Heels On The Field: A Baseball Blog

Final Score: Freeing Myself From Expectations In Sports Media, Letting Go Of Some Dreams

Final Score

Another week in the life of women in sports media, watching Maria Taylor's career and body forced into the misogynistic sports spotlight, presented another opportunity to examine what we win and lose as women in the industry.

When Maria Taylor declared herself deserving of respect in a tweet, she unleashed a wave of pride and, of course, criticism.

Pride came mostly from women in the sports industry and fans, but also from men who don’t understand why other men need to make a sports disagreement so deeply personal, while also questioning our qualifications.

The criticism also mostly came from men. The week was revealotory and not in a good way. We received a reminder that, yes sexism and misogny remain powerful in sports. Sports, an industry that only evolves when absolutely forced and still puts up a fight, is as much entertainment as it is a reflection of our society, and what we believe. 

Taylor was subjected to intensely personal criticism twice in a few days. Both times by men, both colleagues-- men with such confidence in their job security, they didn't worry about backlash or possibly being fired. They tweeted with abandon, as if it was their place to question Taylor as a professional and woman. 

On Monday, Chicago sports radio host, Dan McNeil, host of 'The Score,' tweeted about Taylor's attire on the sidelines, with a photo of her in an outfit working a game.  

"NFL sideline reporter or a host for the AVN annual awards presentation?" 

I didn't know that the AVN awards were for "adult entertainment," so at first I didn't know what was going on. But I Googled. First of all, F**K you Dan. Second...no that's it. He was later fired. 

Then came the ballot. Taylor's All-NBA selections received a whirlwind of confusion and frustration, after she ommitted Anthony Davis name. I confess, I know almost nothing about basketball players or current teams, so this isn't something I can analyze. But people were pissed. There's also nothing wrong with that. Taylor later admitted she was mistaken in leaving him out of her final choices. Readers and viewers are allowed to disagree and be extremely mad about what we write, report or decide. But that's it. They don't have permission to tear us down as people, as women, or...do THIS:

"Why does Maria Taylor have a vote? Real question. She is a studio host/sideline reporter in her first year covering the NBA. She works a ton, not just on the league. No reason to have her vote."

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That tweet by Doug Gottlieb, a Fox Sports Radio host, was immediately met with anger as well. Taylor stepped to the plate herself, responding, "Because I PLAYED basketball...I COVER the league. And I DESERVE everything I've worked hard for."

I would like to create an award for this tweet, especially her choice to put all those words in caps. My favorite was "DESERVE." Too often, men in this industry, men like Gottlieb and McNeil, exude such undeserved confidence in stating their opinions. They talk too loud and too much, they say whatever they want to us, in any setting, with astonishing arrogance, as if they fear nothing. Women in the industry walking around fearing everything we do is under such scrutiny, we can't screw up, or do something that people just disagree with.

We’re enraged by those men because we should be. Men in this business, who are our equals, have no business questioning how we got where we are, and why we’re there. Gottlieb’s nerve is purse entitlement, a confidence that men are taught, whether they’re sports professionals or sports fans. He likely didn’t think twice about questioning a woman who is his professional equal. He’s not her boss, he’s not her 8th grade teacher. Yet men in the sports industry think nothing of asking a woman at the table why she has a seat. How many men in sports or sports fans have women turned the tables on? How many women in sports media have glanced around the press box, or front office, full of men, and wondered how that many men could be so deeply qualified, but a singular woman must always prove she should be there?

The point isn’t that Gottlieb disagreed with Taylor’s ballot. It’s that he actually saw it fit to ask why she had a ballot. He couldn’t leave it at disagreeing with her. To deny the sexism, is to remove such a large part of our experience as women. You might not see it, or know what it looks like, but even what looks like a compliment-- “She knows her stuff!”, “She’s earned respect!” “There are a lot of women who don’t know what they’re talking about, but she does!”-- is a twisted way of telling us we’re lucky to be invited into a boys club.

A few years ago, while covering a Phillies game, a colleague approached me while I was sitting on the bench in the dugout for a man to ask me why I don’t dress differently in order to gain more respect. He rushed over, with a kind of aggressive smirk, his body language full of intention. I smiled warmly, thinking we were going to connect as colleagues, or just have a friendly chat. In other words, I expected him to be a normal person. But no, that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to offer me some sort of deformed thing he thought was advice, and expected me to be open to receiving whatever he had to say. He went on to tell me that players talked about me in a vulgar manner, as if I didn’t know that, told me that the Phillies front office didn’t respect me, and that just like “someone we know” (he was referring to Erin Andrews, who’d recently been sexually violated by way of a stalker filming her in her hotel room, while she was nude), if I wasn’t “careful,” “You could be next.” The point of all of it, was to assign blame to me (and Erin Andrews) for anything bad that happened to us, and for anyone questioning our qualifications and presence, to the point that if someone stalked and sexually violated me, well, hey, at least he tried to warn me. As my equal, he was not only out of line, he was sexually harassing me. He was making a creepy insinuation that I might be sexually harmed in some way if I didn’t shape up. He was informing me that no one thought I belonged, and that was my fault. That if I made a mistake, I would not get away with it. If I did something perceived as proof that I was not a good reporter, I’d be without defense, because of what I wore, or what people believed about me. He believed he had a right to walk up to me, in our professional setting, and question my professionalism. And he thought it appropriate to brandish me unacceptable, and totally at fault for that assessment. I smiled obligingly, trying to remain focused on the job I needed to get done that day.

Again and again, this shame returns to me. The gross memory of a person in the industry telling me that players joked I was there to service them, that people in the business found me unacceptable. I went home that day with a fire in my heart, but sometimes I was wrong about what that fire represented. Often ,I used it as a defense to cover exhaustion and sadness. Make no mistake, it was also often the opposite-- instead, a light that lifted me and gave me the truth, without distraction of others opinion. I cherish those moments in my career, and I recall them whenever I need another boost.

I've needed that boost many times in the last few years. When faced with a mob of women in baseball who similarly questioned me because of the name "heels" in my own blog name, and in "All Heels on Deck,' who saw nothing wrong with demeaning me and my work, rather than have a disagreement and discussion as equals and colleagues. They called me out on Twitter, delighting in every person who joined in and tore me down, even in the most petty, traditionally catty manner (a former friend jumped in to add something weirdly personal, and one of those very serious feminist women in baseball favorited those tweets, and resonded with cutesy "lol's," in response to grade school trash gossip that had zero to do with the seriousness of our discussion). But they didn't think about their form of slut shaming, and how it was impacting me, or others who didn't understand what their mission was meant to accomplish. As depressing as those times were, as depressing as many moments in my career have been when faced with hatred and questions about my integrity, I called on that fire that has done me good in many situations in this business. And when Taylor stood so firmly, and "spoke" so loudly, I wanted to hug her, fight for her, and possilbly write some poetry for her. 

...but for now, I'll just commend her courage. I'll thank her for giving me a boost, and for rallying so many women and men who would not stand for the misogyny and utter disrespect. We got yet another reminder that we face an uphill battle in the industry, that men can still get away with directing the conversation about us, rather than having a conversation with us, that is driven by equal respect. McNeil and Gottlieb, and the baseball writer who harassed me, are examples of men in the business who refuse to relinquish that power. How would men in their position move around the industry, if we really were equals?

As for me, reshaping my life and career came to pass. After so many years of using that proverbial fire to withstand sexist humilation from players, coaches and colleagues, I realized I needed to find the light instead. I've chosen new areas of focus, new projects, reigniting my passion, while also being mindful of how I'm feeling, unlike before, when I was mostly comfortably numb, and on autopilot. 

Yes, that also meant I was giving up a bit. I was saying, "I've had enough." That was not what I dreamed I would do, and it hurt to grow up and be willing to say that to the world. But I, like so many women in sports media, continue to walk the path, lighting it as needed along the way, or asking for light when we most need that boost. Hopefully, Taylor felt the power of the support around her. There's no doubt we DESERVE it. 

