Gesundheit!: Chewiest Baseball Names

Let me say right up top that this is a pretty arbitrary list; not every chewy name in baseball history made the cut. Generally speaking, I included names 1) longer than ten letters, and names that sound like 2) a sneeze, 3) a curse word, 4) a novelty dance, 5) some sort of Transylvanian alcohol that isn't legal in the States, or 6) a tiny cured or pickled fish.

But now and then, you're going to see a 7) "Hee!"

Catchers

The highest concentration of phlegmy names among position players is behind the plate; I don't know why that is, but I could have made this section twice as long. The ranking name is of course Jarrod "Salty" Saltalamacchia, who has the longest name in major-league history; the back of his jersey looks like a watch face. Weirdly, when he first came up I could never remember his name, so the Couch Baron and I used to run through all these options trying to guess it before they showed it on the TV. "Oh, it's, it's, shit! Saltimbucca!" "No no no -- Sambuca Ralph Macchio!" "Samba Martian!" "Sampson Ron Delillo!"

Salty qualifies on all seven fronts, I think, and he's probably your starter, unless you want to go with AJ Pierzynski ("bless you") or Ossee Schreckengost ("no, fuck you, buddy"). Schreckengost's name at birth: "Schrecongost." Not sure how the beta version helped, but okay.

Your backups: Casper Asbjornson ("cheers"), Bill Naharodny ("no, fuck you"), Brusie Ogrodowski ("bless you" -- which he might, with the saintly given name "Ambrose Francis"), Charlie Reipschlager ("cheers"), Tom Tischinski ("bless you"), and the good-hearted Gene Vadeboncoeur.

First Basemen

It's eye-chart city, and Doug Mientkiewicz is the mayor; in fact, one of his nicknames is "Eye Chart" (the other is "Saltalamacchia." Just kidding. It's "Minky"). The Mink is your best bet on D, but if you want the ball hit a mile, pencil in Ted "Big Klu" Kluszewski. Klu's name isn't all that gristly, but I've seen pictures of that guy's upper arms, and if you'd like to risk offending him by leaving him off your roster, you can g'head. Here on Crazy Nines, he plays.

For a more continental flavor, slot in Archi Cianfrocco ("no thanks, I hate anchovies"/"heeeey, Macarena!"); I don't know how much territory he covers in the field, but on the lineup card, he's a tiny fish, a forbidden dance, and the evil eye. And he's from Rome! (New York.)

Second Basemen

Go ahead and write in Mark Grudzielanek ("cheers") as your starter, but when it's time to pinch-hit, you can signal for Ed "Batty" Abbaticchio ("no thanks, I hate anchovies"), an early-baseball version of Bo Jackson who also played football and took 1906 off to manage a hotel in Pittsburgh.

Other bench guys include Bob Ramazzotti ("heeeey, Macarena!"), who came up to the majors to replace Cookie Lavagetto (and then the two of them started a law firm housed in a biscotti factory) (okay, not really), and Howdy Groskloss ("cheers"/"no, fuck you").

Shortstops

Nomar Garciaparra ("no thanks, I hate anchovies") doesn't have that kooky a name, but he used to be a good SS once upon a time, and I like the internal rhyme. It's no Yo-Yo Davalillo ("heeeey, Macarena!"), especially not if you use Yo-Yo's birth name, Pompeyo Antonio Romero Davalillo. ("No, fuck you-you.")

But Yo-Yo only played 19 games in the majors -- and with the '53 Senators, which was like a quadruple-A team -- so why not go with Troy Trever Tulowitzki ("bless you"/"no, fuck you") instead? He's a good player, and you have to admire his parents' commitment to percussion in naming, although you'd think they'd have realized he'd be spitting on people while introducing himself.

Also available to furnish a hail of saliva: Jerry Dybzinksi ("bless you"), Roy "Flash" Flaskamper ("cheers"), and Tony Perezchica ("no thanks, I hate the Macarena").


