’s Blog: https://stevegallanter.wordpress.com
is a modest enterprise. I usually send out about 40 or so Facebook copies and another 20 email copies of brain candy with the occasional response from a friend being more than welcome as were the pass alongs which on 2 occasions reconnected me with folks from the past.
In April 2014 I began tweeting and my number of views exploded to about 200 altogether.
Oh joy!
...But wait there’s more…
I am both absurdly proud and humbled by the 1217 visitors this brain candy dispensary has tallied so far in 2023.
When the Christmas 2013 blog was passed along quite a bit it broke into the Top 5 of my Google search.
Most gratifying were several comments along the lines of “Thank you for this acknowledgement of a personal Christmas tradition, as I too have one.”
I responded to all of these comments gladly. I was pleasantly taken aback at the number and intensity of these very private traditions and their importance to their adherents.
One gentleman took the time to send a message about his private tradition of chewing Trident spearmint gum after Christmas dinner as his now gone father had.
The last 10 years have brought thoughts of other Christmases to mind as my memory bank is thankfully still accepting deposits. Indeed, this blog has precipitated thoughts of Christmases past to the extent that a 2023/2024 addition is appropriate.
Keeping the faith is part of Christmas and the promise of a New Year is always uplifting even as the holiday transforms.
Christmas cards have largely been supplanted by a virtual blizzard of social media greetings.
Black Friday’s throng of shoppers have seen their number diminished by Cyber Monday’s ever increasing bandwidth and deliveries.
Indeed, grand-parenting, retirement, disability, estrangement and relocation change Christmas more with every passing year.
Still the Christmas spirit is till in my heart and those of many others…
In that spirit I am sending:
Merry Christmas: Santana ABRAXAS
Merry Christmas/New Year 2023/2024
Christmas is a time when we, even those of us who do not share in the religious meaning of the holiday, each have our own meaning for this day.
Santana’s ABRAXAS LP signifies Christmas for me.
I bought ABRAXAS for my Mom for Christmas 1970. Mom, Peter and I had seen WOODSTOCK and Mom was mightily impressed with Mike Shrieve’s epic drum solo on “Soul Sacrifice”. While Mom always tried a little too hard to like what I liked her enthusiasm was more than sincere.
I saved my .75 a week allowance, pestered Dad for money and raked some leaves to conjure up the $3.49 to buy the LP at Port Chemists.
(I gave Dad innumerable promotional packs of aftershave and Borkum Riff pipe tobacco. My brother Peter got Johnny Lightning 500 while I received several slot cars and Joe Paterno’s FOOTBALL MY WAY from Dad, a Penn. State grad.
It was my first “adult” gift-giving.
In 1970 I was 12. It was to be my last boyhood Christmas.
Turkey, homemade cranberry sauce, (my Mom never, ever served that jellied, canned..uh.. stuff), and visits from neighborhood kids fulfilled every expectation.
Mom was surprised and delighted with ABRAXAS even with its “dirty” cover. It played endlessly on the turntable of the Gallanter household’s Harman-Kardon Turntable, AM-FM Stereo with Recording Cassette Compact Stereo.
(Dad was quick to nudge me as a way of reminding me that he had purchased the stereo and had paid me to rake leaves. On this Christmas I actually found this habit of his endearing).
Christmas 1970 was to be the last Christmas of our family as a unit although neither Mom, Dad, Peter or myself knew so at the time.
1971’s Christmas crystallized the cataclysmic changes, voluntary AND involuntary, familial AND cultural, well-intended AND malicious that would sweep through the lives of Mom, Dad, Peter and myself.
Christmas 1971 couldn’t have all of us in the same room for any length of time. I brought ABRAXAS to our North Shore Unitarian Universalist Congregation’s Jr. High room where I played ABRAXAS through headphones repeatedly to the puzzlement of the folks I willfully disregarded.
Headphones were clamped over my head as the congas of “Oye Como Va” reverberated.
“When Steven doesn’t talk, he really doesn’t talk,” I overheard one girl mention as I re-cued ABRAXAS.
Hostility was assumed to be my motivation, and not one completely inaccurate, but astral projection back to 1970 was the guiding star. It was still my Mom’s LP but she was caught up in her own affairs and didn’t notice it missing. Dad lived in Forest Hills, Queens as the divorce was now final.
