Jackie Robinson's Impact Went Beyond Baseball

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This is a noteworthy anniversary in the history of American professional sports. It is the 70th anniversary of the day that Jackie Robinson obliterated the color barrier in major league baseball.

Of course, it wasn't obliterated right away. Social change always takes time. But it got started on this day.

Robinson broke the color barrier long before I was born. I grew up aware of the segregation that continued to exist in my hometown until I was well into my elementary school years but unaware that professional sports had ever been segregated. It took a remarkable person to make it possible for blacks to play in integrated professional leagues — and Robinson was a special person in many respects. There may not have been a better choice to challenge the status quo in 1947.

USA Today honors Robinson's memory today by listing his five greatest achievements.

To no one's surprise, becoming the first black man to play major league baseball on April 15, 1947 is ranked as his greatest achievement of all — and that is surely what he will be remembered for by generations to come. The other four achievements were from his major league career — after the catcalls had ended and the resistance had receded.

But his greatest achievement may have come off the baseball field — before he made history with the Brooklyn Dodgers — when he demonstrated that he had what it took to withstand what he would have to face.

During World War II while stationed at Ford Hood, Texas, Robinson stared down the U.S. military and its pre–desegregation institutionalized racism. He faced a court–martial over an incident on an Army bus.

The Army had commissioned an unsegregated bus line, but the driver ordered Robinson to move to the back of the bus. Robinson would not do so, and the driver contact the military police when the bus reached the end of the line.

The court–martial had its roots in racist questioning of Robinson following the incident, not because of the incident itself. When Robinson proved his case in court, he was unanimously acquitted a nine–officer all–white panel.

It was during the period of his court–martial that Robinson demonstrated the qualities that served the civil rights movement so well in the years ahead. He was able to remain nonviolent in the face of virtually daily rough treatment by other teams, clearly taking a page from Gandhi's playbook in India and lending inspiration to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s.

Baseball has found many ways to celebrate Robinson's memory. Of course, he was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1962, his first year of eligibility.

In 1987, 40 years after Robinson broke baseball's color barrier, the American and National leagues renamed their Rookie of the Year awards renamed the "Jackie Robinson Award." Robinson won the award following his rookie season of 1947 — at a time when the award covered both leagues.

On the 50th anniversary of the bashing of the color barrier, Robinson's No. 42 was retired by all major league clubs. Only one other athlete has been so honored by his sport — hockey's Wayne Gretzky.

"Jackie Robinson Day" is observed every year now on the anniversary, and every player on every major league team wears No. 42 in tribute to Robinson.

It is hard to imagine what America would look like today if Robinson had not broken baseball's color barrier 70 years ago today.

Pitcher Bob Welch Dies at 57

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Imagine being 21 years old, a rookie pitcher playing for the Los Angeles Dodgers, and you're in the World Series against the New York Yankees.

That was the situation in which Bob Welch found himself on the night of Wednesday, Oct. 11, 1978, when he came in to close out a 4–3 victory for Los Angeles. Starter Burt Hooton had gone six innings and staked the Dodgers to a one–run lead when he left; then reliever Terry Forster pitched 2⅓ solid innings but left after serving up a single and a walk in the ninth.

In came Welch.

In front of more than 55,000 fans in Dodger Stadium — and millions more watching on TV — Welch nailed down the save. He got Thurman Munson to fly out to right, then won an epic showdown with future Hall of Famer Reggie Jackson. Jackson had driven in all of the Yankees' runs that night, and he came to the plate with two outs and runners at first and second.

This was at the time, it should be noted, that Jackson was gaining his reputation as "Mister October." A year earlier, he hit three consecutive home runs to lift the Yankees to their World Series–clinching triumph over those same Dodgers and won the series MVP in the process.

He could have evened the game with a well–hit ball, but the young Welch gunned him down. Jackson struck out swinging, and Welch had preserved the victory for the Dodgers.

Los Angeles would lose the next four games — and the Series — to the Yankees.

The Dodgers ended up trading Welch to Oakland following the 1987 season. The A's faced the Dodgers in the World Series in 1988, and Welch pitched in the only game Oakland won. He didn't get the win — another ex–Dodger, Rick Honeycutt, got the win in relief after Mark McGwire hit a one–out home run in the eighth.

A couple of years later, Welch won the Cy Young Award. He won 27 games that year and remains the last pitcher to win 25 games or more in a single season.

Welch died yesterday at the age of 57. At this point, his cause of death remains undisclosed.

Kirk Gibson's Walk-off Home Run

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I'm a Los Angeles Dodgers fan. Always have been. I don't really know why. I've never lived in Los Angeles. In fact, I've only been there twice in my life.

I grew up in central Arkansas, which was kind of an extension of St. Louis Cardinals territory. There was a minor league team in Little Rock that was affiliated with the Cardinals for a long time, and, when I was a child, I could always get Cardinals games on my radio. When folks in my hometown went on a summer vacation, nine times out of 10 they went to St. Louis to see a game or two. Heck, even my family did that a couple of times — and no one in my family could be called a Cardinals fan.

It would have been so easy to do as most of my friends did and take the Cardinals as my team. But I guess I wanted to assert my individuality so I picked the Dodgers.

And I have been loyal to the Dodgers ever since.