Third Basemen

Maybe I've overlooked someone, but it's slim pickings at the hot corner. You've got Mike Pagliarulo ("cheers"), who isn't that good. People really loved Pags, right? I loved Scotty Bro, and he didn't have great stats either; the only difference, I guess, is that the Broshe didn't start a poorly spelled blog riddled with imbecilic assertions. Yet.

Your other choice is Frank Sigafoos ("Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice!"), who in parts of three seasons sucked both at the plate (.201 BA, .224 slugging) and in the field (.906 fielding percentage, compared to a league average of .945).

Makes me want to pretend Mike Schmidt's birth name was actually Mikhail Van Schmitzenschnell, but…it ain't.


Outfielders

Not a huge talent pool here either. The consonant pool, however, is filled to the brim and perfectly chlorinated with the likes of Ryan Radmanovich ("no thanks, I hate anchovies") and Rip Repulski ("Hee!" Given name: Eldon John. Get back, honky cat). Throw Riff Randell out there in left field and it's The Rock and Roll High School Bears in Breaking Training.

Fortunately, you can count on Carl Yastrzemski ("bless you"), Ryan Spilborghs ("no, fuck you"), and Frank Catalanotto ("heeeey, Macarena!") to put some wood on the ball.

You can also count on a wicked writer's cramp if you call on your bench. Lou Schiappacasse ("no thanks, I hate anchovies") only played two games for the Tigers back in 1902, but his name is still trying to leave the field. Fernando Seguignol ("cheers") had a decent career in Japan, though, and maybe Count Sensenderfer ("Hee!") can pull some strings for you in Philadelphia, where he had a long career in politics…but not as long as his name, John Phillips Jenkins Sensenderfer. I don't know where the "Count" comes from, but according to one genealogy-website user, the original German family name is "Sümpffendörffer" ("bless you") which could have held off the challenge from Signore Saltalamacchia ("cheers, I hate the Macarena").

Rounding out the outfield: Pete Zoccolillo ("heeeey, Macarena!") and Bevo LeBourveau ("…Bevo, LeBourveau, let's call the whole thing off") ("cheers"), whose given name is actually more of a tongue-twister ("DeWitt Wiley LeBourveau").


Pitching Staff

I almost changed my own rules for the pitchers, because Al "The Mad Hungarian" Hrabosky ("bless you") and Pete Vuckovich ("no, fuck you") aren't Hall of Fame arms, but Justin Duchscherer ("bless you") and Jason Isringhausen ("cheers") could use the help, and there's only so much Scott Schoeneweis ("no thanks, I hate anchovies") can do all by himself. You know who's not going to do shit: Jimmy Uchrinscko ("bless you, anchovies"). No wonder he had a lifetime 10.13 ERA; he probably sprained everything up to his triceps just endorsing his paycheck.

Maybe the way to structure the staff is to assign them all roles out of the bullpen, just like on a real club. But instead of the roles you'd see on a real-life pitching staff -- side-arming innings eater; LOOGY; eighth-inning guy; closer -- you've got roles like Imminent Anti-Aircraft Attack (Cameron Cairncross, Cookie Cuccurullo, and Joe Kraskauskas, bless you bless you bless you), or Dances Trademarked By The Cruise Lines On Which They Were Invented (Porfi Altamirano and Bob Giallombardo).

Or you could build the rotation around guys who sound like German submarines (Clem "Steamboat" Dreisewerd, Kirk Dressendorfer, Alan Hargesheimer, and Frederick Augustus "Duke" Klobedanz, who according to baseball-reference.com bears many statistical similarities to the tinily named Cliff Lee).

Or names that sound like patent medicines later proven to contain rat poison and house paint: Raymond Roy Rippelmayer's Elixir, Guaranteed To Leaven Vapors! Dr. Timothy Spooneybarger's Mir-A-Cull Emetic Potion! Professor G. Zuverink's Sleep-Ade!

