Baltimore Orioles utility infielder Ryan “Flash” Flaherty, who hasn’t pitched since high school, pitches the 9th in the Orioles painful 12-2 loss to the Houston Astros on Saturday.
I’m sitting here on the porch and the cicadas are so loud in the trees I can barely hear myself type. (That would be a trite way to start except that it’s true.)
Seriously. Listen. I recorded them for you:
Cicadas are living maracas.
13,000 people have watched this YouTube video about how to draw maracas. This is what people do.
“Finding good players is easy. Getting them to play as a team is another story.” ~ Casey Stengel
On July 13, 1991, in a game in Oakland versus the A’s, Baltimore Orioles starting pitcher Bob Milacki threw a no-hitter.
So did Orioles reliever Mike Flanagan.
And, so did Orioles relievers Mark Williamson and Gregg Olson.
It was a four-pitcher no-hitter.
Not unheard of, but kind of rare.
In a game that prides itself on the power of teamwork, there’s an awful lot of focus on individual performance in baseball.
So, you may sniff a bit and say, “Hmm, four pitchers to get through a game? That’s no big deal.”
But, you’re wrong.
No hit is no hit. And, the A’s, including Jose Canseco, Harold Baines, Mark McGwire, and a young Mike Bordick, no hit that day.
(Baines and Bordick went on to play for the Orioles, and Bordick is, today, a color guy for Orioles games on television.)
Sure, there are a few of you Giants and Dodgers fans who are so used to no-hitters that you’re a bit surprised to learn that one team has never even had one.
(Sorry, San Diego Padres … it’s still you.)
Seven pitchers had no-hitters last season – five came after the All-Star Break.
Just one this season so far. (Congratulations, former Oriole, reigning Cy Young, and current Cub Jake Arrieta!)
But, see! Even I have wandered off into the land of individual excellence and in less than 200 words, I’ve abandoned those four Orioles pitchers – including two (Milacki and Williamson) that even seasoned Orioles fans don’t really remember – and this is supposed to be about them.
Since becoming the Baltimore Orioles in 1954, there have been only five Orioles no-hitters.
Hoyt Wilhelm versus the Yankees in 1958.
Steve Barber and Stu Miller versus the Tigers in 1967.
Tom Phoebus versus the Red Sox in 1968.
Jim Palmer versus the A’s in 1969.
And, Milacki, Flanny, Williamson, and Olson 25 years ago this past week.
(For the cruel readers out there – and I know some of you by name – I know what you’re asking, so here … the Orioles have been on the receiving end of a no-hitter seven times, most recently last season.)
13 Jul 1991: Pitcher Greg Olson of the Baltimore Orioles prepares to throw the ball as the scoreboard behind him shows that he has pitched a no-hitter during a game against the Oakland Athletics. (Getty Images)
See, even Getty Images can’t get the game straight. Olson threw one no-hit inning. Milacki threw six. Flanny and Williamson, one each.
(Oh, and it’s Gregg Olson, not Greg Olson.)
Embed from Getty Images BALTIMORE, MD – CIRCA 1991: (L-R) Paul Kilgus #17, Mike Flanagan #46, Mark Williamson #32 and Gregg Olson #30 of the Baltimore Orioles pose together for this portrait prior to the start of a Major League Baseball game circa 1991 at Memorial Stadium in Baltimore, Maryland. (Getty Images)
Oh, for crying out loud. That’s Bob Milacki on the left, not Paul Kilgus.
Come on people, how hard can it be? These four pitchers threw a combined no-hitter!
(Kilgus did, indeed, pitch briefly for the Orioles in 1991, but I had to look that up to make sure. Fun Fact: he looks nothing like Bob Milacki.)
Milacki was cruising through six when he was hit on the hand by a comebacker.
That might have done in both Milacki and the no-hitter. But, the ball ricocheted off his hand and bounced right to first baseman Randy Milligan for the out.
Milacki’s day was done. Although bruised and swelling, his hand wasn’t badly injured, and he argued to stay in the game, to no avail.
