NY vs Red Sox at Fenway Park ~ 100 Years Old Today

Today mark's the 100th anniversary of the first Fenway Park game between the New York American League Baseball team, the New York Highlanders, and the Boston Red Sox on April 20, 1912.

The next year the Highlanders changed their name to the Yankees and moved from Hilltop Park in Washington Heights to the Polo Grounds where they became tenants of John McGraw and the New York Giants until 1923 when the first Yankee Stadium was erected.

Baseball team rivalry and ball park history knock me out.

Here are links to my 1961 Yankees Red Sox story and my 1962 Polo Grounds tale.

The New York Times Published My Indoor Tackle Story

The New York Times published my story "When The Fire Hydrant Was The End Zone."

In 1962, the New York football Giants played fourteen games each season. Seven games at home and seven games away.  Away games were televised.  Twenty one hours of heaven.  The League blacked out home games to discourage a drop in ticket sales.  “Huh?”

This remains the most diabolical punishment ever devised to torment me.  It still floors me knowing they went through with this plan after weighing its impact on me.

I saw the conference room full of cigar smoke and National Football League officials.  The lead official turned towards the league’s medical expert standing at the head of the board room.

The Lead Official said, “Doctor, we are considering blacking out NFL home games under our new TV contract.  How will this impact Tommy Pryor?”

The League’s Medical Expert aimed a pointer at a chart.  He said, “It is my expert   opinion that blacking out home games will stop young Tommy’s heart.  Despite his parents overwhelming grief, he will be gone.”

To offset my pain I played indoor tackle in people's living rooms. I targeted latch key kids whose parents both worked. This led to several adventures. Once the jig was up (we got caught) I played tackle football on the east side of York Avenue sidewalk in front of the York Hill Cooperative Apartments between 81st & 82nd Street.

"When The Fire Hydrant Was The End Zone."

I Could've Died Right Then and There ~ Jints ~ Yankee Stadium 1970

Ron Johnson scores winning TD vs. Skins Nov 1970

Best live "Old Yankee Stadium, we were there," sports days ever with Dad.

New York Giants beat the Washington Redskins 35-33 ~ Nov 1970 ~ Jints came back from 19 points down with a quarter to go. Tucker Fredrickson's best game as a pro. Ron Johnson scored winning sweep right in front of Dad & me seating behind Yankee dugout. The Stadium rocked like it was a Rolling Stones concert. Dad and I hugged as if we were going out. The concrete below our feet was going up and down, up and down.  I didn’t care if the Stadium fell in on us. I could’ve died right then and there.

Dad’s gone 10 years, when Dallas loses, I feel his smile. When the Giants win, I feel Dad’s hug and kiss.

At one point, (maybe they still do) the New York Daily News Sports Department sold prints of photos to the public. In the early 1980s I went down to their 42^nd Street building with old dates in mind. Special Mickey Mantle days and terrific Giant victories. The photos in the papers from those special days were tattooed to my brain. I asked for the 1964, 1967 and 1970 files. 

I found Mickey Mantle’s 500 homer, Mantle’s homer off Barney Schultz breaking Ruth’s Series record. Tarkenton rolling out in a win against the Cowboys, Bob Tucker in same game and the crown jewel, Ron Johnson scoring on the sweep against the Skins in 1970. Doug Van Horn, Willie Young, Willie Harper and Don Hermann blocking efficiently on the play.

While I was looking through the photos I received a bonus.  A guy came into the empty side room where I was looking through the photos.  He leaned over me and asked, “What cha doing?”

It was Bill Gallo the News sports cartoonist.  He sat with me for a half hour shooting the breeze, getting a kick out of my intensity and knowledge of his old hero & goat photos from past World Series. Bill was very nice to me. The 6 photos I bought cost me $95. It was a good day.

Go Giants!  Beat Atlanta!

Yankee Stadium 1962

Rory & Tommy Pryor @ Giant game @ Yankee Stadium 1966

Our next City Stories: Stoops to Nuts storytelling show at Cornelia Street Café is January 10^th @ 6pm. Please come down, I promise a good time.

