Yogi. Icon.

“You should always go to other people’s funerals, otherwise, they won’t come to yours.” – Yogi Berra

When you were a kid and you opened that Topps or Bowman pack of baseball cards, and you pulled a Yogi Berra card out, you were batting 1.000. He WAS the catcher of his day. After all, he was THE catcher of the mighty New York Yankees.

Nobody used his card for spokes.

Nobody traded away his card.

Besides Mickey’s card, this was the one to savor.

After all, every kid loved him. He spoke like no one before or since. And somehow, you understood him.

He was one of us…kids from the Midwest or the Northeast or the South or the West. Yogi was us.

He may have passed, but we will never forget him.

We will come to yours, Yogi, just so you can come to ours.

Play Ball!

Skowron.

1954 Topps #239 Bill Skowron, New York Yankees

In just a few more days, in two weeks to be exact, pitchers and catchers report for spring training. It is a place where the grass is green, the sun is out and the weather is warm.  In the years past, it was a time when the players who had been off working at other jobs for the winter would get themselves back into shape.  Yes. Players in the ’50s and ’60s actually had to have jobs to support their families during the winter as their pay was not what it is today and the financial support of a second, off-season job, was necessary. Today’s ballplayer, has stayed in shape or gotten into shape for the past couple of months to arrive at spring training ready to get into the groove for the coming season. No second jobs for today’s ballplayer as they, at a minimum for one season, make more than most families earn in several years. Tweeners, those who are good Triple A players but not quite good enough to make it in the Bigs for a sustained period, make good money. For that good fortune, thanks should go to Curt Flood.

My first recollection of a player at a spring training camp was Bill Skowron, the big, burley first baseman for the New York Yankees. I remember a picture of him in The Sporting News when that magazine was the bible of baseball. That’s the only sport it really talked about. The ‘hot stove league’ must have been invented by The Sporting News. And that one year, in the middle of winter, at the drug store magazine rack, there was this picture of Skowron leaning into the camera and reaching for a bunch of bats in the on-deck circle.

‘Have you paid for that copy?’, the owner of the pharmacy asked. ‘Can’t read it unless you are at the counter and drinking a Coke or Malt’, he’d explain for the 800th time. So you would go over to the far end of the counter, take a seat on that round red cushioned plastic circle on top of a pedestal that swiveled, and order a Cherry Coke for a nickel. You then had the pleasure of being able to read The Sporting News without paying for it as long as there weren’t customers waiting to do the same thing. ‘Don’t spill on it if you’re not buying it’, he would always say as he walked away giving you a straw for your drink.

Why was it the memory of Skowron that I associated with spring training? He was a football player from Purdue and a punter on their teams. Wisconsin had been playing Purdue forever and that is probably why the association occurred. But for many of those days in February, it was cold…sometimes bitterly cold. And wouldn’t it be nice to have a chance to escape and go down to spring training where it was sunny and warm.

There are several things wrong with that last thought. First, it was a dream. And dreams end when you wake up. Second, as a kid, you don’t control your travels. Like most, I was stuck in the snow and cold until it melted away and became that messy, dirty mush on a pewter grey day that seemed to last forever. Grabbing a bat at that time of the year in the cold basement was foreign. It felt big and heavy. Your swing even was labored. Everything was tight. The glove was stiff and the ball a bit slippery. It just had to get warmer. Third, a kid doesn’t chart his ‘spring break’. During these times you yearned for that comfortable warm corner with The Sporting News to read in order to fill your mind with all of the baseball minutia that one could possibly stuff into your head. After all, there was no telling what break you would get to answer that all important question about … ‘Who was a former football player from Purdue who now stars for the New York Yankees?’…for one million dollars and a trip to spring training. You and only you knew that the break was just around the corner. You see, to be a baseball fan, you are always in a season of hope. That is especially true if you are a Cubbies fan. My next door neighbor was one such labored fan. Each winter he would talk about how great the Cubs would be this coming season. Each spring he would trade every card in his possession for a Cub player. He was my baseball card ‘Bank’. I could trade him Dee Fondy for Mickey. Talk about a season of hope. For a Cub fan it is a lifetime of hope.

