About Jackie, The Baseball Bloggess

Loves the 4-6-3 and the serial comma. All baseball is good baseball, but when the Orioles or UVa 'Hoo's take the field, it's great baseball. Baseball historian ... because baseball touches everything. www.thebaseballbloggess.com And, for the Yoga ... www.peacefulhands.com

The Tubby Rule ~ “Girls Are Not Eligible Under Any Conditions.”

Posted on May 31, 2014 by Jackie, The Baseball Bloggess

1954

“I simply wanted to play the game that I loved.” ~ Kay “Tubby” Johnston Massar, the first girl to play Little League baseball, 1950.

Watch this stupid scene from an otherwise pretty good movie.

“There’s no crying in baseball.”

It’s a big lie and, if you have ever loved baseball … and loved a team … you’ve cried. If nothing else, you’ve sniffled a little (swallowed hard and wiped your nose on your shirt), which you might say is not crying, but, trust me, it is.

If you’ve never cried at least once when your team has let you down (see: Orioles, Cubs), or cried with joy when your team wins a World Series (see: Red Sox, Yankees, etc etc), or with despair when your team ruined your evening by squandering a perfectly adequate – and rare – five-hit, two-run performance by your struggling starter and then losing to one of the worst teams in baseball (see: Orioles, again), you really don’t love baseball, so stop saying you do.

(Some of the greatest to ever play the game have cried. And, there is no shame in that.)

So, when Kay Johnston Massar told me that when she was a young girl growing up in Corning, New York she cried as she watched her brother go off to play Little League, I understood.

If you love a game as much as she did – and still does – you would cry, too, if you were left behind.

But, this is not a story about crying.

courtesy of Kay Johnston Massar

Massar’s mother saw a notice in the paper that there was another Little League tryout coming up.

It was 1950, though, and girls did not play Little League baseball. Leastways, no one had ever done it before.

So, Massar had her mom cut off her braids, pushed what was left of her hair up under a ball cap, took her sister’s bike, and pedaled off to tryouts.

Her father had taught her to play and love the game. She played sandlot games with her brother Tom and his friends. She was good.

“I’m going to make the team,” she promised her mom. “I bet you will,” her mom replied.

Before she left, her mom suggested she change her name so no one would know she was a girl. Kay became “Tubby”, after the loyal best friend in the Little Lulu comics.

Tubby’s story might have faded away, except for one important thing.

She made the team.

courtesy of Kay Johnston Massar

“Tubby” Johnston was the first girl to play Little League baseball.

Some of you and your googling will try to tell me I’m wrong. You’ll say Maria Pepe was the first. No. Although her lawsuit in the early 1970s opened the door for all girls to play. Some of you will argue for Janine Cinseruli. No. Although she was the first girl to play a full season post-lawsuit in 1974.

Some of you will say, “Girls don’t play baseball.” Now, you’re just being disruptive. (Here. Read this. Then you can come back and read the rest of this post.)

Back to Tubby Johnston.

“When I tried out for Little League baseball I was not trying to be a beacon for women’s rights,” Massar says. “I simply wanted to play the game that I loved.”

Corning, New York wasn’t just any Little League town in 1950 either. Corning had made it to the semifinals of the Little League World Series in 1949 and the quarter-finals in 1948.

Not every kid who tried out got to play in Corning. Corning was tough. You had to earn your way in.

Tubby Johnston was tough too. And, she earned her way in.

Soon after being assigned to play first base for the King’s Dairy team, she told her coach the truth – he had a 14-year-old girl on his Little League squad.

The coach decided that there were no written rules at the time that specifically prohibited a girl from playing. And, if Tubby was good enough to make the team, she was good enough to play.

She played first base all season – she could hit, she could field. (When she finally got a proper first baseman’s glove of her own she slept with it. “I loved the smell of the leather,” she told me.)

When her teammates were told that Tubby, their first baseman, was actually a girl named Kay, they accepted her, she says. “They said, ‘Well, she plays as well as we do.’” And, then she adds, “Actually, I was better.”

But, they never did call her Kay. She was always “Tubby.”

Adults, on the other hand, could be cruel.

When the news broke that a girl was playing Little League in Corning, the fans turned out to watch. Many cheered, but many adults would jeer at her from the stands, call her names, or come right up to her and tell her she was a “freak” for playing baseball with boys.

“I didn’t let it bother me, I didn’t want to raise a commotion or squeal about it,” Massar says. “I didn’t want to get kicked off the team.”

