Ride the Wild Surf! (Ocean City, 1982)

[oriole^]

Well, here we go: my attempt to recreate the 1982 Ocean City Surf as an expansion team. I talked about the Surf back here (http://forum.sportsmogul.com/showthread.php?t=183983). Still working on some of the settings for the simulation and the stadium, not to mention the other expansion team and how the league will be realigned. In the meantime, I've found that explaining how a small East Coast seaside town ended up with a major league franchise took a lot of research, a great deal of imagination...and was a heck of a lot of fun!

Keep in mind that this will be a lot more, um, novel-like than some dynasties - at least it will at first while I build the backstory...

To begin with on the stat side, I created Ocean City with the City Editor. It's located at 38.4 latitude, -75 longitude, at an altitude of 3 feet in the Eastern time zone (-5). The population is only 7,173, but the region population is listed as an even 1,000,000. (Quite a bit of poetic license, given that during the summer, the population at any given time is only around 450,000.) The population will increase 5,000 a year, and the per capita income is the actual current per capita for the town: $26,078. The fan base will be listed as "Average" to start with, but that could go up later; the fan loyalty, however, will begin at A+. (The medical staff and farm system will also be A+ initially; the scouting will be B+.)


I was looking down the almost-deserted Boardwalk. The sky was grey overhead, and the wind from off the ocean carried a bitter bite...there was one guy out on the beach: a bundled-up kid in a college sweatshirt, supposedly communing with nature as he strummed an Emerson, Lake, and Palmer tune on a guitar to the beat of the crashing surf. It was the start of baseball season, and yet winter hadn't yet let go; the weatherman predicted that snow would fall on Fenway Park in less than 24 hours, with a good chance at Yankee Stadium as well. Uptown from where I stood, the hastily-built Atlantic Field, the newest grassy cathedral of baseball, awaited its first game, which seemed impossibly far away.

I must've stood there staring for twenty minutes, just watching wave after wave roll in. The unreality of the situation came to me just like the tide. What in God's name did I think I was doing? How did I get myself in this situation?

In my case, it all started with a phone call.

+=+=+=+

"Scooter, is that you? Glad I tracked you down. This is Charlie Finley."

My mouth opened and nothing came out. Of all the people I expected to call, he would have been the last. In fact, anybody from baseball would have collectively been the last - and he still would've been last on that list. "H-hello, Mr. Finley," I stammered.

His particular rasp brought me back to my first tenure in Oakland, if it could be charitably described as such. I'd worked my way up the system with the Orioles, my hometown franchise, and friends and other acquaintances were already introducing me at parties as the O's next second baseman. I ended up with "Scooter" as a nickname partly because I hustled, and partly because it annoyed the Yankee fans - I did do pretty well against the Clippers in AAA ball, against a bunch of guys I knew would never see the light of day in pinstripes, thanks to New York's policy of just buying other teams' established veterans rather than develop anything on their own. But the ankle injury slowed me down at just the wrong time. I did get to the bigs, but the O's decided they'd be better off sticking with Rich Dauer. Since my career highlight might've been hitting a foul ball off Nolan Ryan once, I can't say I blamed 'em.

That was when Finley called the first time. He knew practically nothing about me, except that I'd been playing his A's months before and heard that the Orioles had sent a kid named "Scooter" up to bat. This was fine, because he knew nothing about baseball either, except that he happened to own a team and he liked guys with cute nicknames, to the point of naming one of his guys "Catfish", just because. And though my ankle might not have been up to the game, my mind was still in it. At least, more so than Charlie Finley.

Astonishingly, I ended up assigned to the A's front office to watch after an eighteen-year-old ex-batboy - one who just happened to have been named the Executive Vice President. I was his "assistant". Stan was a local kid, and cool to hang around with, at least...but completely overwhelmed, as I was as well, in handling the wreckage that Finley made of the A's. He was constantly trying to sell the star players, or threatening to move the franchise a second time; even as they won games, the fans were staying away in droves, the stadium was falling apart, and morale in the clubhouse was lower than low. It was too much for the kid - last I heard, he was trying to make it in the music business, of all things - and after enduring one too many of Finley's tirades, I decided I too would get the hell out of town. I hadn't lasted a year, but I did have a high front office job on my resume, so I was hopeful for better days.