In The Sporting News you would read about what was happening or could happen or should happen if this guy was traded to that team for that other player. This was the magic of imagination. With one simple copy of TSN, you literally had the world in your hands. Then, as if magic happened, on a Saturday in March, with the weather still crummy and you would swear that you would run out of cardboard for that hole in your shoe before the snow fully melted, an actual broadcast of a game was on radio. They said it was sunny and warm and fans in the stands were in their tee-shirts. The melodic voice of Earl Gillespie along with his sidekick, Blaine Walsh, brought the Milwaukee Braves into the home back up in the cold, wintry north. ‘Miller High Life and Clark…Bring You Out To The Park’ the opening jingle rang out. At first, you thought it was a mistake and you should run to your mother and tell her about the hallucinations you were having. Surely she would rush you to a hospital and summon Dr. Maurman to save you. It was certainly that dreaded disease, baseball fever that Dr. Maurman always warned your Mom about. ‘That child is going to have to be watched’, he would have said if he were actually in this dream. ‘Baseball fever is nothing to laugh at. It is a disease that affects the nervous system of young boys who read The Sporting News too much.’

The only saving grace what that The Sporting News was not banned and placed on the Legion of Decency list. For once I was safe from Sister Ramegia’s uncanny see-all/know all elastic arms of the law. This was a nun in a wheel chair that would actually ‘chase you down’ if she wanted to speak with you. Hell. She was on wheels.

But I digress. The Sporting News was everything to a real fan. It brought us all the nuance we thought only we knew. It was our hidden treasure trove of information that would save the world from destruction and….

‘Wake Up! You’re day dreaming again. Were you thinking about baseball again’, she would say, as your Mom was all-knowing. ‘You can’t let baseball rule your life or you will be destined to write about it.’

Yikes! Mom….cut that out. I’m all grown up now and you are still invading my consciousness when it comes to baseball. No. I’m not reading The Sporting News. You know why? It doesn’t do just baseball anymore. It hardly ever does baseball anymore. And besides, I’m just thinking that my birthday is only a few days away and that is the time when spring training begins.’

She responded in my head, ‘I suppose you would like to go and see them play. Don’t worry. Before you know it they will be back up north and you can listen to them all you want. And besides, Bill Skowron has just been traded to the Dodgers’.

Play Ball!

Henry Aaron
Milwaukee’s Greatest Baseball Player

On Wednesday, February 5, 2014

When he first came up he played in left field. A few feet away, I saw him move gracefully along the outfield grass, never over extended. Always in complete control. He will always be a part of the Milwaukee community. Today he is 80. Here’s to having many, many more, Hank.

Watching Attanasio

Baseball is never ending. There is a rhythm and flow that predates rock and roll. It is part of past, present and future. It is there for us, on demand, as regular as running water. We know it is there and when we want it, it comes out. It is, after all, our heritage. It is an American legacy.

The temples where the game is played of green grass has a look all its own. There, the gods of the sport, now and before, play the game. Their ghosts are everywhere. Aaron and Banks. Williams and Mantle. Spahn and Mathews, Musial and Koufax. Jackie and Robin. Through the turnstiles, past the concession stands, into the venue itself, the opening is there and passing through, there it is…it is the place where magic will happen today.

Hope for the season ahead is ever present. This is the season when the heavens will open up and victory in the form of a World Series pennant will be ours.

For many of us, it is a way of life, passed down to us from our grandparents, parents or relatives. It is our legacy. When remembering the past, it is the time we spent with our grandfather and grandmother, Mom and Dad at the ballpark. For those who grew up in Wisconsin, the home team, our home team is the Milwaukee Brewers. So much had been seen there; the great players like Roger … ‘The Rocket’, perhaps the greatest pitcher the game has ever seen, or Reggie and Yaz, Cal and Randy Johnson, as well as Griffey, Jr. and Ichiro, the greatest hitter the game has seen in our lifetime. ‘The Brewers Win The Pennant’ with Simba, Robin, Pauly, Gimby, Stormin, Rollie, Vuch, Coop, Benji and the Harvey were all witnessed with family and friends, Moms and Dads, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters. CC and Sheets, Prince and Braun, Greinke, Weeks and Nyjer, K-Rod and AxMan, brought the feeling back but fell ever so short.