“I thought I could still pitch with it,” he said afterwards. “They didn’t want me to risk it. I was very disappointed. You never want to come out of a game like that.”
The Orioles scored just two runs – catcher Chris Hoiles batted in beloved utility guy Chito Martinez in the fifth and outfielder Mike Devereaux homered in the sixth.
Flanagan, Williamson, and Olson each pitched one hitless inning. The game ended. The Orioles won.
Thanks to Orioles closer Gregg Olson, who shared this 30-second recap online. Otherwise I’d have no video to share.
(2017 Update: What the heck!? Gregg Olson’s video is gone. I’m going to be pretty mad if Major League Baseball made Olson take down a video of his own no-hitter.)
(2017 Update2: I found another quick video recap, just in case you thought I was making this whole thing up.)
(You’re welcome.)
“There was no raucous celebration,” The Baltimore Sun reported the next day. After striking out Harold Baines to end the game, “Olson walked off the mound the same way he did after each of his first 18 saves. The Orioles took the field slowly, as if they still were trying to digest what had happened.”
“It kind of seemed like nobody knew what was happening,” Olson told The Sun. “There weren’t really any diving plays or great plays to save it. Bob Milacki is the guy who deserves all the credit. If he had been out there [in the ninth], there would have been a dog pile on the mound.”
“Perhaps it was the [Oakland] crowd that set the tone,” The Sun continued. “Fans began leaving the stadium before the game was over, apparently unimpressed over only the second four-pitcher no-hitter in major-league history.”
(There have been other multi-pitcher no-hitters, including a couple six-pitcher affairs, since then.)
The Orioles are surrounded by former players today – like Jim Palmer, Boog Powell, Rick Dempsey, and Cal Ripken – who stay close to the team and remind fans of the O’s two World Series championships (in ‘66 and ‘83).
This season the O’s are celebrating the 50th anniversary of their 1966 trophy with special events and promotions.
So, maybe the 25th anniversary of that understated, but still wonderful, four-man no-hitter has gotten lost. And, that’s a shame.
Because nothing says teamwork like a no-hitter shared.
There have been 295 no-hitters in major league baseball. Babe Ruth threw one. And, yes, dear Orioles readers, Ubaldo Jimenez threw one for the Rockies in 2010.
And, on July 13, 1991, Bob Milacki, Mike Flanagan, Mark Williamson, and Gregg Olson threw one, too.
I’m a little disappointed to learn that Pokémon Go has nothing to do with Gumby’s faithful sidekick.
Do not bring your Pokémon to my world. The only Pokey-anything I recognize is an orange horse that is adorable, made of clay, and bends. My world includes Gumby, dammit.
(Don’t even try to explain Pokémon to me. Just don’t.)
It is Thursday. There is no baseball tonight.
Here are three things you can do until baseball returns.
ONE: Now that I’ve watched this old episode where Gumby meets Pokey for the first time, I wonder if I have ever even seen a Gumby cartoon. Because it’s strange and trippy, wonderful and terrifying. There are more than a few childhood nightmares lurking in GumbyWorld. It would have scared the hell out of me. I learned from this 1956 episode that Pokey is not orange as I always thought – he is red – and he talks. Gumby has an incredibly unsafe relationship with firearms, but Pokey seems all right.
Pokey The Red Bendy Horse – 1 Pokemon Go – 0.
TWO: I may not Pokémon, but I can waste hours online as well as anyone. Look what I found … a photo messer-upper! (Don’t tell me about Instagram. I don’t care.) I like this simple and satisfying way to take a photo and make it look like someone spray painted it on a brick wall. There is no reason to do this, but I’m pleased to discover I can.
“There are two ways of learning to play base ball: the one is to learn it for the objects of recreation and exercise, and the other in order to become a skillful and noted player.”