(I told you she was tough.)

King’s Dairy was a prestigious team, highly prized by Little Leaguers, not only because they won a lot, but because after games the coach would take the kids to the dairy store and treat them to banana splits and milkshakes.

That 1950 season was Tubby’s first and last in Little League. After the season, Little League passed the “Tubby Rule” which stated in full:

“Girls Are Not Eligible Under Any Conditions.”

The rule stood until it was overturned in the courts in 1974.

By then, however, most girls were playing softball. That trend pretty much continues. Last year, just one girl played at the Little League Baseball World Series – Eliska Stejskalova, from the Czech Republic, who played for the Europe-Africa Team.

(In 2005, Katie Brownell, the only girl playing Little League baseball in Oakfield, NY, pitched a perfect six-inning Little League game – 18 up, 18 down. All strike outs.)

After Little League, Massar played a few years of softball herself, before getting on with things, becoming a nurse, getting married, having a family.

She was a tough softball player, too. Once, while sliding into second, she dislocated her shoulder. While coaches were trying to hustle her off to the hospital she was busy arguing with the umpire that she should have been called safe.

And, she almost got herself into a football game. Not long after her Little League season, she dressed in her brother’s football uniform one day when he was sick, put on his helmet, and tried to take his spot on the field. A fellow player ratted her out to the coach, however. “The coach ran out on the field shouting ‘Stop, Kay! Stop, Kay!’ or I would have been the first girl to play football, too.”

She still loves baseball. Her father was a lifelong Yankees fan, and she carries on the pinstripe tradition. (Derek Jeter is her #1. And, yes, she’s heartbroken that Robinson Cano, “the best second baseman in the game,” has left the Yanks for the Mariners.)

Today, she lives in Yuba City, California and gets to local college games and to an occasional Oakland A’s game each season.

“My dream as a child was to play first base for the Yankees, but I am still waiting to be called up,” Massar said and then asked, “Do you think that it is too late?”

Massar is 78 this year. She was joking.

I think.

She threw out the first pitch at Yankee Stadium in 2006. (“I one-hopped it to [Jorge] Posada,” she admits.)

And, at an Oakland A’s game in 2010.

Come on, San Francisco Giants! Massar is near you. Why not let her throw one out at AT&T Park this season?

Massar has been honored at the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York and at the Little League Museum in Williamsport, Pennsylvania.

She is featured in a new film commemorating the 75^th anniversary of Little League which will air on PBS in June.

Oh, and hey, just one more thing.

Sports Illustrated has written about Massar a couple times, most recently in 2011. In that article, the writer suggested that Massar would trip runners as they rounded first base.

Massar would like to clear that up.

She was tough, but she didn’t routinely trip players. She wasn’t a cheater.

But, she did trip one.

“He pushed me down because I was a girl. So, the next time around I tripped him.”

That “kid” is now in his 70s, and he saw the Sports Illustrated story. He tracked down a mutual schoolfriend. “He said, ‘Tell her I’m sorry,’” Massar said, “So I finally got an apology.”

courtesy of Kay Johnston Massar

“I got to do a great thing. I got to play the game I loved.”

(Thank you to Kay Johnston Massar, who still loves baseball.)

Part 2: Grant Turns Four

Posted on May 25, 2014 by Jackie, The Baseball Bloggess

“Never forget, there is a heartbeat in this game.” ~ Joe Torre, former player & manager (Baseball Hall of Fame, 2014)

Here’s Grant.

Yesterday, Grant turned four. And, all he wanted to do for his birthday was to play some ball with his dad at the nearby baseball diamond.

We were nearby, too. We had just transported and released a spotted turtle to a lakeside just a few blocks away.

(Click here for Part 1 and relive the spotted turtle adventure.)

Just as we were driving off, I saw the baseball diamond.

“Let’s stop here,” I said to Editor/Husband when I spotted the diamond. Or, maybe it was something more like a shouted, “HEY! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU??? STOP!!!” just to make sure we didn’t drive too fast, too far away.

And, that’s where we found Grant and his dad. Playing ball.

Grant would like you to know that he is a Washington Nationals’ fan and Bryce Harper is his favorite player.

Grant has the swagger of a big leaguer. He knows how to swing the bat,

knock the dirt off his cleats, and dig into the batter’s box.

“When I hit the ball, I do want to hurt it.” ~ Bryce Harper, OF, Washington Nationals

He’s got pretty good speed for being only four, and the sort of youthful stamina …

… that runs out every home run full-tilt as if it was a thisclose inside-the-parker.