This was a team that was brought to Wisconsin after the first great heartbreak of our sporting life, on a loan from the Schlitz Brewing Co. family to a car dealer’s son who would become the Commissioner of Baseball (after he was involved and found guilty in the collusion between the owners to keep players from earning their fair share through free agency) to fill the void left by the carpetbagger who moved the beloved Braves to that city down south.

We live in a world of globalization. We live in a world where the game is played by athletes everywhere. Milwaukee is a community that has diversified over the past half century as well. Today 39% of Milwaukee County is made up of Black Americans, 13% Latinos, 5% Asian Americans. It became a majority minority dominated city in 2000.

Today’s baseball team in the Cream City no longer reflects that diversity. Of the 40 man roster, there are only two Black Americans, one an aging Weeks nearing the end of his career and Davis, a young man just beginning his career. The Latino contingent is well represented, with some sixteen team members. There is one Asian, a Taiwanese pitcher who is yet to make it to the Bigs.

We no longer live in a Jim Crow era. Yet the team that is in Milwaukee has just two Black Americans. When they made a run for the pennant, the starting first baseman, second baseman and center fielder were black. Prince was beloved since he came up through the minors and would, fans thought, forever be an All-Star Brewer. Rickie was the college educated, All-Star second baseman. Nyjer was the center of joy. And he did get THE HIT. Together with Braun, Hart, Lucroy, Grienke, Vonnie, K-Rod and Axford they made their run which would be only the first of many to come. Today there is no Prince, no Nyjer, no Grienke, no K-Rod nor Axford. And there is no Hart. Rickie is waning, Vonnie is struggling and Braun is coming back from the unknown.

The team has no minority manager or coaches with the single exception of John Shelby who begins his third season on the coaching staff after joining the organization as outfield coach/eye in the sky, whatever that is; no upper management who are minority. Yet this is the governing body of the team that represents a majority minority city in the great Midwest. ‘A team is a reflection of the community it represents.’

The owner is from Los Angeles. There is little that is the same on Wilshire Boulevard or Pacific Palisades as compared to Pigsville or Lincoln at Kinnikinnick. In the City of Angels, Brats (with Secret Stadium Sauce) and beer are as foreign as sushi and wine are in Bayview. Brookfield is not Beverly Hills and Racine has kringle. Try finding that at Gilsons. This is a town where there are bubblers and kids wear rubbers on their feet when it rains. There is a separation here. It is not just distance, but a cultural misunderstanding that Milwaukee is the same as it was or the same as everywhere else. It is not. The Packers and Brewers, Badgers,  Bucks and Marquette belong to Wisconsinites, not Californians. Curley, Uecker, Crazylegs and Chones are our guys. Spencer Tracy, Fred MacMurray and Gene Wilder are our guys. They all, uncommon individuals and brilliant in their craft, who have all played at one time or another in California, are Wisconsinites through and through. The Brewers, every last one of them who ever played in the Cream City, belong to us.

If there is one thing a person from Los Angeles knows, it is star-power. They know that if you have a star for your program or movie or team, people will come and fans will pay in record numbers to see them. It is as eternal as Cary Grant, Bob Hope or Babe Ruth. They don’t call Yankee Stadium ‘The House That Ruth Built’ for nothing. Mark Attanasio lives and works in Los Angeles. He occasionally shows up in Milwaukee as the owner. He should know more than most what a star does to propel a team and make money. The present team looks like a fragment of their former self. Yes, the payroll is manageable and the team will make money…a lot of money. What is our VORP? Who gives a crap. Enough with Keith Wollner. We want a PENNANT. We want to be competitive. We want it NOW.

A former owner of the Milwaukee Brewers in the old American Association, Bill Veeck, said, “Baseball must be a great game because the owners haven’t been able to kill it.” The fans will fill the stands. And records will be broken. But we need a Prince or a Price, a Tanaka or, hell, a first baseman who can play first base. It is time for change. It is time for an owner to get in touch with the city his team represents and a management who represents a constant path to victory. We are watching Attanasio.