The Houston Astros Of "Second Chances"-Ville

The Houston Astros name should now be fully synonymous with "playing dirty."

There's a multitude of reasons, endless evidence that what they represent is everything that's wrong with baseball. 

While that's not a new opinion, it becomes truer over and over, with each incident of failure, followed by a failure in response to whatever they've done as an organization. 

In the latest press conference with Astros owner and chairman, Jim Crane, he answered questions on a variety of topics, including what Bob Nightengale correctly calls, "one of the greatest cheating scandals in baseball history."

"People are aggravated the players didn't get suspended," Crane says, finishing his thought with a sort of non-answer. "Listen, it's always going to be whatever you want to call it." Yes,it is. But what does he call it? 

He's non-committal later, throwing out statements colored with his own aggravation, such as, "We're sorry. We apologized," and "People wanted me out of baseball...the players suspended. They wanted everything."

Everything, as in accountability, and an ability to not posit themselves as victims, or underdogs, recovering from an unfair punishment. But many Astros players found that difficult to do including Houston's second baseman Jose Altuve, who, when asked if he feels remorese, told the media, "Yeah, kind of.", And, clearly, Astros leadership, Crane specifically, is with them in their stance. His thoughts on the scandal, and initial response in the press conference, can be read in full here.

https://www.usatoday.com/story/sports/mlb/columnist/bob-nightengale/2020/07/31/astros-owner-jim-crane-sign-stealing-sorry/5544673002/

Crane's positiion, in almost everything he's asked about, is that the Astros have been somehow wronged, everyone is asking for too much, and he feels badly only in an abstract, forced sense, because he has to, because he's being asked to feel badly. But he can barely stretch his empathy muscles when talking about people who were actually wronged. That's never more true, than when he's asked about former Assistant GM Brandon Taubman, and pitcher Roberto Osuna.

"Thank God we got Osuna," Taubman yelled, the night the team won the AL Championship Series. 

But it wasn't just that he yelled it, it was at who it was directed, and the player he was celebrating. 

Osuna had been arrested in Toronto, when still with the Blue Jays, and was charged with assault. The allegation was that he'd assaulted his girlfriend, Alejandra Roman Cota, the mother of his toddler son. As many victims of violence do, Roman Cota refused to testify. He agreed to a peace bond, which stated he couldn't contact the victim for one year. On June 22nd, after being placed on administrative leave, he received a 75-game suspension, without pay, for violating MLB's domestic violence policy, a policy that was a step in the right direction, but remains in need of tweaking. 

The length of the suspension was the third-longest under the policy, but still not nearly enough for intimate violence. Jays manager John Gibbons tone in response to the suspension, is a master class that MLB seems all too eager to teach in "both sides-ism."

"Hopefully, it all gets worked out on both sides and everyone gets the help they need, and everything works out fine," he said at the time. 

To clarify, "both sides" didn't need the same kind of help. The victim needed support, and to be centered in the story as the victim. The abuser, Osuna, was in need not just of punishment, but disciplined guidance from leadership around him. Like, say, his team's manager.

The trade from Toronto to Houston was, apparently, one the Astros took very seriously. Ultimately, they decided Osuna was worth it, and believed that he deserved the old second chance, that manages to be both without exact description, and unbelievably cruel to victims of violence. It treats the victim as if she doesn't exist. The Osuna narrative is nothing new. 

When the Astros won the AL CS, the clubhouse was, of course, filled with cheer and noisy celebration. But Taubman was especially vocal, and loud. And had a direct target. There were women reporters in the clubhouse, and they were nearby, when he bellowed, "Thank God we got Osuna." Other reporters who were present confirmed the report that Sports Illustrated reporter Stephanie Apstein tweeted. One of the women he directed his glee towards was wearing a purple domestice-violence awareness bracelet. Taubman was later fired, but not before the Astros did everything wrong. They began by defending Taubman, which included questioning the credibility and honesty of Apstein. Their first statement kicked off with callilng the SI story "misleading and completely irresponsible." They finished by stating it was "an attempt to fabricate a story where one does not exist."

After that graceless, victim-blaming statement, the Astros were forced to confront the facts. Post-terminating Taubman, then team GM Jeff Luhnow said, "I wouldn't wish it on anyone in this room, just like I wouldn't wish it on anyone in this room to sit up here, and answer these questions either." 

Do the Astros employ a violinist? They should. It's the natural accompaniment music to their response to these moments, when self-reflection and rightful responsibility utterly eludes them. 

Luhnow was later fired, even after his "apology" to Apstein, whose career he could've ruined.

But wait! Crane has some news. Another career was ruined. And it's totally unfair, according to his wisdom. 

"Brandon Taubman didn't commit domestic violence. He just made a comment. It's nothing you can defend," he said in the presser, as he literally defends Taubman. He then goes on to say, "He had a few cocktails. He was happy. There were people constantly coming at him over (Osuna), and he overreacted. Did he do the right thing? No. Everybody makes mistakes. But is he a good, genuine decent person and a smart kid? Absolutely."

This entire string of sentences is full of lies upon lies, upon absurd suggestions, and completely dismisses victims of domestic violence, the reporters Taubman taunted and renders the team's later apology a useless excercise, faithlessly concocted in order to calm the storm. All of it contains a grain of untruth. Brandon Taubman is in his thirties. Having a few cocktails doesn't make one a domestic abuser apologist and fan. He didn't JUST make a comment. He purposely directed that comment to women in the clubhouse, including one showing support for DV awareness. 

There is also, however, an unrelenting truth included in these new statements from Crane. He is sorry for nothing. He doesn't think anyone who did anything he was asked about--not cheating the game and opponents, not taunting women about a domestic abuser, nor the the abuser--should be subjected to questions of their integrity. He doesn't think they should be fired, suspended or held responsible. His leadership is a void, a gaping hole with no bottom. 

There is also a failure by many in the media to refuse any framing outside of the sympathetic one. While Bob Nightengale has built a long career, and has earned industry respect, he's one of a number of men reporters who exhibit disinterest in their reporting on these intersecting subjects, outside the "second chance" go-to framing. There's no pushing for more responsibility. There's always the centering of athletes as heroes, who've risen from the ashes of their self-made fires. 

Jim Crane is the face of all that's wounded in the heart of Major League Baseball. There are others, sure. But he stands tall, shameless, righteous in his execution of pride and progress in America's pastime. 

*alternations to the original image above were made by author

Follow on Twitter @heelsonthefield

'Sleepless In Seattle' Is A Perfect Movie For This Baseball Season And Baseball Fans. Here's Why.

Watch closely, and you'll see the impact of baseball on Sam Baldwin's life-changing decision. 

Maggie Baldwin (portrayed by Carrie Lowell, who looks like she could be Ryan's sister) is seen only briefly, but powerfully in two tender scenes. Sam either sees her spirit, or she's a figment of his imagination, when he falls asleep on the couch alone on New Year's Eve. In a few short words, we see her humor and kindness, then, we see her helplessness and sadness. She can't do anything to truly help Sam, and then she's gone.

But it's a scene early in the movie that sets the stage for Sam's life-altering realization. A co-worker approaches him at his desk, gently handing his widowed colleague a card, nudging him to see "his shrink." Sam's response is deeply defensive. He unloads his pocket, full of cards others have handed him, hoping to support him in grief. Sam immediately regrets his anger, and apologizes.

When Sam suggests getting Jonah away from there, his co-worker agrees. "Take Jonah fishing," he encourages. 

Sam replies, "No. Somewhere where I don't see Maggie everywhere I go."