You also have a handful of pitchers who sound like a Prussian spell cast to rot hooves -- Paul Spoljaric and Steve Wojciechowski, among others -- and one guy whose last name sounds like a pastry that Martha Stewart swears you can make at home, but the recipe starts off with "dreams of a wandering faerie 1 Tbsp" and then you have to bake it in a zero-gravity chamber, and it's like, fuck the Monbouquette, I'll just buy an ice-cream cake. (And the first name "Bill" doesn't go with "Monbouquette" at all. His parents couldn't have gone whole hog with "Guillaume"?)

Last but not least, two classic names who, if they can't close the game, can at least shut down the discussion: Bob Owchinko ("bless you"), and the late great Cletus Elwood "Boots" Poffenberger ("Hee, cheers!").

Managed by: Red Schoendienst, which is pronounced "Shane-deenst" if I'm not mistaken. Hat-tip to Keith Hernandez ("no thanks, I hate steak dinners") for the usage tip.

Colors Of The World: Spice Up Your Life! (Not You, Mike Greenwell)

From left, Red Barber, Connie Desmond, and Vin Scully.

Starting Position Players: C Bob "Red" Kinsella
As far as I can tell, Kinsella never even put on the tools of ignorance in the majestic total of four games he played for the New York Giants. Why is he behind the plate for the Color Guard, then? Well, his name is Kinsella, and Ray Kinsella's father in Field of Dreams was a catcher.

…Named John, I know I know I know. But I can put this guy behind the plate; I can put Todd Greene back there ("Who?" Exactly); or I can convert Deion Sanders to a catcher, and after over a decade at cornerback, I don't think boyfriend's knees are going to go for that. At least Kinsella has a good story, even if it's one I made up.

1B Hank Greenberg
Greenberg, however, is legit. He put up huge numbers despite the anti-Semitic crap he had to cope with (even the most glancing reference to Greenberg usually manages to include the fact that he skipped a game once because of Yom Kippur, and although I'm mentioning it because I think the obligatory nature allusion is obnoxious, I'm…still mentioning it myself, in the end), won the MVP twice, and went on to become the GM of the Indians, although reviews of his performance in that role are not always positive.

He's also on a postage stamp, which is nice for him.

2B Red Schoendienst
A St. Louis institution, Schoendienst manned the center bag for about a billion years starting in the '40s, then managed the club for another dozen, including the Bob Gibson era, during which time the Redbirds won two pennants and a World Series. This is his primary association for most contemporary fans, but as a player he was a many-time All-Star who led the league in hits and stolen bases at various times.

In his last stint as Cardinals' manager, he was preceded by The White Rat, and followed by Joe Torre.

SS Pumpsie Green
One of the patron saints of trivia night. Everybody knows Jackie Robinson integrated major-league baseball; most people also know that, shortly after Jackie came to the Dodgers in the NL, Larry Doby integrated the AL, playing with the Indians. Not many remember the last "first" African-American: Pumpsie Green, the first black man to play for the Red Sox when the club finally got with the now in 1959. The Sox didn't use him much, either -- mostly for pinch-running and late-inning defense in blow-outs. Then he got traded to the Mets, which in the early '60s was "major-league baseball" in only the most technical of senses.

He's first-line infield on this team, though. Green played more second base than short, but if I ain't making Deion a catcher, you'd better believe I ain't making Deion learn a DP pivot.

3B Red Rolfe
Thank God Rolfe is a bona fide third baseman; this was getting ridiculous. Not the greatest hitter in the world, but he played for the great Yankee teams of the DiMaggio era and he made the All-Star team a bunch of times.

Rolfe went to Dartmouth; one of the Ivy League's baseball divisions is named in his honor. (The other is named for Columbia's Lou Gehrig.)

OF Mike Greenwell
When he hits, he hits -- he once batted in all nine runs in a Red Sox victory. But the Color Guard better hope he stays healthy. According to Wikipedia:

Greenwell is perhaps the biggest bust in the history of Nippon Pro Baseball. After signing the largest contract ever given by the Hanshin Tigers, he hurt his back in spring training, injured his foot a week after returning, then decided to call it quits after hitting .231/.310/.346 in 7 games in Japan, saying that God told him to retire. He then took the money and ran, using the dough to build an amusement park in Florida.