They haven't always made it easy. Many times, they haven't come close to being in the playoffs. Then, when they have been in the playoffs, they've often found some way to blow it.

They're in the playoffs again this yearm currently facing the St. Louis Cardinals for the National League championship. The Cardinals won the first two games during the weekend, but the Dodgers won Game 3 last night and are hoping to even the series tonight.

I discovered it was a small club, too. that list of Dodger loyalists. I didn't know any other Dodger fans when I was growing up. I met one or two in college, and I met one or two after I finished work on my bachelor's degree so I know that Dodger fans did exist in Arkansas when I lived there. They were just few and far between.

The last time the Dodgers were in the World Series, 25 years ago, I was certain they were going to lose it. They had had a spectacular run that year, beating the favored New York Mets for the National League title, and pitcher Orel Hershiser had had a remarkable year, setting a record for consecutive scoreless innings pitched in the waning weeks of the regular season.

But the foe in the World Series would be the Oakland A's, an intimidating team that had rolled through their American League competition behind the exploits of the so–called "Bash Brothers," Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire. Oakland swept the Boston Red Sox in the AL playoffs that year.

The A's won four more games that season than the Mets did. Their 104–victory total was greater than any American League team except one in nearly 20 years — the 1984 Detroit Tigers, who also won 104 games.

I just felt like the Dodgers couldn't compete with the A's. Neither did most sports observers.

In those days, I was working on the sports staff of a modestly sized afternoon newspaper in north Texas. Game 1 of the World Series was on a Saturday night, the one day of the week that a morning edition was prepared — for delivery on Sunday morning. Everyone on the staff was at work from about 3 in the afternoon until midnight.

The game began around 7 that night, and I timed my dinner break so I could run home and start my VCR with the first pitch. That way, I knew I could watch the game later.

As it was being played, though, I tried to monitor it from my desk, which was in view of the newsroom TV (there was no commercial internet to consult in 1988 — I had access to the sports wire, of course, and it provided score updates, but details were sketchy until game accounts began to move). From time to time, people came in from the backshop to ask about the score, and, for much of the evening, it seemed things were going to play out about as expected.

Things weren't going well for the Dodgers. They took a 2–0 lead in the first inning but immediately surrendered it to Oakland when the A's scored four runs in the top of the second.

The Dodgers added a run in the sixth but trailed, 4–3, in the bottom of the ninth.

Kirk Gibson had been the offensive star of the season for the Dodgers, but he was hobbled by injuries to both legs and had not started the game that night. However, in the ninth inning, he decided to make himself available for pinch–hitting duty and came to bat with one on and two out.

What followed was so implausible, so dramatic that no novelist or screen writer could have gotten away with writing it.

Oakland's ace reliever, Dennis Eckersley, was on the mound. No other reliever in the majors had as many saves as Eckersley did that year. Oakland fans regarded him as automatic — and rightfully so.

The count was full, there was a runner at second, and Eckersley threw a slider. Gibson swung, connected and drilled it over the fence.

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Most people, when asked what they remember about that moment, will tell you they remember Gibson pumping his right arm in jubilation as he circled the bases.

And I remember that, too. (It was the crowning touch on a moment in baseball history that has truly become iconic in the last quarter of a century. It is always shown in baseball's postseason, along with the clip that is arguably the Dodgers' lowest moment as a team — the Giants' Bobby Thomson's walk–off homer in the deciding game of the National League playoffs against the Dodgers in 1951.)

But what I remember most about that moment is watching Gibson's painful run around the bases. And I use the word run generously here. It wasn't really a run. It was more of a walk that was intended to be a run, but it just didn't work out. Sometimes it was a limp.

Kind of gave a new meaning to the term walk–off. Gibson's spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak.

But, when you hit a home run, you don't get extra points — or credit — for running around the bases at a record clip. All you've got to do is touch each base — especially the last one.

And that's what Gibson did. The fact that it took him longer than usual to do it simply meant Dodger fans had more time to savor the moment — and A's fans had to suffer through it longer.

By the way, Gibson played for the '84 Tigers.

The First Impossible Dream

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These are heady days to be a Dodger fan. I know. I've been a Dodger fan since I was a kid.

Last night, the Dodgers and the St. Louis Cardinals went 13 innings in Game 1 of the National League Championship Series. It was a tough loss for the Dodgers, 3–2, but Dodger fans are encouraged by the knowledge that their ace, Clayton Kershaw, is scheduled to pitch Game 2 tonight.

I'm not worried. This championship series has begun in much the same way the one in 1988 did.

The Dodgers haven't always lived up to my expectations — but, I will admit, my expectations are always high. I always expect them to compete for a berth in the World Series, and I have usually been disappointed. In my memory, the Dodgers have only played in a handful of World Series — and they've only won two.

The first time they won it all was marred by a strike that wiped out about one–third of the season and forced the major leagues to go to an unconventional playoff arrangement.

The second one came 25 years ago this month, and the victory that wrapped up the National League pennant came on this day in 1988 when the Dodgers won the seventh and final playoff game with the New York Mets.

When the National League Championship Series began, most observers thought it was a foregone conclusion that the Mets would win. They dominated the Dodgers during the regular season — and I do mean dominated. As I recall, the Dodgers only beat the Mets once that season.