The flashback that follows confirms that, not only are the Baldwins Chicago Cubs fans, but Maggie's spirit is far too present, too connected to Wrigley Field. Sam can't even go to a Cubs game without his wife there. A whole stadium is now off-limits.. And so, he decides to move his sleepless routine far away, where it "rains nine months out of the year." Where the retractable roof at Safeco Field, home of the Seattle Mariners, has been closed "eight of the stadium's18,5 seasons being closed 19-23 percent of the time," wrote Scott Sistek for the KOMO News. Where Maggie doesn't follow him to baseball games, he seems to theorize. 

Heartbroken Sam could've thought about any place he'd made memories with Maggie and Jonah. He could've recalled their wedding day, or a night spent playing cards by candlelight at home where, one could argue, he likely has the most memories of her. But in his mind, exhausted with those memories, Sam remembers a Cubs game. The slow motion image, very briefly, tells a story. Baseball was family time. Maggie was a baseball lover. She loved flowy dresses. That last one isn't important, but she looks lovely.

Sam Baldwin is a brilliant character because he's written with a broad brush, and portrayed with many emotional layers; in the simplest terms; you're getting to know him even in the last frame of the 1993 blockbuster. And we never fully see that emotional reserve overflow, until the moment he finds his son on top of the Empire State Building, and wonders if he's done everything wrong. 

Annie played by Meg Ryan is searching too, but quite differently from Sam. As an anxiety-riddled woman who loves her fiance, she's troubled by the a nagging sense that he's not the right person for her. Her feeling of connection with Sam starts via a radio show, with "Doctor Marsha," listening in as she drives home from a Christmas feast, announcing her engagement to Walter (oh, Bill Pullman, you loveable, alergic mess). Jonah called in to let radio listenders know his Dad needs a "new wife." And Dr. Marsha is happy to help. Listeners are hooked by the sad story of father and son, alone and still grieving. 

Before the fateful phone call she witnesses along with thousands of other women, and during her announcement surrounded by family, Walter sits beside her and makes a "historical reference" to baseball. 

"Today I consider myself the luckiest man-man-man on the face of the earth-earth-earth," Walter, a guy with a sweet but perhaps corny sense of humor, says at the table, post-announcement. The family is confused, and Annie, presumably a baseball fan, explains that it's the Lou Gehrig line. 

We see the makings of a romantic match between Annie and Sam. But there's something more. We know their destinies are meant to link in various key ways, and we know that what they're searching for is each other, they just don't know it yet. 

Annie's best friend Becky, played lovingly and impatiently, by Rosie O'Donnell, does send the letter that Annie wrote, and thought went in the trash. She, like the audience, is struck by the possibility that Annie and Sam are MFE, as in Made For Each Other-- a perfectly absurd acronym that the perfectly cast Gabby Hoffman (Jonah's friend Jessica) writes confidenty pretending to be Sam in response. But Sam is disturbed, not enticed, by the tons of letters he receives from women who listened to him on the radio talking about his deceased wife. Before he walks out the door to go on a date with seemingly suitable, fellow architect, Victoria, Barbara Garrick, whose quirks and charm are immediately evident later that night, Jonah begins to read Annie's letter. 

"Brooks Robinson is the best third baseman..." Jonah is impressed, and his dad, distracted and unmoved, only briefly lights up when he reads the opinion on Robinson. 

Victoria actually has a baseball up her sleeve too, suggesting she can get the Baldwins to a baseball game, in response to some heavy taunting from Jonah, who is frustrated by his Dad's refusal to pay attention to Annie's letter, and is not accepting of him dating Victoriam regardless of her offer to get box seats (the kid just doesn't know about such rare VIP treatment at a ballpark)

All of these elements might feel random, and David S. Ward actually contributed the line about Brooks Robinson, but Ephron has written about baseball before. When she was still a journalist and columnist, she wrote an essay about first woman umpire, Bernice Gera, in 1973.In 1979, she wrote "Love-- at Arm's Length." about her love for Pittsburgh Pirates reliever sidearm pitcher Ken Tekulve. Ephron clarifies in that essay, that she's "not a baseball fan." But she has her moments, of curiousity, of wonder. She was a writer and observer of all things-- personal style, aging, politics, love in all it's forms, sisterhood, certainly music, and much MUCH more-- and, as the review on the back cover of her essay collection 'Scribble, Scribble" goes, by fellow journalist John Leonard, "[she] can write about anything better than anybody else can write about anything.

The movie's themes have a nostalgic feel, and not just because it's a new twist on an old movie ("An Affair To Remember"). The soundtrack too is pure nostalgia. Even modern artists like Celine Dion cover standards, rather than contribute something modern, and easily radio playable. 

The selected songs conjure memory and a sense of something lovely that seems out of style. Ken Burns revered documentary "Baseball," features Natalie Cole and her legendary father Nat King Cole, who also features on the "Sleepless" soundtrack with the gorgeous, "Stardust." Carly Simon, who earlier contributed the theme song to Ephron's deeply personal movie "Heartburn" (adapted from her own book), is heard on "Wee Small Hours Of The Morning." on "Sleepless.: On Burns project she sings the baseball anthem "Take Me Out To The Ballgame." The Americana of Ephrons project is surely by design.

Maybe i'm crazy, but "Sleepless In Seattle" seems like a baseball lover's kind of movie.

The nostalgia, the darkly romantic themes, mixed with tug-at-your-heart romanticism, the wedding dress Annie tries on that belonged to her mother, the father and son bonding, all combine to make the story so similar to our love of baseball. And then, there's that moment. Slow-motion. Excitedly walking toward Wrigley Maggie puts her cap on. Maggie, who "made everything beautiful," who's now gone. And, in the end, the woman who believes Brooks Robinson was the best third baseman ever, finds her way to the man who loves Maggie, his son and presumably, will love Cubs games as family time. 

With all the heartache we're experiencing in the world, all of the confusion and sense of loss in our lives, and around the things we love, and that certainly includes baseball, dare I say, baseball fans, watch "Sleepless In Seattle" again or finally, if you've managed to miss it to this point. What we love about baseball, and life, is what Sleepless in Seattle pays a most heartfelt, humorous, twinkly-eyed tribute to. 

'The Wax Pack' Is A Journey Into The Soul Of Baseball And Confronting Fear

Brad Balukjian's Debut "The Wax Pack" Takes Readers On A Soulful Journey Via A Pack of Baseball Cards, And A Road Trip Seeking Out The Men Behind The Stats

Philadelphia, PA-- Brad Balukjian wanted answers.

As a biology teacher, he's accustomed to helping to answer many questions every day. But beyond science, he wanted to understand more about himself. He wanted to understand more about the people he’d known as a kid. Not his neighbors, but baseball players. And particularly those who were not exactly in the limelight anymore, or, perhaps, never quite were in the white hot spotlight, even when they played in the major leagues.

The entire project began with a few scribbled questions in his scorebook. One of which was, "What can I learn from them about what lies ahead for me?" That question led to others, and then, to a plan. The final project, "The Wax Pack: On The Road In Search Of Baseball's Afterlife,: isn’t just a book about baseball or players; it’s not just a record of history: it’s biographical, yes, but there’s a deeper intimacy that permeates the stories--both Balukjian’s and the players--and how they’re told.

“Some of it developed as I wrote. I didn’t know I was going to write about OCD, or relationships," said Balukjian by telephone in late spring. "But I ended up writing about connections and fear. I knew I’d be a character in the book but I didn’t know to what degree.”

Tonally, there’s a mixed bag in his repertoire: humor, heavier elements recalling personal failures and loss, there are tales of wild times, settling down, and, ultimately, family. :

“I’m glad you picked up on that. Thank you. That was my intention. Some of the stories were just going to be funny, others were going to be very sad and serious,” he said.

Balukjian grew up obsessed with underdogs, feeling like one himself, he talks about the feeling of standing alone in a corner, or a favorte train track at the local station, simply beause it was underused.

Baseball underdogs and "benchwarmers" were also a favorite as his passion for baseball deepened throughout his childhood. He attended "countless ball games as a kid," he writes, and it was his dad to taught him how to wrap tin foil around the antenna of his transistor radio in order to hear Philadelphia Phillies games. 