Uhhhhh huh. You sit through The Curse for a dozen years in Boston, you wash out of the American big leagues, you hurt your back, you hurt your foot, and then He takes an interest and decides it's time for you to retire, because…the Florida amusement-park market is so woefully under-served? And what exactly is this festival of good Christian/Floridian fun called -- Breach Of Contractneyworld? Six Flags Over Sayonara, Suckers?

This is what years of playing doubles off the Green Monster does to you, my friends. It makes you think deities care about the tea-cups ride. High-ranked draft prospects, beware!

…Although, now that I think about it, it's probably pretty handy to have a guy on the team who's a lifetime .303 hitter and knows something about machinery. He can help work the tarp doodad during rain delays.

OF Rusty "Le Grand Orange" Staub
Somewhat fearsome hitter, and durable as hell -- the big redhead played for over 20 years, and led the league in games played twice -- with a great eye for the strike zone; he hung on primarily as a pinch-hitter at the end of his career, which indicates a proven usefulness in clutch situations. Before he came to the majors, he was the MVP of the Durham Bulls. Staub also bears an unfortunate generalized resemblance to that one friend of your parents' who stands too close to you at barbecues and slurs about how pretty you turned out, and you know he mostly does it because he's unhappy and longs for his misspent youth and he'd probably never Actually Do anything, but he still creeps you.

Please note that Staub gives a lot of time and money to charities, and as far as I know is not actually that guy. He just looks like other guys who are that guy.

OF Duke "The Silver Fox" Snider
Hard to argue with Snider's qualifications, though I can't say I've ever heard the Duke called "The Silver Fox," and I live in Brooklyn, where a lot of people still talk about the Dodgers like the team left them personally, like they came home and found a bunch of empty hangers and a note where the Dodgers used to sit.

One of the best hitters on the team, Snider's also got brass ones when it counts. When Dixie Walker and other members of the Dodgers circulated the infamous petition they planned to present to Branch Rickey that said they wouldn't play alongside Jackie Robinson, Snider -- a rookie at the time -- refused to sign it. Snider and Robinson had grown up near each other in Southern California; Snider had greatly admired Robinson's athletic talent as a kid.

Note also that Snider didn't feel the need to inform anyone that God had told him to do this. Shut up, Mike Greenwell.

Bench:
1B Lu Blue
Decent hitter; ran a baseball school after retiring. Real first name is "Luzerne."

OF "Neon" Deion Sanders
Deion is a better hitter than his OPS indicates; in 1992, he led the league in triples and hit .533 during that year's World Series. Everyone tends to remember him as a dilettante, classing him with the likes of Jim Thorpe and Michael Jordan -- novelties, stars in other sports messing around with baseball for funsies. Not necessarily a fair assessment of those guys, either, but Deion could really play; because he split his time with the NFL, a league in which he was a hugely productive star, he never quite reached his potential on the diamond between lost time and injuries.

He was fast as hell and exciting to watch; you only get him for the first half of the season, but he'd make some shit happen.


Pitching Staff:

Yeah, the position-player roster is on the slender side, but pitching is where the Color Guard is a Viking boat.

Mordecai "Three-Finger" Brown
Mordecai Peter Centennial Brown, also known as Miner, led the Cubs' staff a hundred years ago. He lost several fingers in a farming accident as a child, but this "disability" allowed him to throw tricky pitches that abled pitchers couldn't. His season ERA of 1.04 in 1906 (ERA+ for that season: a jaw-dropping 253) is still the lowest on record in the modern era.

Anyone else ever wonder if the "Mind you don't cut yourself, Mordecai" line in Raising Arizona is a reference to Brown? It probably isn't -- it hadn't occurred to me before now -- but if it were, I would love the Coens even more.

Kevin Brown
An excellent pitcher at his peak…at his pique, not so much. Yankee fans haaaaaaate the dude after he pitched a hissy and punched a wall in the clubhouse, breaking his hand and landing himself on the DL during a pennant race. "But it was my non-pitching hand!" You're still a horse's ass, Kev.

