Baseball Between Us

Hundreds of baseball fans and many former players cheered Saturday night, as legendary manager Jerry Manuel was inducted into Sacramento’s Baseball Hall of Fame. Manuel played ball for Cordova High School under longtime coach Guy Anderson before becoming the number one draft pick for the Detroit Tigers in 1972. His five year Major League career also included stays with the Montreal Expos and San Diego Padres.

But Manuel is perhaps best known as a Major League manager for the Chicago White Sox from 1998 – 2004 and then the New York Mets from 2008 – 2010. He also established the Jerry Manuel Foundation to offer baseball training and schooling to kids who need a fresh start in life.

Manuel was the keynote speaker at the La Salle Club’s 61st Annual Hall of Fame Dinner at Christian Brothers High School, where he spoke of the importance of giving back to the Sacramento community. “It’s a tremendous passion and it’s life’s lessons,” he said.  “I mean we grow in baseball. We love it. It feeds itself . It humbles us, just like regular life.”

Manuel was inducted into the Class of 2015, which includes former New York Yankee great Joe Gordon,who later became a  player-manager with the Sacramento Solons. He died in 1978 and was honored posthumously at Saturday night’s ceremony. Also honored was Greg Orr, a scout for the New York Yankees and Don Lyle, a scout for the Cleveland Indians.

Six other Sacramento area players were also added to the Hall of Fame: Joe Viega, Manny Perry, Leon Brown, Eddie Cervantes and Randy Zanze.

“It is quite an honor to be connected with this city and to be inducted into such an exclusive class, ” Manuel said. “It’s tremendous to see all the old players.  Friends that you grew up playing with.”

Manuel gave a special shout out to his good friend Leon Lee, another Sacramento baseball Hall of Famer.  “We golf all the time,” Manuel said. “I let him win,” he added with a smile.

Manuel also paid tribute to his friend and fellow Sacramento Hall of Famer, Dusty Baker. “It’s like Dusty said to me, ‘When you’re from Sacramento, you’re a homey.'” Manuel noted, ” So I’m going in with some pretty good homeys. We will challenge anybody – right homeys.”

Manuel told the crowd he was appreciative of being recognized as one of Sacramento’s best in the world of baseball. “To go into the Hall of Fame in baseball in Sacramento,” he said. “You’re (really) going into something, so thank you.”

 

 

 

 

 

Ernie Banks, Mr. Cub has died at the age of 83. I remember watching him play both in person and on TV.  He played with heart and passion every single game. We will miss you Ernie Banks.

Major League Baseball has the story of one of the greatest shortstops ever:

Ernie Banks Bio

It’s hard to handicap the World Series. After all, who can predict the unpredictable? Both the Giants and the Royals defied expectations and the odds to make it here as Wild Card teams – the first time that has happened since 2002.

The Royals have momentum. They’ve won 8 straight postseason games this year – something no team has ever done before. But the Giants have magic. They won the World Series in 2010 and 2012, so if you believe in patterns, then this is their year.

Kansas City has speed on the base paths in Lorenzo Cain, who hit .301 this season with 28 steals. Jarrod Dyson swiped 36 as a reserve outfielder.

But San Francisco has power pitching in the fab four of Madison Bumgarner, Ryan Vogelsong, Tim Hudson and Jake Peavy. Bum hasn’t given up a run on the road in 26 and 2/3 innings. This season has been most improbable. Who would ever believe the Giants could win the pennant without Matt Cain and Tim Lincecum throwing a pitch in the playoffs?

However, if the Royals bunt, steal and sacrifice their way to a lead  after 6 innings, they will be tough to beat. Their bullpen of Kelvin Herrera, Wade Davis and closer Greg Holland have been lights out in the 7th, 8th and 9th innings.

The Giants will counter with the Killer P’s: Posey, Pence and the Panda. Throw in DH Michael Morse and you’ve got a lineup with some real pop.

Here’s a look at how the two teams match up, player to player:

Position by Position Comparison

My prediction: the Giants over the Royals in 5. Kansas City could surprise everyone, but that would be odd. After all, it’s an even year.

 

The Oakland A’s can breathe a sigh of relief. They made it to the postseason, although just barely. Fans in Seattle were hoping for a face-off on Monday against the boys in Green and Gold, but there will be no Game 163 at Safeco Field.