Here's a tip, though: a high office job with Charlie Finley isn't the same as a high office job anywhere else. I was effectively blacklisted - the guy with the Mets basically told me so, straight out - and ended up taking an "Assistant to the Traveling Secretary" position with Pawtucket. Even that didn't last long...because the guy basically didn't need an assistant in the first place. My next job was several months later, with a Southern League team in Louisiana, as I decided I liked eating on a regular basis. Six of the worst weeks of my life, and no, I don't want to talk about it further.

I went back home to Baltimore and, perhaps unwisely, decided I needed a vacation before deciding anything else. That meant Ocean City, mostly because I could get there on a half a tank of gas.

Turns out I needed the sun, the sand, and that wonderful, rolling surf. I needed to be away, to collect my thoughts before opening the next phase of my life, and I needed them to focus. I can't say the girls, the rum, and the fishing didn't help either, even if it did disrupt that needed focus quite a bit. Whatever the reasons, when I saw a small condo become available for a very good price, I pooled most of my savings and bought it.

Now it was June, the summer of 1980. Ocean City was in a carnival-like atmosphere with the arrival of the graduating seniors of Maryland and other states, the sun was out, and the Orioles were trying to repeat as American League champions. But that wasn't my main concern. I had just calculated that I could live on savings until late September...and at that point, I had better have a job. And it just wasn't going to be in baseball.

It took the majority of a couple of bottles of fine spirits - and a few that maybe weren't so fine - but I'd steeled myself to that last fact. Baseball was over for me. I was going to leave it to others, and walk through that new door in my life.

And here I was, with Charlie O. himself back on the phone, ready to drag me right through that door backwards.

"It's been a little while," he said, clearly not knowing what the hell had happened to me in the meantime. "How are things going for you? What have you been doing?"

Good grief. How do I answer that? "Well, I...um, I -- don't have a job, Mr. Finley," I blurted out.

There was a very slight pause from the other end of the line. "Well, now, Scooter," he began, "if I were you, I wouldn't say, 'I don't have a job, Mr. Finley.' What I would say is, 'I need a job, Mr. Finley.'"

I could feel the color drain from my face. I'd already emotionally settled on the fact that I wasn't going to be in baseball any more. But there was a pile of bills on the table in the kitchen, and on the back of one of the envelopes were the numbers I'd jotted down to determine that I'd be broke in September. As Charlie paused for a response, I tried to tell myself I wasn't this desperate. I wasn't this stupid.

"Mr. Finley," I said, my mouth drying up, "I...need a job."

Clearly I was that stupid, and Finley knew it. "Well, good," he said, "because I had you in mind for one. What say we meet tomorrow at one o'clock, for lunch? I'm on 117th Street."

Charlie's office in Chicago. Wait, that wasn't the address for Charlie's office. I didn't even know Chicago had a 117th Street!

I heard him off the line, ask someone in the background, "...name of this place?" He got back on: "The Carousel. Top floor, penthouse. Beautiful view from up here."

I nearly choked. Finley was here - in Ocean City?? What in God's name was going on here?

Charlie said goodbye and I mumbled something like that into the receiver and hung it up, in a complete daze. Finley seldom even went to Oakland to manage his own team, and yet here he was in my town, out of the clear blue sky, to talk to me. Why?

It was four-thirty in the afternoon, almost 21 hours to the appointment. I was to spend much of the intervening time staring out at the sea, which I could barely see from my bedroom...trying to make some sense of it all.

[oriole^]

More story for now. I'll be posting on the simulation settings very soon.


I reached the Carousel at five minutes of one and started the long ride up the elevator to the very top. Even if it hadn't been 87 degrees at the time, and I hadn't been in a suit and tie for the first time since I'd reached Ocean City (my usual attire for the city being a t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops), I would've been sweating bullets. I hadn't a single clue what to expect - and yet somehow, I still didn't expect what I got.