(I remember looking at a snapshot of Christmas 1962 in our home at 86 Henry St, Merrick, Long Island. There is a tower of blocks in front of me wearing a devilish grin with my Mom kneeling beside me with a bemused expression. I remember kicking the blocks over. 1962 is my earliest Christmas memory).
For several years I continued to play ABRAXAS at Christmas. Most memorably in 1975 when my Mom returned home from a hospitalization and I wanted to comfort her. ABRAXAS proved to be more curative than the turkey I attempted to cook with tomato soup flavored stuffing).
By 1973 I was not speaking to my Dad, an estrangement that lasted more than 3 years. ABRAXAS’ “Oye Como Va” reminded me of the photo of Mom and Dad celebrating their 1st. anniversary with a grinning Tito Puente, the author of the original “Oye Como Va,” at the Palladium in Manhattan, where my paternal grandfather worked.
ABRAXAS signified Dad as well as Mom and the paternal grandparents who posed with me on their laps but who I have no memories of.
The summers of 1974,1975 and 1976 found me at Rowe Unitarian Universalist Camp and Conference Center. ABRAXAS was in the ‘Radio Rowe’ LP pile for the public address system that broadcast on a loud, sporadic basis throughout the camp. Santana was very popular with my brother and sister campers although they would have been taken aback, to say the least, at the talisman it was to me.
Boston gained me as a resident in 1978. I left ABRAXAS with Mom. I played it upon my early Christmas sojourns to the ancestral home.
In 1981 a group of we Port Washingtonians had a Christmas celebration at the New York, New York discotheque in Manhattan. Mom remarked that the percussion of much disco reminded her of ABRAXAS. The next day I played the now battered LP. Upon hitching back to Boston I purchased a used copy at Looney Tunes Used Records.
1982 brought the realization that college graduation was beyond my capability. At home in Port Washington I put on ABRAXAS to please Mom before disappointing her.
By 1984 my Dad had passed. Yes, “Oye Como Va” reminded me that once upon a time Dad and Mom were deeply in love and Peter and I were fortunate to be the offspring of their union. I have no recollection of my grandparents on either side but ABRAXAS is a talisman of their lives causing mine.
10 years pass. ABRAXAS PLAYS annually on my Panasonic Plus Cassette-to-Cassette AM/FM with Auto Reverse boom box.
1995 found my brother Peter and I at odds to the extent that I spent Christmas in Boston brooding ambivalently although I did send presents to Peter, his wife Aida and Mom.
I consoled myself with ABRAXAS “Hope You’re Feeling Better”s theme of ambivalence powered by congas and Carlos Santana’s wah-wah guitar pyrotechnics.
2022’s first week has made “Hope You’re Feeling Better” a talisman of COVID even more than “Oye Como Va.”
“Is that you
Your eyes slowly fading?
Is that you
Your mind full of tears?
Is that you
Searching for a good time?
Is that you
Waiting for all these years?
Is that you?
Look across the ocean
And I hope you’re feeling better.”
https://youtu.be/P_vJBz2_LtE
The clever wordplay of shifting from the declarative voice to the interrogative voice is the kind of lyrical daring do that seems to have vanished, along with the presence of rock music in general.
But make no mistake; “Hope You’re Feeling better” is perhaps Greg Rolie’s finest vocals on ABRAXAS. The questing baritone being cut off by the fiery pyrotechnics of Carole Santana’s wah-wah wailing is a metaphor that is far more descriptive than any printed lyric can give voice to.
ABRAXAS is definitely the gift that keeps on giving.
The repeated playing of “Hope You’re Feeling Better” is an uplift in much the same way as “Oye Como Va.”
…Indeed, the ambivalent holiday of 1995 seeped to mind…
Being well into my 30’s in 1995 I had made my own Christmas tradition of surprising someone that I liked with a gift that spoke to an affection that had not been fully expressed. Being single, childless and employed in an industry that throws folks together and throws them away with equal speed I had learned that small blessings are sometimes the only blessings one can receive but that can be a good thing.
…I was sitting on the living room floor of 24 Haviland St, Apt. 28 at about 9 P.M. 2 days before Christmas wrapping up 2 gifts while ABRAXAS played through the open door of my bedroom. My roommate was out of the country for the holidays so I felt little compunction about playing my music a tad louder than I might have otherwise.
