Saratoga: Wednesday, August 30

[Teach]

Good Morning. Tomorrow, August 30th would have been Ted Williams' 99th birthday. Williams was the greatest hitter I ever saw. I do have his autograph. That reminds me of a story from my youth, below:

My Little Black Book...They Were All Men!

They were all men. They either lived, worked or played in Boston. Some were visiting, temporarily. Yet, others lived in the Beantown. Some owned homes in the Boston area; others rented.

Oh, I had dozens of names in “My Little Black Book.” Interestingly, I never made an entry myself. All the men in my book wrote their own names. Oh, I had dozens and dozens of names. Many who wrote their names were strong and agile.

Unfortunately, in some cases, some entries were made in pencil; some of those names have faded.

Well, you may have figured out by now that “My Little Black Book” was my childhood autograph book. I took my book with me every time I went to a game: baseball, basketball, hockey, football, etc. There’s a story behind each of these autographs. I’ll focus on four baseball players: three I got an autograph from, one I didn't.

As I recall the Red Sox were playing the Cleveland Indians at Fenway Park on that mid-1950s afternoon. My friends and I were sitting in the bleachers. We decided to walk over to the visitor's bullpen. We immediately spotted Cleveland Indians' pitcher Mike “The Bear” Garcia (we recognized him from our baseball cards).

Well, I remember that Garcia was friendly, but he said he couldn’t sign autographs just before the start of the game. He did, however, say that he would sign for us after the game. I remember him telling us to look for him around the Hotel Kenmore. After the game, my friends and I hustled over to the nearby Hotel Kenmore. About an hour later, we spotted Garcia getting out of a cab. We reminded him of his promise (I think he remembered us). In any event, he signed for everyone.

Another autograph I acquired was that of Hall of Fame pitcher, Bob Feller. We spotted Feller outside the Hotel Kenmore (I believe it was the same day we got Garcia's autograph). He appeared to be waiting for a cab. We descended on him like a swarm of locusts. One of us must have stepped on his foot because he responded with a loud yelp. Yet, before he entered the cab, he signed for all of us.

The third autograph story involves a pitcher who was with the Red Sox in the early 1950s; he was later dealt to Orioles, Yankees and Houston Colt 45s. His name was Hector “Skinny” Brown. In Brown’s case, we spotted him on Kenmore St., near the side entrance to the Hotel Kenmore (all the visiting players stayed there). Well, when we spotted Brown (baseball cards will do that), we made a mad dash toward him. I recall that Brown was with his wife, or a significant other. I remember my friends and I were running toward Brown, all the while yelling out, “Skinny, Skinny, can we have your autograph?” The thing I remember most about trying to get Brown’s autograph was not Brown himself, but the woman who was standing next to him. As we kept yelling out “Skinny,” she started turning all shades of red. It was if she had just received an instant sunburn. In hindsight, we were young. wet-behind-the-ears kids who knew nothing of manners or etiquette. Nonetheless, Brown signed.

The last autograph story occurred about a dozen years ago. I was then a Boston Red Sox Fenway Park Tour Guide. The autograph incident It involves the former Red Sox and Cleveland Indians outfielder, Manny Ramirez.

On that occasion, I was leading the last tour (4:30 PM) around Fenway Park before the start of a night game against the Orioles. As I led my tour down the grandstand steps near the third base line, I spotted Ramirez loosening up out on the field. I recall he was listening to music through his ear-buds.

As we used to say here in Boston, it was “Manny being Manny.” Seconds later, some of our tour guests began yelling out to Manny. I decided to use the little Spanish I knew to try to coax Manny to come over to us. I remember calling out, “Senor Ramirez, por favor!” It seemed to work because the next thing I knew Manny had flipped a baseball toward us; one of our tour guests caught the ball on a bounce.
Soon, Manny’s coming over to our group. Seconds later, Manny’s signing everything in sight: pieces of paper, caps, shirts, and that baseball that he tossed to one of our guests.

Well, there’s a nice touch to this baseball autograph story. The young man who caught the ball was on his honeymoon. He told me it was one of the best wedding presents he’d received. As for me, I thought, “Where’s my autograph book when I need it?” (Sox management discouraged us tour guides from getting player autographs)

Well, that “Little Black Book,” is still down my cellar collecting dust. But who knows, as my grandchildren grow older, maybe one day they’ll want to collect autographs, too. If they do, there’s just two pieces of advice I’d give them: (1) remember to bring a pen, and (2) always bring the autograph book with you every time you go to the ballpark, you never know whose autograph you might get.

I'll have Wednesday's first-race picks in a little while.

[Teach]

Race One:

1 MISS PEARL. I find this filly hard to recommend. A minor award. Maybe? Not totally out of the question. However, this 3 year-old seems to “tie up” in the final furlong of these 6-panel sprints. Frankly, I would look elsdewhere.