Our New Year artists are: Lisa Burns, Nicole Ferraro, Julia Joseph, Thomas Pryor, Francesca Rizzo & Adam Wade.

Dee-fense! Dee-fense! Dee-fense! ~ Go Jints! Beat Dallas!

In 1981, my Dad and I watched Joe “The Nose” Danelo kick the Giants over the Cowboys into the playoffs for the first time since 1963.  Never having a sports interested child, I've lost most of my enthusiasm for pro sports, except for the Jints. I remain deliriously under the impression the Giants need me to root for them. I get delightful pleasure when they play well; it’s the one thing other than exercise that still makes me feel like I'm a kid.  My Dad is gone 10 years, but he's with me every Giant game.  Dad never missed one of my football games even with his world class hangovers. We loved the Giants together, it was our unbreakable link.

Dee-fense! Dee-fense!  Dee-fense!

Beat Dallas!

Our next City Stories: Stoops to Nuts storytelling show at Cornelia Street Café is January 10^th @ 6pm. Please come down, I promise a good time.

Our New Year artists are: Lisa Burns, Nicole Ferraro, Julia Joseph, Thomas Pryor, Francesca Rizzo & Adam Wade.

"We Need A Big Inning."

I'm ten years old, playing softball down John Jay Park, and I'm coming up to the plate for the Yorkville Stars. Suddenly, Dad is leaning on the fence behind me and gets my attention before I step into the batter's box.

"Hey, Tommy, where are you?"
"Bottom of the ninth."
"How you doing?"
"We need a big inning."
"What's the score?"
"14-2."

My blue Yorkville Stars baseball shirt is under the red jacket in the picture.

Below: my grandmother, 14, selling newspapers outside the Polo Grounds in 1920. She'd sell enough papers to buy a ticket then go inside and root for the Yankees. Nan hated John McGraw and also went to the Giant games to give McGraw the business calling him "Mugsy" and "Little Napoleon." Nan was escorted out of the park a few times with a smile on her face.

Tonight, I’m reading a baseball yarn from my memoir, “Yorkville: Stoops to Nuts.”

I’m part of the “Summer Reading” group @ No Name & A Bag O' Chips!

Tonight, @ 7pm Show’s free!

Readers: MICHELE CARLO, LEIGHANN LORD, KAMBRI CREWS, ALADDIN, THOMAS PRYOR & ALEXANDRA DE SUZE

Otto's Shrunken Head @ 7pm

538 East 14th Street (between Avenue A & Avenue B)

New York, New York

Rocky Colavito Improved My Batting Practice Experience

May reminds me of going up to Yankee Stadium early for a night game to watch batting practice. I ran up to my father coming home from work as he got off the crosstown bus at 86th Street & York Avenue.

"Come on, Dad, Lets' go."

It was five forty five on May 24, 1965. Late spring, when it began being warm enough in the evening to sit in the stands wearing just a sweatshirt.

The previous Saturday night, Dad and I watched a Yankee game on our tenement roof using every extension cord in the house. "You're both nuts," Mom said to Dad's ass as he climbed out our fourth floor window onto the fire escape with the cords. Once we settled in on the roof with kitchen chairs, a card table for the TV and a spaghetti pot full of ice, beer and ice tea, Dad said to me, "We got to get up to the Stadium for a game before they go on the road." The game start was 8pm.

Dad called Mom, who was not thrilled, it was a school night, and he & I jumped into a Checker cab in front of the Mansion Diner and shot up the FDR. At the Stadium, Dad bought lower box reserved seats in section 17, half way between the Yankee dugout and the right field foul pole. I still have the stub. (See picture below)

Dad wrote in the line-ups while I bounced my eyes around the mostly empty ballpark. I smelled cigars, peanuts, and freshly cut grass. This was when I liked the old Stadium best. Just the ballplayers on the field and us, real fans, in the stands. You practically had a whole section to yourself, if you didn't count the hundred kids assembled in right or left field waiting anxiously for imminent home runs, depending on whether the batter was left handed or right handed. The gaggle of kids would travel all away around the ballpark to the other side of the field to get in position for a lefty or righty during batting practice. Watching them run was like a Peanuts cartoon soccer game. Dad wasn't nuts about me being in that group yet,"when you're a little older," he wouldn't let me go by myself, and hated flying around with me, "Let's stay here, this way, if the ball comes this way, you'll have it all to yourself."