“To learn the game, therefore, for the simple purpose of a few hours of recreation of a summer’s afternoon, is an easy task; but to go into a regular course of training, in order to become a professional player … involves steady and persevering application, fatiguing exertion, plenty of pluck and nerve, thorough control of the temper, great powers of endurance, and, withal, the physical aptitude to excel. …”The Game of Base Ball. How to Learn it, How to Play it, and How to Teach it. By Henry Chadwick, 1868
It is Wednesday. There is no baseball tonight.
It’s the annual All-Star break and there will be no major league games until Friday. It’s a civilized break that all those players with plenty of pluck and nerve have earned.
I fell asleep during last night’s All-Star Game, which I’m a little ashamed about. It makes me sound old, which I suppose I am. Pluckless, I guess. Maybe I just needed a civilized break, too.
I have nothing to do on this night without baseball.
Except wonder how the Orioles will do when they play again on Friday.
“Baseball isn’t necessarily an escape from reality, though it can be; it’s merely one of our many refuges within the real where we try to create a sense of order on our own terms. Born to an age where horror has become commonplace, where tragedy has, by its monotonous repetition, become a parody of sorrow, we need to fence off a few parks where humans try to be fair, where skill has some hope of reward, where absurdity has a harder time than usual getting a ticket.” ~ Thomas Boswell, 1984
Happy New Year! May your team play hard, win often, keep a ready bullpen, and always recover quickly from bottom-of-the-9th, two-out, tying-run-on-third heartbreakers.
Thank you to those many people who made me both love and understand baseball, including Thomas Boswell and his Washington Post columns, and my friends Jay, Jim, Renee, and Editor/Husband Randy who will sit through long rain delays, and games played through sleet, cold, my bouts of heat exhaustion in summer, leaky bullpens, and late-inning meltdowns in the outfield.
This is our year.
I’ll see you at the game … or I’ll see you in November. Play ball!
I’m on to you, Sports Illustrated. You’re picking the Houston Astros over the Chicago Cubs in the World Series just to be quirky. You’re going with hipster picks – just a little off the beaten path, but still kinda making sense. Good for you.
You went quirky last season, too, picking the Cleveland Indians when everyone else was certain it was the Washington Nationals’ year.
You didn’t pick the Royals. No one did.
You all make a living knowing baseball and you still get it wrong.
That’s why, once again, I turn to my own panel of experts – those who admit they have no real knowledge of baseball – to help me pick the 2016 World Series champion.
Sure, go with the ‘Stros if you must. Or, come with my experts.
You want quirky?
Let’s settle this.
AMERICAN LEAGUE
AL East ~ Clinton picks the Red Sox
Clinton is a handyman who does lots of fix-it jobs around the building where I have my massage studio in Madison, Virginia. Last year he replaced all the aging and water-stained ceiling tiles in my studio, which may seem like a small thing to you, except when you realize that the average massage client spends a fair amount of their time looking up at the ceiling.
I’m pretty sure the entire building would fall apart without him.
Clinton was, as always, busy working when I stopped him to help me choose an AL East winner. He’s not a baseball fan, he’s all football and roots for that team from Washington.
Why the Red Sox? Clinton may not know that the Red Sox play in Boston, but he does know that his mother is a Red Sox fan, so he picked them for her. (This is especially sweet, because, if you remember last year’s experts, Andrew chose the Red Sox because they were his mother’s favorite team. Based on this anecdotal evidence, I believe that the Red Sox are the favorite team of every mom in America.)
AL Central ~ Parker picks the Detroit Tigers
I met Parker at the local grocery store where he was feeding the goats.
What? Your local grocery store doesn’t have a barnyard of goats? Well, aren’t you all fancy pants with your city-slicker Smart Water in bottles and 20 kinds of Oreos …
“I used to be a dog until I drank SmartWater.”
Parker is in first grade and plays first base and pitches for his local Little League team. When I asked him the name of his team he said he couldn’t remember, but I think he was just afraid I would show up at his game on Saturday if he told me.
Congratulations, Baseball Fans … You’ve made it through another off-season.
It’s Opening Day for the National Champion University of Virginia Cavaliers (wahoowa!) (I did mention “National Champion” didn’t I?).