Back in April, I picked the A’s to meet the Cardinals in the World Series. Both teams are in the postseason hunt, but it doesn’t feel like the A’s have the magic this year, after a colossal second half collapse. Still, I like the prospect of Jon Lester on the mound against the KC Royals, in a one-game play-in. But that’s as far as Oakland will go.

Can the Giants pull off another even-year miracle (as in 2010, 2012) or will the Pirates make them walk the plank? I don’t see the Giants advancing very far and while some baseball analysts are picking Washington to win it all: World Series Winner  I’m not one of them. Sure they’ve got a guy who just pitched a No-Hitter in Jordan Zimmerman: Nats Pitch First No-No Ever But the Nationals have never even been to a World Series before and I don’t seem them winning it all. Too much inexperience.

In the National League, I’m sticking with the Cardinals and their fearsome foursome of Adam Wainwright, John Lackey, Shelby Miller and Lance Lynn. Over in the American League, I’ll take the Angels to win the pennant with their balanced lineup featuring Mike Trout, Albert Pujols and David Freese. The latter two helped St. Louis win a World Series in 2011. The Angels have two solid starters in Jared Weaver and C. J. Wilson, along with a fantastic relief corps in Jason Grilli and closer Houston Street.

As for the World Series, I’ll take the Cards over the Angels in 6.

In near triple-digit heat Heather Frederick and Carlton Walker were 
staying cool in the shade of a fireworks stand on Rio Linda's M 
Street. Both are team parents of teenagers under the guidance of the
Jerry Manuel Foundation, a baseball charter school in Elverta. 
JMF has been actively training urban kids to be leaders both on
and off the baseball field.

All this week, the fireworks stand is also providing relief to the 
family of Jaelyn Williams, a player whose mother was murdered in her 
Sacramento home last April. Jaelyn's father is not in the picture, 
so the young man moved to San Diego to live with his grandfather. 
But the team - and the Foundation have not forgotten Jaelyn or
the loss of his mother Alyssa Williams, who also served as the 
team mom.

"It was devastating," Walker told KCRA 3. "My son and Jaelyn were 
good friends and he said, 'Dad I can't believe what just happened,' 
and I said, 'it's part of life son. You know we don't wish those 
types of things on people but things happen,'".

But Walker, Frederick and other parents are now trying to turn a 
negative into a positive, by holding a fireworks fundraiser to 
benefit Jaelyn. "So we're giving back to the community, which is 
Jaelyn," Frederick told KCRA 3. "The profits we are going
to give to him to help offset the costs for the tragic loss. 
Our mission is child, family, community."

And so far, business is good. "As of right now we've raised about 
$1,200" Frederick said. "The goal is to raise $10,000, which we can 
donate $5,000 to Jaelyn" after expenses to TNT for the fireworks are 
paid off, Frederick explained.

When the team learned of Alyssa Williams' death back in April, 
"the boys were very shocked because all the boys knew her," 
Frederick told KCRA 3. "So it was really sad but they went to 
Jaelyn's aid and Jaelyn went to them for help."

But the fireworks fundraiser is part of JMF's mission, 
"to give back to the community," Walker said. "Jerry Manuel has 
given back to the community. He's been a tremendous help to a number 
of kids in the community that come from all over. And
it's a great program to be involved in."

Jerry Manuel was a baseball prodigy at Cordova High School who 
later managed the Chicago White Sox from 1998 - 2003 and the 
New York Mets from 2008 - 2010. In addition to working with 
Sacramento area teens, Manuel is also launching a baseball
program at William Jessup University in Rocklin, where he is the 
director of baseball operations. His wife Renette and son Anthony 
are both on the board of directors for the Jerry Manuel Foundation.

The fireworks fundraiser is sending an important lifeline to Jaelyn 
and his teammates. "Definitely life's lessons," Walker said. 
"To help somebody else when they need help," Walker told KCRA 3.

The fireworks display is located at 416 M Street in Rio Linda and 
will be staffed by volunteers from the Jerry Manuel Foundation 
through the 4th of July.

Who do you love?

In baseball, zip codes can reveal with surprising accuracy, which team has the most local fans, as this article from the New York Times reveals in colorful detail:Zip Code Wars

The interactive maps are right on target, showing the dividing line in California between Dodger fans and Giants Fans is Paso Robles in San Luis Obispo County:Giants/Dodgers

In the Bay Area, the Giants dominate of course, even in Alameda County, home of the Oakland A’s. The Giants are more popular than the A’s by a 59% – 18% margin even in the neighborhoods surrounding the O.Co Coliseum:  Giants/A’s

In New York of course, the Yankees own the town, with more fans than the upstart Mets in all 5 boroughs, even Queens, where the Metropolitans play: Yankees/Mets. The Yanks have a 53% -25% margin of victory even at Citi Field, home of the Mets.