He can slide feet first whether he needs to or not.

And, his very first head-first slide into home is documented here.

When pitching, he has an intimidating stare …

… an unorthodox pitching style that occasionally includes standing behind the rubber …

… and the confidence to shake off the catcher whenever necessary.

“I’m really trying to be a pitcher out there. I’m not trying to light up the radar gun all the time.” ~ Stephen Strasburg, P, Washington Nationals

As for fielding …

“A player running the bases shall be out, if the ball is in the hands of an adversary on the base, or the runner is touched with it before he makes his base; it being understood, however, that in no instance is a ball to be thrown at him.” ~ The Knickerbocker Rules, 1845.

Well, they’re working on that.

“I just like to play the game.” ~ Ryan Zimmerman, INF, Washington Nationals

Happy Birthday, Grant.

You’re why I love baseball.

(Oh, and P.S. I know you love the Nats and all, but couldn’t you just give the Orioles a try?)

Photos: Saturday, May 24, 2014, Fawn Lakes Baseball Diamond, Spotsylvania, Virginia

(Thank you to Grant and his dad, Shane Reid.)

________________________________

Part 1 ~ There You Go, Turtle!

Part 1: There You Go, Turtle!

Posted on May 24, 2014 by Jackie, The Baseball Bloggess

There are some people in my world who believe that all I do on weekends is baseball-baseball-baseball.

That is laughable.

(Not as laughable as the Orioles-0, Indians-9 game today. Really, boys? Really? It’s CLEVELAND!)

No, not everything is baseball.

Take today for instance.

I released a turtle.

turtle1

Look who came to our house!

Editor/Husband (when he is not editoring or husbanding) works at the Wildlife Center of Virginia, a wild animal hospital.

He’s often asked to cart animals around, picking up patients and, once they’re healed up, returning them to the wild. (He does other stuff there, too, but at the end of the day people only want to hear about the time a bear cub nearly got loose in his Outback.)

Sometimes Editor/Husband’s car will smell a little weird, like a possum family might still be living in there, waiting for a road trip to the Sonic.

(Fun Fact: Sonic really does put jalapeño chunks in its chocolate jalapeño milkshake. I’m still not sure how I feel about this.)

Last night, he brought home a spotted turtle, a rather rare species. It had been hit by a lawnmower about a year ago and its shell had been badly injured. Shell-healing is, not surprisingly, slow-going for turtles.

Here’s what you need to know about spotted turtles.

They can have up to 92 spots on their upper shell, head, neck, and legs. Ours is disappointingly light on the polka-dots, although I didn’t think to count.

A turtle’s upper shell is called a carapace. Our turtle has a dark chin and brown eyes – which means he is probably a male. Some experts have described the mating habits of spotted turtles as “frantic.”

A spotted turtle can live to be 50, if he is careful and stays off of roads and out of the way of lawnmowers.

World Turtle Day is celebrated every May 23.

The Wildlife Center releases its healed-up reptile patients as close to their original homes as possible. This is especially important for turtles who have some sort of “Home Sweet Home” software wired in their brains that makes them serious homebodies.

Which is kind of funny if you think about it, since turtles carry their homes on their backs like little RV campers. Come to find out, they don’t even really like going anywhere.

Their shells hold all their worldly possessions. (Turtles travel light and their shell, some insides, four legs, a head and a tail, are pretty much it for worldly possessions, but if they had stuff, I suspect they’d just cram it into their shell, like we cram mints, spare change, keys, iPhones, and shopping lists into our pockets.)

So, we took turtle back to his original “home.”

This turtle, we discovered, like the Fresh Prince of Bel Air, had been living the good life in a very pretty gated community, filled with pretty homes ringed by perfect gardens and swimming pools and walking trails and country clubs and tennis courts.

Turtle had chosen well. I wish someone would release me there …

We found a quiet little side lake for the turtle …

… away from the road and lawnmowers and away from the lady who was afraid we were releasing baby geese into the lake and came running over in a panic to tell us how the geese were pooping on her lawn.

Poopers.

We showed her the turtle and she calmed down.

“Oh, I like turtles.”

Turtles, apparently, have a prozac-like effect on some people.

So we opened the box, and set turtle on the bank.

And, off turtle went.