University of Virginia vs. Kent State from Pelicans Ballpark in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. First Pitch is at 4:00 p.m.
And, major league pitchers and catchers have been reporting all over the Cactus & Grapefruit Leagues this week. (Fun Fact: The Baltimore Orioles still only have four starting pitchers in their rotation; I’m sure they’ll figure something out.)
“Packing for Spring Training is a pretty easy process. You just throw everything in the bag, throw it in the truck, and hit the road.” ~ Former UVA Cavalier & Current Baltimore Oriole Pitcher Tyler Wilson
Hey, kid! Don’t freak out! The Baltimore Orioles have had plenty of seasons worse than this one.
Sure, the Orioles will finish a crummy third in the American League East this season. They’ve hovering a game under .500 with just one left to play.
But, it coulda been worse.
In 1899, the Baltimore Orioles finished 4th in the 12-team National League with a 86-62 record.
The Baltimore Sun, September 9, 1899
“The Poor Orioles”
Their .581 win percentage, good enough for 4th place in 1899, would have won them this year’s AL East pennant. So, there. Take that, Blue Jays.
Those Orioles weren’t that bad, especially when you realize that 1899 was also the season that the Cleveland Spiders went 20-134, the worst team in baseball history.
(The Spiders were so bad – and attracted so few fans – that most teams refused to travel to Cleveland for games, forcing the Spiders to play most of their games on the road. Teams don’t get to do that anymore. It doesn’t matter if raw sewage is seeping into the dugouts, you still have to play in Oakland.)
But, finishing 4th wasn’t good enough. At the end of the season, the League decided to cut its “deadwood” and the Orioles were tossed in the chipper along with those lousy Spiders, the Washington Senators, and the Louisville Colonels.
In 1902, a patched-together Baltimore Orioles, now in the American League, finished 8th – 34 games out of first – with a 50-88 record.
The Baltimore Sun, September 30, 1902
“Almost Like a Funeral”
At the end of the season, that team was packed up and moved to New York.
Damn Yankees.
In 1988, the Baltimore Orioles started their season 0-21, the worst start by any major league team ever. They finished the season 54-107.
My mom would be delighted that this Mother’s Day post is early.
For her, being on time was as bad as being late. If you couldn’t be early, why bother?
I’m usually on time with things. Occasionally late. Never early. This drove her crazy.
If my mother were here she would never have seen this blog. She wouldn’t really have cared about it, except for one thing.
My dad has already been mentioned a time or two. But, she hasn’t.
And, that, to my mother, is as bad as being late for an appointment. I can turn from the beloved only child to utter failure with just a single unintentional slight.
So, today, I’m making things right. I’m early.
Here’s one for mom.
My dad didn’t care much for baseball. My mom didn’t either.
But, there are these two things …
FIRST, when I was about 10, it was her idea to make a birthday cake for me with a San Francisco Giant player made of sugar sitting on top of a Los Angeles Dodger “sugar man” that she had pushed into top of the cake.
“My” team squished my dad’s team right there in the frosting.
It was pretty funny.
The next year she did the same thing with a San Francisco 49er football “sugar player” sitting on top of a Los Angeles Ram. The joke was a little old by then, but since “my team” had defeated “dad’s team” yet again, it was still funny.
SECOND, and probably most important, she always, always, always rooted for the underdog.
Underdogs were golden and her reasoning was indisputable. If the underdog lost, well, it was pretty much expected. What can you do? But, if they won, then she had something she could lord over dad and the rest of the world for days.
This led to an out-of-the-blue decision one year that she would root for the New York Mets in the 1969 World Series. I was still pretty small. (However young you think I was at the time, I’m sure I was even younger.)
Mom decided that she and I would watch the Series, although, aside from “hit the ball, catch the ball, throw the ball,” neither of us really knew what we were watching. But, by golly, we were going to cheer the underdoggy Mets to victory.
Mom’s attention span for things like baseball turned out to be pretty slim.
