Birthday team has some awesome front-line talent. To paraphrase a former co-worker of mine, this is a team to be wreckin' with.

C: Marty Castillo
1B: Albert Pujols
2B: Dave Stapleton
3B: Jimmy Collins
SS: Art Whitney
LF: Jack Cust
CF: Alfredo Amezaga
RF: Showboat Fisher

SP: Dizzy Dean
SP: Jack McDowell
SP: Erskine Mayer
SP: Ferdie Schupp
SP: Jim Owens
RP: Ron Villone

Would start for most Birthday Teams: Buck Jordan
Not the guy from Styx: Dennis DeBarr
King of Awesometown: Steve Balboni

Showboat Fisher's an interesting story. He got one legit shot at a regular MLB job, hit .374/.432/.587 in 92 games, and got released after the season because he couldn't play defense. Nobody claimed him.

I mean, okay, the Cardinals had Chick Hafey in left and Jim Bottomley at first, so there was nowhere to play Fisher. But still...the guy hit .374 with power. The Red Sox were screwing around with Jack Rothrock and Bill Sweeney at LF/1B, the Braves had Red Worthington and Earl Sheely, and Fisher can't find a job.

Free Showboat Fisher!

I'm writng a memoir. Not much original sports contact in it, but here is some:

I was in the womb when the Impossible Dream Red Sox faced the Cards in the World Series again. This time the hero was Carl Yastrzemski. Dad liked Yaz. Sometimes when he was watching the game and Yaz was up, he’d get up and swing and yell “Polish Power!” Our last name may be Daly, but my mom is 100% Polish and my Dad was half Polish himself. His mother’s maiden name was Polak. He grew up in an Italian neighborhood in T’ville and thought that he was actually Italian. Thought the whole world was Italian.

I’m not sure if his neighbors were Yankee fans, but a lot of Italians liked them because of Joe D. If it was like the neighborhood we lived in during my youth, it was a divided territory. Greater Hartford is like Kashmir; disputed by the nuclear powers of New York and Boston. My dad played football as a kid. I’m not sure what position he played, though. I don’t know what postion he played in baseball either, but he was a rec league softball catcher later in life when he played for our church’s Men’s Club.

He’d wake us up in the morning with scores. I’d also read about the games in the Hartford Courant and Journal Inquirer. Two stuck out in my memory. In one game, Fred Lynn had 10 RBI as Boston blasted Detroit 15-1. Blasted; that’s what the headline said. I liked that. Another was a Rick Wise start that was a near no-hitter. I liked the rookies, Fred Lynn and Jim Rice. We were all new to the red Sox. And I still remember how Carlton Fisk would do military presses with his bat as he stepped up to the plate. Funny how I recall that and the only recent mannerisms I can recall are Nomar Garciaparra’s manic antics with his gloves and Derek Jeter’s “pardon me” wave back at the ump. Back then, we saw maybe one game a week on TV. It might still have been that black and white, but my memories are in color. Ken Harrelson and Dave Stockton were the TV team. People complain about them now, Maybe they sucked back then, but how could I tell at seven? They were all I knew and the only announcer that people seemed to hate back then was Howard Cosell. That RedSox team made the World Series. They spoiled me for baseball. I expected them to go every year. Game Six was a classic, but it was past my bedtime. I did see Game One with Luis Tiant and his adventures on the basepaths.
I don’t know if my dad was a baseball historian, but he had some sense of history. One morning, a little before the World Seires, he announced that baseball lost. Casey Stengel had died at the age of 90 the previous day. Did that whet my interest in baseball history? Who knows?
We played games in our neighborhood and at school. I went to a parochial school. At recess and lunch we playhed tag in the early grades, then moved on to four-square, kickball, and football. Only the eighth graders got to play on a grassy area. The rest of us played on asphalt. I didn’t care. I would sometimes slide anyways to avoid getting plugged or soaked by the kickball. It could be a dangerous game. I once took a liner in the chest from short range. It knocked the wind out of me. Another time, I grabbed a ball at hip level with my left hand. It was like Willie Mays robbing Vic Wertz, only I sprained my wrist in the process.

In the neighborhood, there were a number of kids around our age. Baseball was tough to play due to space considerations, but we often played hotbox. This game had two bases, two fielders,and one or two runners. The idea was for the runner to break for the other base and move fast enough to avoid being tagged by a return throw. We did this in the summer. In the fall, our thoughts turned to football. The neighborhood version was called “Pass intereference.” Mike Leach would have loved it. All passing, no running. The defense would cover the receivers or rush the quarterback. Unless there were blockers, the rush was delayed. It was a three alligator or three Mississippi rush.