All wet and swimmy and happy, I guess. Turtles keep a pretty good poker face. But, if I was a turtle, healed up and free and back home in a nice gated community, on a lake filled with pollywogs and geese, on a beautiful sunshiney Saturday, I’d probably be a pretty happy turtle …

Even if some of the hospital stick-um from my shell-healing was still on my back.

__________

Wait, really, no baseball? …

And, just as we are pulling out to leave the pretty gated community with the swimming pools and tennis courts and … hey, wait a second … stop the car!!!! What’s that over there?

click here for Part 2 …

An Incredibly Perfect Pie

Posted on May 11, 2014 by Jackie, The Baseball Bloggess

My mom made an incredibly perfect pie.

Nearly every single one ever … perfect.

(If there was an imperfect pie from time to time, my mother was no frugal cook. She had no respect for cooks who would serve something that was a little off. When an imperfection did come up in her kitchen, no matter how small, she would dump the offending item down the garbage disposal with the efficiency of a cold, calculating hit man. Dump. Gone. She was scary that way.)

So, I thought for Mother’s Day, I would celebrate my mom’s pies.

And, as I was writing this, it struck me. My mom didn’t even like pie.

She’s not around to ask, but I’m suddenly very sure of this.

I think she found pies old fashioned and uninteresting.

I, on the other hand, loved pie.

Fruit pies, and especially rhubarb and juneberry pies, were kitschy and old fashioned and I wanted to be the interesting girl who liked the quirky pies.

My dad liked chocolate pie. No fancy chocolate pie, just the pudding-mix sort.

This must have been incredibly insulting to my mom who would have happily melted exotic chocolates in a double boiler to create a delicious pie.

So, she made me quirky pies and she made him chocolate pudding-mix pies.

But, now that I think about it, I never recall her ever eating a piece of pie, unless she was just being sociable, or to take a quick taste of what she had baked (and to ensure that she shouldn’t throw it out and start over). She was a nose-crinkler when something wasn’t quite right. And, I think I saw her take a small bite of pie from time to time and crinkle her nose the same way I do when the milk in the fridge doesn’t smell quite right.

My mom may have disliked pie, but she made some of the best.

(You may say that your mom made the best pie in the world, but this is my post and you are wrong.)

So, in honor of Mother’s Day, here’s a quick celebration of pie, with a little baseball on the side …

1) Pie-ing the hero of a baseball game is classy.

(Gatorade dumping, in contrast, is stupid and rarely hits the intended target.)

The Baltimore Orioles have made the pie game an art.

Last season, the Orioles even gave away tee-shirts honoring their pie-in-the-face fun.

Traditionally, face-smash pies were made of shaving cream, presumably because ballplayers don’t have time to whip up a light and eggy custard pie. (And, as many players go shave-free during the season, I suppose there is plenty of excess shaving cream just sitting around.)

Eyes were burned with shaving cream pies.

This year, Dangerously Delicious Pies in Baltimore is supplying two real pies for every home game – just for pie-ing the hero of the game. (Spoiler Alert: No pie-ing today, the Orioles lost.)

Here’s what a proper pie-ing looks like …

“It tastes pretty good.”

Catcher Steve Clevenger’s walk-off RBI double wins the game for the Orioles in the 10th against the Houston Astros on Saturday night.

But, there are some players who, through their tenure and superstar status, are exempt from pie-ing.

Orioles right fielder Nick Markakis is one of them.

Here’s how you appropriately pie a superstar veteran when his hit wins the game …

April 26 vs the KC Royals.

(Please note at the :50 mark when someone from the bullpen – I don’t know who – leans over and tastes the pie off of the ground. This is why I love bullpen pitchers. Because they are weird.)

When the Orioles win the World Series this year (and they will), we will look back at this magical Markakis (and J.J. Hardy) moment and think, “But, of course.”

2) My mom taught me a lot, including how to make a pie crust.

I’m not a particularly fast learner and it took her a few years before I got it right. My mother was not a patient teacher and I think she was, deep down, embarrassed that it took me so long to figure it out.

The trick is cold vegetable shortening and ice cold water.

My mother would tell you this about that …

Yes, vegetable shortening. (Butter has its place in this world, but not in a pie crust. Unless you make your living slinging pies, just swallow your pride and stick to shortening.)

My mother would dismissively nose-crinkle you if you miss the important nuance of the water. Tap water is not “ice cold.” Ice cold tells you right there in its name that you need ice in your water, got it?

Here’s pretty much the pie crust recipe she taught me.