I was wrapping 2 gifts for a former co-worker. Patricia was a beautiful woman who had tended bar at the same venue as I. Although it had been a brief and occasional job for her the chit-chat of the time when I was an afternoon employee at that venue had crossed over to more chit-chat when we briefly worked the same bar.
Patricia was in the midst of several transitions in her life and I was taken aback, although pleased, when she asked me to call her.
Over the course of more than a year these calls became more frequent and more intimate and I found myself listening more than I spoke. Certainly, I was flattered to be trusted but more than that I trusted her with the pure aspects of my heart that had become very distant.
Pure and impure thoughts mingled, as Patricia was a beauty.
I was thinking about how to finesse a meeting with Patricia so as to give her both of her gifts. One was a sardonic look at the recent past while the other was a light unto what was to come.
The phone rang, landlines had only begun too cede their domain to pagers, and it was Patricia.
“…Steve, I am at the bar. I have a present for you. Where do you live?”
“I have 2 presents for you. I live 25 yards away I’ll be there in 5 minutes,” I replied. My heart did a full-gainer. Steeling myself I managed to wind some Scotch tape around my gifts and jetted out the door to the bar.
Patricia was by the pay phone smiling.
I ordered drinks, we took a booth and we spoke briefly of the joy and relief of having finished Christmas shopping.
“What did you get me,” she asked with the slightly turned head that moved my eyes and heart.
I gave her the 1st. package and she ripped off the wrapping with an urgency that was enthralling. Laughing out loud she proclaimed, “I don’t know what I would ever use this for!”
“I know, that’s why I got it for you!”
I slid the other gift over the booth’s table when the owner of the bar came by to shake my hand and wish me a Merry Christmas.
I thanked him and introduced Patricia who also wished him a Merry Christmas.
“You know him?”
“I’ve been coming here since 1979,” I offered while wondering what Patricia might think of my recreational habits.
Patricia unwrapped the second gift and plugged it into a socket. She smiled a closed mouthed gesture of gratitude while nodding slowly in a way that signaled that all was right in the world if for only this moment.
“C’mon open your present.”
I opened Patricia’s package to find a mustard colored turtleneck that would undoubtedly be a good fit underneath a leather jacket for Boston’s winters.
I blinked involuntarily and held her hands briefly.
“Hey, do you think that the Prudential Mall is still open?”
“If there is any night of the year when it would be open late tonight would be that night.”
“Let’s go, we can leave the stuff in my car.”
My mind was pondering whether this meeting was a gesture of sympathy for being estranged from my family, gratitude for being a shoulder to cry on or just because Patricia was a good kid…or something more.
We walked the 200 or so yards to the Prudential Mall and after determining that indeed the stores had closed at 9, walked back to the car and I removed my gift.
We hugged.
Patricia got into her car.
I returned to my apartment…
1997 found Mom in a nursing home for the final phase of her life. I bought her a new Walkman with ABRAXAS poised to play. She was delighted.
1999 found Mom receiving a Discman. The first CD…? Yes, she remembered.
2004 brought the end of Mom’s life. On that Christmas I played ABRAXAS at 2 AM in the living room of 42 North Bayles Ave, Port Washington on my Discman in a private memorial to Mom.
2013 found my now gone friend Steve Boisson offering that he had “never thought of Santana as Christmas music” while offering blues artist Charles Brown as his own eccentric Yuletide troubadour.
2019 found me in brother Peter’s place in Port Washington, N.Y. the night after Christmas patting my protruding tummy and nursing a straight up Jameson.
Peter’s television was displaying a vivacious Latina declaiming the weather.
“That’s Audrey Puentes. Her father is Tito Puentes,” Peter offered.
“Hmmm..,” I said to myself.
My grandmother Marie Jack, biologically my Mom’s stepmom, gifted me a Christmas ornament featuring 2 cardinals in a gilded cage in, I believe 1973. It never occurred to me at the time that I would never see Marie again although the passage of time and circumstances eventually made this reality evident. From 1997 to 2017 I brought the ornament to the ancestral home for the talismanic Christmas tree. In 2017 I neglected to bring it home but Aida was good enough to rescue the birds as they nestled in my rolling case for the Greyhound to Boston.