The book is as much about fathers and sons, as it is about the experience of baseball, and personal struggles. The real romance here, is about a boy and his dad, bonding through the love of the game. A passion passed down, and nurtured simply by sitting and gazing ahead at a field and an unfolding contest. 

He bridges that kind of experience to players he talks to on the trip. One of those players Lee Mazzilli, a former New York Mets first round pick, who played part of his thirteen year career in the outfield for the Mets, as well as the Yankees and Texas Rangers. When his son, Lee Jr., known as L.J., was drafted out of the University of Connecticut, the former Husky was greeted with fanfare by Mets media, personnel and fans. Following in his father's footsteps, a story that fits so snuggly into this collection, young Mazzilli had some pressure on him to be part of a story bigger than himself. But while covering him when he played for the Short Season Mets affiliate, the Brooklyn Cyclones, he never seemed wrapped up in that; perhaps on guard is a better way to describe his demeanor. The night of the MLB Draft, he could've immediately been pulled into the media lights. But instead of agreeing to talk, he quickly informed me that it wasn't quite time for that. 

"Yeah, I just want to be with my parents right now," he said. That personal story didn't surprise Balukjian. 

"With them, it's all about family," he said, recalling the unassuming warmth and welcome mat he received upon talking with Mazzilli matriarch Dani."She treats you like an old friend. It's a wonderful family life to witness."

During that portion of the trip, Balujkian's father was able to join his son's adventure. It was an important moment for him to connect his relationship with baseball, his dad and his mission. 

"The timing was perfect to bring those stories together. [Him being there], and talking with Lee, showed the bonds between father and sons, through baseball," Balukjian said. 

While the author intimates that the book is largely about fathers and sons, he recently clarified on his Twitter account that his relationship with his mother, and her support of his love for baseball, particularly collecting hard to find cards, was a big part of his childhood; calling her “supportive and loving;” he remembers her being open to a drive to search for something he pined for.

“I would make lists of all the “common cards” that I wanted to collect. This is all pre-internet, so getting those cards meant going to baseball card shops or the houses of private collectors with my lists of players no one wanted, and it was my mom who would drive me to all these places because she saw how passionate I was, and how much joy it brought me. She is one of my heroes,” he said. In the book, he also thanks for not throwing out the collection, keeping them stored safely in her condo. 

As he prepared to release the passion project, one that had been rejected 37 times before Nebraska Press gave it the green light, a dark cloud moved in. At first, our safety didn't seem threatened, but worry grew quickly: what would become of this thing called “COVID-19?” We never imagined the weeks ahead. How life would become unrecognizable; our worries were transformed to something often seen in movies (PANIC), Leisure and the day-to-day humdrum would suddenly be thwarted, shaped into a new and strained normal. For authors with promotional book tours, well, that wasn’t going to happen. From that vacant space, a special club was borne of the need to amplify their work, and not see threir long-developed projects fall through the cracks.

“The Pandemic Baseball Book Club started when several of us with books affected by the pandemic, began promoting each other’s works on Twitter, and discussing how we might help each other,” he said. “It’s grown to a group of twenty-three writers with a podcast, swag, a blog, and much more. Although I haven’t met most of the members in person, I feel like they’ve been friends for years. It’s been touching to see how everyone has worked to help each other.”

The club includes Anika Orrock (“I’ve known her for years”), Emily Nemens, D.B. Firstman, Joan Ryan, Ralph Carhart, and Kat Williams.

His plans for a future project will likely focus on his vocation, something scientific (one could argue that he could write a scientific book about baseball!), but, according to Balukjian, there will be no sequel to something he feels turned out so perfectly, all the pieces, the stories, the characters, Balukjian included, found their way to one another in a fateful, fascinating way.

Perhaps he found some of the answers he was looking for.

Follow Brad Balukjian on Twitter @waxpackbook

The Emotional Connection of a Baseball Life: Part Two

The Emotional Connection of A Baseball Life: Part Two

March 28^th, 2019.

It was an early beginning of the baseball season, with all 30 teams playing that day. Bryce Harper made his Phillies debut. The Dodgers hit eight home runs, an Opening Day record. Jacob deGrom and Max Scherzer dueled on the mound, with deGrom winning the battle, going six innings, throwing just 93 pitches, allowing five hits and one walk. The Nationals lost 2-0 to the Mets, and most of the news focused on a Harper-less lineup (with the big acquisition of Robinson Cano); a Harper-less lineup would be the focus of conversation again for a different reason, when, on October 30^th, they became World Series champions.

March 28^th, 2020. There is nothing to recall.

As April begins, baseball fans consider the emotional impact of a baseball-less month, when we’re so used to these days filled with early anxiety, excitement and, in some places, lingering chilly, rainy weather. That strangeness has been replaced with what seems far to similar to classic Twilight Zone episodes of displacement and confusion.

“It’s just that I cannot remember an April where I haven’t gone to a ballgame,” says Twitter user @brett535sports,” Watching these replays can’t replace that anticipation and release of the first time seeing the park and the field. I started going with my father. Then by myself after my divorce, then later with my mother, and back again, by myself, after she passed away. So, I think of them both when I’m there. I will miss that connection.”

Protecting our health and the lives of everyone around us has become a tedious effort, full of fear of touching something infected, or breathing the air of someone who’s been infected. We’re now wearing masks en masse, as the air turns warmer, the skies bluer. Baseball is not our way of connecting or soothing ourselves right now. Staying home in a cocoon of safety with lots of paper towels, Netflix, and home-improvement projects is. But our longing is not a distant bell. It’s genuine and meaningful. Things that bring us joy are important. Things that accompany us while healing, whether physical, mental, or both matter.

“A year ago, I shattered my hip at work. 29 years old, in a hospital with a shattered hip. Fun times,” said Christopher Healey,”But being able to watch the Mariners as I was laid up, and then fighting through rehab, gave me a break from reality, and the strength to keep fighting.”

In her 2017 piece for Baseball Prospectus Toronto, Rachael McDaniel wrote about the “intersection” of baseball and depression in her own life.

“My experience of baseball as an adult has been inseparable from my experience of mental illness. The 2015 Blue Jays were instrumental in pullng me out of the single worst depressive episode of my life. While I’ve never been quite that bad since then, baseball is something I would feel pretty lost without.”

On March 13^th she wrote “Un-Opening Day” for Fangraphs, that she wasn’t “overly sad about it,” because we have to be responsible for ourselves and others in the face of this pandemic, but goes on to say what so many baseball fans are feeling,”Our most reliable antidotes to sadness, too, have been canceled.”

In the face of tragedy, whether in a community, the country, or in our personal lives, we can turn to the game of baseball, like a warm blanket. It’s a sport defined by warmth: the air, the arm getting “warm,” as we eat a hot dog or soft pretzel, then turning to a soothing cool down from a soda, or beer or ice cream in a mini helmet. We bask in the quiet, comforting glow that greets us in April and May, just before the intensity of the heat and the season turn up a few notches, reaching fever pitch in July and August, when we’re wringing our hands, hoping, yelling, sweating, literally and figuratively.

Not being outdoors, to enjoy each other’s company, and take in a ballgame, isn’t the end of the world, we’ll survive. But not having it there also isn’t the smallest of things. Its absence is tied to a deeper sense of ourselves and our lives, wrapped up in our identity, and our way of life.

“I’m having a horrendous time now, dealing with the isolation and no sports. It was my way of decompressing and de-stressing,” said Twitter user @Vibrantankles. He went onto say that baseball was his way of connecting with his dad as an “awkward teenager,” as they yelled at cheered watching games at home or at Fenway. “The thrill,” he said, “of walking down Yawkey Way (now Jersey Street) before a game.”

Family is so often mentioned in the thread of our baseball lives. We can’t overstate the power of bonding through sports, and baseball has bonded families throughout time. We can’t dismiss the power of the game to give us something to talk about or love, with a family member that we might not have much else in common with, or family we love but don’t see all that often.