He did lead the league in various things at various times, though -- including wins, ERA, hit batsmen, and salary. Make of that potent cocktail what you will, but the man majored in chemical engineering, so even if his manager can keep him out of the rage-ohol, he can still make his own.


Red Faber
One of the last pitchers allowed under a grandfather clause to throw a legal spitball, he pitched for the White Sox his entire career -- including for the 1919 team, but he missed that series due to the flu, so his name isn't tainted. You could make the argument that Faber's absence from the rotation indirectly contributed to the Dirty Hose throwing the Series; manager Kid Gleason did suspect both Lefty Williams and Eddie Cicotte, correctly, of throwing games, but without Faber, Gleason had no choice but to keep handing Williams and Cicotte the ball.

Faber's given name is Urban; the only other major-leaguer named Urban, Urban Shocker, was also pitcher, and was a contemporary of Faber's. Insert pope joke here.

Red Ruffing
He's in the Hall of Fame, although his stats don't look that hot, but he pitched in a big-hitting era, and he did it for the Yankees, who did almost nothing but win back then. He also coached the expansion Mets for a while.

Vida Blue
Championship experience; AL MVP in '71 (he struck out 301 that year and also won the Cy Young). Isn't likely to make Cooperstown at this point, but he's a good arm.

Pink Hawley
Hawley pitched all around the National League at the end of the nineteenth century, notching more than 440 innings in 1895. (Somewhere, Leo Mazzone is feeling kind of faint, and he doesn't know why.) A northpaw on the mound, he batted lefty. Full name: "Emerson Pink Hawley," which is a mouthful. They called him "Pink" because he had a twin brother, and their mother put ribbons on the babies to distinguish between them, blue for the brother and pink for Pink.

…Yeah, that story sounds made up to me, too, the kind of story newspapermen slung together back in the day to hide a much more scandalous set of facts. You know the famous story, Babe Ruth "ate too many hot dogs and drank too much root beer" and collapsed of a "bellyache"? Except that actually Ruth took it to the hoop with too many showgirls, got the syph, didn't treat it, and keeled over? Now, of course, we know what Ruth was, and God bless that man, but if the Sultan ever chose a root beer over a real one, I'll eat my hat. The man's entire family worked in a bar; come on. But this is the sort of corn-fed Americana detail the press generated back then to protect a guy like Ruth.

…I guess. I believe King Kelly's baroquely pathetic demise was covered without stint, but I would have to look that up. Ruth is always a special case, because everyone really did love him, and I can see how it's not in the press's best interests to impugn Ruth because he sells a ton of papers and is a huge hit with children, but I'm not about to stare at microfiche for two hours to confirm that (I'll just wait for one of y'all to correct me). Anyway, different times, blah blah. All this by way of saying that I wonder where the name "Pink" really came from.

Aaaaand the Hawley family sues me in three…two…


Blue Moon Odom
Wow, his BB/K ratio is really not that hot. I guess a neato name gets you a long way. He had a few good seasons with the A's and an impressive record in the postseason, but hung on longer than he should have.

According to a recent article in the SF Gate, a friend Odom grew up with gave him the nickname because he thought Odom's round face looked like the moon.

Chief Yellow Horse
Given name is "Moses." TAKE THAT, GREENWELL!

I'll stop it with that. (For now. That Godsy crap drives me bazoo. "Wanted him to start an amusement park." Crikey.)

Yellow Horse only pitched a few games over two seasons with the Pirates; he's believed to be the first full-blooded Native American to play in the majors, which is weirdly late for that to happen (he came up in 1921, and the league's history is littered with players of Native American heritage tactlessly nicknamed "Chief"). One of his managers thought Yellow Horse threw as hard as Walter Johnson, but YH kept hurting his arm, and developed a drinking problem (anxious about navigating the big city, he nestled under the bourbon-scented wing of Rabbit Maranville, who never met a bar he couldn't close) that he battled for two decades, though he did quit booze cold turkey in the '40s and went on to become an elder in his Pawnee tribe.