I was led into Charlie's suite by a concierge (which I didn't know were employed at any hotel in Ocean City), where Charlie greeted me right at the door with a warm handshake as if I was the man of the hour. After the enthusiastic greeting, Finley turned and gestured to the only one in the room without a tie, and said in a forced nonchalance that only he could pull off, "Of course, you know Mayor Kelley..."

'Of course I know Mayor Kelley'? How was I supposed to know the Mayor? I was flabbergasted for a split-second before falling back on the sort of "hail fellow, well met" congeniality that men of the business world learn from their silver-haired superiors. The Mayor and I shook hands as if I belonged there. "Good to meet you, son," he said. "Mr. Finley here has said so much about you! And you're a local, too! We'll be in good hands with you around!"

Before a feeling of dread as to what I'd been promised into by Charlie Finley had set in, he indicated a "Mr. MacPhail", and I turned - and was face-to-face with the President of the American League. If Lee MacPhail noted that my eyes were like saucers and my throat was swallowing hard, he didn't give any indication; he just greeted me with a simple "Steve..." and a firm handshake. I realized then that he was the only one using my actual name.

Charlie took it from there. Once we'd had a bit to eat, he sat us around a table and started with a slide presentation - literally. Finley made lots of money by pitching insurance, and here, he was in his element...only this time, the pitch was for a new baseball team here in Ocean City. It was fairly well researched; there was a local amusement park - I knew it; I'd been there - who was willing to relocate to the mainland for a check, and a good-sized park (for a minor-league team, I thought) would be placed on the site. Further parking areas could be located at the Convention Center, with buses to get fans to the game. Mayor Kelley seemed suitably impressed. MacPhail gave a non-committal Mona Lisa smile for much of the time, at one point winking to me when he caught my eye. His body language - and the history that I was aware of - indicated that he didn't take Charlie seriously, even for a minute...but that he also couldn't afford to let him out of sight, as there was no telling what might happen next.

For my own part, as Charlie laid out the business plan, I sat nodding sagely to disguise the fact that I had no idea what was going on.

"-- and this is where Scooter, here, comes in," said Finley in a grandiose flourish, which nearly caused me to spit-take on the water I was gulping. I hadn't really been paying attention to this part. "Scooter's agreed to be our General Manager."

I nearly broke out in flop-sweat. General Manager?? I "agreed" to this?

"Of course, I do have...other partners who are involved in this venture," Finley admitted for the first time, seemingly chagrined at the prospect. "And they have assigned their own representatives to staff major front office positions." He raised his voice slightly. "Michael, could you come in, please?"

And when Mike Veeck walked in, it was the first time in the entire meeting that I'd been pleasantly surprised rather than merely shocked into a coronary. I remembered him from the days when the White Sox would visit Oakland as being one of the few out there to "get it" - to realize that this was, first and foremost, just a game, albeit one that drew lots of money. Mike would typically gear up for Chicago's West Coast road trip by phoning me out of the blue, loudly questioning my parentage and suggesting certain dubious fraternization practices I had done with, say, Rollie Fingers, and hanging up with a snicker. I'd return the call (or sometimes Stanley would do it, since he was younger and therefore better at it than I was), repeat the process with him, and things would degenerate into something fairly juvenile and quite blue. When the team finally got to town, and Stan was safely at home after the game, we'd hit a restaurant or club over on the San Francisco side of the Bay, clowning like goofy high school jocks the whole time. The whole thing ended with a cab ride back in the wee hours of the morning and confusion once the sun came up as we tried to figure out how to get hold of the rental car we'd left parked in Chinatown.

Mayor Kelley greeted him warmly; President MacPhail, less so, and I knew why. The last forfeit that occurred in the American League was the direct fault of Mike Veeck: the now-infamous "Disco Demolition Night" of the previous year, right under MacPhail's watch. It was Mike's idea that a local DJ in Chicago be given leave to blow up boxes of disco records in between games of a double-header against the Tigers. The resultant pot-fueled riot left the field at Comiskey in a shambles. The Sox forfeited the second game, and though his father tried to shield him (by famously labeling it "an act of God"), the younger Veeck's name was mud in baseball from that day forward. I knew how that felt, and had kept in very loose contact ever since...but, in keeping with the rest of the meeting, I was apparently the last to know that he was in town.