But as they wrapped up the regular season, pitcher Orel Hershiser set a record for most consecutive scoreless innings pitched, and the Dodgers seemed to be gathering momentum.

Still, just about every baseball expert spoke of the N.L. crown as being destined for New York. Practically no one gave the Dodgers much of a chance of winning.

At first, it seemed they were right. After facing Hershiser for eight scoreless innings, the Mets rallied from a 2–0 deficit with a three–run ninth against reliever Jay Howell in the opener and took a 1–0 lead in the best–of–seven series. I remember watching that game. That ninth inning gave me such a bad case of heartburn I thought I would never get any sleep that night.

But the Dodgers won the second game the next night to even things up as the series moved to New York for the weekend.

New York won that third game, which was postponed by rain, then the Dodgers evened things up in the fourth game. At the time, I was making one of my whirlwind trips to Little Rock on my days off. The time would come when I couldn't do that anymore, but in October 1988, I still made trips back from Texas to visit my friends — and, when I did, I often stayed with my friend Steve.

He wasn't working that Monday, which may have been the reason why I chose those two days off for a trip. I really don't remember now. Anyway, the Dodgers and Mets were scheduled to play that Monday afternoon. The winner would go back to Los Angeles with a 3–2 lead needing only one more win to advance to the World Series.

Steve and I cheered as the Dodgers rolled to a 7–4 win — Steve was a Cardinals fan and, consequently, a devoted hater of the Mets — and I drove back to Texas that afternoon sorry (as always) to be leaving my friends but eager for the next night's game.

Unfortunately, the Dodgers lost that sixth game to the Mets, setting up a winner–take–all showdown 25 years ago tonight.

Hershiser was on the mound for L.A. and he went the distance, characteristically shutting out the Mets in a 6–0 triumph.

When the final out was in the books and the Dodgers had officially won the National League pennant, Hershiser did something I will never forget. He took a step, maybe two, and knelt for a moment of silent meditation before being swarmed by his jubilant teammates.

I made a video tape of that game, and I watched parts of it over and over again. But I probably watched those few seconds of Hershiser immediately after Game Seven ended more than anything else.

It summed up how I felt on that occasion.

It was an impossible dream that came true.

But beating the Mets was only the first impossible dream for the Dodgers. The next was, perhaps, even more formidable. It would require them to beat the mighty Oakland A's.

One More For The Road

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As I have mentioned here before, I have been a Dodger fan since I was a boy.

Most of the time, it hasn't been very satisfying — kind of like most of the years that I spent as a Packer fan when I was growing up.

Twenty–five years ago, though, the Dodgers won it all. They confounded all the experts, who were convinced that the mighty Oakland A's would prevail.

During their late–season run in 1988, the Dodgers were led by pitcher Orel Hershiser, who threw 59 consecutive scoreless innings, breaking the major–league record that had been held by Don Drysdale for 20 years.

The baseball playoffs won't start for a couple of months, but I'm kind of having the same sensation this year that I had in 1988.

After a rough start to the season, the Dodgers have bounced back and surged to the lead in the National League West. OK, that's a team accomplishment, not an individual one, but I really like what they've been doing lately.

Yesterday, they matched the team record (which stood since 1924) for consecutive road wins — 13. As Steve Dilbeck of the Los Angeles Times pointed out, it was the longest road winning streak in the National League since the Philadelphia Phillies won 13 in a row in 1976.

Until today. The Dodgers beat the Chicago Cubs, 1–0, for their 14th straight win.

Having set a team record for consecutive road wins, I suppose the next thing for the Dodgers to do is take aim at the NL's all–time record of 17 set by the New York Giants in 1916.

We'll find out in the next few days if the Dodgers can set a new league record. They play a four–game series in St. Louis starting tomorrow.

Eventually, I know the road win streak will end. But when it started, the Dodgers were 16–24 on the road. Twenty–seven road games remain to be played now, and the Dodgers only need to win about two–fifths of them to have a winning record on the road.

And tonight, the Dodgers are 5½ games ahead of the slumping Arizona Diamondbacks in the NL West.

My Memory of Jack Buck

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"Go crazy, folks! Go crazy!"

Jack Buck
Oct. 14, 1985

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When I think of Jack Buck, the legendary St. Louis Cardinals radio announcer who died 10 years ago today, I think of an October day in 1985.

It was a Monday, and the Cardinals were playing my favorite baseball team, the Los Angeles Dodgers, in the National League Championship Series. It was an afternoon game, but that wasn't a problem for me in those days. I was working nights for a metro newspaper, and my regular days off were Monday and Tuesday.

The series was tied, two games to two, and I was looking forward to settling in to watch the game. I was anticipating it all the more because my best friend, Randy, had promised to drive to my apartment after his workday ended and watch the end of the game with me.

Randy was a Cardinals fan — still is, for that matter — and, although I wanted the Dodgers to win, I wanted the score to be close when Randy arrived. If the outcome was already decided when he got there, it would spoil the experience.

It could hardly have worked out any better. The score was 2–2 when he arrived, and the Cardinals were coming to bat in the bottom of the ninth. With one out and no one on base, St. Louis' switch–hitting shortstop Ozzie Smith came to the plate to face Los Angeles' right–handed ace reliever, Tom Niedenfuer.