2 OURO VERDE. She hasn’t won since dropping into this company a couple races ago (she did finish 2nd and 3rd). I don’t expect to see much change in her winless efforts. Yet, I have a lot of respect for trainer David Donk; however, his record in dirt races is far from stellar. Joel Rosario reprises. Finally, I must admit that when all is said and done, I wouldn’t be totally surprised if this filly hits the tote.

:3: RENEWAL. Every time I see the names Jose Ortiz and Todd Pletcher I sit up and take notice. Yet, I don’t know what to make of this Paul Pompa, Jr.-owned first-timer. Morning works at “Oklahoma” (“Where the wind comes sweeping down the plain”; forgive me, I couldn’t resist) have been mediocre, at best. I’m definitely going to watch this filly on the track and on the board. There’s just too much solid breeding and connections-value wrapped up in this “young lady” to ignore.

:4: BARSTOOL WARRIOR is on my radar screen. The Travis Stone-assigned M/L 12-1 shot has me both perplexed and “frothing at the mouth”. This A.P. Indy-bred is dropping 2+ levels. That’s a category that her trainer, Joe Sharp, does exceedingly well with. I’m not sure what to make of this, but I’m going to watch this filly very, very carefully.

5 YOU PROMISE. I find this Richard Metivier-trained filly hard to recommend (only three 3rds in 15 tries). Yet, she has faced better in the past. The ever-improving Abel (Pronounced: “If I were ‘Ah-Bell’, I’d go ding-dong, ding-dong, ding.” – Frank Loesser; mi yerno, el medico, is from Camaguey, Cuba) Lezcano is in the irons.

:6: SPECIAL RISK. I believe, in this race, this filly is: “da horse”. At least, based on her past performances. I also like the turf-to-dirt angle. Further, I like the fact that her pilot is the red-hot Irad Ortiz, Jr. and that her trainer is the most accomplished conditioner, Rudy Rodriguez. This chestnut filly is dropping to level where she has a solid chance of prevailing.

:7: COMMUNION MONEY. I will state this point, unequivocally: “Ignore this Gemologist-bred filly at your own peril!” This filly was claimed out of the Gary Contessa barn and now resides with Ray Handal. Handal does very well in the turf-to-dirt category. Yet, caveat emptor: Handal’s maiden-claiming record is quite low. That doesn’t mean… Oh, one final thought. The jockey switch to Manny Franco is huge!

8 MUGU. This filly did nothing at this level about a month and one-half ago, downstate, at Belmont. She would be a complete surprise.

9 LIAM’S WORLD. I find this filly hard to recommend. Yet Rajiv Maragh is a solid jockey and Chris Englehart is a solid trainer (frankly, he’s having a less-than-stellar Spa meet). Yet, it should be noted that this filly is dropping 2+ levels. That’s a category that Englehart does very well with. The turf-to-dirt angle; that also intrigues me. Englehart does well in that category. My final thought is that the switch back to the main just might serve as a wake-up call.

[mlyles1]

Great story Walt, would love to hear about Ted Williams also.
He was always one of my favorite players.

[Teach]

Race Two:

:1a: ALTAR BOY. This gelding should appreciate the stretch-out in this 11-panels OC turf route. This More Than Ready-bred can “get the distance” (2nd at one mile and one-half). Jose Ortiz in the irons is a big plus for trainer Mike Maker. Maker does well with turf starts. This 5 year-old bay should not be ignored.

2 I’LL CALL. This gelding does not look like he wants to go this far. I’d be quite surprised if he hit the tote. Yet, this Smart Strike-bred gelding has the services of one of the best turf jockeys currently competing on the NYRA circuit, Jose Lezcano. Remember years ago, they used to say: “Saymn on The Green”. Well, they may be saying: “Lez(cano) on the Ces(ped)”. He’s been that good! Yet, with this horse, I believe it’s a case of: “A Bridge Too Far”.

:4: CALL PROVISION. This Lemon Drop Kid-bred chestnut gelding, in my opinion, is “The Horse”. It’s the dynamic duo of Irad Ortiz, Jr. and the pride of Mechanicsville, NY, Chad Brown. This gelding just missed in a similar race in late-July at The Spa. Any slight improvement… You can add to the equation two categories that Chad Brown excels at: 3rd start off a layoff and beaten favorite in last. I believe this gelding is a major player.

5 ROMAN APPROVAL. When I first looked at the past performances, I put question-mark (?) next to this horse’s name . At his best, this horse can be a factor; yet, his last race as the favorite downstate at Belmont in early-July was an abysmal failure. In that race, this horse contended early; yet, he ended up fading to last. The morning works since that last race have been decent; yet not good enough to sway me. This Roman Ruler-bred has recently moved from the Dave Cannizzo barn to that of Tom Morley. Quite frankly, Morley has a mediocre record with horses making their first start off a claim.