We will be heading to Maryvale in February and again the gates will open and warm, brilliant sunshine will illuminate the field. The lines will be chalked and fans will press for autographs. The smell of brats and beer will fill the air and the boys from the team representing Milwaukee will take the field. Will this team have a chance to win the pennant or will this owner be like so many before him, make money on a fan base who will support them regardless of the outcome. He will earn it on the millions who will go through Miller Park. He will earn it from broadcast and telecast, mobile and digital rights. He will earn it from the advertising in the stands and on merchandise that is sold. He will make it from those over the limit teams who will spend monies to try to win the pennant and pay the  tax. He will earn it by paying for mediocrity on the field, in the dugout and in upper management. Can you spell Masahiro? David? Or, even Prince?

It is time to …

Play Ball!

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#1 At Goudey

When you were a kid and bought your first pack of baseball cards when they came out for that next season, one of the things that struck you was the #1 card. Who would win the honor of being the first in the deck for this coming season?

Too often it was a struggle getting the #1 card as pack after pack contained journeymen players. Trades were hard to come by unless you had a Cub fan next door. They would trade for a beloved Cubbie. Lucky us. Bye bye,Dee Fondy. Hello Jackie robinson.

Historically, baseball sets belonged to the top players in the game. For instance, in 1940, the Play Ball set had Joe DiMaggio as the #1 card. In 1941, the famed pastel Play Ball set produced Eddie Miller of the Boston Braves as the #1 card. An All-Star in 1940 & 1941, he had a 276 batting average with 79 RBIs for the Bees the previous year. In 1943, the M.P. & Co. put out a set with Hall of Famer, Jimmy Foxx as the #1 card.

After the war, Leaf Candy Company of Chicago came out with a set (marked on the back of some of the cards as printed in 1948 but were produced jun 1949. It is marked as the 1948 Leaf set. It is an iconic set and is the first color printed baseball card set after World War II. The #1 card was Joe DiMaggio. This set had more stars than MGM, including the then recently deceased Babe Ruth as the #2 card. Bowman’s 1948 set had Bob Elliott of the Boston Braves as #1 after a .313 batting average and driving in 113 runs in 1947. In 1949, Vern Bickford gained the #1 position after a great rookie season and became the first pitcher to be so honored after winning 11 games for the National League Champion Boston Braves. In 1950, Mel Parnell, a sensational 25 game winner the year before for the Boston Red Sox, was #1 on the Bowman set. In 1951, Whitey Ford, with his rookie card, was #1 on the Bowman set that year. On the initial Topps 1951 Red Back set, his battery mate, Yogi Berra was the #1 card while on the Blue Back set, Eddie Yost of the Washiongton Senators was on the #1 card. In 1952 Bowman honored Yogi while Andy Pafko was #1 on the famed 1952 Topps series while Jackie Robinson was #1 on the 1953 Topps edition. Over at Bowman, they put out two sets. On the 1953 Black & White set, Cincinnati Redlegs great, Gus Bell, who hit .300 that season was #1 and on the 1953 Color set, Davey Williams, an All-Star second baseman that season was the #1 card. It is one of the most interesting cards ever produced as he is in a fielding position, eyes off the ball in front of him, with an empty Polo Grounds stands behind him. while Phil Rizzuto of the New York Yankees was #1 on the Bowman set, Ted Williams grabbed the #1 card in the 1954 Topps collection. In the 1955 and last of the great Bowman sets, Hoyt Wilhelm, the New York Giants pitcher who had a great 2.11 ERA in 1954 Championship season, held the honor of being the #1 card in the final Bowman baseball set. The 1955 Topps set was led off with Dusty Rhodes, the hero of the 1954 World Series for the Giants. You  get the idea. It was usually one of the stars of the game during the previous season.

But in the ‘modern’ era of baseball, the first hereat set that landed smack in the middle of the Great Depression, was the 1933 Goudey baseball set. Enos Goudey was proclaimed as the ‘Penney Gum King In America’ by none other than William Wrigley, Jr. In 1933, the Goudey Gum Company brought out the very first baseball card set with a stick of gum included in every pack. This set produced one of the greatest baseball cards of all-time,  #106 Napoleon Lajoie. It actually wasn’t in the original set but was a premium that you had to get through the mail after the season. This 240 card set is considered one of the Big Three in the history of baseball cards along with the famed T206 (Honus Wagner card) and the 1952 set (Mickey Mantle’s famed #311).