“We plan our reunions for Phillies games,complete with homemade Phanatic cupcakes,” said Katie Shelley. “We have group texts to watch the game “together,” all over the world. We still wax nostalgic about previous seasons, but I would love to be watching new ones right now.”

There are also unique ways baseball fans have found the familial in their lives.

“I got a son,” said Twitter user @BaseballBetsy, who authors a baseball blog, and does photography work, under the same moniker.”I met a GCL [Gulf Coast League] kid when he was 17, and [we became friends.] He now calls me and my husband, Mom and Dad. I’m the “abuela” to his baby daughter. When he ruined  his knee, he called me. When he was rehabbing, we ate dinner together and celebrated Christmas together. He IS my son.”

We’re left now without live baseball, but, instead, a reflection on what it’s meant to us. We’re not able to see what we love as we have. But that doesn’t erase the feeling. We’re looking not just for baseball, but for the connection baseball provides.

This is our April.

The Emotional Connection of a Baseball Life: Part One

 

The Emotional Connection of a Baseball Life

By Jessica Quiroli

 

The sounds of baseball are distinct.

The pop of the bat, the hard slap of the ball in the glove, a fielder yelling, “I got it! I got it!” to his nearby teammates. Vendors making the rounds, walk-up music that becomes familiar to home team fans when each player makes their appearance. Then there’s the distinct sound of baseball silence. It’s a low key hum, the buzz of the next moment unfolding slowly: player steps out of the batters box, his name announced, he takes a moment at the plate, as does the pitcher. We are generally, usually, seated. Waiting. There’s something coming, but it doesn’t happen in an on-field huddle or echo off of a hardwood floor. It simmers. Then…the pop. Or a crack. Bat. Glove. Some sound that lifts the crowd in anticipation, groaning or cheering, willing it their way.

As quiet as the game of baseball is, it’s distinct sounds are embedded in the minds and hearts of baseball fans. To not hear those sounds, on an April afternoon scheduled to be opening week, is a silence that feels brutally relentless and entirely unfamiliar. Coronavirus, a global pandemic, has stopped human existence as we knew it, for the time being, with no timetable yet clear.

How strange this world to a baseball fan, in the spring, the season of baseball’s new life, we're sitting and staring out a window, as if it were winter in the Rogers Hornsby quote; that quote, so famous for capturing the holding pattern of winter for anyone who loves, plays or works in baseball.

There’s a deeper meaning to baseball’s presence in many fans lives. It connects them to memories of family, to their children as they grew up, and, even, to weddings.

“My husband and I fell in love bonding over baseball,” says Heather Linington-Noble, an Orioles “super fan and writer. “We had an Orioles/Dodgers wedding.” [as seen in photo]

But, as Heather also points out, the depth of the connection to baseball is far more than just romantic or fun, and it’s more complex than just being escapism. Baseball is an elixir for those suffering from depression, anxiety and difficult moments in life that feel overwhelming. I’m among them. And I’ve been open about that in the last few years.

“Baseball is my safe space,” Linington continues,” It’s what grounds me, and keeps me centered and sane, however chaotic the rest of my life is, and no matter how depressed I am, I know I can find comfort in baseball.”

In 2014, Eric Simons wrote “What science can tell sportswriters about why we love sports,” examining the emotional behaviors of sports fans, and why it all means so damn much to us. He cited a lot of solid research, some of it fun, some of it inconclusive, and a lot of it very enlightening.

“There is no single answer to why people watch sports, because the answer doesn’t lie in the game; it lies inside the individual,” he wrote. He went onto write about mirror neurons, neurons that fire when an animal acts, and when the animal then observes the same action performed by another. In other words, we connect with those who are like us, and love the same things. We see ourselves, and we feel seen.

One example that kept coming up when I asked baseball Twitter about their emotional connections to baseball was loss. When we share that love, and a person we shared it with is gone, the experience shifts to mean something beyond being a fan.

A baseball fan known as @christy_doc, answered in a few short, heavy-hearted words.

“My oldest brother took his own life two years ago in March. His birthday is October 30^th. I’ve been a Nationals fan since 2012,” she wrote.

The Washington Nationals won the World Series on October 30^th, 2019.

“I will always remember that night no matter what,” Christy said. “I was bawling my eyes out on the living room floor that night.”

Her experience isn’t unique, but it’s an intensely private pain that puts our love of the game in perspective. We’re tethered to teams in many ways, sharing our suffering when they lose, while also feeling the power of a loss of someone through the game. When the Nationals won the World Series, Christy’s partner in the love of the team wasn’t there. Our mourning of loved ones can be deeply tied to our baseball memories.

In answer to that, how does baseball heal us? What does it provide us spiritually? And what impact does watching, and being part of the baseball community have on depression?

Karen Soutar, a one-time contributor to All Heels on Deck, and current staff writer for Jays From the Couch, recalls a particularly challenging period of her life when baseball had meaningful impact on how she coped.

“I suffered from depression years ago, and took medication to get better,” she responded on Twitter. “The absence of baseball is threatening to send me “down that rabbit hole” again. I’m just trying to keep busy and focus on as many positives as I can.”

As April begins without a baseball game, without those sounds, we’re seeking each other out, as partners, as friends, as a community support system. We’re seeking the positives, but also a way to keep close what we love.

In Part Two of this series, we’ll share more of those loving fan memories, and explore more of the important ways baseball has been a way to manage depression.

EXCLUSIVE: Anika Orrock's New Book on the AAGPBL Is Masterful Work

Q & A with Author Anika Orrock

In hew new book, Anika Orrock vividly brings to life the world of women who played in the All American Girls Professional Baseball League.

 

"The Incredible Women of the All-American Girls Professional League," released today and available on Amazon, is a loving tribute, an intimate retelling and an unblinking study of the lives and experiences of women who played baseball professionally.

 

The illustrations, also by Orrock, don't just serve as accompanying artwork; they're as much a part of the story, adding more emotional depth to the stories the players tell in their own words about everything from their childhoods, to the way they were expected to dress, and how playing professionally impacted the rest of their lives. 

 

Orrock spoke with HOTF this weekend. You can find additional quotes from this interview on the All Heels on Deck subsriber page on Patreon.

 

 

HOTF: Women's baseball was revolutionary but it was a time of revolution in women's lives. Our right to

 vote was only 25 years old when the league formed. How did the movement politically & socially impact the league's formation, if at all?

 

 

AO: The period between suffrage and a landmark like Title IX is so short in the grand scheme of things,

but the scale of the shifts that took place for women in those 52 years is just so immense. Our right to vote wasn’t even quite 25 years old when the league formed in 1943 - it took nearly TWICE that long for the 19th amendment to pass after it was first introduced to congress. Knowing what we know now about roles and perceptions of women by the mid century, it’s pretty incredible to think of how quickly momentum was already moving - at least comparatively - for women by the time WW2 arrived.

 

 

I think the league was born out of this sweeping necessity for women to step into roles they had never

previously occupied, and that necessity gave way to an unprecedented level of acceptance - even if “temporarily”, much more so than during the First World War. Women were taking on heavy duty, high-skill jobs and being admitted into all-male trade unions; they were building ships and airplanes and driving fire trucks! 

 

It was this very unique time where all bets were off, in a way.

 

 

HOTF: Baseball was part of so many of the players lives very early, just as it was for boys. But professional

 women's baseball gets erased. Even with the "A League of Their Own" movie. Why does that acknowledgement seem so hard to get? Why is there such resistance?

 

AO: That is a very good question. It really doesn’t make sense that it would still be that way, nearly

seventy years after the AAGPBL folded. Unfortunately, it kind of seems to come down to a traceable moment when something occurred that set up the foundation for a system, and institutions and systems are difficult to break.