:7: IRON POWER is a Cozzene-bred grey gelding who’s had moderate success on the lawn. The gelding has switched barns from Linda Rice to Rudy Rodriguez. Personally, I like the riding skills of the gelding’s jockey, Luis Saez; he does particularly well when he rides in turf races. The aforementioned gelding’s conditioner, Rudy Rodriguez, does a great job with horses making their first start under his tutelage. Yet, I have a feeling that eleven panels is not the ideal distance for this gelding. The best I can do is the likely chance of a minor award.

:8: TASIT. This horse finished 3rd behind Call Provision in the Revved Up race back in late July at The Spa. Based on that race alone, I give this Sadler’s Wells-bred a solid shot of gracing the tote; there’s even the chance of appearing in the winner’s circle. It should be noted that this gelding’s trainer, Mike Matz, saddles very few horses; he frankly has a mediocre record when it comes to turf starts. Florent Geroux is a lawn specialist. I believe he moves this gelding up.

9 SOLUBLE. My first impression as I looked over “the lines” was "he's doubtful." Yes, this gelding has solid connections: Marc Keller and Bob Ribaudo. The gelding’s jock is a top NYRA pilot, Manny Franco. Yet, in this race, at this distance…I have my doubts. Mind you, he’s not totally out of the picture when it comes to completing an exotic. Yet, as far as a win-bet is concerned, I’d be hard-pressed.

[Teach]

This is for mlyles1 and anyone else who is interested in reading:

The Day I Met "The Kid"

I was shaking like a leaf. I felt like a kid on his first day of school. Yet, at the time, I was no youngster. I was 38 years-old. In less than an hour, I was going to meet arguably “The Greatest Hitter Who Ever Lived”. My hero: Ted Williams. Frankly, there was no other athlete...make that no other person on the face of this earth that I wanted more to meet.

I should mention that all my life I’ve been a huge Boston Red Sox fan. In 1949, shortly after we moved to Boston, my father took his then 6 year-old son to his first Red Sox game at Fenway Park. This was the first time I would see, in person, “The Splendid Splinter,” “The Kid,” “The Thumper.” I remember my father pointing Williams out to me as he stood out in left-field next to “The Wall” a.k.a. “The Green Monster”.

As I think back, I don't remember much about the game that August, 1949 afternoon. I don't even remember whom the Red Sox were playing that day. But I do remember that during that game, my father talked a lot about Williams.

By the early 1950s, my friends and I would, whenever possible, take in several Red Sox games at Fenway Park. It was at that time that I began to truly appreciate Williams’ hitting skills. He was like poetry at the plate. Such grace. Such balance. Williams was like a perfectly-tuned hitting-machine. I recall that whenever Williams came to “the dish,” the mood inside Fenway Park would change. Casual conversations abruptly ended. Trips to the concession stand were postponed. There was a hush. All eyes were focused on home plate; they were riveted on the left-handed hitter in the batter’s box, Number 9, Theodore Samuel Williams. Frankly, the first word that comes to mind that spells out Williams’s appearance at the plate is: spellbinding.

Well, some thirty year later, by the early-1980s, I had long since moved out of my old Boston neighborhood. I had for several years been teaching high school history. In 1980-81, I had taken a leave-of-absence from my teaching job in a suburban Boston school system to work at WEEI, CBS radio in Boston. I was their Manager of Network Sports Operations. My principal job: to oversee WEEI's New England Patriots radio network.

It was during that late winter/early spring of 1981 that I first learned that our sports talk show was going to have Ted Williams as their guest. Williams, an avid fisherman, would frequently come to Boston in the early spring to appear at the sportsmen's and camping show that was held (in the old days in Mechanic’s Hall on Huntington Ave.) in Boston's Hynes Auditorium.

Well, just before Williams arrived at our studios on that late-winter late afternoon, I was waiting in WEEI's lobby. I felt then, just as I had many years earlier, when I'd wait at the door for my dad to come home from work. A few minutes later, the door opened. There he was. I looked at him. My heart skipped a beat. I was entranced. Enthralled. My hero. "The Greatest Hitter Who Ever Lived" had arrived. He was now just a few feet away from me. My heart was pounding.

As I recall, there were also others in the lobby: our talk-show hosts, the talk-show producer and one of our sales guys. I remember the sales guy, a man named Bob, spoke with Williams about his brief minor league career in the Dodgers organization. He began talking with Williams about hitting. I remember that as soon as the topic of hitting came up, Williams became animated. He was only too happy to discuss his favorite subject.

As Williams spoke with the others in the lobby, I rushed into my office to get a baseball that I had recently received at a dinner honoring the late Red Sox owner, Tom Yawkey. I desperately wanted Williams's autograph on that baseball. I gave the ball to Williams. He signed it on the "sweet spot". I was overjoyed.