Much to my sadness the fragile frame of the cage was twisted in transit and my efforts to restore it fell short. However, it is intact, if a little twisted, and resides next to Aunt Goldie’s sock monkey as ABRAXAS plays.
Our decade has brought the passage from this world and from my life of more than several folks; Martha Shaw among them, and places. Looney Tunes records, where I purchased my Santana ABRAXAS CD has been gone since 2012; likewise T.C’s Lounge, with local watering holes and record stores right up there, or down there, with trilobites as fossils.
ABRAXAS keeps record stores and Christmas alive at one and the same time as this mind contemplates Christmas 2022 and the New Year of 2023.
To all those folks both present and absent I humbly offer,
“Oye Como Va.”
ABRAXAS signifies Christmas; calling out to heart the folks who have passed, friends who are missed, places that are gone and the phases of the Christmases past, present and future.
ABRAXAS is a talisman as real as a rock, in LP, cassette, CD and YouTube formats that holds in its notes the presents, love, tears and hopes of Christmas every time I so much as touch it.
I am listening to it right now.
“Oye Como Va”
“Hope You’re Feeling Better”
!Merry Christmas!
!Happy New Year!
BASEBALL: Los Wepas(Woo Sox) vs. Scranton Railriders, 8/18/2023
Minor league baseball has always occupied a niche in my mind, even before my brain became partially digitized.
As a youth I pored over the fine print in the back of STREET and SMITH’S BASEBALL 1970 detailing the exploits of the Mets AAA Tidewater team and pondering whether Ed Kranepool would make it back to Flushing? Yes.
Would Rod Gaspar would make it back to Flushing? No.
This was a stark contrast to the NBA and the NFL, I followed football at the time, where the “minor leagues” were the larger universities.
I have paid 2 visits to Pawtucket, R.I. to see the Paw Sox in both the original and renovated McCoy Stadium.
2012 and 2013’s summer breaks from work enabled me to see the Brooklyn Cyclones, the Mets short season A ball, 70 game season, at MCU park at Coney Island. (The Cyclones now play a 140 game season in long format A ball).
The 2022 Woo Sox had better than 70 players on their roster during the course of the season. Being “sent down” or DFAed/Designated For Assignment is an occupational hazard of the lower reaches of MLB. Sure enough Christian Arroyo, who lost his spot in the Bo Sox lineup with Trevor Story returning from the IL, is now a Woo Sox and playing shortstop; playing multiple positions being a part of player development and a way of keeping the rust from getting too rusty.
Old friend Franchy Cordero was in the lineup for the New York Yankee AAA affiliate Scranton Railriders, continuing his career ping-ponging between MLB and AAA.
The Woo Sox were Los Wepas tonight, Spanish for “energetically happy” for this Latin Night. Along that line attendees were greeted with a Jumbotron video on the career of Roberto Clemente. On that note it has been 50+ years since Clemente’s death and there more than a few Clemente jerseys worn by fans. Polar Park’s sound PA system was up to the task of amplifying Pirate announcer Bob Prince’s commentary.
Polar Park is a 70 minute trip from Back Bay Station via commuter rail and this newly minted senior citizen…AARP..! happily took advantage of the 1/2 price, $12, round trip fare. There were more than a few Woo Sox fans on board once we traveled west of Natick.
Union Station in Worcester is a twin turreted 1911 structure that originally served the Boston and Albany line and is now on the national Register of Historic Places. The repurposing of the station houses 2 restaurants both of which were busy on my 5:25 arrival time.
This enabled a brief wander through the Canal District of Worcester which boasts some early 20th. century architecture and some abandonment.
Independent specialty coffee shops nestled next to Vietnamese eateries are true diversity.
Polar Park rises up with an almost yellowish, greenish, bluish kind of glow. Walking towards the lights and hearing the crowd buzz is a feeling that I have never tired of…and I attended my very first game in 1966!
A Wormtown dedicated beer bar is among the 1st. attractions before the ticket entrance. I chose to get my pre-gaming on ASAP and happened into a gentleman who had the same idea. He asked if I had been here before and I replied in the affirmative.
“Let me buy you one!”