You may now roll out your perfect dough and commence to making the pie of your choice.

3) This is Felix Pie.

Photo Courtesy of Keith Allison CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0), via Wikimedia Commons

It is correctly pronounced “Pee-AY”, but I always called him Mr. Pie.

Felix Pie played for the Orioles, mainly in a utility role, from 2009 to 2011. He played for the Pirates last year, and seems to be playing for a South Korean team now.

I can’t think of any other reason to mention him here, except that he will always be Mr. Pie to me.

___________________

I can’t believe I just realized that my mom hated pie.

But, she made them anyway because I liked them.

I miss those pies. Thanks, mom.

This Is Sam.

Posted on May 9, 2014 by Jackie, The Baseball Bloggess

This is Sam.

Sam calls me from time to time … sometimes twice a day, sometimes more.

Most days I don’t answer. (Sorry Sam, baseball season is a very busy time for me.)

But, I have talked to him.

Sam says he’s from Microsoft Windows and that he has been monitoring my computer and that I am uploading malicious things. He must mean these blog posts.

(Hurtful, Sam. And, stop hating on baseball.)

Sam is a scam.

But, he’s a tenacious fellow and just keeps calling.

Sam called one night at 10:30. You shouldn’t call us after 10 p.m. unless you are:

1) Baltimore Orioles Manager Buck Showalter calling Editor/Husband for bullpen advice. Editor/Husband will tell Buck, “For God’s sake, Buck, what in the world are you doing? Keep Britton out there for the ninth. He’s fine. FINE! Tommy Hunter … what the hell?? Why is he warming up? You just want to lose this game, don’t you? Well, now we’re going to lose. Great.”

(Actually, we won and Tommy Hunter got the save. But, Editor/Husband is still asputter.)

2) There is no #2. Orioles Manager Buck Showalter can call after 10 p.m. You can’t.

Tommy Hunter For The Save!

Usually, we just let the phone ring when we see that it’s Sam.

The other day, though, I decided I would talk to him again.

I wanted to ask Sam why he had a job whose main description is, best I can tell, to take advantage of, and steal from, innocent people.

I thought it would be interesting to ask a crook why he was crooking. I figured I could reason with Sam.

“Why do you hurt people, Sam? Why are you trying to steal from me?”

My tough love question would pierce his heart. There would be an uncomfortably long pause as Sam thought deeply about what I had said. Then Sam, seeing the error of his ways, would thank me for setting him right. He would leave his job of cheating and hurting people and set off on a new course of helping people.

After a time of reflection, Sam would start a volunteer-run food pantry in his village … his small way of giving back to humanity. One day – a year or two from now – Sam would call me again. “Thank you,” he would say softly. “You have changed my life.”

You may think I’m making this up for the sake of this post. I assure you, I am the idiot you think I am. I really believed this would happen.

I had it all planned out … I had my dialogue and Sam’s. (Although in the movie version Sam’s English, while still fractured, would be much easier to understand.)

This could not go wrong.

I did my part just right.

I interrupted his spiel, “Sam? Sam? Sam, wait, can I ask you a question?”

Pause. Then “Yes.”

“Sam, I know that you’re not with Windows. I know that there’s nothing wrong with my computer. I know that you’re being dishonest. Why would you do that? Why would you try to hurt me and other people by lying about who you are? Why are you trying to steal from me?”

Then I waited for the long and remorseful pause from Sam.

And, this is when he started yelling at me.

Sam was yelling about my computer doing malicious things. And, my Windows ID number that he had, but that I did not. He started yelling a long string of random numbers and letters.

“There! There! That is your ID number. You do not know your ID number! Do YOU??? DO YOU??? Tell me your ID number! You can’t! You do not know it! I do! I have your ID number! What is it? Tell me! TELL ME!!”

This was crazy talk. Sam was ruining everything.

“Stop yelling at me. I don’t like to be yelled at.”

I told him I was going to hang up. (I’m exceedingly polite at times.) “Sam. I am hanging up now.” And, I did.

I’m sort of sad about Sam, but I know that he is so far up in the crooking business that it would take more than one person to pull him out.

I’m also mad at Sam for being a crook and for ruining my plan and ruining this post.

Sam called again the other day. But, I didn’t take his call. My heart just wasn’t in it.

All I can do is ask you this.

If some day soon you get a call from a U.S. Cellular number somewhere in Maine, it might be Sam. Please tell him “hi” for me. Maybe you can reason with him.