There was no sense arguing with the man, so I focused on the good. With so few people around us, I could hear the ballplayers yell at each other as they played pepper and threw it around the outfield. I got an idea who like each other, and who tortured each other.

The Indians were finishing their batting practice. Leon Wagner, a lefty, pounded three pitches into the right field stands. My heart dropped missing the action. I knew the home run derby was going to continue in left field. Rocky Colavito was coming around the cage to take his at bat.

I mumbled, "Why'd I bring my glove," and slumped in my chair.

Dad looked over at me."Tommy, I did the Indians. Why don't you do the Yankee lineup?"

When I reached for the program, I heard solid bat contact, then Dad took my head and pulled it towards his chest hard.

"Thwack!"

I turned and saw a broken slat on the top of my chair. Colavito had sliced a foul that split my wooden seat. Dad and I stared at it forever, then I began looking for the piece of wood that broke off, a valuable souvenir, Dad grabbed me, picked up our things and we headed out to the right field box seats.

All future batting practices were viewed in the outfield or the bleachers. Colavito already a secret Non-Yankee hero of mine ~ he hit four homers in a game in 1959 and looked like my Dad ~ became my favorite all time non-Yankee player.

Yankees won 15-5, Stottlemyre pitched well and went the distance. Tom Tresh and Joe Pepitone hit homers.

Yankee Opener # 9

Going to the baseball game yesterday I noticed the new ads on the 86th Street subway turnstiles. It was my ninth Yankee opener, my first one was 1963, Milt Pappas beat Whitey Ford, Boog Powell hit two homers and Mantle hit one. At 9 years old, I was a seasoned fan but that was my first opener.

I still can't get over the terrible 1973 renovation much less that they teared down the entire old Yankee Stadium. Still, there is something inside me that loves the ritual of the opening of the baseball season. It confirms there will be warmth, water fountains will open in the parks and I'll smell the oil I rub into my Catfish Hunter glove.

I don't like pictures of Guiliani inside the ballpark, I miss the quiet in between innings marred by offensive World Wrestling Federation loud commercials. Didn't we pay handsomely for our seat, isn't a $12 beer and a $5 frank reason to stop kicking the fans when they're down? That will not change so I make the best of it and enjoy the baseball: Curtis Granderson's fielding & hitting and terrific Yankee relief pitching.

With the cool wet weather, I felt like the Giants should have been down there playing the Cowboys, but the Yankees provided me with my sixth victory in nine openers. A win always makes the ride home on the #4 sweet.

Taking My Medicine

I remember how good I felt when they were up 31-10 with eight minutes to go, then Manningham fumbled on the sideline and the pile-up began. I'm lying, if I say I'm not in pain today. It feels horrible. This team who doesn't know I'm alive, I give them unyielding support, suspend my disbelief for no other professional sports team, imagine they care that I care, vicariously enjoy them, letting my world go up and down with theirs.

As a boy, three teams ruled my universe: New York Giants, New York Yankees and the New York Rangers. Steinbrenner took the joy out of the Yankees, and the Rangers lost my respect when they traded Jean Ratelle for Phil "Let's Stand in Front of the Net" Espositio.

After Sparky Lyle departed the Yankees, my heart only belonged to the low flying Giants. I'm a life long parishioner in the Church of Mara. Today, the chapel is dark.

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Heard sad news this afternoon, Clay Cole died. His Saturday night rock and rock show on Channel 11 was the TV highlight of the week in the 1960s. Clay was a sweet generous talented man and hopefully he will enter the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in the near future.