And growing up in Connecticut, I can tell you the state is deeply divided between Yankee fans and Red Sox faithful. As this map shows, Yankees/Red Sox,  Red Sox Nation includes eastern Connecticut where my sister lives, while the Bronx Bombers dominate western Connecticut, where my brother lives.

In Chicago the Cubs may rule, but the White Sox don’t drool. In fact they have solid support on the south side as you’ll see here: Cubs/White Sox.

It’s fun to see baseball’s rivalries in living color.

 

 

 

MARLINS PARK:

Thursday, September 26 – Sunday, September 29, 2013

I felt something pulsating in my pocket. First it was a vibration. But it quickly changed to the sound of a bluesy piano riff. I saw numbers flashing on the screen as I answered my cell phone.

“Hi Dad, I’m here,” said a familiar voice.

“Matt, where are you?” I asked.

“I’m here in Miami at the airport, calling you via Skype. Where are you?”

“I just got off the plane,” I said. “I’ll meet you at the rental car center.”

I quickly boarded the People Mover and weaved my way through the Miami airport, arriving at the Sixt rental counter in a matter of minutes. I saw a familiar face and gave my son a big hug.“I haven’t seen you in….”

“Ten weeks,” he said, completing my sentence. It was now late September, the final week of baseball’s regular season and the beginning of a new father/son journey.

In my mind, I flashed back to a Nicaraguan beach where my daughter Sarah and I had joined Matt for a Central American adventure. The summer solstice had kept the sun high in the sky, until the orange ball kissed the blue Pacific waters and descended into the sea.

In early June, Sarah and I had traveled fifteen hours to visit Matt, who was designing soccer fields and city parks for the town of Matagalpa, nestled high in the coffee-rich hills.

Now, Matt and I were meeting in Miami for a new baseball trip, this time to see a game in our 33^rd ballpark.

We loaded our gear into our rental car, a silver Nissan Sentra and started driving to Marlins Park, where the home team was hosting the Philadelphia Phillies. We headed south on La Jeune Road to exit the airport and took a right onto State Road 836.

Something felt wrong.

“Dad you should be going east not west,” my son shouted.

“It looks like Wrong Way Mike has done it again,” I said to myself.

I quickly reversed course and hit the gas, knowing the first pitch was just 20 minutes away. We couldn’t be late. It would be sacrilege to miss the start of the game. Luckily, the baseball gods were with us that night as we navigated our way through traffic and into the parking lot. At the walk-up ticket window, we scored great seats.

“You see, spontaneity is good,” Matt lectured me. “You don’t always have to buy tickets in advance. Sometimes it’s fun not to plan anything at all, but go with the flow.”

 “Just go inside,” I countered.  We found our seats along the 3^rd base line, a mere 8 rows behind the action.

The stadium was nearly empty and ours to explore. The retractable roof was fully extended to cover the entire skyline, shutting out the oppressive humidity but also blocking our view of the stars above.

Deep behind the centerfield wall, I noticed a massive monument to the Marlins, standing seven stories tall. It consisted of art deco style images of fish and flamingos surrounded by palm trees and water.

The structure was designed to sparkle and dance whenever a Marlins player hits a home run, but for this game it was a silent night.

“I’m hungry,” Matt declared.

“Okay let’s eat,” I said.

Matt was meat-deprived in Nicaraugua and settled on a ballpark hamburger, while I selected a local seafood delight of fresh oysters dipped with lime juice and hot sauce. It was pricey but delicious.

Matt and I clicked our bottles of beer and took in the sights of the game. In the second inning, Marlins slugger Adeiny Hechavarria tripled off Phillies ace Cole Hammels to drive in two runs and give Miami a 2-0 lead.

The Marlins are big on entertainment, which includes male and female cheerleaders dancing and singing throughout the stadium. It’s the only baseball park where I can recall seeing cheerleaders. Nightclubbing is also big in Miami and so the Marlins have created a hangout, known as the Clevelander for the hipster crowd. 

It features a pool and dancers clad in go-go boots, rocking out to music with a Latin beat. It’s got a homegrown Miami vibe and certainly a different look and feel compared to the hallowed halls of Fenway Park or Wrigley Field.  