Not only did my mother not watch an entire game, I’m pretty sure she never made it out of the first inning. As she would get up to have a smoke and move to other tasks, she would say, “You watch and let me know what happens.” So, I guess, I became her personal Curt Gowdy. My memory of this is pretty dim.
When the Mets won the Series, they lost their underdog glamour. They lost my mom. She never rooted for them again.
But, I wonder if at that moment, the Baltimore Orioles – who fell to the Miracle Mets in that Series – creeped into my bloodstream.
Perhaps it was that decision by my mom that led to my own decision 19 years later. When the Orioles themselves couldn’t have been a sorrier team of underdogs, they became “my team”.
Like mom, I clearly have a soft spot for underdogs.
Mom & me, sometime in the post-Mets years. She could rock those sunglasses inside & out!
But, while baseball wasn’t her thing, good advice was. So, to make things right on this blog and to give my mom a well-deserved online “I love you”, here’s some sweet guidance she gave me:
When making pie crusts always use vegetable shortening and ice cold water. Use a metal tablespoon to measure the water.
When making pancakes always use an electric skillet.
When your hands and/or feet are cold, heat your belly with a hot pack. The heat will radiate to your fingers and toes from the inside.
When using your grandmother’s recipes, remember that she often left out “secret” – and essential – ingredients when she shared them. On purpose.
I named you for Jackie Kennedy, there’s no need to have holes in your jeans.
It’s never too early to start coloring your hair. You won’t look so obvious when you’re covering up the grey later on.
Don’t scrimp on nice clothes, nice shoes, and anything you put on your face.
Pets are the best friends you’ll ever have.
Don’t ever get a pet, they’ll break your heart when they die. (She gave good advice, but that’s not to say she didn’t contradict herself from time to time.)
If you leave for church 40 minutes early you’ll have time to say your prayers before Mass. “Can’t I say them from here?” “Come on, let’s go.” Corollary: If you arrive early for Mass, you are entitled to leave early – directly after Communion. Just keep walking and don’t make eye contact.
If you arrive for your doctor’s appointment 30 minutes early they might be able to take you early. They never did and this was one of the few pieces of extraordinarily rotten advice she ever gave.
Flash to April 14, 2013.
Editor/Husband: “Why are you working on this now? It’s three weeks until Mother’s Day.”
“Because, I don’t want to be sitting up at midnight on the Saturday before Mother’s Day trying to get this finished.”
“Oh, you will.”
No, I won’t. And, I didn’t. And, here it is.
Early.
Happy Mother’s Day to my mom up in heaven … and to all moms everywhere!
~ Grantland Rice, New York Tribune, March 15, 1921
In today’s installment of “Spring Training Is Way Better Than Sitting In A House Without Power During A Freak Snowstorm In March” … let’s head to Shreveport, Louisiana.
March 1921.
Spring Training with the New York Yankees. (And, you know this better be good if I’m going to spend a post talking about the Yankees.)
See, Spring Training wasn’t always Grapefruits and Cactus. Georgia, South Carolina, Texas, and Alabama were all popular destinations in the early years of baseball. Teams just seemed to wander around.
Spring Training over the years has evolved into a structured program to polish up one’s skills with weight training, fielding drills, batting practice, and conditioning programs. (Even, most happily, Yoga. Big shout out to the Oakland A’s and Baltimore Orioles who have mentioned their Yoga programs in recent weeks.)
Back in early 20th century however, Spring Training was really just a time to get everyone back together, detox from the excesses of the off-season (mineral hot springs were especially popular), burn off winter weight, toss around a medicine ball, and try to get back into some sort of playing shape.
After a few rowdy Spring Trainings in Jacksonville, Florida (highlighted by more than a few “drunken orgies”), the Yankees moved their spring headquarters to Shreveport in 1921 because of its isolation (and because it was, ostensibly, a dry town). Safely away, they hoped, from the devilish temptations of booze, broads, and brawling.
Shreveport – in the midst of its own crazy oil boom (and not very “dry” at all) – would be a place where Babe Ruth and the rest of the team could focus on baseball.
The Baseball Bloggess 