Mike, sitting near me, fell in with the rest of Charlie's spiel, and did the usual head-bob that one adopts when you can't get in a word edgewise. Fortunately, the ordeal was short and led to the usual pleasantries, including an awkward ride down in the elevator with the Mayor and MacPhail. Nothing committal was said by anyone concerning Charlie's presentation - and I was listening for such.

We got to the bottom, exchanged final handshakes and contact information (with me writing my number on the back of Mike's business cards, as I obviously had none), and smiled and waved as they walked back to their waiting vehicles. With grins plastered on our faces, and while waving congenially, I whispered out the side of my mouth, "Mike, what are you driving?"

"A Lincoln," he said, through the same style of grin.

"I'm in a Toyota," I hissed, "it's full of Coke cans in the backseat, and a seagull got me on the hood yesterday. We're takin' your car."

"To where?" asked Mike.

The luxury vehicles drove away, and as soon as they were out of sight, I whipped off my tie and tossed it away without ceremony. "Anyplace that serves alcohol," I said. "C'mon."

[3RunHomer]

I live about an hour south of Ocean City, so I'll be rooting for the Surf.

I wonder if a resort city could really support a team? If the place can support about 100 hotels and countless restaurants/bars, it might support a team too. Everybody at the beach is looking for something fun to do at night. You can't go to Seacrets every night ...

[oriole^]

3Run: indeed...I've always wondered about the viability of a franchise in a summer resort town. It does seem a natural: sun, sand, surf, and baseball. What could say "summer" more?

Anyway, here's my next little installment in the story. Again, sorry for the huge backstory, but I had to go into some severe detail for how to explain this...plus, again, it's just a hoot to write. I hope you all enjoy it. I just secured a Photobucket account, so I'll be posting screenshots of the setup very soon.


Fortunately, this was Ocean City during the summer, and so there was no shortage of places where one could have a decent drink, even in the mid-afternoon, and after a drive downtown, we were even able to find one with a good view of the beach.

Unfortunately, this was Ocean City at the absolute height of the tourist season, so that the pub we selected was crowded and the air was filled with the dulcet strains of the Scorpions' latest album thudding away from the jukebox.

Fortunately, this wasn't a tremendous problem, as I was shouting loudly enough that I could have been heard several blocks away regardless.

Unfortunately, the penthouse meeting that preceded this sudden, loud drinking bout was the reason that I was yelling my head off, and the new volume I'd gained didn't help the fact that I was mostly incoherent and punctuated several points by grabbing Mike by his lapels. It took an entire pint of beer and a few dirty looks from the barkeep and bouncer before I'd calmed down enough that Mike could get in a word edgewise.

"Look, you're acting as if you don't know what the hell's going on," said Mike. "Weren't you supposed to be Finley's guy in all this?"

"Mike, I'm acting like this because I don't know what the hell's going on!" I fired back. "And think about who this is you're talking about, here. This is a guy who didn't sign Don Sutton because he didn't have a flashy nickname! He's not the most deliberate of people."

"That's a good point," Mike conceded. "Okay, slowly and calmly: how much do you know about this?"

Once I told him that most of what was revealed at the meeting was news to me, including the team, my title within its front office, and why Lee MacPhail would be interested in a minor league franchise on the Eastern Shore, his face darkened a bit. "You just stay sitting," he said, "and I'll get you another beer."

It was delivered, and I decided, given that this was as serious as I'd ever seen Mike Veeck, I'd better drink it. Mike meanwhile sat back in his chair, and drew a long sigh. "Okay," his epic began, "you know that Charlie Finley got a divorce?"

I raised my eyebrows a little bit. "No, but it doesn't surprise me," I replied. "Shirley is a good woman, and I don't really know how she put up with Charlie and his shenanigans for all these years." Particularly, I mused to myself, when they involved Playboy bunnies direct from Hugh Hefner's mansion, to market his new idea for orange baseballs...though it was an extremely scenic promotion for a bachelor like me.

Mike leaned onto the table. "Now follow me, here. Shirley wasn't particularly interested in anything to do with the A's, but when the case went to a judge, suddenly Charlie's other investments had failed and he was a pauper. Oh, he was in debt, and his income was pitiful...apparently he couldn't even afford to fly out to Oakland to see his team - that was what he said."