Mind you, Smith was never a power hitter. He hit a few home runs in his career, but he had never hit a home run when batting on the left side of the plate, and I recall hearing Buck say something about that (whenever I have a choice between the TV and the radio for play by play of a game, I choose the radio) only seconds before Smith connected with Niedenfuer's pitch and drove it over the right–field wall.

I had listened to Buck on the radio many times in my life before that afternoon. Heck, I grew up in Conway, Ark., which was smack dab in the middle of Cardinals territory in those days (it may be different now, with other regional and broadcast options for baseball fans).

When I was a kid, if I wanted to listen to a baseball game on the radio, I could listen to the Cardinals — or no one. And the only televised games in those pre–cable days were NBC's games of the week on Saturday afternoons.

Also, the minor league club that was based in Little Rock — the Travelers — was part of the Cardinals farm organization. The Cardinal influence was all around me.

So I listened to the Cardinals games, and I associated Buck's voice with baseball on the radio on warm summer evenings. No other voice has ever sounded quite right to me for describing the action on a baseball field.

Buck's signature sentence when a Cardinals victory was assured was "That's a winner!" But he sounded emotionally drained after Smith's unexpected blast, and I could imagine him slumping in his seat and urging his listeners to "Go crazy, folks! Go crazy!"

I've heard old–time Dodger fans say that the baseball moment that broke their hearts was in 1951 when the Giants, after overcoming a seemingly insurmountable Dodger advantage in the standings to force a rare playoff, beat the Dodgers to claim a spot in the World Series.

That was before my time. My most painful baseball moment may have been that day in 1985 when Ozzie Smith drilled a walkoff home run to beat the Dodgers. Ultimately, the Cardinals won the league championship and went on to face the Kansas City Royals in the World Series.

But I was happy for Randy. And I was glad that we had shared that experience together. Other than the outcome, it was everything I could have wanted.

In the years ahead, we attended many Dodger–Cardinal games at Busch Stadium. And I always liked knowing that Jack Buck and I had watched the same game in the same place.

It's been many years since I went to a game in St. Louis, but the last one was when Buck was still alive and still calling games for the Cardinals.

Randy and I never took a radio with us when we went to a game so I never had the experience of listening to his play by play of a game I attended.

But I think the knowledge that Buck is no longer in the press box would make it difficult for me to feel the same about being at a game.

The Birth of a Tradition

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The year after Randy and I made our pilgrimage,
he was married and living in St. Louis. I returned
to go to a game with him and his wife, Tammy.

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It was 25 years ago today that my longtime friend Randy and I embarked on a weekend adventure that, in hindsight, is the kind of thing that can only be done when one is really young — and really stupid.

It simply cannot be done under any other circumstances.

But what can I say? We were really young and really stupid.

And that weekend was the start of a tradition that was repeated annually for five years. Maybe someday it will be revived. But I'll get back to that.

(Some folks might tell you that the only thing that has changed is that we're both 25 years older. But I digress.)

Randy and I went to school together, worked together in the summers when we were in high school. He was originally from St. Louis, but his parents moved to central Arkansas when he was a little boy and settled in my hometown.

My hometown was very small in those days, and most municipal business was handled rather simply — or maybe that's just how it seemed to me. There were three elementary schools in town, and which one you attended depended upon where you lived. Everyone attended the same middle school, junior high and high school.

I guess Randy and I must have gone to different elementary schools because I don't recall seeing him or being in a schoolroom with him until we were in middle school.

Even so, we didn't become the friends that we eventually became until we were in high school — and then we did everything together.

As close friends do, we learned just about everything there was to know about each other. One of the things I learned early on about Randy was that he desperately wanted to move back to St. Louis — and, as a matter of fact, he did — 25 years ago next month. He's still there.

But, in July 1986, he was still in Arkansas. He had gotten married a few years earlier, and he and his budding family moved around some, but, by this date 25 years ago, they were all back in central Arkansas. His marriage had ended, though, so I saw him more frequently than I had since high school, and I really thought our friendship was the same as it had always been. On the surface, I guess it was, but, while I didn't know it, he was thinking again about returning to St. Louis.

In 1985, Randy and I watched the TV coverage of the dramatic National League playoff series between his favorite team, the Cardinals, and my favorite team, the Los Angeles Dodgers. Inspired by that, we resolved to drive to St. Louis to see a couple of games between our favorite teams in person the next year.

The major leagues were structured differently 25 years ago. There were two divisions in each league, not three as there are today, and teams generally hosted the teams from the opposing division twice a year. That meant there was a pretty narrow window of opportunity for us.

In those days I was working on the sports copy desk of a metropolitan daily newspaper. One of the perks of the job was that we usually got information about schedules before just about everyone else, and I remember eagerly waiting for the release of the Cardinals' 1986 schedule.

For a time, Randy and I would begin every phone conversation the same way: "Did it come in yet?" (There was no reason to be more specific than "it.") "No."

Then, one day, the schedule arrived at the office.

In 1986, the two series in Busch Stadium were scheduled for mid–May and mid–July. I don't know why May didn't work out for us — maybe because the games were scheduled for the middle of the week.

The teams were scheduled to face each other in a four–game series between July 17 and 20. That was a Thursday–Sunday series, and, even though it was mostly on a weekend, it created some hurdles for us to clear, too. Still, it was our best option.