The Fortune Cookie Speaks

Posted on May 4, 2014 by Jackie, The Baseball Bloggess

For 17 hours this week, the Baltimore Orioles led the American League East. Ahead of the New York Yankees. Ahead of the World Champion Boston Red Sox.

It was a nice 17 hours, although, truthfully, several of those hours were in the middle of the night when I couldn’t really enjoy it fully.

They say one shouldn’t live in the past, but I hope you won’t mind if I just …

May 2, 2014

What a whirlwind, crazy, exciting ride it was.

The Orioles promptly lost their next two games.

No more number one.

(I believe at one point today as the Orioles were losing to the Minnesota Twins I said they “suckity suck suck.” This is the clever kind of thing that baseball fans say when they’re being betrayed by the players they love.)

There is a week that comes in every baseball season, when a private, quiet kind of panic begins to set in for fans of teams that are not number one.

This is that week.

A week ago, Editor/Husband and I went to our first Orioles game of the season. (Yes, it is a six-hour round-trip drive. He is the best.)

The scrappy Orioles played the equally scrappy Kansas City Royals.

We lost 9-3.

But, the sun was shining. 3,500 Little Leaguers were there. I took these pictures. So really the day wasn’t a total loss.

Here’s Orioles Pitcher Chris Tillman out by the bullpen. Four days later, against the Pirates he would throw 49 pitches in the top of the first and walk in two runs. The Orioles won anyway.

And, as a big fan of the bullpen and relief pitchers, I’m delighted to see they’ve dressed up the place with flowers.

These are ducks just behind center field.

These are Little Leaguers. More than 3,500 of them paraded around the ballpark before the game. It took more than an hour. The Orioles said “hi.”

Once again, I am besieged by protective netting. Let’s play “Guess The Infielder!”

Gold Glove Shortstop J.J. Hardy.

Second Baseman Steve Lombardozzi.

It’s a trick! It’s Right Fielder Nick Markakis playing first base, subbing for the injured Chris Davis.

Obligatory bullpen shot. Hi fellas, stay warm!

Orioles backup catch Steve Clevenger, born in Baltimore in the nearby neighborhood called Pigtown.

This is a kid who’s excited to be at a baseball game. He is a wide-eyed innocent who believes in his team and in a world that is just and fair.

This is a kid whose favorite team is rolling over to the Royals. I think he’s aged a bit this afternoon, and from here on out every smile will be tinged with just a hint of sadness.

Shortstop J.J. Hardy knew that if he stopped mid-game to pose for my photo he would get to appear in this post twice. Congratulations, Mr. Hardy.

OK, maybe it’s too early to panic.

We’re number two.

Photos: Oriole Park at Camden Yards, Baltimore, Maryland. April 27, 2014.

Kansas City Royals – 9. Baltimore Orioles – 3.

3 Jackies. 1 Stevie. 100 Posts. Go.

Posted on May 2, 2014 by Jackie, The Baseball Bloggess

“Once a woman becomes a (baseball) fan, she is the best fan in the world.” ~ Bill Veeck, Baseball Team Owner, Promoter & Innovator

Postcard, circa 1910.

This is my 100th post on this blog.

(I know, really, crazy isn’t it? I sure do type a lot.)

And, here’s Stevie’s 20th random appearance!

hi.

I like to think that my parents named me for Jackie Robinson, although I know they didn’t.

I wasn’t named for Jackie Mitchell either, but that would have been nice, too. I’m pretty certain that my parents had never heard of Jackie Mitchell which is a shame.

(You haven’t either? Sigh.)

In 1931, Mitchell was the first woman to get a professional minor league baseball contract, signing with the Double A Chattanooga Lookouts. She had one good pitch – a sinking curveball that broadcasters today would probably call “filthy.”

In a 1931 exhibition game against the Yankees, Mitchell, just 18 years old, struck out Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig on just seven pitches. (Ruth threw his bat, grumbled angrily, and had to be led back to the dugout by teammates.)

Jackie Mitchell, Babe Ruth, & Lou Gehrig. April 1931. ~ public domain image

Some argue that Ruth and Gehrig struck out on purpose that day, just for a gag. But, some big boy egos must have been bruised because just a few days later Baseball Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis voided Mitchell’s contract because baseball was “too strenuous” for women, particularly those with nasty curveballs.

Some of my favorite baseball “guys” are girls.

And, since this is blog post #100, I was going to list 100 of them for you. (Cute, right?) But, Editor/Husband got overwhelmed by my loving and long list of names and suggested that I mention just a few instead. (Killjoy.)