After Williams signed my baseball (he also signed his book on hitting for one of the talk-show hosts), we began chatting about the then current Red Sox. We also talked about hitting and fishing. About ten minutes later, Williams was ushered into our sports-talk studio to get ready to take calls from our listeners. I remember waiting around for a while to watch the beginning of the show.

A few minutes later, I left the Prudential Tower and headed for my car. As I walked along Boylston Street, I felt as if I were on "Cloud Nine". No, make that #9. I felt, at that moment, a sense of fulfillment. Like one of the items on my “bucket list” had now been crossed off. Indeed, I had just met my boyhood hero. The man whom I wanted to meet more than anyone else in the world: “Teddy Ballgame.” "The Kid". Theodore Samuel Williams.

[mlyles1]

Thanks Walt for sharing that. I cannot imagine the thrill of getting to meet him. Truly the greatest hitter that ever lived.

[Teach]

Wednesday, August 30

Race 3: :4: - :6: - :2: - :1:

Race 4: :6: - :3: - :8: - :1a:

Race 5: :9: - :10: - :3: - :5:

Race 6: :3: -:5: - :4: -:8:

Race 7: :9: - :6: - :1: - :2:

Race 8: :6: - :9: - :3: - :2:

Race 9: :9: - :8: - :11: - :3:

Race 10: :9: - :6: - :3: - :4:

[Teach]

One last baseball story. I promise.

I Played Against A Major Leaguer

He would say, “I played Little League baseball with a team called the Braves and I finished my career with the Richmond Braves (Atlanta’s top farm team).”

In between those Little League years and his career-ending stint, I played against this former Major Leaguer.

It was sixty years ago. The summer of ‘57. I was about to enter my sophomore year in high school. That spring and summer I had played in one of Boston’s Babe Ruth League programs. I was good enough -- no, make that fortunate enough -- to be chosen for our Babe Ruth League All-Star team.

Well, in the all-star pairings, we were picked to play at team from a suburban Boston town called Wellesley. It’s an affluent Boston bedroom community that located about ten or fifteen miles west of Beantown. Our all-star game meeting was the prototypical match-up of the “City Kids” versus “The Country Kids.”

When game-day finally arrived, I remember that it was a warm and summery July afternoon. We left the city in our separate cars and headed out into the countryside (at this time, the MassPike had yet to be completed) toward Wellesley. I recall that Wellesley’s baseball field was beautifully manicured. It was a far cry from our pebble-ridden, pockmarked ballfield (I almost said "battlefield") that we had played on during our regular season.

Well, as we were the visitors, we were up first. I remember that our lead-off batter hit a sharp grounder that got past the pitcher’s mound; it had center-field written all over it. But...in the blink of an eye, our hearts collectively sank as Wellesley’s slick-fielding shortstop ranged behind second base, snared the ball, and then made an off-balance throw to nip the runner. It was the kind of play that a Major League ballplayer would have been proud of. And that’s just what became of that Wellesley shortstop.

The opposing shortstop was named Shaun Fitzmaurice. He would go on to play baseball at Notre Dame. In 1964, he played for the US team in the Tokyo Olympics (baseball was then a demonstration sport). I believe Fitzmaurice hit a home run.

Well, I would not hear or see Fitzmaurice’s name again for close to decade. In 1966, as I was beginning a two-year teaching stint in the Manhasset, L.I., NY Public Schools, Fitzmaurice was being called up to the Mets from their Triple-A farm club in Jacksonville. Also called up at the same time was another player, a flame-throwing right-hander named Lynn Nolan Ryan, Jr.

Whereas Ryan's career lasted over twenty-five years, Fitzmaurice's would last all of nine games.
In that September call-up, Fitzmaurice played the outfield. He went to the plate thirteen times; he collected two hits, both singles. He would strike out six times, but he would steal a base. After that cup-of-coffee call-up, Fitzmaurice would be sent to the Yankees, then the Pirates, and finally to the Braves. Yet, he would never again don a Big League uniform.

In retrospect, I find it hard to believe that 50 years have passed since I played in that Babe Ruth All-Star game at Wellesley. Over the years, many of the memories of that game have faded. Yet, looking back, who could forget that flashy shortstop who had ranged so quickly to his left to take a hit away from us “City Kids.” I remember, at the time, that someone had called out from the stands, "Hey kid, that was a Big League play!" He was right. Maybe he was a scout?

Oh yeah, the final score of that game was: Wellesley 8, Boston (Mattapan) 0. As for myself, the scouting report on me was spot-on: "Good-field, No-hit." I whiffed twice.

As I think about it, the only consolation I could take from that Babe Ruth League All-Star game is the fact that for the only time in my life, I had played against a future Major Leaguer.