"That's a lie. Ask anybody with the A's."

"I know it's a lie, but that was what he went for in court. Now, Shirley got a decent lawyer, and he knew that there was one asset Finley couldn't hide: the A's." Mike grinned. "So, when the settlement was handed down, she agreed to not claim any of his supposedly non-existant assets...but what the slick lawyer asked for in return - and got - was controlling interest of the A's...including an attachment of all of Charlie's baseball revenue."

That provided me with my first good laugh in a while. "Oh, man! So how did Charlie react?"

"Sold the A's, as fast as humanly possible. You did hear about that, right?"

"That I did," I sort of lied. In fact, I'd been trying not to follow any baseball exploits, particularly ones that used to involve me in some fashion, in an attempt to sort of "cold turkey" off of baseball in preparation for a career in real estate or banking or somesuch. It was in my blood, however, and I couldn't resist reading a little about the sale of the A's in a story which reached the Baltimore Sun. As it turns out, it was a good thing I still had it in the blood..."Some guy with the Levi Strauss company bought them, right?"

"Walter Haass, yeah. But he wasn't the first buyer. The first was Marvin Davis."

"Who?"

"Marvin Davis. THE Marvin Davis. Huge oil tycoon, owns half of everything in Colorado and a lot of things outside of it. Owns Davis Petroleum, owns the Broncos, owns hotels, casinos...owns 20th Century Fox, fergawdsake. Put it this way: you've heard about this new TV series they're going to do, a knock-off of Dallas? I think they're calling it Dynasty, or something. Anyway, the lead character is modeled after this guy, Davis. He's J.R. Ewing times ten." Mike took a pull of his beer. "Problem was, Davis was going to put the A's in Denver, and Alameda County wouldn't let him out of the lease. So Davis balked - and now he's on the warpath against Charlie - and Bowie Kuhn, for not stepping in."

I chortled. "Like that'll happen. Kuhn would leave it to MacPhail --"

"-- and MacPhail wasn't gonna touch that, no, sir," finished Mike. "But now," he continued, in the manner of a documentary narrator, "Charlie has other problems. He sold the team to Haass, but now he's got to cash out...and because of the divorce settlement, that means Shirley walks away with the money."

Now I was starting to not get it. "But...he sold the A's..."

"Right. But the settlement was, she gets the revenue from Charlie's 'baseball properties'. So...as long as he can re-invest in baseball, he doesn't owe her anything much."

"Jeez, that lousy..."

"So, he invests the money in the American League - as the money to be put towards a new expansion franchise."

This time I did spit-take. It took several napkins and some profuse apologies, but I got another beer out of the deal, as a reward for cracking up the bouncer, which apparently had never been done in this establishment before. When I finally was able to continue, I picked right back up from where it'd been left: "There's no way! The majors just expanded three years ago, and that was mostly because the city of Seattle was going to sue over the Pilots. And both franchises went in the American League."

"Yeah, but you forgot a couple of things," said Mike, who was probably adding the cost of his dry-cleaning bill to whatever the tab was in this place. "First, the last time the majors expanded, it was four teams. Second, MacPhail gets a big bucket of money, so he doesn't really care where it came from. And third, you were talking about lawsuits? Remember Marvin Davis?"

"Uh, yeah...what about him?"

Mike was starting to look annoyed. "He was going to sue the American League for keeping the 'Denver Athletics' away from him," he explained with some exasperation. "That was what Charlie was angling at, and he got Davis to go along with him: Denver would be the first expansion franchise, and Charlie would get the second."

"You sure this new soap opera wasn't about Charlie? He's beginning to sound like the real J.R. Ewing."

"The problem is," Mike continued, "he didn't really have the money. He was going to buy the stadium for a new team - he said to a guy I knew that he was through not owning the stadium after what Alameda County put him through - but that left him short for a new team. So he had to find someone to go in with him."

I snorted. "What ***** would go in with Charlie Finley on a franchise?"

Mike now looked very uncomfortable; supremely embarrassed for himself and very annoyed at me, all at once. "What?" I protested.

"It's my dad," mumbled Mike.