My father would get tickets about once a year to Fenway Park. He worked for Coca Cola and they had some box seats. My borther thinks our first game was in 1975. I think it was 1976. I think it was against the Royals on a Saturday ofternoon. We’d take th Pike up and my father would proudly tel the tolltakers that we were going to the game. Oftentimes, we’d take US 20 back to Sturbridge. My father liked to take lazy drives; a trait that I inherited form him.

If you really want to hear all that David Copperfield kind of crap, here it is. If not, skip a few pages. I don’t want to make this a goddam autobiography, but some background info might be in order. I have some memories before I turned seven, but they are mostly unattached and not in chronological order; stuff like using a magic marker to turn our black and white TV into a color one. I learned to read early. I was four when I started. I have a hazy recollection of Watergate pre-empting my cartoons, Apollo flights and the death of Harry Truman and those predate 1975.

But the way I recall it, my father turned me on to the Red Sox in 1975. I’d fall asleep with my brother Jerome as the voices of Jim Woods and Ned Martin emanated from a radio tuned to WTTIC. Then, my dad would wake us up in the morning with the final score. (WTIC also carried the Whalers, but I never cottoned to them. I did like “Brass Bonanza”, but hockey isn’t really a radio sport.) Dad was a young boy in ’46 when Boston played the Cardinals in the World Series. Some blame Ted Williams’s absent bat for the Red Sox losing the Series, but Williams was hurt. Some blame Johnny Pesky for the loss in Game Seven. But that was won for Saint Louis by Enos Slaughter’s hustle. Murray Kempton once said that what folks refer to as the black style of play was really a southern style of baseball and Slaughter was an exemplar. He also probably leads all Hall of Famers with the most wives, but that’s just trivia you can impress your friends with.

Up at THT: The possible coming Cooperstown ballot apocalypse about what'll happen on the BBWAA ballot in 2013-15.

Also, a historical piece at THT Live notes that today is the 10th anniversary of the Rangers signing Chan Ho Park. That's one of the worst deals ever.

The second piece also provides lists of "day-versaries" and anniversaries, which includes: baseball grand poo-bahs decide to base home field advantage in the World Series upon the All-Star game, those same lords approve of interleague play, Albert Pujols is born, the Cubs get new owners, and Dizzy Dean is born.

Showboat Fisher's an interesting story. He got one legit shot at a regular MLB job, hit .374/.432/.587 in 92 games, and got released after the season because he couldn't play defense. Nobody claimed him.

Ernie Orsatti, the Cardinals' incumbent right fielder coming off a .332/.392/.460 season, broke an ankle in spring training; he would play in just 48 games in 1930. Chick Hafey also suffered an early injury. Forced to improvise, the Cardinals called on Fisher (31), who had been picked up as a throw-in in a deal with the Giants in which the principals were Wally Roettger and Doc Farrell, and George Watkins (30), both of whom had been ticketed to go to Rochester. Fisher hit well, to be sure - but Watkins hit even better (.373/.415/.671). It was obvious to everyone that Fisher was a terrible outfielder, and that Watkins was - well, if not good, at least passable. So when Hafey came back, even though Fisher had led the league in hitting for much of April and May, he went to the bench, and Watkins continued to play. When Fisher was waived after the season, as Dan notes, he went unclaimed.

Fisher had a decent year for Rochester in 1931, was hurt in 1932 and eventually was transferred from the Cardinals' system to the Browns (interestingly, he replaced Tony Kubek Sr. on the roster of the Browns' Milwaukee farm). He had a hot month for the Brewers, got into a handful of games with the Browns in September, but then struggled out of the gate in 1933 and was sent down a level to the Southern Association. He was released early in 1934.

-- MWE

Ernie Orsatti, of course, would later be shot and killed while rounding third and heading for home, in the film Death on the Diamond.

#3/4: those are great stories. I enjoyed them.

I'm a Cub fan, like my father before me and his father before him. My mom was also a Cub fan, as were my maternal grandparents. So my fandom was inevitable.