Manager: Dallas Green
Led the '80 Phillies to a world championship; led the early-nineties Mets to a cobwebby corner of the NL East cellar. A pitcher during his playing career, he put up a craptastic 5.79 ERA during the Phillies' legendary swoon season in '64 before getting punted to the Senators the next season.

Press Box:
Red Smith
Red Barber

I never heard Barber call a game, but I've always respected a particular comment he makes in the Ken Burns miniseries. Barber's talking about Jackie Robinson and how a lot of people at that time, who had wrong attitudes or bad information about people of color, learned from Jackie and could move on from their ignorance -- or however he put it, and you know, everyone knows this, pretty much, but Barber went on to say that he was one of those people, that he was raised in the South and had certain ideas about African-Americans, and those ideas turned out to be wrong, and he's glad to have been given the chance to think differently (or, as the Apple ads from back in the day featuring Jackie put it, "think different").

Barber didn't have to cop to that. Not to be congratulating the old guy for getting his head right, but I thought that was an important thing to say. Or to have been said.

Seven O'Clock Noir: The Black-And-White Team

Starting Position Players:
C Mickey "Black Mike" Cochrane
I've never heard Cochrane called "Black Mike" before; evidently the name comes from his notorious "competitiveness and temper" (which I'd never heard of either, but it seems a post-loss Cochrane was just about the least fun you've ever had with your clothes on). The nickname isn't commonly used for him now, but the team needs a catcher, and you can't argue with the Hall of Fame. …Well, you can, all day and through the night, but in this case, we won't.

Cochrane -- whose given name was "Gordon" -- lent the name "Mickey" to not one but two future diamond stars: Mickey Owen, whose manager in St. Louis dubbed him "Mickey" because he shared a brawling style with Cochrane (and possibly because Owen's parents had unkindly named him "Arnold"); and Mickey Mantle, whose father admired Cochrane. This is sort of a mixed result, legacy-wise, as Owen is one of the more infamous World Series goats in the game's history, but hey, even Ted Williams didn't bat .500.

1B Bill White
Five-time All-Star White isn't in the Hall of Fame, although he could be -- his batting stats relative to his era are impressive -- but he may get into Cooperstown based on his service to the game in other areas, which may be better known today than his play. After broadcasting Yankee games for over 15 years, White went on to the presidency of the National League from 1989-94.

I sense that White is not well-liked. I dimly recall some shit getting talked about him back in the day, and his departure from the NL presidency could track with that, I guess, but I just don't remember.

2B Frank White
Played his entire career with the Royals, back when they didn't lose 100 games a season; impressive with the glove, not harmful with the bat. He's one of those guys that I totally missed, rooting for an NL team on the East Coast, but whose adherents sometimes say he should go into the Hall of Fame. I believe Rob Neyer has debunked that.

SS Alvin Dark
Better known as a manager now (he helmed the '74 Athletics, among others), but he did have a respectable career as an infielder prior to that, making the All-Star team a few times and leading the league in doubles once. He'd missed two years due to the war, not coming to the majors 'til age 26, which may have cost him an HoF bid.

It seems he went by the nickname "Blackie," too, which is interesting given that, per Bill James, Dark "was widely suspected of being racist." He's perhaps not the best clubhouse influence, then (James also notes that Dark is a Jesus-y type, and keen to win converts), but: see Cochrane. We need a shortstop.

3B Burgess Whitehead
I'd prefer to see Whitehead as a backup second baseman, but as you've probably begun to gather, fully qualified infielders are thin on the ground on this team. I initially had Tris Speaker listed as hot-corner starter, but he's a CF; I'd confused him with Pie Traynor, AGAIN, and could anyone tell me why I do that every damn time.

Anyway: Whitehead missed time during WWII, and might have had better stats if he hadn't been gone for several years; prior to that, he'd made the All-Star team a couple of times, and was a part of the Gashouse Gang. And his middle name is "Urquhart," which has nothing to do with anything except that it's fun to say.