I wrote about Clay last year on the blog, I will miss him:

JUNE 8, 2009

The Clay Cole Show

Mom's got that crazy hair dryer going that comes out of a little hard plastic suitcase. It's larger than a portable typewriter, but smaller than a day tripper. Regardless, it looks like a heart lung machine to me.

Dad's loiters with a scotch as Mom gets ready.

I want them gone. Cindy, my babysitter, is the prettiest girl in St. Stephen's eighth grade and for a whole night she's mine and Rory's.

As Mom & Dad walk out the door the Clay Cole Show comes on Channel 11. He's cool, he's handsome as James Bond, and everybody in music comes and sings on his show. I'm 8 yrs old. All those girl groups!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nSwe17Z1njo&feature=related

I want him,
I need him.
And someday, someway...whoooa...I'll meet him.
He'll be kind of shy.
And real good looking too.
And I'll be certain, he's my guy,
By the things he'll like to do.
Like walking in the rain,
And wishing on the stars up above,
And being so in love.

The Chairman of the Board is Back ~ Ford Starts Friday Night at Fenway

The Chairman of the Board, Edward Charles "Whitey" Ford will start for the Yankees Friday night at Fenway in a ball park he despised. "I hate the place, it haunts me. Time to put that ghost to rest."

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCSmMUzGqJM

81 years old, Ford said his decision was based on two factors: One: Brett Favre. Ford said, "The guy's Lazarus doing squat thrusts. So why not me?" Ford elaborated on the second reason: "I grocery shop with the wife and when we come home she goes to the fridge and pantry and I throw items to her. I never had much of a fastball, but I started noticing a nasty screw movement on the yogurt cups and juice packs, I like those little straws, and the oranges and pears were dropping six inches right before they got to the plate. I still have the curve and slider. We buy these cheese balls with nuts, I love them, and they're about the same size as the major league ball ~ only thing missing is Joe Cronin's signature. The cheese balls move."

Ford, who spent most of his career outside a starting rotation thanks to Casey Stengel's selective use of #16," said, "I'm prepared to start, do middle work or mop up. Whatever Joe wants."

Joe Girardi, Yankee manager, added, "I'm excited "Slick's" here, and unlike Favre, Whitey never wavered. Vazquez is not right out there, and it's time for a change. I'm sure Mickey and Billy are looking down and laughing their heads off ~ "The Chairman of the Board" is on the mound."

Ford won 236 games for New York (career 236-106), still a franchise record. Among pitchers with at least 300 career decisions, Ford ranks first with a winning percentage of .690, the all-time highest percentage in modern baseball history.

A reporter approached Brett Favre walking on his property. Brett was carrying a skull, and mumbling to himself. Favre made no comment on Ford.

Below, courtesy of The New York York Times ~ photo by Teddy Ryan

Favre Comes in From Yard to Say He’s Still Thinking
By JUDY BATTISTA and DAVE CALDWELL

Brett Favre said Friday that he might need minor surgery to relieve pain in his left ankle. The pain is one of the factors he is considering in what has become an annual N.F.L. rite of spring: waiting for Favre to decide whether he will play another season or retire.

Favre posted a statement about the injury on his Web site several hours after ESPN reported that he was deliberating whether to have the surgery or retire.

41 Mondays to Go

I have 41 Mondays left to commute. Come November, my Sunday night sadness turns to vapor. My affordable housing career ends. Full-time writing begins.

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I've inherited a candy store and I don't like candy. But I'll guzzle the soda until my belly is round, and devour the comics, and there ain't nobody throwing me out of the shop.

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I can't wait.

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Chairman of the Board Beats Cowboys 17-7

Whitey Ford pitched 8 2/3 shutout innings against the Dallas Cowboys today in a 17-7 Green Bay Packer blowout.

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Luis Arroyo gave up a meaningless seven run homer to the hapless Cowboys with no time left on the clock. The failing Dallas hombres are flirting with flipping last place with the St. Louis Browns.
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The Chairman of the Board walked one Cowboy, and struck out seven.
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Tony Romo, Cowboy's shortstop made two fielding errors and several errant throws to first.