 

Two years after the passage of Title IX, a lawsuit was filed on behalf of a young girl who was kicked

off of her Little League team for simply being a girl. The Little League organization fought hard

 to keep girls out, coming up with hilariously bad “scientific findings” about girls’ bodies and the terrible impact any cosmetic damage from playing could have on the rest of their lives. But in the end, Little League was ordered to permit girls, so to avoid thousands of further impending lawsuits, they came up with a clever little scheme: divert and develop girls’ softball. That set the foundation from which every channel of opportunity and development for girls, from preschool through college, was built. And it’s not a bad thing! Softball has grown into a highly competitive sport and produced some legendary athletes! It’s just not the same sport as baseball, and I think that’s the acknowledgement that is so difficult to get.

 

Most people do not know how completely different softball is from baseball, so to this day, they just think of softball as “girls’ baseball”. Like it’s “good enough”, women have their ball-and-stick sport, so why develop the same thing all over again? But it’s NOT the same thing, and women’s baseball has suffered arrested development because of that mentality. It’s a strange phenomenon where each of those sports has been sort of assigned a gender. There is men’s basketball and women’s basketball; men’s hockey and

 women’s hockey. But they’re playing the same sport.

 

 Gender assignment in general is currently experiencing a revolution. I’m very intrigued and excited

 to see what new shifts are taking place and are yet to come.

 

 

HOTF: Dolly Niemiec is quoted as saying, "I thought I was the only one," who played baseball as a young

 girl. It actually reminded me of a line Doris says in ALOTO, about feeling different and weird until she joined the team. The emotional connection was so profound. Do you have a favorite quote or story from any of the women about that bond?

 

AO: I love that quote from Dolly! I think my favorite follow up to that would be when she went on to tell

me about how stunned she was when she walked in to spring training and saw “all these other girls my age throwing the ball like I did, swinging, running, sliding––and I thought, “Where did all these gals come from?!” 

Most of the women I spoke with had that reaction when they arrived to their first spring training.They all grew up being the only girl in their family, on their block, in their neighborhood, in their town who played baseball! I can only imagine what that must have felt like to realize there were so many others like you!

And not just others who played incredible baseball.

 

It was also the first time any of them had traveled away from home, first time they’d played in front of a decent-to-large-sized crowd, first time they’d gotten any sort of “celebrity” attention or had their name printed in the newspaper. For those who played in 1947, it was the first time near any of them had been on an airplane or to a different country (Cuba). And collectively, they received the same amount of skepticism and criticism, coiffing and charm schooling. Everything was new to them — even each other! They were pioneering unchartered territory together, and at the center of it all, they shared this lifelong love of baseball, and together they were fulfilling a lifelong dream of being paid to play it. I imagine that created

some amazing friendships, emotional connections, and bonds between them.

 

 

HOTF: Why did they use "softball rules?" Did that make the day to day easier for less experienced players?

Or was there another reason? Well, Wrigley initially conceived of a softball league after having been to a few women’s softball games. That was all there was! There weren’t any women’s baseball games to see! I think perhaps he suffered from the same unintentional ignorance that exists today. Women were playing softball in organized leagues by that point. They weren’t exactly creating “pictures of femininity”, but it was something Wrigley could work with. Baseball was just thought of as too rough, too hard, too competitive - there was chewing and spitting and sliding. So I think the softball rules were initially just a natural symptom of that.

What Wrigley was not quite expecting was the players’ level of athleticism and competition once the best of the best were on a field together. Suddenly the base path distances weren’t long enough; the distance from the mound to the plate was too short; the ball was too big.Several of the women had played softball before joining the league, but many of them had not, a great many of them had only played baseball, had only thrown overhand, etc. So it certainly wouldn’t have been easier for most of the players, maybe just easier for Wrigley and his management. In fact, it would have probably been more difficult for most of the players, which is why I think the game shifted so quickly to baseball. 

 

 

5. The ball changed over time too, and eventually they were throwing overhand. Were there more injuries?

 Which players seemed to adapt quite easily?

 

Jean Faut, arguably the greatest pitcher in the league, grew up pitching overhand and had spent a great deal of time under the tutelage of her local men’s baseball team, so she had already learned and worked on several baseball pitches. “When they really went to complete overhand pitching,” she said, “I was home free. I knew all the pitches and they had a lot of trouble hitting off me.” Those who had played softball previously were such great athletes, they were either able to adapt to overhand throwing in short time or easily adapt to another field position.

 

The same can be said for the size of the ball. Most women I spoke with felt like they could finally really play every time the ball got smaller, if for no other reason than they could fit their hands around it. Catherine Horstman told me that when “we played with a regular baseball—oh my god, how easy! I mean...I could grip that ball, wow — and hit it!”

 

HOTF: Advertising their femininity was very important. Were the women comfortable with that? Was there

 any fun engaging in the celebrity aspect once they started gaining attention? 

 

AO: I don’t know how many of them were comfortable with the uniform in terms of practicality when playing.

 Having to jump and field grounders with a skirt flying in your face didn’t sound all that fun — not to mention the sliding. I’m unsure to what degree some of them were comfortable or uncomfortable having to act and appear feminine, I’m sure it was different or everyone, just as it is now. The difference, however, is that now, if we don’t consider ourselves to be extremely feminine, or if dressing femininely or wearing makeup is uncomfortable, we just don’t do it, and that’s okay. Few jobs depend on - or can get away with imposing - femininity these days. That wasn’t even the case 25 years ago! My mom was a flight attendant when I was growing up in the 80s and 90s and I remember her heels having to be a certain height; she was regularly weighed on a scale, her lipstick had to be freshly applied before greeting passengers - that seems crazy now!

 

If it was uncomfortable for any of the women in the league, they weren’t really at freedom to complain

about it. Feminine presentation was written right in the rules, and if you didn’t follow the rules, you went home. As nutty as it sounds, a lot of them were happy to curl their hair and wear a dress if it meant getting paid to play baseball. I’m not really sure if any of them had fun engaging in the celebrity aspect, per se. Several of the women talked about how enjoyable it was to greet fans and talk to kids. Some of them had really funny stories about some cuckoo fans, but most fans really treated the women with a lot of respect and were really generous with them, and vice versa. But I don’t get the impression there were many real-life All the Way Mae’s in the league.

 

 

HOTF: What did the ALOTO movie do for the history of the league? How much did Penny Marshall's story get

 right about the experience?

 

AO: That movie changed everything. There were families who didn’t even know their own mother, grandmother, aunt, etc. had played professional baseball until that movie came out! The women who had played didn’t really talk about it, and American history being written the way it has since birth, NO one really talked about it. I think part of it is because many of the women didn’t yet realize there was significance to what they had been a part of. They just knew they fulfilled a patriotic duty and got paid to play baseball for as long as the dream lasted. But for most, they just got tired of fending off stereotypes and having to laboriously convince people that they had once played professional baseball.

 

One player in the book, Lavonne Paire, talked about a conversation that still happens to women baseball

players to this day, where “you can look ‘em right in the eye and say ‘baseball,’ and they’ll look you right back and say ‘softball’.” So they just stopped talking about it!

 

What Penny Marshall did was let the world know that this amazing thing had happened. They went from never talking about it to suddenly being asked to talk about it all the time.I find that so incredibly wonderful. 

 

For that reason, whatever aspects of the league’s history that were given the Hollywood “sheen”, (for

example: the drunken, stumbling coach or the prude and skittish chaperone) I think those things could be forgiven. Not just because of the overall impact of the film, but also because the women who actually lived those experiences were now out in the world,sharing their stories and giving insight into how things really happened.

 

HOTF: Finally, what do you hope to teach not just young girls, but women, about the true history & women's

 place in baseball?

 

AO: I hope these stories will help women understand the significance of what happened as well as the spirit

 of it. It’s very easy to rely on our filters of the present in judging these stories and experiences. It’s easy to shake our heads and scoff at what a travesty it was that these women’s lives were dictated or ruled by men and that they were forced to play baseball in skirts. Also, it should be known that these women were treated like professional ball players by their coaches.