OF Rondell White
Rondeeeeelllllll, ma belle! Rondell seemed like a prospect eternally on the verge; it never quite took off for him like it should have. After leaving Montreal, he bounced from team to team, and did make the All-Star team in '03, but didn't live up to his initial promise despite a few good slugging seasons.

He's now married to the daughter of (as of this writing; knock bullpen wood) Mets manager Jerry Manuel.

OF Roy White
Reliable bat for the Yankees for 15 years; great at the plate during the postseason. Played for the late-seventies champions although his best years were past by then (he's also one of the men driven in by the infamous "Bucky Effing Dent" home run).

OF Tris "The Grey Eagle" Speaker
Speaking of Fenway, Speaker hit the first home run in the park in 1912. I never in my life heard him called "The Grey Eagle," but at least he has both his arms. (…You'll see.)

Bench: Devon White
Multiple Gold-Glove winner, some pop in the bat. Played on three World Series teams (Jays and Marlins).

Pete Gray
Gray, who lost an arm in a childhood accident, played one season (well, part of one) for the St. Louis Browns in 1945, and is frequently pointed to (…as it were) as evidence of the drop in quality throughout baseball during the war. With all-time greats like Ted Williams and Rizzuto in the service, teams had to turn to lesser talents; Gray did just fine (and the Browns finished above .500, which is a rarity in and of itself), but when the "real" players got home, Gray's time in the show ended.

It's hard to know how to think about Gray. On the one hand (…sorry), it's not like the Browns' GM found the guy working in, whatever, a hat store and had him come down to the park for a tryout. Gray had been playing for semi-pro teams for years by the time he got the call, and he lost the arm as a kid; he knew, as Jim Abbott also knew, how to compensate. So, you know, you have to give it up for the guy; baseball is hard enough to play as it is, never mind if you have to rig up a system to transfer your glove from your only hand and so on and so forth.

On the other hand (…sorry again), it was wartime baseball, and it comes off gimmicky to me -- well, not gimmicky, I guess. Cynical, maybe. Gray didn't get a shot until '45, and didn't get a shot after '45, either. I mean, it's the Browns, one of the more hapless franchises in the game's history, so it's not outside the realm of possibility that they really were that desperate for help in the outfield.


Pitching Staff:
Whitey Ford
A Hall of Fame after-hours hell-raiser as well as pitcher, sometimes accused of throwing scuffers and spitters, but let's face it: if your guy off the bench close and late is Pete Gray, the starters need to keep you in the game however they can.

Don "Black & Decker" Sutton
Also a Hall of Famer; also frequently accused of doctoring the baseball (thus the nickname; he's kind of a long shot for this team, but that moniker is too good to pass up). Extra credit for stealing Mike Brady's man-perm in the early seventies.

Jack "Blackjack" McDowell
Much feared in the '90s, McDowell doesn't seem as imposing now. I for one am more impressed with the fact that he flipped off the Yankee Stadium faithful and survived the hail of batteries and beer cups that must have resulted than I am with his pitching, or his off-the-field friendship with Eddie Vedder.

Bud Black
I remember this guy as much more fearsome than his stats now indicate; he anchored the mid-'80s KC rotation, I think? But before I looked it up, I remembered him as an ace, because I remembered his name. He's managing the San Diego Padres at the moment, but by the time you read this, he may be working on his stamp collection.


Manager: Whitey Herzog
Six first-place finishes across both leagues, one Series title with the '82 Cardinals, doesn't take no mess. I sometimes wonder, when I have the Mets game on and Keith Hernandez is going on about his diet, if Herzog is listening, and what he thinks. Herzog is a little too folksy and into The Cult Of Stengel for my particular tastes (something about the "Ol' Perfesser" nickname irritates me beyond all reason -- see also: cutesy misspellings in the names of kids' stores; "Kuntry Krafts"), but he repeatedly demanded trades of popular players and repeatedly saw those decisions justified.


Coach: Sol White
A player-manager and executive in the Negro Leagues who guided the Philadelphia Giants to a championship.