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Father Benedict Dudley & The New York Giants Dark Age

Owning a four game losing streak in professional football is the equivalent of losing 40 straight games in professional baseball. It's 25 percent of your team's season. The New York Giants four game losing streak makes me blue.
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The losing streak reminds me of the bad old days, before Pete Rozelle forcefully escorted Wellington & Tim Mara across the dance floor to their new general manager, George Young.
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I'm old enough to vaguely remember the Giants glory years coming to a close in 1963. Then the dark age. From 1964 through 1980 the Giants were terrible except for one tease in 1970 when the George "Straight to Hell" Allen led L.A. Rams beat the Giants in the last game of the season denying them the N.F.L.'s Eastern Conference crown, and worse, giving the crown to the Anti-christs from Dallas.
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Below is the first few paragraphs of a Sports Illustrated article from September 25, 1972, about the New York Giants bad times.
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A cool Yorkville related thing in the article is a prominent character is Father Benedict J. Dudley. Father Dudley was the pastor of St. Stephen of Hungary Church on East 82nd Street, and he served me my first communion and I served him as his altar boy in mass. Father Dudley was also the Chaplain for the New York Giants & the New York Rangers and one of Wellington Mara's closest friends.
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It's a good read, but I'd prefer the Giants put a little winning streak together starting next week.
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It's Just One Man's Family
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Wellington Mara is moving his beloved—if baffling—Giants to New Jersey, hoping others will love them, too
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by Robert H. Boyle


Father Dudley said the 6:30 a.m. Mass and then looked in on the St. Francis of Assisi breadline on Manhattan's West 31st Street that has been running since 1929—the oldest breadline in the world, according to Father Dudley. Not scheduled to hear confessions that day, Father Dudley got into his car and drove to the Giant training camp in New Jersey. There he watched the workouts, checked on the progress of the rookies and talked with his friend, Wellington Mara, the president of the team.Father Benedict Dudley has been a fixture around the Giants since 1932 when a man saw him standing in the bleacher ticket line at the old Polo Grounds and said, "Take this, Father." It was a box-seat ticket right on the 50-yard line. There were three or four other men in the box, and Father Dudley kept up a running commentary on the performances of the players and the progress of the game. When one of the men allowed that Father Dudley certainly knew a lot about professional football, Father Dudley said, "I used to see the Frankford Yellow Jackets play when I lived in Philadelphia." It turned out that Father Dudley was sitting in the box of a very close friend of Tim Mara's, and from then on he never had to stand in the bleacher ticket line again.Another priest, Father Kevin O'Brien, who was a professor of physics at Fordham, has always hung around the Giants, too. He became known as the defensive priest; Father Dudley was the offensive priest. Once at a dinner in Milwaukee the late Fred Miller, president of the Miller Brewing Co. and himself a Catholic, introduced Father Dudley as the offensive priest. Father Dudley drew a chortle when he cautioned Miller on pronouncing the first syllable in offensive. "The word has two meanings," he said.In the course of years, Father Dudley has become not only honorary chaplain to the Giants but to what Wellington Mara calls "the Giant Family."

To finish Robert H. Boyle's article go to this link:

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1086564/index.htm

Yankees Win Series ~ My Memories Slide Home

I'm ten years old, playing softball down John Jay Park, and I'm coming up to the plate for the Yorkville Stars. Suddenly, Dad is leaning on the fence behind me and gets my attention before I step into the batter's box.
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"Hey, Tommy, where are you?"
"Bottom of the ninth."
"How you doing?"
"We need a big inning."
"What's the score?"
"14-2."

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http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/24/nyregion/thecity/24thir.html?_r=2&scp=1&sq=boy%20in%20the%20bullpen&st=cse
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Below: my grandmother, 14, selling newspapers outside the Polo Grounds in 1920. She'd sell enough papers to buy a ticket then go inside and root for the Yankees. Nan hated John McGraw and also went to the Giant games to give McGraw the business calling him "Mugsy" and "Little Napoleon." Nan was escorted out of the park a few times with a smile on her face.