Inside the Clevelander, you can get an up-close view of the visitor’s bullpen, where we saw Cesar Jimenez, a young pitcher from Venezuela, warming up for the Phillies. Upon entering the game, Jimenez walked two Marlins, but did not surrender a run, in a game the home team would eventually win 3-2.

Marlins Park is also the only stadium that  features a fully loaded Bobblehead museum, consisting of miniature players from every Major League team.

Parents and kids of all ages hovered around the bobbleheads to get a closer look. For some reason, it triggered an emotional response in my son.

“I’m a bit homesick for America,” he confided.

“Why, they don’t have bobbleheads in Nicaraugua?”

“Well the point is, I miss American culture – not just bobbleheads but burgers and fries. I like the innumerable choices you can make here about restaurants, travel and freedom of expression. It’s easy to take democracy for granted, but when you live in a socialist country for a while, you begin to understand how important it is to have individual rights, not to mention hot showers and  a dryer for your clothes. Those things are only luxuries in Nicaragua.”

“It sounds like you’ve become more patriotic,” I said.

“I appreciate how good we’ve got it in the United States,” came the response from my son who was showing signs of wisdom beyond his years.

“Well tomorrow I’ll show you more of it. We’re driving to Key West.”

Highway 1 meanders from Miami slowly southward  through the Florida Keys, a chain of islands surrounded by the  crystal blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean. It’s normally about a three hour to journey to Key West, unless you pull over every fifteen minutes to take pictures, which I insisted on doing. I was mesmerized by the multi-hued shades of blue water.

“Just one more photo,” I told Matt as we made our 14^th stop.

“No worries, no hurry,” came the suprisingly calm response from a kid who used to complain every time we got out of the car.

“Wow, you’ve mellowed,” I stated.

“Older and wiser now,” he said as we approached the Six-Toed Cat, a restaurant across from the Hemingway Museum that to our delight, was still serving breakfast at 2:30 in the afternoon. Matt devoured the pancakes flanking his eggs benedict.

Ernest Hemingway lived at 907 Whitehead Street in Key West from 1931 – 1939.  It was during that time span that he wrote some of his greatest works, including The Snows of Kiliminjaro and To Have and Have Not. Hemingway was also obsessed with cats and today his former house is home to literally dozens of felines that roam the place freely as if they own it. And in a sense they do, since the museum makes sure the cats are well fed.

Hemingway also loved his life in Cuba, which is just 90 miles away. Key West is the southernmost point in the continental United States, a fact reinforced by thousands of tourists who line up every day to have their pictures taken at the concrete buoy on the tip of the island.

And much to my surprise, Matt even agreed to make a cameo appearance with his old man.

“You’re allowing me to record this moment in time?” I asked. “I thought you don’t like to be used as a prop for pictures?”

 “Just one photo,” he snapped. “That’s your quota for the day.”

We walked for miles along the beach, soaking in the sun and the salt water.

“Let’s head back to the hotel and put on our swim trunks,” I suggested.

Within minutes, we were diving into the balmy waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

“I’m feeling really good,” Matt said.

“And I have no agenda,” I replied.

“That’s why I’m relaxed Dad. Let’s not make any plans.”

“Deal.”

I closed my eyes on the beach and drifted into dreamland.

When I awoke, the sun was little more than a golden glow on the horizon.

“Are you thirsty?” I asked.

“Hungry too,” Matt said.

 We quickly changed, then walked down to Sunset Pier, the perfect place to watch the sun dip from the sky into the ocean. We dined on fish tacos and drank beers until well past sunset, watching the sailboats go by as our evening entertainment. Life was good.

A bright light appeared in the newly darkened sky.

“That’s the planet Venus,” I proclaimed. “It’s the one they call the evening star because it’s the first one you’ll see at night.”

“I doubt that’s Venus,” said the mouth that roared. “It’s probably just another star.”

“Let’s watch it for a while,” I said. “If it moves in the next hour or so, we’ll know it’s a planet, not a star.”

Matt nodded his head as we tipped back our beers and watched the celestial show above.

The waitress reinforced us with refills, so I poured mine into the ice-cold glass, which created lots of foam that seeped out onto the table.

“Dad, when are you going to learn how to pour a beer? This is how you do it,” Matt said as he poured his IPA perfectly into the glass, with no spillage.

“Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I went to college,” he said. “Beer drinking 101.  But obviously you didn’t take that class.”

Schooled by the kid, I said nothing.  Incrementally, the bright light in the western sky began to move.

“It’s probably a plane,” said Matt.