Randy, as I recall, couldn't get off work on a weekday. He hadn't been working at his job long enough to qualify for vacation time.

I was working nights at a morning newspaper, and my regular days off were Monday and Tuesday. I did qualify for vacation time at my job, and I must have used some. Or perhaps I used a compensatory day or two that I had on reserve for working on what should have been paid days off. As I recall, that was a somewhat common practice in those days. I don't remember the specifics.

Somehow, though, I managed to get that weekend off, and Randy and I decided to make a whirlwind trip to St. Louis to see the games on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, then we would drive back to central Arkansas, arriving sometime around midnight on Sunday.

I still had to work my usual shift on Friday night so Randy agreed to meet me at my apartment around the time I normally got home (which was roughly 1 a.m.), and we would try to get a few hours of sleep. We would get up at something like 4:30 or 5, throw on some clothes, throw our stuff in my car and hit the road.

We had it planned out so that we would arrive at the stadium in time for the first pitch on Saturday afternoon. The game was supposed to begin at 12:30, I believe. It was roughly a seven–hour drive.

It's astonishing to me when I think of it now, but it never occurred to me that something might happen along the way (it should have because, back when Randy and I were in high school, we drove to St. Louis to visit his brother and sister–in–law for Thanksgiving — and we had a flat tire on the way). I just assumed we would arrive on schedule.

Oddly enough, we nearly did. Sheer blind luck, I suppose.

We didn't quite get to our seats in time for the first pitch. In fact, it was around the second inning before we got to our seats. We might have been on schedule, though, if we hadn't stopped to pick up some beer and hot dogs.

The thing I remember vividly about that day is how unbelievably hot it was. It was every bit as hot as it has been lately. The air temperature was about 105° — and I read, in the St. Louis Post–Dispatch the next day, that the temperature of the artificial surface was over 130°.

I kid you not.

Here's something else: I seldom drink beer anymore, but that's the only time in my life that I haven't been able to finish a beer before it got too warm for me to drink it.

That Post–Dispatch article explained why I saw players for both teams sprinting off the field when it was their turn to bat — and dragging their feet when it was time to take the field. Talk about getting a hotfoot.

It also explained why the game was played so quickly. The teams combined for only three runs in a full nine–inning game that took only 2½ hours to play. (I remember that a columnist for the Post–Dispatch observed that the players played ball that day "like they were double parked.")

Tired and drained, we made our way back to my car after the game and proceeded to drive some 40 miles or so west of St. Louis — to his brother's home, where we spent the night.

I remember how blissfully cool his brother's home seemed to me, how refreshing it was to take a shower there and rid myself of the grime of the day and how grateful I was just to lie down on the cot on which I spent that Saturday night. We ate what was probably a basic summer meal that night (I don't recall what was on the menu — probably sandwiches and chips, maybe some ice cream), and I remember feeling full and satisfied as I relaxed in front of the TV with a cold drink in my hand.

We got a full night's sleep, awoke refreshed the next morning, packed my car, said goodbye to Randy's brother and sister–in–law and returned to Busch Stadium.

Temperatures at the ballpark were at least 10 degrees cooler that day. It almost felt cold by comparison — although, of course, it wasn't. This time, however, my beer was still somewhat cold when I finished it. (It might have helped that our seats were in the shade on Sunday.)

The less–brutal temperatures seemed to make the players more attentive to their work — at least the offensive part — and the teams combined for nine runs. Los Angeles scored most of them, though, so Randy and I decided to leave before the game was over and get a jump on the trip back home.

Once again, everything went according to schedule. No flat tires. No car trouble of any kind, actually. Since he had to work the next morning, Randy was supposed to get a little sleep on the drive back, but my memory is that he didn't. We talked some and listened to cassette tapes, and we pulled in to my apartment shortly before midnight. We transferred his things to his car, and he left for home.

And I went to bed.

I presume he made it to work the next day. Monday, as I said, was my usual day off so I'm sure I slept late. The only thing I remember doing the next day was my laundry.

The trip was a blast — in fact, I enjoyed it enough to repeat it four straight years after Randy moved to St. Louis. It's a great memory for me now, and sometimes I wish I could do it all again.

But so much is different now. In fact, when I think how much can change in a quarter of a century — a mere blink of an eye in the lifetime of this planet — it makes me appreciate how much there is just beneath our feet from which archaeologists can learn.

Future archaeologists won't find what is left of Busch Stadium, though, for it is gone. It has been demolished, replaced by another stadium that bears its name, but it isn't the same place.

I guess it is the place where the next generation will make its memories. I hope they have as much fun as I did.

Fernandomania Revisited

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I've been a Dodger fan most of my life, and it is hard for me to believe that it was 30 years ago this spring that the phenomenon known as "Fernandomania" swept over the land.

I was in college that spring and had to observe what was happening from afar (and that wasn't easy to do in 1981 — nightly cable baseball broadcasts were still years in the future). But, even in northwest Arkansas, I was aware of how Fernando Valenzuela had "radically altered the country's cultural and sporting landscape," as the Los Angeles Times' Dylan Hernandez observed a few weeks ago.

I'll say he did.

Valenzuela went 8–0 to start the 1981 season. The word "dominant" is often overused, but no other word is truly adequate to describe the start of Valenzuela's rookie campaign. Teams just couldn't figure him out. He had five shutouts in his first seven starts.