My paternal grandparents were alcoholics. My grandmother died around the time I hit high school. By this time my grandfather was suffering from Alzheimer's (or some other early form of dementia). Turns out he'd neglected to file his federal income taxes a few times, so my dad had to go searching through my grandparents' house to find paperwork to fix that mess. My grandfather would get agitated observing this, so I would take him into the kitchen and talk to him. We were never really close -- my paternal grandparents weren't close with, well, anyone (esp. my dad). But one thing my grandfather loved to talk about was sports, especially from his young days. Like many with his symptoms, he couldn't tell you what happened five minutes ago but could recall his high school years in amazing detail. He was (my father confirms this) the last guy to letter in four sports at his school, and also loved to talk about the Cubs. He had stories of going to see the Cubs at what he called "the old West Side park" as a kid.

As a youth in the burbs, we'd often play some kind of baseball variant. Lots of whiffle ball. If we had enough kids we'd man bases, but usually we didn't. One trick we tried was just throwing the ball TOWARD the base; if the runner beat the throw, he was safe. But all sorts of arguments would ensue about whether the thrown ball was anywhere near the base, and so on.

Eventually we settled on the tried-and-true distance method: if the ball made it THIS far, it was a single; THAT far was a double; and so on.

I was definitely not an athlete as a child; I didn't play much, and hated-hated-hated gym. Except. One day. This was in middle school (or "jr high" as we called it). We were playing softball, and for me that usually meant some quality time in right field, hoping the ball never came my way. But for some reason I can't recall, I ended up pitching. I assume it was the teacher (though he had no love for me), but I really can't remember.

Anyway, in order to speed up the game (due to the length of the class), 2 balls was a walk and one strike (!) was a K. So I stood up there, and tossed this looping underhand pitch. The teacher (who was the ump) yelled, "STRIKE! Yer OUT!" The hitter looked at him like he was insane for a moment, and then walked off. The next came up...same result. And again. And again. Inning after inning. I didn't strike out everyone; I gave up a few hits, and even a run.

But still...that day I was on fire. Our team destroyed the other 13-1. I can't remember how many Ks I ended up with. It hardly seemed real. Normally gym was some kind of hell for me, but that day...that day I was Nolan ####### Ryan. After the game, all the big jocks that usually gave me crap were slapping me on the back, congratulating me, etc.

Next time I pitched, I got shelled. But that day...I'll never forget it.

RHP Joel Pineiro to the Phils on a minor league deal

LHP Yoshihiro Doi to the Orioles on a minor league deal

Dnke, chris h. My memoir is mainly about my twenties. I was in Desert Storm and later worked at a hospital. But my wife figured some background info should be in order and I had some memories about sports written up in some notebook, so I included some.

Got the timeline wrong on Fisher. The Browns picked him up from the Cardinals in a deal for Tom Jenkins at the end of June 1932, and essentially sat him on the bench for a month before releasing him to Milwaukee in August.

-- MWE

RHP Joel Pineiro to the Phils on a minor league deal

I'm really surprised that's all he could get. He didn't have a good year in 2011, to be sure, but he wasn't bad the previous two years. Would have thought someone would have signed him to a major league deal.

-- MWE

Pirates have signed Joel Hanrahan to a 1-year deal, avoiding arbitration.

-- MWE

How did Showboat come into his nickname? Because that's awesome. If Jose Valverde wasn't already Papa Grande, I'd say he should Showboat for the little dance. And Francisco Rodriguez is K-Rod. I guess that leaves Carlos Marmol as the new Showboat.

Dave Cameron will be on Clubhouse Confidential today.

How did Showboat come into his nickname?

From the Syracuse Herald of April 27, 1933:

Fisher, who won his unusual nickname through his penchant for sartorial and tonsorial splendor, has been "up there" before, with the St. Louis Cardinals and with the Browns of the same city

Although you probably couldn't guess that from his picture on B-R, though.

-- MWE

To be fair, nothing about Fisher's play before that point suggested that '30 represented his real level of ability - nor was he all that great afterward.
(Still, it's weird that no one picked him up - questionable glove, mercurial attitude, and all...)

Awesome, thanks Mike

Although you probably couldn't guess that from his picture on B-R, though.

wow--that mugshot looks like D.B Sweeney playing Shoeless Joe...

Dave Cameron will be on Clubhouse Confidential today.

He tweeted the other day his biopsy showed no leukemia and his treatment is over. So that's awesome news.

Remember that 1930 was the mecca of the hitters' era; there were 67 players who hit .300 or better in the National League, and the league as a whole hit over .300. Fisher's OPS+ was only 139.