“No it’s Venus.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he conceded.

“What’s that I didn’t hear you?”

“MAYBE YOU’RE RIGHT,” he shouted, as heads turned all around us.

“Yup it’s Venus,” I said to the crowd.

“Good for you,” Matt said. “I guess you can’t be wrong all the time.”

Ouch.

The next morning we were up early to go snorkeling on a coral reef, where I hovered over a nurse shark, just twenty feet below me. Luckily, it wasn’t hungry and swam away. We saw jellyfish too but avoided their stingers.

We finally made it back on dry land, where we headed north in the rental car to Key Largo, home of some of the best Key Lime pie anywhere. After dinner, we drove back to Miami, where Matt insisted on getting new underwear at Macy’s.

“You’ve been living in Nicaragua for a year and that’s what you want? Underwear?”

“Yeah Dad, we have no washers or dryers in Nicaragua. I have to wash my boxers by hand and dry them on a clothesline. But now I want to get boxer briefs. White ones, to be exact,” he informed me.

“Are you serious? You used to tease me about wearing briefs. You called them Tighty Whiteys.”

“Yeah, but I’m grown up now and I want boxer briefs. And white ones are cool.”

“Don’t you see what’s happening here? You’re becoming more like me?”

“Don’t worry Dad, I’ll grow out of it.”

Matt wanted to sleep in on Saturday, but I was back in agenda-mode and couldn’t allow that. “We’re heading to the Everglades today,” I informed him. “We’ll head west from Miami for about 25 miles and you’ll see a whole different side of Florida.”

Highway 41 is known as the Tamiami Trail because it traverses the Florida swamps between Tampa and Miami. The Trail intersects the Big Cypress National Preserve, which is home to Buffalo Tiger’s Airboat Rides. Buffalo Tiger is the legendary chief of the Miccosukee Indian Tribe that was historically part of the Seminole Nation.

We rented an airboat for two and our tour guide Fabian instructed us to put on headphones for our ride into Florida’s natural wonder.

After 10 minutes of gunning the propeller blades that served as our engine, Fabian cut the motor to explain the history of the Everglades, Nature’s River of Grass.

“This is the slowest river you’ll ever travel on,” he told us. It flows from Lake Okeechobee to the ocean and is teeming with wildlife. Here’s one of our local gators now,” he exclaimed as the 13-foot monster approached the boat.

Fabian began clicking the roof of his mouth as the gator swam closer.

He held out a lumpy load of white bread and dropped a nugget into the hungry reptile’s open mouth that was lined with a razor-sharp row of powerful teeth.

“His vision is basically peripheral. He looks sideways to see,” Fabian explained as he waived his hand in front of the gator’s snout. “He doesn’t see this,” Fabian said calmly.

“Well that’s probably good,” I exclaimed.

“Otherwise you might lose a finger.”

“He has a very good sense of smell,” Fabian explained. “If you ever get cut and bleed, he can smell the blood. He can also smell small animals. That’s why I always tell people if you really love your pet, it’s best not to bring them here.”

The Everglades have a primitive beauty and I came away from the experience more awed than ever by the power of nature. Matt and I were silent on the drive back to Miami. We hung out in the hotel, reading quietly until the phone rang.

“We’re here in the lobby,” my Uncle Richard announced. He was waiting with my Aunt Joan to drive us to the ballpark where the Marlins were hosting the playoff bound Detroit Tigers.

I was excited about seeing Miguel Cabrera step up to the plate. The Tiger slugger was about to win his third straight batting title with a stellar .348 average. He also had 44 home runs and 137 Runs Batted In.

No one in Major League Baseball had won three consecutive hitting crowns since Wade Boggs did it from 1985 – 1988. Rod Carew also hit the trifecta from 1972 – 1975, while the legendary Ty Cobb did it three times (1907 – 1909, 1911 – 1915, 1917 – 1919).

The drive to the ballpark was frustratingly slow as we came to a grinding halt in gridlock on NW 6^th Street. Making matters worse, it had started to rain. The retractable roof would be shut tight over Marlins Park tonight. The umpire would be shouting “Play Ball” in just 20 minutes and we were stuck in traffic a mile from the ballpark. My uncle sensed I was getting antsy.

“Why don’t you and Matt hop out and we’ll meet you there?” he said. “Take my umbrella,” he added.

“We won’t need it,” I replied.

 I was so wrong.

Thirty seconds later, as Matt and I were running to the ballpark, a blinding light split the sky in two, as lightning pierced through the darkness.