He also attracted a lot of attention for his unusual delivery, in which his eyes looked skyward just as he was about to throw the ball. He appeared to be looking for divine guidance or inspiration, and, in the first part of 1981, it seemed he was getting it.

But he was never really the same after a midsummer players' strike wiped out nearly 40% of the season. He struggled at times after play resumed. He went on to win both the Cy Young Award and the Rookie of the Year Award (the only pitcher to accomplish that), and he led the Dodgers to victory against their old American League rivals, the New York Yankees, in the World Series that fall.

But he was different after the strike.

In spite of the strike, he started 25 games that year and had 11 complete games. It was the only season that Valenzuela, with a fadeaway screwball that was widely said to be the best since Carl Hubbell pitched for the rival Giants in the 1930s and 1940s, led the league in strikeouts, shutouts, innings pitched and games started.

He had other major league seasons during his career that produced more of everything, but he never had a season like 1981.

"Mania" was the right word for it.

Remembering Jackie Robinson

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Last year, Barack Obama made history as the first black man elected president.

That certainly was something that many Americans never thought they would see in their lifetimes. But, although it was a groundbreaking accomplishment, it probably couldn't have happened if many other black Americans hadn't broken the color barrier in other areas over the years.

As is often the case, changes in sports foreshadowed social and political changes. Jack Johnson became the first black heavyweight champion and John Taylor became the first black to win a gold medal in the Olympics 100 years before Obama's victory.

And, in 1947, Jackie Robinson became the first black to play major league baseball.

Shortly before the start of the 1947 season, the Dodgers called up Robinson, launching a 10–year major league career.

Robinson wasn't destined to be the career home run leader, but in the years since his breakthrough, two other black men have eclipsed Babe Ruth's career mark. He didn't leave the game as the career leader in hits or RBIs or batting average.

Robinson's legacy, aside from the courage and grace he showed in the face of verbal and physical abuse when he crossed the color line, is mostly images from his career. One of the most famous moments was captured in the film clip that is attached to this post.

In the 1955 World Series, Robinson stole home in the first game. It's unusual to see someone steal home, especially in the postseason, when the margin for error is so slim. But the 1955 World Series was unusual. It was the only world championship the Dodgers won in all the years they were in Brooklyn.

Anyway, Robinson retired a few years later. He was in his late 20s when he broke the color barrier, and he played 10 years in the major leagues before health problems began to catch up with him. He died of a heart attack on this day 37 years ago.

Ten years before he died, Robinson became the first black to be elected to baseball's Hall of Fame. As the one who broke the color barrier, I'm sure his name would be remembered even if the Hall of Fame hadn't formally inducted him.

But it was a reminder that he was about more than just being a racial pioneer.

He also happened to be a darn good ballplayer.

Against the Wall

Down 3-1 in their best-of-seven championship series with the Philadelphia Philies, the Los Angeles Dodgers find themselves against the wall when the series resumes with Game 5 on Wednesday.

Game 5 is the last game scheduled to be played in Los Angeles. If the Dodgers win, they still have to take the last two games in Philadelphia to advance to the World Series.

It's a tall order, one that has seldom been achieved in postseason baseball.

Based on his column for CBS Sportsline, Gregg Doyel doesn't think the Dodgers can do it. Doyel believes that, in spite of Joe Torre's record of managerial success with the New York Yankees, he's blowing the series with the Phillies.

"You can argue that [Torre] has been unlucky in this series, but you can't argue this: He has been unsuccessful," writes Doyel, who contends (legitimately, I might add) that L.A. pitcher Derek Lowe "came out too early" last night.

"And isn't that what it comes down to? Success and failure? Wins ... and losses?"

I don't know if the Dodgers can win the last two in Philadelphia, especially after failing to win either of the first two games that were played there.

But I do know this. The karma isn't good for a Dodger opponent on Wednesday.

Why?

Let me answer that question with a question. Do you remember where you were 20 years ago tomorrow?

I remember where I was. Let me refresh your memory.

It was Saturday, Oct. 15, 1988. The first game of the World Series, between the heavily favored Oakland A's and the raggedy Dodgers, was being played at Dodger Stadium (which, coincidentally, is where Wednesday night's playoff game will be played).

Everyone believed the A's — with their potent offense, led by the "Bash Brothers" (Mark McGwire and Jose Canseco), and a stellar pitching staff, led by 20-game winner Dave Stewart and reliever Dennis Eckersley, who recorded 45 saves that year — would manhandle the Dodgers.

Of course, the experts thought the Dodgers wouldn't make it to the World Series in 1988. The experts thought they would lose the National League championship to Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry and the New York Mets. Nevertheless, the Dodgers prevailed.

(In much the same way, I might add, a majority of the experts in 2008 believed the Chicago Cubs would dismantle the Dodgers in the first round of the playoffs.)

The first game of the 1988 World Series appeared to be living up to expectations. The A's fell behind, 2-0, in the bottom of the first inning, but Canseco hit a grand slam in the second to give Oakland a 4-2 lead. The Dodgers added a run in the sixth but trailed, 4-3, in the ninth inning.

And that set the stage for perhaps the most memorable World Series at-bat ever.

Twenty years ago, I was working on the sports desk of the Denton (Texas) Record-Chronicle. I had been there for two months, having moved to the city in August to enroll in graduate school.