Jackie Mitchell was striking out superstars 83 years ago.

Jennie Finch did the very same thing in 2004. (You should hear the excuses people made for Barry Bonds and Albert Pujols who were “struck out by a girl.” Actually, they were the very same “they struck out on purpose” excuses made for Ruth and Gehrig decades earlier. But, Pujols admits, she blew the ball by him.)

Lizzie “Spike” Murphy. ~ public domain image

Lizzie “Spike” Murphy played with, and against, men in countless semipro, barnstorming, and exhibition games between 1918 and 1935.

Even the great pitcher Satchel Paige couldn’t get her out (she singled) and she played with some of the era’s greatest male players as a member of American League and National League All-Star teams in games against the Boston Red Sox and the Boston (now Atlanta) Braves.

Hundreds of “Bloomer Girls” teams prowled the country from the 1890s through the early 1930s taking on whatever men’s local, semipro, or minor league teams they could find.

Bloomer Girl, 1913. ~ public domain image, Library of Congress

They were followed by the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League (1943-1954). And, many women of color, denied a place on still-segregated All-American Girls’ teams, played alongside men in the Negro Leagues.

Kay “Tubby” Johnston, Little Leaguer. 1950 ~ courtesy of Kay Johnston Massar

Kay “Tubby” Johnston Massar disguised herself as a boy so she could play Little League in Corning, New York in 1950.

(I’ve written more about “Tubby” Johnston and her Little League season here.)

In the late 1980s and 1990s, Virginian Julie Croteau played men’s NCAA baseball and later coached NCAA men’s baseball teams, including at Division I University of Massachusetts, and had a long career at the semipro level. She is also one of only two women to play in Major League Winter League ball.

In 1998, pitcher Ila Borders became the first woman to win a minor league game during the modern era (with the independent league Duluth Dukes).

There are other amazing trailblazers, too. So many. Many played against men. Others broke barriers as umpires, trainers, front office executives, announcers, and reporters.

I’m just a fan.

But, we fans need our role models, too.

So, let me tip my fan-cap to the most famous “unknown” woman in baseball … “baseball mad” Katie Casey, a fan whose love of the game back in 1908 is recounted during nearly every seventh-inning stretch in the song “Take Me Out To The Ballgame.”

If Katie were around today, she’d love great plays at third, a well-stocked bullpen, three-run homers, and the AL East. She’d never waste an out on a bunt. And, she’d have her own blog. I just know it.

* * *

Postscript: It took me a couple weeks to pare this post down to highlight just a few women, eliminating what hatchet-man Editor/Husband called the “blah, blah, blah.” I cut even more on Thursday night … painstakingly deleting fascinating stories, amazing people, and prose that, I’m sure, would have made Grantland Rice jealous.

As I did this, the Baltimore Orioles were playing the second game of a double header against the Pittsburgh Pirates. I watched, I chopped, I watched, I rewrote. Top of the first, Orioles’ ace Chris Tillman loads the bases … walks in a run … walks in another. He threw 49 pitches in just that one half inning.

Hair-pulling time.

Then he settled down. And, then this post was done. And, then, it’s four hours later and this happens …

I love baseball.

#42

Posted on April 15, 2014 by Jackie, The Baseball Bloggess

Embed from Getty Images

“A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives.” ~ Jackie Robinson

On Tuesday, April 15, 1947, Jackie Robinson played in a game with the Brooklyn Dodgers. In that moment, he integrated major league ball. Baseball changed. America changed. And, the civil rights movement was moved profoundly forward.

Today, major league baseball celebrates Jackie Robinson – and the impact he had on the game of baseball and on the battle for civil rights. Major league baseball has retired Jackie’s number 42, but, in tonight’s games*, in honor of Jackie, every major league player will wear #42.

Robinson was clear in his autobiography I Never Had It Made that civil rights meant far more than just allowing a black man to play in what was until then a white man’s game. Civil rights in America, he explained, is not won until every person – black or white, male or female, rich or poor – is afforded the same rights and the same fair shake in our society. We’re not there yet.

There’s a “superstar” ballplayer (who goes nameless here) who likes to Tweet a lot and tell reporters that we fans have no idea – no idea – how hard a ballplayer’s job is … how hard it is to live his life and do what he does. I agree. I have no idea how he does what he does out on the field. I know it takes enormous work and dedication to make it to the highest level of sport; to make it look so easy when I know it is not.