KABOOM!

The thunder roared like cannon fire as the skies opened up with full Florida fury.

CRACK!!

Suddenly, Matt and I were caught in a torrential downpour.  We sprinted back to the shelter of my uncle’s car. The rain gods were angry and let us have it for 15 uninterrupted minutes of hell on earth. The traffic moved at a snail’s pace, crawling inch by inch to the park.

And then suddenly, it stopped raining.

“Go!” my uncle exclaimed. “Go now while you can still catch the first pitch.”

Matt and I bolted for the ballpark, just in time to see Nathan Eovaldi deliver the first pitch to Detoit’s Austin Jackson.

“Strike one,” yelled the home plate umpire. On the next pitch, Jackson lined a single to right. But he couldn’t advance beyond first base because Torii Hunter struck out swinging.

Then Miguel Cabrera stepped up to the plate, generating a raucous ovation from the crowd. The Venezuelan slugger was a big hit in Miami, where it seemed that half of the 28,750 in attendance were wearing the orange and blue Tiger colors and openly rooting for Detroit.  

On a 1-2 count, Cabrera stroked a single to right, sending Jackson to second base, much to the delight of the Tigers fans in attendance.

But Detroit’s  rally was cut short when Prince Fielder lined out to third and Jhonny Peralta grounded out to end the inning. In the bottom of the first, Anibal Sanchez was dominant for Detroit. The former Marlin struck out two of the three batters he faced in the bottom of the first.  The Marlins were hitless and placed a goose egg on the scoreboard.

My aunt and uncle finally arrived in the bottom of the second inning of a scoreless ballgame. “It’s 0-0,” I shouted out for them.

“You see we didn’t miss a thing,” my Aunt Joan said.

Matt and I looked at each other.  “Sounds just like mom,” he said.

“Watching baseball is like watching the grass grow,” my aunt reaffirmed. “It’s painfully slow.”

“But that’s what I love about this game,” I stated. “You can see the strategy behind every play. There’s drama before every pitch.”

As it turned out there was plenty of drama on this night, as the Tigers took a 1-0 lead into the bottom of the ninth. But the Marlins started a one-out rally when Christian Yelich singled to center and Giancarlo Stanton walked.

The Miami fans started chanting for a hit but my aunt had another plan in mind. “I hope they hit into a double play,” she said. “I want to go home.”

But the baseball gods had a very different outcome in mind. With two outs, Miami’s Ed Lucas singled to center off Joaquin Benoit to tie the game. We were going into extra innings and my aunt was not a happy camper.

“Maybe we should go,” Matt suggested. “We can listen to the game on the car radio.”

Leaving a game before it’s over is just not part of my DNA. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve done it. But in this case, I didn’t want to put my aunt through torture, so I agreed to bite the bullet.

Had we stuck around just one more inning, we would have seen the Marlins load the bases on two walks and a hit batter, setting the stage for Giancarlo Stanton to single home the winning run for a Miami victory. For the last-place Marlins it was their first walk-off win since July 13.

As it turns out, just one day later, Henderson Alvarez would pitch a no-hitter for the Marlins over the first-place Tigers. Seeing a no-hitter in person is definitely on my bucket list, as I’ve never actually witnessed one, despite attending hundreds of games.

But on this night, I was eager to see the ESPN highlights of our game. I was watching the winning run score when Matt opened his mouth.

“Can you turn off the TV now?” he shouted. “It’s after midnight and we have to get up early.”

I was stunned. “Wow, talk about role reversal,” I said.

“You used to be the night owl. Now I’m the one burning the midnight oil and you’re concerned about not getting enough sleep. How did that happen?”.

“I guess I’m becoming more like you Dad,” he said. “And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

“You mean we finally understand each other?” I asked.

“Yeah, something like that,” he said.

 I switched off the light.

Baseball truly is a perfect game.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The La Salle Club added nine players to its Baseball Hall of Fame on Saturday night, highlighted by Buck Martinez. The former Elk Grove High School and Sacramento City College star played seventeen years in the Show for the Kansas City Royals (1969 – 1978), Milwaukee Brewers (1978 – 1980)  and Toronto Blue Jays (1981 – 1986) , where he is the play-by-play announcer for the team.

Martinez was the keynote speaker at Christian Brothers High School in Sacramento, where he mesmerized the crowd with stories from his playing days in the big leagues. Martinez is perhaps best known for having participated in the only 9-2-7-2 double play in Major League Baseball history.