On weekdays, the newspaper was an afternoon paper, which meant the copy desk had to be at work very early in the morning to meet the late-morning deadline.

But the paper published a Sunday morning edition, which required the copy desk editors to work on Saturday nights.

There was a TV in the newsroom (which, up to that time, had been a rarity in the newsrooms where I had worked) and it was on, showing the World Series.

Nearly all the copy editors were in the back shop, assisting with pasteup. I was virtually alone in the newsroom, monitoring the sports wire for late football scores and waiting for the World Series game to end.

The process was governed by the clock. During the lag time between the end of the game and the appearance of game articles on the Associated Press sports wire, I could write a headline and send it through our computer system so the folks in the back shop could paste it on the front page of the sports section.

Then, when the game story appeared on the wire, I could send it through to the back shop as well. It could be pasted on to the page beneath the headline I wrote earlier.

I knew the dimensions of the space that had been left for the headline in the page layout so I was working on a few ideas while keeping an eye on the game — in case something dramatic happened.

Something dramatic did happen.

Eckersley retired the first two batters, then intentionally walked the next batter to bring up the pitcher. The Dodgers chose to pinch hit for him.

The pinch hitter was Kirk Gibson, who had been sitting out the game because of two injured ankles and a stomach virus. But he came to the plate and crushed a slider into the outfield bleachers for a two-run home run — like Roy Hobbs in "The Natural."

Few, if any, memorable baseball moments have been replayed for TV viewers as often in the last 20 years as Gibson's walk-off home run. (And, if you witnessed Gibson's painful yet exultant trip around the bases, you know the word "walk" is woefully misused in this context. Perhaps hobble-off would be more appropriate.)

Gibson made no more appearances in that World Series. But the Dodgers seemed to be inspired by his home run and went on to defeat the A's in five games.

Is something similar going to happen tomorrow night?

I don't know.

But if the Dodgers are going to come back and win the series, Wednesday is an appropriate time to start their rally.

Dodgers Knock Off Cubs

The Los Angeles Dodgers are playing like they’re double parked.

The Philadelphia Phillies failed to finish off the Milwaukee Brewers Saturday. That series will continue with Game 4 today.

But then the Dodgers completed their sweep of the Chicago Cubs Saturday night.

It’s now been more than a century since the Cubs won the World Series — hey, it’s been more than 60 years since the Cubs even played in a World Series.

But James Loney drove in a couple of runs with a first-inning double and the Dodgers never looked back.

I predicted the Dodgers and Phillies would advance to the league championship series, but I really didn’t think the Cubs would roll over the way they did. The Brewers could still force the Phillies to play five games before advancing to the championship series against the Dodgers.

A couple of American League teams will be trying to match the Dodgers' achievement on Sunday.

The Boston Red Sox will take a 2-0 series lead into their game at home against the Los Angeles Angels. And the Chicago White Sox will be trying to stop the Tampa Bay Devil Rays from completing a sweep when they play in Chicago.

Dodgers, Phillies on Verge of Advancing

The other day I predicted that the Los Angeles Dodgers and the Philadelphia Phillies would win their divisional series and advance to the National League's championship series.

But they've both been more efficient than I expected.

I predicted that both teams would need all five games to finish off their foes.

Each team has played only two games — and they both have today off — but both teams are 2-0 and could finish off their series tomorrow.

Particularly amazing are the Dodgers, who barely managed a winning record in baseball's worst division yet have surprised baseball observers by winning the first two games on the road. Now they need only one more win — with the next two games to be played in Dodger Stadium — to move on to the N.L. championship series.

Only one team in major league baseball history has come back to win a playoff series after losing the first two games at home — the 2004 Boston Red Sox — recalls MLB.com.

The Phillies, meanwhile, took care of business at home. They, too, need only one more victory to win the series with the Milwaukee Brewers — but the next two games will be played in Milwaukee, where the Brewers won 60% of the time this year.

The Brewers, however, are going to have to win 100% of their home games in this playoff series, then take the fifth and deciding game in Philadelphia if they're going to deny the Phillies a spot in the league championship series. That's a tough assignment.

As MLB.com observes, prior to this year, there were 16 times when a team took a 2-0 lead in a best-of-five National League divisional series. Each of those 16 teams won the series — and 13 of them did so by completing the sweep with a win in the third game.

The odds clearly are against the Brewers and the Cubs.

And, if you're a Cubs fan, it's going to be hard to blame this postseason collapse on a 63-year-old billy goat curse — unless the Cubs can manage to rise from the near-dead, win two straight in Dodger Stadium and bring the series back to Wrigley Field for the fifth game.

If that happens, the billy goat might turn out to be a plausible scapegoat.

But make no mistake about it. The blame for the first two losses (especially Thursday night's 10-3 disaster) belongs to the Cubs themselves.

And a certain amount of the credit probably belongs to the Dodgers.

Here Are My Playoff Predictions

Milwaukee and Philadelphia are due to get the baseball postseason started in a couple of hours.

And I want to get in my first-round predictions before the first pitch is thrown.

In the National League:

• Milwaukee vs. Philadelphia: Both teams performed well at home, winning about three-fifths of the time. The Phillies played a little better on the road than the Brewers did.
  