So who was honored as the #1 card on arguably the #1 set in modern baseball? It as a basketball and baseball star, Benny Bengough of the St. Louis Browns. Benny Bengough? St. Louis Browns? Born in Niagara Falls, NY, Bengough attended Niagara University. In 1923 he joined the New York Yankees and played with them in three World Series before Bill Dickey joined the team. Benny was released in 1930 and joined the Milwaukee Brewers of the American Association (Triple A franchise of the Boston Braves). In 1931, he was bought by the St. Louis Browns and played with them until his last major league game on September 24, 1932. He batted .252 in his Big League career and did not hit a single home run. So why was Benny Bengough of the St. Louis Browns the #1 card on the #1baseball card set in modern baseball?

He was one of Babe Ruth’s best friends on and off the field. One of the best defensive catchers in the game, he had a fielding percentage of .988 for his career 10 points above the average catcher in that era. But it was his friendship with one of the games greets players…the man who brought baseball out of the darkest period in its existence, the Black Sox scandal of 1919.

Benny Bengough. #1 at Goudey, the first of baseball cards in the modern era.

Play Ball!

The Amazing Tommy Monza

Tucked away in the minors, Tommy Monza has been struggling. In 2006, he was on everyone’s ‘can’t miss’ list.

The hope and the dream was right there on the sandlot of Scottsdale’s Horizon High. Famed for developing players that reached ‘The Show’ including Brandon Wood and Tim Alderson, Tommy was cast into the limelight early. As is custom in Arizona, in a land where former ballplayers and scouts gather at the drop of a dime or where ever a free ticket into a game is available, opinions are as available as armpits. The “I remember when…” or the “He looks a lot like….” run rampant. The smell of the dirty uniform and the whiff of rosin is all it takes to make the gathering a daily ritual around the Valley. Armed with a cup of coffee from Frys up Greenway a bit, all eyes are on the kid in center field, loosening up.

“Not sure I’ve ever seen a kid with so much action on his 2-seamer at this age.”, said one. “Reminds me of Duren, back in the day.”, said another. “Duren? You think the kid has a problem with his eyes?”, questioned the old codger who once was a star with the Oakland Oaks of the old PCL. “I saw Duren and he really couldn’t see without those big specks.”, he continued. “This kid’s using big glasses to scare the opposing left handed hitters.” “I played against Duren and they said he just wore those glasses to scare the hitters,” said another.

True today as it was in a time long ago. Tommy wore big rimmed glasses simply to scare the hell out of the opposing hitters. He figured that with his velocity, he could occasionally throw one over their heads and have every one of the hitters drifting back a bit on their heels. But in all honesty, he threw flames. His 2-seamer danced. It was like watching Koufax at 17. Like Koufax, Monza was using high school to win a scholarship to a major baseball power in the collegiate ranks.

That was 2006. Things didn’t exactly work out as planned. He did earn his scholarship to the University of Miami but changed his mind because of his family and signed with USC. Once there in the land of Troy, he got hurt in his Freshman year and underwent Tommy John. To his good fortune, he had the best Tommy John surgeon in the world repair his arm, Dr. Frank. Monza’s ulnar collateral ligament reconstruction, where his medial elbow was replaced with a tendon from his forearm, worked to perfection. In about a year, TM was throwing again, first tentatively, using his Sophomore season as a recovery year. Hitting the books gained him a new prospective on things and he found a fascination for medicine. This new attention to physical conditioning improved his overall outlook on life. Baseball suddenly became a ‘second most important thing’ in his new world of discovery.

By his Junior year, he was back on the mound. Everything felt just a bit different. The most noticeable difference was the connection between his ears and where the ball ended up. Before the surgery, he could work the ball at will to any point around the paint. Now his confidence level had taken a turn to the unknown. His target was as big as the backstop. In a word, he was ‘wild’. Remarkably, he could take a couple of steps back from behind the mound and zero a throw to a precise position. He found, after his operation, he couldn’t throw from the mound but any distance from more than 60’ 6”, he was devastating.

The experts most clubs carry try to ‘fix’ everyone for everything. Believe it or not, they have opinions on everything. I once knew a coach who actually gave advice on how to chew gum during a game. “You take a new square of Bazooka and begin on the right side of our mouth, if you are a right hander. If you are a lefty, then begin on the other side. Take twenty chews on one side before shifting to the other side. It’s all about symmetry. Can’t be out of balance to play baseball.”