I gladly accepted and did the tipping, $5 on $28, The Summer Brew has a malty feel with a touch of citrus.
Friendly fans are always the best part of baseball!
Good drinking and I am not just writing that to please my non-sponsor.
Following the requisite pat-down and bag search, my 9″ x 5″ shaving bag containing a notebook passed muster I entered Polar Park’s blue industrial themed seating.
Polar Park is a 2 tier stadium. 329′ to LF, 402′ to CF and 320′ to RF.
Foul territory is commodious in back of the plate and up until the dugouts with virtually no foul territory beyond 1st. and 3rd. bases. This favors power hitters who foul into the outfield sets. In this sense Polar Park is very much like architect Janet Smith’s other parks; Camden Yard in Baltimore and Progressive in Cleveland.
The outfield is festooned with signage from Polar, Wormtown Brewery and Table Talk pies all of which reside in Worcester. This is in contrast with Fenway Park and most MLB parks which display as much national as local advertising.
I paid $25 on line at the Woo Sox site to get an 11th. row box seat. For $30 you can buy a padded seat in the first 10 rows. Contrast this with $61 for a Reserved Grandstand Section 16 seat at Fenway.
Likewise the official program was $5 for a 184 page volume that, although stuffed with ads for Polar Soda, Wormtown Brewery and Table Talk pies, offers a history of the franchise, surprisingly detailed biographies, former BoSox catcher Rich Gedman is a Worcester native and the hitting coach of the Woo Sox; of all of the players, a scorecard and the current roster of the Scranton Railriders.
The game began promptly at 6:45, a practice that MLB would do well to emulate as it enables attendance for kids and those with 8 A.M. jobs.
RHer Kyle Barraclough took the hill for the Los Wepas although none of his 290 MLB appearances has been as a starter. Barraclough throws from a 1 o’clock slot with a slight corkscrew of his upper body. His fastball had righties leaning back while the ball zipped down into the lower right quadrant of the zone. Foul balls went into the netting behind home plate.
If you ever in the mood to watch a game carefully note where the foul balls go.
Few balls went anywhere on this evening as Barraclough went 6 2/3 while King 11 to progress to 9-0 for his combined record in MLB and MiLB 2023. If the Sox fall out of the wild card chase I would expect to see Barraclough get a look during the last week or so of the season. Predicting anything in baseball is always tricky, especially the futures of pitchers but at 33 Barraclough could almost certainly help someone in MLB…or Japan.
As always screaming 10 year olds provided in house entertainment and screamed “WOO” after each strikeout.
In the 2nd. old friend Bobby Dalbec weaseled out a walk and Emmanuel Valdez boomed his 10th HR of 2023 deep into the LF berm setting off frenzied pursuit by screaming 10 year olds.
In the 5th. Railrider Andres Chaparro took out a Barraclough heater to LF. The nest 2 Railriders skied out to left center prompting the couple behind me to talk.
“Why don’t they take him out?”
“Because its the minors and I guess they figure he’ll learn a lesson.”
At this I turned around and asked, “Yeah, all of those balls were hit hard to left center. Do you come to a lot of games?”
The gentleman answered “I do.” while the woman smiled.
As always, friendly fans are the best part of the game.
In the 5th. Andres Chaparro put the RailRiders on the board with a screaming HR to LF.
I visited the concession stands and saw the long lines so I went to The Market where I bought, via debit card, a Polar Orange Dry and a bag of peanuts for $9.63
However, in the 5th. Los Wepas’ Dave Hamilton stole 2nd. and 3rd. in the same at bat followed by Wilyer Abreu’s single to add on an insurance run.
Hamilton also stole a base in the 8th. when the Woo Sox tried to tack on 1 more but was left stranded.
Like MLB MiLB has expanded the bases from 15″ to 18″ to encourage running and it has had a pleasing effect.
AAA players always run. This is in stark contrast to the nonchalant efforts of many Red Sox. Yes, I mean you Rafael Devers.
Polar Park’s infield dirt is dirtier than that of MLB’s as MLB added a higher % of crushed brick in 2023 to accommodate HD TV.
Perennial prospect Zac Houston was the opener for this bullpen game and pitched the first 3 innings, allowing all of the Los Wepas runs.