  Both teams were pretty weak at the plate. The Phillies were 10th among the 16 N.L. clubs with a .255 average. The Brewers were 12th with a .251 average.
  
  According to the old saying, though, pitching and defense win championships. There have been exceptions, but that certainly seems to be true in short series.
  
  If it becomes a matter of pitching, who has the edge between the Brewers and the Phillies? Based on the numbers, it looks pretty close. For that matter, the top four teams in the N.L. in ERA are the same four teams who are in the playoffs. Milwaukee had a 3.85 ERA during the season, the Phillies had a 3.88 ERA. Pitching should be pretty strong in the N.L.'s playoff games.
  
  The bullpen appears to be about equal, with Milwaukee getting 45 saves during the season and Philadelphia getting 44.
  
  I predict it will go five games and I'll give the edge to the team with the homefield advantage — Philadelphia.


• Los Angeles Dodgers vs. Chicago Cubs: Hands down, the Cubs were the best home team in the National League, winning two-thirds of their games at Wrigley Field. The Dodgers were pretty good at home, too, winning a little more than 59% of the time.
  
  On the road, the Cubs had a winning record (winning 52% of their games) while the Dodgers won less than 45% of their road games.
  
  The Cubs had the best team batting average of any team in the playoffs — in either league (.278) — and their pitchers' ERA was a respectable 3.87, which was fifth-best in the majors (although it trails the Dodgers' 3.68 ERA, the best in the National League).
  
  Those numbers should suggest an easy Cubs win. In fact, they should suggest an easy win against the Dodgers and another easy win against either the Phillies or the Brewers, making a trip to the World Series virtually inevitable.
  
  But these are the Cubs we're talking about. When you look up "futility" or "error-prone" — or "curse" — in the dictionary, you should see the Cubs logo.
  
  History tells me that, because we're talking about the Cubs, we will see a magnificent collapse. And, if history provides any indication of what to expect, it will be grander and more heartbreaking than any of the Cubs' previous collapses.
  
  So my question is, will the Cubs collapse against the Dodgers and their N.L.-leading ERA? Or will they win in the first round, only to wilt against either the Phillies' league-leading home run hitters or the Brewers' pitchers, with their 3.85 ERA and league-most complete games?
  
  I'm going to guess that they'll end the suspense quickly and lose in the first round to the Dodgers, three games to two.

In the American League:

Chicago White Sox vs. Tampa Bay: Tampa Bay had better winning percentages at home (70% to 66%) and on the road (49% to 43%) than the White Sox did.

The White Sox led the league in home runs, but, other than that, neither team's offense was at the top of the A.L. charts. The Sox were 11th of 14 teams and the Rays were 13th in batting average. Tampa Bay showed pretty good speed during the season, leading the A.L. in stolen bases, but their problem was getting on base in the first place, ranking 13th in base hits.

The key, in addition to winning percentages at home and on the road, may be found in pitching. Tampa Bay was second in the league in ERA (Chicago was sixth), tied for third in complete games (Chicago was 11th) and virtually tied for third in strikeouts with the White Sox (Chicago had 1,147 while Tampa Bay had 1,143).

If it comes down to the bullpen, Tampa's relievers recorded the A.L.'s second-best tally in saves (52) while Chicago was 12th in that category (34).

Plus, Chicago may be a little tired after having to play two additional games on Monday and Tuesday just to qualify for the playoffs while everyone else was resting and licking their wounds.

I pick Tampa in four games.


• Boston vs. Los Angeles Angels: Boston was a stronger team at home than Los Angeles, winning 69% of the time in Fenway Park while the Angels won about 62% of the time at home. Boston struggled on the road, winning 48% of its games while the Angels again won about 62% of the time.
  
  At the plate, the Red Sox had a better year than the Angels, recording a higher batting average of .280 to Los Angeles' .268. Boston was sixth in the league in home runs (L.A. was ninth), but the Angels finished second in steals (129), just ahead of Boston (120).
  
  Who has the edge in pitching? L.A.'s ERA was 3.99 while Boston's was 4.01. The Angels' bullpen led the A.L. in saves with 66; Boston was a distant third with 47. But Boston led the league in strikeouts with 1,185, while the Angels were sixth in the A.L. with 1,106.
  
  It doesn't really seem to matter to the Angels whether they're at home or on the road. The Red Sox will be competitive, but I pick the Angels to win in four games.

Enjoy the playoffs!

Almost Set Now

Sunday was the last day on the major league baseball schedule, and the initial pairings in the playoffs are almost set now.

It's a done deal in the National League.

The Los Angeles Dodgers will play the Chicago Cubs at Wrigley Field in the opener of their series on Wednesday. Milwaukee and Philadelphia will open their series that afternoon in Philadelphia.

Likewise, the American League's playoff schedule is almost complete now.

Today, the Chicago White Sox and the Detroit Tigers have to play a makeup game. If Chicago wins, the White Sox will be tied for the A.L. Central title and will play host to the Minnesota Twins in a one-game playoff tomorrow. If Chicago loses today, the Twins win the division and the final playoff berth.

The winner of the A.L. Central will travel to A.L. East champion Tampa Bay for the series opener on Thursday. Meanwhile, the other A.L. playoff series begins Wednesday when the Boston Red Sox travel to Los Angeles to take on the Angels.