Most of the time, the magic of baseball advice came in the form of remembrances. Sparky Anderson stated, “Casey (Stengel) knew his baseball. He only made it look like he was fooling around. He knew every move that was ever invented and some that we haven’t even caught on to yet.” Or listening to Willie over at Don & Charley’s after a spring game in Scottsdale Stadium, “Baseball is a game, yes. It is also a business. But what it most truly is…is disguised combat. For all its gentility, its almost leisurely pace, baseball is violence under wraps.”

For Tommy, it was the daily advise session from the latest coach or pitching expert. “Your right elbow has to be closer to the body as you begin your motion to the plate. That shorter distance allows for better control. Believe me!”, said one. “Your push off has to be stronger and you always have to remember, never over extend.”, prompted another. “It’s all about the release point. It has to be right here.”, a former Hall of Famer suggested. The problem was, Tommy lost his pinpoint control off the mound. That was the bad news. Tommy believed in Jon Lester’s advice, “We have two options, give up or fight.”

The good news was Tommy could throw out a runner at any base from the outfield. It was bringing a whole new dimension to playing the game. A runner simply could not advance without risking a cannon throw from center via the Tommy-gun.

This spring, he is hitting .426 with a 1.029 OPS, hammering 6 home runs and driving in 17 runs. As Mickey Mantle said, “Hit the ball over the fence and you can take your time going around the bases.”

With Adam Eaton out 6 to 8 weeks, the Diamondbacks may have found a spot in the lineup for Tommy the phenom. We all have to dream. It is a part of baseball that keeps us all with the game. If it were only that easy or true. April fool. Tommy doesn’t exist. We all hope that he, or someone like him, would be real and be able to give our team new hope. It’s the dream we all have as another season of baseball begins this week

Bob Feller noted, “Every day is a new opportunity. You can build on yesterday’s success or put its failures behind and start over again. That’s the way life is, with a new game every day, and that’s the way baseball is.” Let’s all have a great season.

Play Ball!

The Green Of Spring

When you first glance at it in the spring, the field is like a carpet where only those heroes of the game are privileged to walk upon. It is perfectly cut and trimmed, green as green can be. In this time of chasing the statistical universe, one can only marvel at the setting where the basics of the game are played.

Legends bring the game into perspective. Joe walked toward that position. You should have seen him play. Did you see him? Was he as good as they say? He was certainly one of the greatest Yankees of them all. Henry played right there. ‘Slough Foot’ they called him when he first came up. He seemed to glide when catching a fly in left field of old County Stadium. Unbelievable bat speed. “Stan The Man” played there. Every kid in the nation copied his unique batting style regardless if you were a left hander or not. He was one of the few, at least in the games I saw him play, who was never booed at an opposing ballpark. So many stepped on that platform of green on their way to Cooperstown. Willie, Mickey and The Duke. Robin, Reggie and Teddy Ballgame. Who will be next to take this trip from outfield to The Hall?

Spring allows all to show us their wares. Trout, Harper, Cespedes and Aoki all showed exceptional talent in their first year patrolling the outfield, last year. Their rookie seasons presented great promise. Mike Trout had quite a year. At age 20, he hit .326, scored 129 runs, had 182 hits which included 8 triples, walked 67 times and had 315 total bases. He also had 49 steals. Oh yes. He had 30 home runs. In the field he had 4 errors for a .988 fielding percentage. Norichika Aoki, a 29-year-old rookie, batted .288 with 150 hits of which 37 were doubles. As a lead off hitter, he drew 43 base on balls, had 30 stolen bases and had an amazing 10 home runs. With 81 runs scored, he had 255 total bases. In the field, he had only 3 errors for a .988 fielding percentage.

Bryce Harper hit .270 on 144 hits with 26 doubles, 22 home runs and 18 stolen bases. He scored 98 runs. In the field, he had 7 errors for a .979 fielding percentage. At 19 years of age, he unquestionably has a future of brightness in front of him. Yoenis Cespedes, at 26, had 142 hits with 25 doubles, 23 home runs and 82 runs batted in while producing a .292 batting average. He had 70 runs scored and 246 total bases. In the field he had 3 errors for a .987 fielding percentage.