As a catcher for the Toronto Blue Jays in 1985, Martinez was slammed to the ground following a close play at the plate. Martinez held onto the ball to tag Seattle’s Phil Bradley, but the collision was costly. Martinez suffered a broken leg and a dislocated ankle, but that didn’t stop him from trying to gun down the Mariners’ Gorman Thomas at third base. The hobbled catcher threw from a prone position but the ball sailed into left field. Thomas headed for home where Martinez miraculously caught the ball and swiped the runner with a clean tag to complete a 9-2-7-2 double play that has never since been repeated.

He has a lifetime of baseball memories, but Martinez told me one of his greatest thrills came in 2002 when he was managing the Blue Jays. It was during spring training and Martinez elected to put his own son Casey into the lineup. “He took three straight pitches right down the center of the plate,” Martinez told me. “It was a strikeout, but at least I got to see my son have an at bat.”

 

Not many fathers can say they were in the dugout, watching a son bat against Major League pitching.

The La Salle Club, headed up by Hall of Fame chairman Joe McNamara,  inducted eight other players into Sacramento history, including  Rowland Office, the McClatchy High School stand out who had a 29 game hitting streak for the Atlanta Braves, second longest in club history. Other honorees: Carl Boyer, Don Hammitt, Mike Baldwin, Oscar Broyer, Larry Wolfe, Curtis Brown and Scratch DeFazio.

While at the ceremonies, I had a chance to catch up with good friend Ron Hyde, my former colleague at KCRA 3.

Ron is retired from broadcasting but stays active covering sports, especially those involving his three children.

Also in attendance was Leron Lee, a 2012 La Salle Club Baseball Hall of Fame inductee.

Lee was a Grant High School star and a #1 draft pick of the St. Louis Cardinals. He played in the Majors for for the Cardinals, Padres, Indians and Dodgers before launching a successful baseball career in Japan, where he still holds the record for highest career batting average (.320) for players with at least 4,000 at bats. He told me the Japanese players are well trained in the fundamentals of baseball. While there he would prepare by hitting 500 to 700 balls a day, which helped make him a more consistent hitter.

Leron’s brother Leon Lee also played with him in Japan. Leon was inducted into the La Salle Club Baseball Hall of Fame in 2013 and is the father  of former Major Leaguer Derrek Lee, who graduated from El Camino High School (along with KCRA’s Lisa Gonzales).

Derrek Lee would go on to play first base for the San Diego Padres, Florida Marlins, Chicago Cubs, Atlanta Braves, Baltimore Orioles and Pittsburgh Pirates. Lee’s 2003 Marlins team beat the New York Yankees in the 2003 World Series. Derrek Lee will undoubtedly be a future Hall of Famer at the La Salle Club.

Dusty Baker was deep in prayer the night he was drafted into Major League Baseball. “Dear Lord,” Baker told hundreds of fans and supporters Saturday night at William Jessup University in Rocklin. “Please don’t let me be drafted by the Atlanta Braves.”

The year was 1967 and Baker, a native Californian, was troubled by the prospect of playing in the racially segregated South. So when the fateful phone call arrived, the Del Campo High School star answered it nervously. “Congratulations,” said the voice from far away. “You’ve been selected by the Atlanta Braves.”

Baker’s heart sank. “I guess God didn’t hear me,” he told the crowd. But sometimes, he confided,  God works in mysterious ways. Baker joined the Braves and got to play in the same outfield with Hank Aaron, one of the game’s greatest players.

After eight years in Atlanta, Baker was traded in 1976 to the Los Angeles, where he would lead the Dodgers to three National League pennants and a World Series championship in 1981.  Before hanging up his spikes in 1986, the two-time National League All-Star hit 242 Home Runs, with 1.013 Runs Batted In, with a lifetime .278 batting average.

But Baker’s true influence on the game was only just beginning and it would take form not only on the field but in the dugout. Baker served 20 seasons as manager for the San Francisco Giants, Chicago Cubs and Cincinnati Reds. He took the Giants and the Cubs to the World Series, becoming only one of  three African-American managers to get there. He’s also only the ninth manager to lead three different teams into the playoffs. I had the privilege of meeting Dusty — and his team of Sacramento legends, at a Major League Baseball reunion dinner Saturday night.