You're talking about a 31-YO minor league journeyman outfielder who had a reputation (apparently deserved) as a stone glove, and who wasn't even the best-hitting rookie OF on his own team.

-- MWE

EDIT: SABR bio by Stew Thornley sheds a little more light on Showboat. I suspect the story about the relationship between the nickname and the show is a little bit of embellishment.

Fisher, who won his unusual nickname through his penchant for sartorial and tonsorial splendor,

here's one surviving photo

After his baseball career and a stint in the military during World War I, Lamy went on to become a legendary speed skater and barrel jumper.


Sigh. They just don't make legendary barrel jumpers like they used to.

Looking at the rest of Fisher's high level minor league career... here's how he ranked in batting average and slugging per bb-ref's leaderboards for the Int'l League and American Association over his career. Granted, their PA threshold is very low - so a few pretenders sneak in above him, but was never close to the best hitter in his league, based on available data:

1924 AA - BA: 48, SLG: 26
1925 AA - BA: 9, SLG: 7
1926 AA - BA: 27, SLG: 17
1927 IL - BA: 33, SLG: 23
1928 IL - BA: 14, SLG: 8
1929 IL - BA: 14, SLG: 3
-- big year as a part timer in the bigs
1931 IL - BA: 35, SLG: 15
1932 IL 77/32 ... moved to AA where he ranked 7/13 (in 36 g)
1933 terrible, moved down a level, then retired

That 139 OPS+ was less than his club's starters in left and right (Hafey 147, Watkins 142) ... though, still, 139 ain't bad.

Showboat showboated until age 95, so he did something right.

Red Sox sign P Vincente Padilla. Take that Yankees!

LHP Yoshihiro Doi to the Orioles on a minor league deal

Why? The guy was mediocre at best in NPB (lifetime 31-45, 4.30) and hasn't had an ERA under 4.47 since 2005. He throws in the mid-80s and is often injured. He's pitched 57 innings in NPB since 2007, with an ERA of 6.71 over that span. This has to be the most pointless signing of the off-season...

A's acquire Seth Smith for Josh Outman and Guillermo Moscoso. Seems like a waste for the Rockies.

The rest of us played on asphalt. I didn’t care. I would sometimes slide anyways to avoid getting plugged or soaked by the kickball.

This made me literally shiver with horror.

here's one surviving photo

I was pleasantly surprised to see that it was not Madeleine Albright.

This has to be the most pointless signing of the off-season...

Apparently you missed the thread on Paul Maholm signing w/the Cubs. McCoy's stamina was amazing to behold.

A's acquire Seth Smith for Josh Outman and Guillermo Moscoso. Seems like a waste for the Rockies.

See comment 43 for why this had to happen. Both of those pitchers are way too old for the A's.

Seems like a bad trade for Colorado, especially since Smith was supposed to be the centerpiece for a Martin Prado trade.

Glad Oakland figured out they need to field three outfielders in the lineup.

Reds sign C Dioner Navarro

Reds sign C Dioner Navarro

Hedge against Mesoraco needing more development time, I guess. Mesoraco does have a history of requiring time to adjust when he's moved up.

-- MWE

Thanks for those stories, GGC. My timeline is shifted just a little... I was dimly aware of the '86 series, but was too young to stay up and watch.

Your welcome, NN.

This made me literally shiver with horror.

My brother and I would get into rock fights. Sliding in parking lots was nothing.

I don't understand how Roger Clemens won the 2004 NL Cy Young. Was there more controversy surrounding his win than I remember?

I don't understand how Roger Clemens won the 2004 NL Cy Young.

He went 18-4. Shiny W-L records have always caught the eyes of writers. He'd also just been talked out of retirement to play for Houston, so he made a good story too.

Was there more controversy surrounding his win than I remember?

My recollection around here was that everybody thought that, of course, Randy Johnson DESERVED to win, but nobody actually expected him to, because of the 16-14 record (even granting how terrible the D-Backs were - 35-107 in games when Johnson didn't get the decision).

Hedge against Mesoraco needing more development time, I guess.

Don't they still have Hanigan? Is Navarro on a major or minor deal?

Phil Hughes signs with Yankees, avoiding arbitration. 1 year, $3.2 million with incentives.

Walt/#39:

Yes, the Reds still have Hanigan, but they'd rather keep him as the backup. Navarro's deal is a minor league deal with an ST invite.

-- MWE