But, he has no idea – no idea – what Jackie Robinson endured on the field and off. It was not an easy life for Robinson and he could have walked away. He did not. And, for that, ballplayers and fans alike – all Americans – owe him an enormous debt.

Robinson started and played first base that night. That game, he later said, was a “miserable” one for him. He went 0-for-3, reached base on an error, and scored a run. But, the Dodgers won, defeating the Boston Braves 5-3.

And, America changed forever.

Embed from Getty Images

Thank you, Jackie.

* Tonight’s Baltimore Orioles – Tampa Bay Rays game has been postponed due to rain. They’ll wear their #42 jerseys tomorrow.

Sleet Happens

Posted on March 30, 2014 by Jackie, The Baseball Bloggess

The magical and perfect and right thing about baseball is that it is played outside in tune with the seasons.

It begins in the spring as the weather just warms, it heats up in the summer right on cue with the sun, and it winds down in the fall as the temperature, and leaves, and first snows fall.

Games delay for rain and storms.

College ball has a slightly different calendar and baseball can begin in early February.

When temperatures fall to 45 degrees, the University of Virginia promises baseball fans free coffee and hot chocolate.

And, so today, this …

And, this …

Which led to, this …

(True confession: This was just the first hot chocolate. It was a two-hot-chocolate kind of day.)

It was in the 40s. It was cold. It was really windy. It was raining.

It takes a village to raise a child. It takes a team to roll up a soggy tarp.

And, then, sometime in the 7th inning, it started sleeting. Hard.

But, they kept playing.

And, they beat Virginia Tech 7-4, sweeping the series.

When asked about playing in the rain today, UVa’s Mike Papi (2-for-4 today, 6-for-10 in the series) quickly corrected a reporter after the game: “You mean the snow, or sleet, or whatever it was. It wasn’t fun.”

Unhappy Papi

Editor/Husband said he felt like he was on the Edmund Fitzgerald. (Click here you youngsters.)

I’m warm now.

And, major league baseball begins tonight and tomorrow. For real.

Opening Day.

This is it …

It Rained Today

Posted on March 29, 2014 by Jackie, The Baseball Bloggess

“The umpire-in-chief shall have sole authority to determine when a game shall be called, suspended, or resumed on account of weather or the condition of the playing field.” ~ The Official Rules of Major League Baseball

It rained today.

I think it rained everywhere. Except where it snowed.

For those of you just tuning in, we had tickets to today’s Baltimore Orioles vs AAA Norfolk Tides game in Norfolk. The last game of spring training – the irregular season.

It’s a three-hour drive to Norfolk, but we have heated seats, Sirius radio, and cup holders in our car, so, really, no big thing.

But, it was raining. And, raining.

And, the heated seats would not be able to warm my waterlogged heart if I got to the game and it wasn’t there.

Luckily, there was a game scheduled at the University of Virginia, too.

It was also raining in Charlottesville. But, that rain was two-and-a-half hours closer than Norfolk’s rain.

Yes, that’s snow in the corner.

UVa decided to start the game a half-hour early in order to the beat the rain that was already here. This is sort of the Bizzaro World version of a rain delay.

(College baseball is funny that way. They change the days and times of games willy-nilly, often with just a moment’s notice. Last week they cancelled a game with Rutgers due to weather on Tuesday and on Thursday Princeton’s team just showed up unannounced, so they played them instead.)

Today, UVa defeated Virginia Tech 9-2 in one of those wonderful state-school grudge match things.

They played through the rain. Nine innings.

We got wet. (I’m still damp.)

Meanwhile, back in Norfolk, they played a few rainy innings (including half-innings that were only two outs long … and one half-inning where no outs were recorded at all). They finally unrolled the tarp and called it a day for their “pretend” game and the Orioles flew off to Baltimore.

And, a quick West Coast Update – Last year, I urged the Oakland A’s to deal with their coliseum’s sewage problem. Raw sewage had been coming up through the drains in the dugout and the clubhouse. Orioles’ closer Jim Johnson had just been traded to Oakland, and, I thought it would be nice if they cleaned up the place a bit for him.

Clearly, as in many things, no one listened to me.

This today, from equally rainy Oakland, California:

Here’s more on the ewwwww. The Oakland A’s vs San Francisco Giants game was cancelled due to rain.

Opening Day … Just one more day.

The Baseball Bloggess

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#42

Sleet Happens

It Rained Today