Who will step out and make those giant strides to Cooperstown? Any of them? None of them? That’s why the game is so much fun in the spring. The green of spring brings hope for all, including those of us who cannot seem to get enough of it. Lucky for us, we have a full month left during this amazing time of the year.

Play ball!

The Pasteboard Era of Legendary Charlie Silvera

It was a nice day. Sun was shining. Temperature wasn’t too bad. I was examining the yard when a neighbor asked if I would come over to their house in a day or two to look at some baseball cards he and his wife had collected. The neighbor was wondering what to do with them and how to sell them. As one who has collected the ‘poor man’s stock market’ material for years, I said I would. The day came and I dropped over.

When I sat down and began taking them out of their containers, the anxious rush of childhood enveloped me once again, full of anticipation that the next card would be that of the ‘big one’, Mickey himself. Naturally I want through the 1952 Topps first. And there it was.

The one card that nobody ever wanted to see in their pack, the pack that cost them a nickel which was everything in the world at that time, was that of one Charles Anthony Ryan Silvera, better know as Charlie Silvera. On this card was a brilliant yellow background behind the portrait of the back up catcher for Yogi Berra of the famed New York Yankees. For much of that summer of my youth, to avoid the Silvera card was the task. Every pack that was bought would be carefully peeled away at the back, slowly removing the folded wax paper wrapper to make sure we did not tear the wrapper, damage any of the cards and get the flat wide stick of sugary bubble gum and make sure it didn’t leave a stain on the card.

Then we would look at the first card.

Invariably it would be someone whom few had ever heard about except for his family and friends. This is where Charlie Silvera usually came into our lives. During the course of a year you could end up with five, six or seven Charlie Silvera’s which had absolutely no value in ‘kiddom’. You could only hope that there was a newbie who would move into the neighborhood and not know a thing about the value of these pasteboard wonders. Or, you hoped that a kid would come along and want to trade a card, any card, for a Silvera which he would usually put in the spokes of his bike, secured by a clothes pin to the front bike fork, and create a loud mechanical sound that represented a mad drummer banging at a  faster and faster rhythm against a metal drum the faster the kid peddled his bike.

Silvera was omnipresent. Two kids could go to the corner store and buy two packs of Topps. When they came out and unwrapped their packs, you had a very good chance of each pulling the dreaded Silvera yellow background card from their packs. Ugh……..

Silvera killed us that summer. Topps must have printed 10 Silvera’s for every star player card.

But it wasn’t the first summer he had done that. The 1950 Bowman packs contained the first sighting of Charlie Silvera. Card #96 was his true rookie card. In the 1951 Bowman set, he was missing. But the 1952 Bowman set contained a horizontal beauty. On #197, there he was in a throwing position, ball in his right hand cocked and ready to throw while his big pillow glove on his left hand sighted the way. With his cap on backwards and a stern, square-jawed portrait, it is one of the better looking cards of that era. But, it was a Charlie Silvera card and not that of Mickey, or Yogi or Whitey or ‘The Scooter’, ‘Willie’ or ‘Duke’.

That same year he made his way into one of the two greatest baseball card sets of all time…the 1952 Topps. (Along with the ’52 Topps, the 1957 Topps is one of the most popular Topps sets ever produced.) In fact, he was in every early Topps set from 1952 (#168), 1953 (#242), 1954 (#96), 1955 (188) to 1957 (#255) with the exception of the 1956 set.

Charlie Silvera played for part of 10 season in the Major Leagues hitting .282. However, he only played in 227 games. But he has two things he can tell his grandchildren: he hit one home run. And, although he was on six World Series teams, he only played in the 1949 classic and faced Preacher Roe of the Brooklyn Dodgers twice without a hit. But, he played in the Classic.

So there I was, once again flipping through memories of youthful dreams past, spouting off various statistics to my neighbors about the cards that I knew so well as I was flipping them over and WHAM!

There it was again, Charlie Silvera’s 1957 card, his last. Will this dreaded curse of Silvera never end?

It was a different place in a different time. Here’s to you, Charlie. Hope today in San Francisco you experience nothing but pleasure. I can only say that now. When I came across your image in those glorious days on the front steps of Lincoln Avenue unwrapping that treasured pack of baseball cards with Snookie, my next door baseball friend, seeing you was a dreaded reminder that we were all another pack away from collecting a quiniela of Silvera cards.

Play Ball!