Throughout his storied career,  Baker became a mentor for a whole new generation of  Major Leaguers, players  with roots in Northern California — including Willie McGee, Greg Vaughn, Ricky Jordan, Derrek Lee, Butch Metzger and many others who were on hand Saturday night to honor Baker, along with Jerry Manuel, who managed the Chicago White Sox (Manager of the Year in 2000), before he took helm of the New York Mets from 2008 – 2010.

Jerry Manuel is a great teacher, both in the classroom and on the field. His Jerry Manuel Foundation is a rigorous academic magnet program in the Elverta School District, designed for kids who love baseball. Jerry’s son Anthony Manuel, a former minor leaguer, is a baseball  instructor and coach at the school. The fundamental building blocks at JMF  are education, character development and the training of baseball skills on a daily basis. Here’s the link to learn more about the Jerry Manuel Foundation.

One of JMF’s goal is to overcome one of baseball’s shameful secrets: the game has lost it’s appeal to kids living in America’s inner cities. Today just 8 percent of Major League ballplayers are African American, compared to 33 percent some thirty years ago. JMF’s mission is to “increase the number of African American men becoming leaders and ignite a new-found passion and commitment to pursuing America’s favorite pastime at all levels.”

Manuel is now the head of baseball operations for William Jessup University, where he hopes some of his kids may one day play on what is now just a field of dreams.

Dusty Baker is committed to helping Manuel reach that goal and he’s not alone. Dozens of former players and scouts are supporting Manuel’s mission of teaching kids the nine core values practiced by Jackie Robinson: courage, determination, teamwork, persistence, integrity, citizenship, justice, commitment and excellence.

The list of supporting players reads like an All-Star roster:

Willie McGee grew up in Richmond, California and helped the St. Louis Cardinals win the World Series in 1982 as a rookie. The center fielder won three Gold Glove Awards and collected 2,254 hits in 18 seasons with St. Louis. In 1985, he led the National League in hitting with a .353 average.

Greg Vaughn was born in Sacramento and graduated from Kennedy High School. The left fielder played for the the Milwaukee Brewers (1989–96), San Diego Padres (1996–98), Cincinnati Reds (1999), Tampa Bay Devil Rays (2000–02) and Colorado Rockies (2003),  and finished with with 355 home runs, 1072 RBI, 1017 runs, 1475 hits and a .242 batting average.

Derrek Lee graduated from El Camino High School in Sacramento, along with KCRA 3’s Lisa Gonzales. Lee helped the Florida Marlins capture a  World Series championship in 2003 and he won the National League batting title in 2005 as a member of the Chicago Cubs. The two-time All-Star also won a Gold Glove Award three times. Derrek’s father, Leon Lee, played professional baseball in Japan.

Also in attendance, Richmond’s Ricky Jordan who played first base for the Phillies and the Mariners from 1988 – 1996. He’s now active in the construction business in Sacramento and told me he’s hiring more people now that the economy is heating up.

But the biggest beneficiaries of Saturday’s baseball bash for Baker were the kids from the Jerry Manuel Foundation. They got to mingle with all the former players, who graciously answered their questions and signed autographs.

These players believe that baseball can be the catalyst for change. Baseball made the difference in their lives and now they are dedicated to giving their time and resources back to the community where they grew up, so that other kids can have a chance. If you’d like to help, you can contact the Jerry Manuel Foundation at P.O. Box 1127, Loomis, CA 95650 or just click here: How to Donate

 

It’s through the magic of baseball that sometimes, dreams can come true.

 

 

 

The World Series may be over, but the Spirit of St. Louis lives on. The Cardinals may have lost the title to the Red Sox, but their fans are considered by many to be the best in baseball.

St Louis fans are passionate about their team, but will applaud good plays, even if it’s the visitors robbing the Cardinals of a home run. Cardinal fans are very polite in a friendly Midwestern kind of way.

So it came as a big surprise to see the Boston Red Sox take out a full page ad in the St. Louis Post Dispatch, thanking the Cardinal fans “from one great baseball town to another”. The ad shows two young baseball fans, dressed in opposing Cardinals and Red Sox gear, cheering on their teams in the spirit of sportsmanship.

See the ad here: Red Sox thank Cardinals fans.
In the ad, the Bostonians thank the people of St. Louis for “The warm Midwestern welcome extended to our team.” The ad is signed by the Red Sox owners, who proclaim,”So we tip our caps to each and every one of you. We look forward to seeing you again next August. Let’s hope it’s just a prelude to meeting again in October.”

Well played, Boston! The Red Sox are not only the team of the century with three World Series wins, but are also a very classy organization!