Houston was followed by the side-arming southpaw Josh Maciejewski’s 2 clean innings and the 35 year old Zach McAllister who each tossed 2 clean innings while Aaron McGarity allowed 1 run in his 2 innings.
Barraclough’s 1 run, 11 K outing was followed by Joe Jacques and Justin Garza’s combined 2 1/3 scoreless innings.
The PA announcer’s game summary was overwhelmed by screaming 10 year olds screaming “WOO!”
Following the game Uni Bank’s 70s Serenade featured 20 minutes of pyrotechnics. The Bee Gees’ “Night Fever” never sounded righter.
Ambling back to Union Station there were more than a few fans. it is a good sign that the 8,633 at the 9,051 capacity Polar Park made this their destination on a Friday night.
Wormtown Summer Ale, friendly fans, screaming 10 year olds and a …win!
I”ll be back.
Woo!
2023: 10 SIGNS OF AGING.
1) Your age is 455 in dog years.
2) 44 years a vegetarian.
3) Your nose and ear hair grow at an alarming rate. The hair on your head…not so much.
4) Procrastination regarding daily events lasts about as long as it takes to enter this sentence.
5) Your injuries are visible.
6) “Thank you” is good.
7) AARP!
8) You are kept awake for hours by computer work; even while wearing blue light blocker shades.
9) Spying deer, skunks and porcupines at UU Rowe MA Camp and Conference Center is chapel.
10) Writing for folks feels right now.
SPORTS, NBA: CELTS vs. HEAT all dialog verbatim
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HAIKU 5*7*5: Beer
I sold my first beer
1977
It was cold and clear
At this time of year in 1977 I served my first adult beverage at Nassau Coliseum while working for Harry M. Stevens, the concession provider at that time.
Harry M. Stevens was bought by Aramark, the concessionaire and minority owner of the Red Sox, for whom I worked in 2002.
In 1977 Nassau Coliseum was home to the NHL N.Y. Islanders and the NBA Nets in the Nets’ sole Nassau Coliseum season in the NBA.
Being a beer vendor was about as good a gig as I was going to get at that point in my life. I was attending Nassau Community College as a Liberal Arts major. After my classes I would do my homework in the ‘stack’ room of the library where Mrs. McCarthy allowed me to work. Following the completion of my day’s work I would go to the cafeteria where leftover chef’s salads were sold for $1.50 and then stride over the parking lot to the Coliseum for the evenings’ game.
After the game I would hitchhike back to my home of Port Washington.
CHANGE 2022: 10 Signs of Aging
1) Your age is 448 in dog years.
2) The toenail of the big toe on your left foot that broke a year ago will not grow back…ever.
3) You understand the Federal budget deficit and the national debt and the difference between the two.
4) You are about to become a ‘great uncle’, at least in the chronological sense.
5) Ibuprofen before a shift is a sound strategy.
6) Cash is your preferred medium of exchange.
7) You remember when the Hynes stop on the Green Line was Auditorium.
8) You are proud of your earnings in the biz.
9) You don’t curse.
10) Let’s Go Mets!
SPORTS: Steven Gallanter: Superstar
Tetherball
Box ball
Kickball
Punchball
Self-hitting baseball
Wiffle ball
Stickball
Softball
Pitching baseball
Nerf baseball
Tennis racquet baseball
Driveway basketball
Nerf basketball
Horse basketball
Around-the-world-basketball
Touch football on concrete/blacktop
Touch football on grass
Flag football
Backyard tackle football
Indoor tackle football
Indoor Olympics
Soccer
Indoor soccer
Tennis
Handball
Chinese handball
Bicycle races
Foot races
Badminton
Volleyball
Sneaker hockey
Street hockey
Floor hockey
Golf
Croquet
Paddle ball
Wrestling
Slap boxing
Boxing
—————————————————————————————————————
All of the above were played prior to my turning 13 and without the benefit of adult blessing or supervision.
President John F. Kennedy killed, November 22, 1963.
60 years ago President John F. Kennedy was killed in Dallas.
For many, many, many years the anniversary of this horrible event was memorialized by the media.
No more.
As those who remember this grim day age and pass there will be fewer and fewer media mentions.
The rise of social media will not commemorate this sadly historic event.
Bit by byte, history recedes.