 

One woman expressed offense that I would bring these stories to light the way I have, and with illustrations. I would argue that point of view limits the legacy of these women and potentially dulls the impact it can have on lessons of perseverance and grit. This happened at a very unlikely time and it hasn’t happened since. Whether it’s right or not, without the skirts, the lipstick, the rules of decorum and the chaperones at that time, it just wouldn’t have happened at all. And then where would we be? The real legacy is not that these women had to wear skirts while playing baseball, it’s that they played seven games per week of incredible professional baseball despite wearing skirts. And they experienced what many of them have described as the best years of their lives - it’s why they still gather for an annual reunion! They wouldn’t be getting together every year to relive their most oppressive times with one another. And they were paid significant salaries to play, which gave them access to higher education and other opportunities most women didn’t have access to at the time. They went on to teach younger generations and set powerful examples. So there’s a rather incredible ripple effect there that has grown in beautiful and important ways in spite of a patriarchy.

 

I hope these stories of grit, determination, and individuality teach young girls to stick to their guns, to be true to themselves and stay the course of their dreams. Even if they don’t see a clear cut path - or any path at all. There was no path for these women to play pro baseball, but many of them played anyway because they loved it and they were good at it. When the opportunity suddenly appeared, they were ready. because it seems like a professional women’s baseball league should have developed again by now, it’s easy to wonder if it ever will. There’s also a whole generation of young girls who aren’t aware that it’s already happened! I get a thrill just thinking of a young girl picking up this book and learning about this league for the first time. There is tremendous empowerment in knowing what we thought to be impossible has actually happened, and is therefore no longer impossible. If we know something is possible,who or what is to stop us?

 

Buy on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Incredible-All-American-Professional-Baseball-League/dp/1452173648/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1LP7VO0K79748&keywords=anika+orrock&qid=1583872375&s=books&sprefix=anika+orrock%2Caps%2C1371&sr=1-1

 

Patreon:

https://www.patreon.com/posts/34773681

 

Twitter:

Anika Orrock @Anikadrawls

All-American Girls Professional Baseball League @AAGPBL

Profile: Baseball Author D.B. Firstman

Not Just A Name

D.B. Firstman’s baseball book examining the weird history of baseball player names debuts, while experiencing a life-affirming, personal transformation

 

"I've been a word nerd since childhood," says D.B. Firstman, author of the new baseball book, 'Hall of Name: Baseball's Most Magnificent Monikers.' "I loved to read as a kid. (her favorite baseball book is the reference dictionary, The Dickson Baseball Dictionary .....  https://www.amazon.com/Dickson-Baseball-Dictionary-Third/dp/0393340082) "My mother taught me to play Scrabble at an early age (I play in Scrabble tourneys nowadays). I've always been into names and their etymologies."

Word nerds, know etymologies, the study of the origin of words and how their meanings have eveloved throughout time (the word baseball is traced back to 1845, but also makes an appearance in Jane Austen's "Northanger Abbey, referenced as rounders).

On the Value Over Replacement Grit Blog, Firstman regularly featured "great names" in baseball history, and found stories in current baseball stories (the 'Ice Cream Roster,' about then Seattle Mariners prospect Jesus Montero having a run in with a team scout over an ice cream sandwich, then lists ice cream related baseball names, and it's a delight). The search for a publisher for a book of write-ups from the feature wasn't successful, but they saw the popularity of self-publishing and went forward with the idea.

"I was looking to branch out in terms of my writing. I had a 7-year-old blog. I had done a major research article for SABR. I wanted to do something else," Firstman said, "After some fits and starts regarding the type of book I wanted to write, I came back to the names, and this time decided to self-publish." 

 

The book begins with a warm, funny foreword by veteran baseball writer Jayson Stark, who shares Firstman's love of the frequent strangeness of baseball names. 

 

(All Heels on Deck featured a review by Clinton Riddle https://www.patreon.com/posts/game-of-names-34277293)

 

 

After completion of the first draft, Firstman began to consider something else in their life. They spoke publicly in December about being born intersex, and subsequently raised female. In a tweet detailing the experience, they said, "don't want to be a man, but reached a point where I want as little to do with declaring myself female as possible. I'm considering myself non-binary." Later, they tweeted, about the decision, "this is my f***ing Independence Day." In January, they filed paperwork for a name change. 

 

"My awakening/epiphany came on its own schedule," they said. "I'm riding a wave of good vibes now...more comfortable in my own skin and capitalizing on my ability as a writer." 

 

The book has the feeling of matching those "good vibes," with the passion and fun emitting from every page, the love of words is certainly obvious; it's a read for the curious spirit, the baseball fan who loves to learn something new about the summer game. And, as it were, the baseball writer who loves seeing the name "Jarrod Saltalamacchia (SALTY!), and remembering how exciting it was to finally know how to pronounce it when he made his major league debut. Also particularly fun, is the chapter "Dirty Names Done Cheap," with sections on all your filthy faves, including Rusty Kuntz, J.J. Putz, and Pete LaCock. You're learning fun facts, but you're being uniquely educated. Stats are secondary in this baseball hall.

 

Firstman sees the value of the work, but also recognizes the wonderfully odd humor of the overall tone. 

 

"I think readers will enjoy this book because I thread the needle between "reference book" and "humor book." I'm gently poking fun (but mostly celebrating) the great given names of ballplayers, while educating readers on the names origins.  In this way I think it will appeal to scholarly types and people who are just into odd names."

 

Scholars sit with the non-scholars at the ballpark, and they all enjoy the game.This book captures that same spirit. And as the 2020 baseball season kicks off wrapped in depressing controversies, Firstman's offering is a welcome respite. 

MiLB Watch: What's Next in the Fight for a Fair Wage? Garrett Broshius Answers

MiLB Watch will be a recurring feature on HOTF, running short interviews and stories, as well as servivng as a round-up of five current stoies of interest. While HOTF was once a MiLB-only platform, the re-launch has expanded the focus. MiLB will continue to be a leading issue covered here. I hope MiLB Watch is informative and entertaining to baseball fans.~ Jessica Quiroli, Editor/Founder HOTF

Garrett Broshius Continues His Longtime Fight To Get A Fair Wage For Minor Leaguers

Broshius has been minor league players biggest champion for many years. He's a former player, so he knows exactly what that life is like. But when he became a lawyer, he made minor league pay a focal point in his legal career. His fight is personal. And in light of recent positive developments, he's in it for the long haul. Here's what he had to say over the weekend.

HOTF: When you began this work so many years ago, did you view this as a "political" issue? One that needed attention as a working class issue, not just in the realm of baseball?

GB: When I was still playing many years ago, I didn’t view it as a political issue—just an issue of basic fairness. We spent all these hours working at the field, doing whatever we were told, and yet some of my teammates could barely afford to eat. It never seemed right. Why in Double-A, while just two steps from the big leagues, were players being paid $7,500 for an entire year of work?

As the years went by, though, I did start to see it through the lens of a larger trend in our society. We’re in a new Gilded Age, with disparities in wealth reaching record levels, and with the divide between haves and have nots growing every day. Baseball is a microcosm of that trend. Since MLB players achieved free agency in 1976, MLB salaries have risen by over 3000%. MLB revenue growth has grown even more quickly. And yet minor league salaries have hardly budged over that time. That’s not to say that minor league players should be compensated like major league players—of course they shouldn’t be. But is minimum wage too much to ask for? Is $15,000 for an entire year of work too much? Indeed, the average minor leaguer has far less purchasing power today than in 1976. The batboy often makes more per hour than the minor league players.

And now MLB’s proposal to shutter 42 minor league teams has delivered it fully into the political arena. I only hope that politicians realize that not only do we need to protect these teams, but we also need to protect these players and ensure that they make above-poverty-level wages. We can do better, and we must do better if we want our national pastime to thrive in future generations.

HOTF: During the long process, what conversations have stood out to you with players you've talked to or who are in the lawsuit. I'm in no way asking for names. Just things that have impacted you or reminded you why this is so important. 

The magnitude of the problem is really astounding because it’s system-wide. With MLB enjoying an antitrust exemption that allows the MLB teams to collude on minor league salaries, and with no minor league union to push back against these collusive efforts, salaries have been suppressed far below the market value. The result is across-the-board hardships. Players cramming six guys into two-bedroom apartments, sleeping on air mattresses. A player who couldn’t afford a plane ticket for his young son to come out and see him. A player who would skip meals to save money; the first thing he would eat would be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at the field. Those are the guys we’re trying to help out.

HOTF: The proposal to eliminate 42 MiLB teams has stunned & frustrated many people. How will players, particularly new draftees, suffer without more opportunities to play? Do you believe MLB will execute the plan?

Fewer teams means fewer minor league teams, which means fewer minor league players. There are so many examples of players drafted beyond the 20^th round making it to the big leagues. So I hope it doesn’t come to fruition. Obviously I would love to see higher minor league salaries—that’s what we’re fighting for. I’d also love to see some playing surfaces bettered and some clubhouses upgraded. And some of the leagues are, without a doubt, too spread out and it causes travel headaches (and backaches). Those are real problems that MLB is complaining about. But I hope the folks negotiating the PBA can address those problems without cutting teams. There’s a lot of time left before the current PBA expires, so I’m cautiously optimistic.

HOTF: Finally, what's the next step in the lawsuit? How much progress are you making? 

We won our appeal in the Ninth Circuit in August, which allows the case to remain a class action. MLB has indicated that it intends to ask the Supreme Court to take the case, which is what is currently preventing us from getting back to the trial court. We’re doing some things to try to get back to the trial court as quickly as possible because we’re ready to get moving again. And there are a lot of minor leaguers going to spring training soon—where they’ll work without pay for an entire month—who are anxious to see us get moving again. So we’ve already completed a lot of the work and are making progress, but we have a lot more to do.

Hall Pass: Examining the Character Criteria In Baseball HOF Voting

What exactly did the BBWAA mean to say by “character” when deciding the criteria for induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame?

This question envelopes the HOF discussion, to the point of smothering, and every year the debate gets bigger, more fiery; but with no concrete answers or viable solutions to the question.

Here’s the exact wording in the BBWAA Rules for Voting:

Voting shall be based upon the player’s record, playing ability, integrity, sportsmanship, character, and contributions to the team(s) on which the player played.

There’s a lot we can interpret on our own terms. Such as in regarding “integrity.” We hold different things more dear, and to different degrees. We’re not going to agree on all the variables of human behavior. Something you think exhibits a lack of integrity might not affect another person the same. And, as for voters, what they believe about integrity is to their discretion.

As we explore these ideas, weighing all the factors, there’s also not as much variety in the discussion.

A half hour of research of writing on the character question led to just one part of the voting block. And also probably the majority. Every story was written by men, most of them white. Every expression of outrage that character has been interpreted to exclude former Red Sox pitcher Curt Schilling, was mostly made by white men. They dismissed voters reasoning as “political,” or having a problem with his “personality.” One writer clarified his emotional attachment early in his story by calling Schilling “Big Schill,” then wrote that the former pitcher should merely “delete his Twitter account.”

That’s not to suggest that no white men struggle with the inclusion of character, particularly in terms of Schilling. On the contrary. There are many. Among them is Ted Berg, who describes Schilling as a “right leaning political firebrand[whose spent] post-playing days gleefully sharing specious xenophobic, transphobic, and conspiratorial memes.” Berg doesn’t dance around the subject. Schilling’s comments are pure hate in his estimation.

In the days leading up to the HOF inductees announcement, there was actually argument FOR his character as one of the reasons he should be inducted. During his playing days, Schilling was an early leader in MLB in the fight against ALS. He and his wife Shonda were inducted into the Association’s Hall of Fame in 2009, after years of relentless, passionate advocacy. He also won the Roberto Clemente Award in 2001, one of the highest honors an active player can receive. His work on behalf of ALS research and support of those with the disease, and their families, should not and cannot be erased. But neither can suggesting violence against a woman he disagrees with (“Hillary Clinton should be buried under a prison”) or journalists (in response to a Trump fan’s shirt that read, “Rope, Tree, Journalist,” he tweeted, “so much awesome).

But we cannot hang that hat solely on Schilling. If we're going to discuss character in the Baseball Hall debate, we need to dive deeper ,and be a whole lot more honest.

We don’t have to reach too far back for examples of Hall voters overlooking terrible behavior. If there’s a standard, it’s not consistent.

Former Atlanta Braves manager Bobby Cox was arrested for punching his wife, and according to police reports, he had a “continuing pattern of domestic violence.” Former Minnesota Twins centerfielder Kirby Puckett allegedly strangled his wife with a phone cord. He was also charged with sexually assaulting a woman in a restaurant bathroom. Both are highly revered, deeply loved by fans and teammates. Both are in the Baseball Hall of Fame.

In researching Ty Cobb’s history, particularly that he was openly racist, is also heavily influenced by the voices of white men. It’s hard to get a full picture when white male baseball fans dominate the conversation, insisting that, no, he was not, and there’s no argument. They write books about it, and flatly deny the experiences of black players who came into contact with him. In his New York Post 2015 piece, Kyle Smith confirms that Cobb was overhead to use “the N word,” but goes on to say, “Today that behavior would certainly brand you as a racist, but racial slurs were commonplace then.” So, according to the white men, he’s been “framed as a racist.” Even though he said racist things, he is not, in their opinion actually racist. Cobb was inducted into the HOF in 1936. Would Cobb be inducted today if baseball writers knew that he’s used racist language? Probably not. In some way, that suggests that “character” is definable when writers vote.

(By the way, When researching sexist abuse by players in the HOF was called, “Feminists, Please Don’t Ruin Baseball,” written by Mollie Hemingway. So…there was that)

The discussion of character can’t exclude those who’ve been inducted. There are men there who’ve beaten women, been blatantly racist, and/or put others in harm’s way in some capacity. Are other behaviors while playing part of the equation? Drinking? Drug abuse? Generally mistreating people around them?

Character was defined differently when Hall voting began in 1936, in that there was no clear definition at all. The rules direct writers to consider “sportsmanship,” integrity,” and “character,” but they’re given no other concrete guidelines. When fans or other writers grumble that certain writers make voting “personal,” well, how can they not? Every baseball writer with a vote has to decide for themselves what character means to them. They have to ask themselves, in the context of baseball, what kind of person the player was, and they have to create their own parameters, and work within them. Even the meaning of “sportsmanship” is likely to become a bigger point of contention, with writers often arguing about how today’s generation of players celebrate home runs or wear their hat to the side.

If Schilling’s character being questioned is criticized, then Cox induction should also be a problem. His history of violence against his spouse wasn’t a secret when he was called to the Hall. Those writers made the the decision to personally define character in their own terms.

When ESPN writer and editor Christina Kahrl’s ballot was released, it was her stance on former pitcher Roger Clemens that likely caught baseball fans, and possibly some colleagues, off guard. Clemens candidacy has been feverishly debated, due to his alleged use of PED’s But it was questions about Clemens relationship with then teenage country singer Mindy McCready that bothered her most. She left him off her ballot. McCready, who died in 2013, was not entirely forthcoming about the details of her relationship with Clemens but she confirmed “an affair.” Kahrl considered the guidelines, and personally defined what character meant to her.

We can debate this forever, or we can ask for character decisions to be more clearly explained. We can ask the Baseball HOF to reconstruct the rules of eligibility. Fans can even ask that a word as subjective as character not be included in the rules, or possibly be expanded in order to be more concise. But what we can’t do is insist that any decision about character not be personal. Because that’s all it can be.