[oriole^]

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/cityeditor.jpg

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/leagueeditor1.jpg

The ground rules I have for this dynasty will be a bit different. I'm essentially role-playing the part of a GM, so I'll do what's best for the story in running my team; the player selection, for example, will closely follow the team I had in the past, with a few interesting, unusual players thrown in to make for a good story. Obviously, the Surf will not be good to start with, but part of the fun of the game will be building them up into contenders, if it's possible.

I realize I don't have many people reading this now, but I'm hoping I can use the few I do have to help out with some of the ground rules.

The Surf will be added as they are above. The other expansion team will be the Denver Centennials, playing in Mile High Stadium. The Surf will join the AL East; the Cents will be in the NL West; to balance things out, an AL team was randomly selected to go to the NL...and the Minnesota Twins won the honor. Minnesota will join the NL West, with Atlanta moving to the NL East and the Milwaukee Brewers moving to the AL West to make room for the Surf.

The game will be played in Manager mode, and cities will not be equalized - however, revenue sharing will be introduced with the 1982 season. After the 1982 World Series, but before the free agent period, each team will donate 40% of its gross revenue to a pot, and the pot will be equally distributed among the 28 teams.

Here's the tricky part: for trades and free agent signings, I'm going to post them on this thread for approval. If three or more of the first five responses I receive are positive, I'll go through with the transaction; if not, it's called off. (I had thought about some of the more intricate ways of doing it, but I finally figured heck, people out there know what an abusive trade is - let them have their say. Plus, it gives folks some stake in the story. Sort of a "choose-your-own-adventure"...

[oriole^]

Oh...and the starred-out word in my third post up there was "M O R O N". Makes it seem a lot worse than it actually is, doesn't it?

[oriole^]

The Surf's new logo:

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/surflogo-first.png

Not too bad, I guess. I wish I could have gotten the words "Ocean City" on top without making it look too amateurish.

[JeepGuy63]

I realize I don't have many people reading this now, but I'm hoping I can use the few I do have to help out with some of the ground rules.
Oh ... I wouldn't be so sure of that. You've done 6 posts and have 176 hits on this thread so far. You're getting people to come and take a look ... all without posting the team roster or even starting the season.

You're getting looks, just no comments. Once you get actually started with the season, I am sure some people will pipe in with comments.

Where'd you get the logo from?

[oriole^]

Oh ... I wouldn't be so sure of that. You've done 6 posts and have 176 hits on this thread so far. You're getting people to come and take a look ... all without posting the team roster or even starting the season.

Well, thanks. I realize I'm doing something a bit different with this, and it's nice to know it's getting some attention and people are enjoying it.


Where'd you get the logo from?

The wave is from a class A team, the West Michigan Whitecaps. The lettering is from a short-lived ABA team, the Daytona Beach Surf, with some slight modification.

Now I have to make one for the other expansion team - but I think I out-clevered myself on the name: the Denver Centennials.

[OregonDuck1989]

Oh my I may just be rooting for the Centennials :p! Good dynasty, I'm tuned in!

[oriole^]

Oh my I may just be rooting for the Centennials :p! Good dynasty, I'm tuned in!

Duck: Thanks! Hey, since you live there, you'll be able to tell me whether or not the name "Centennials" works (I figured it's pretty descriptive and not the usual fare) and you get to see the new logo I worked up for them:

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/den.png

Not too great, granted - I don't think you can really see the baseball stitching on the gold spot in the middle.

Anyway, here's today segment in the saga. Actual team files will be emerging soon - promise!


It took a supreme effort not to spit-take once again; thank the Lord I was between sips. Bill Veeck was going in with Charlie Finley? It was like "Godzilla Meets Mothra". Aside from the fact that they were supreme wheeler-dealers and incessant self-promoters, there was little the two had in common. The elder Veeck, though the last true outsider among the owners, was a baseball institution and well-loved by fans. Charlie Finley was precisely the opposite.

Mike explained that his dad had gotten out of the business of owning the White Sox, the latest of his teams, just a month or two after the trail of the Finleys, and had retired to St. Michael's, which was a small, sleepy fishing town on the east shores of the Bay, near where Veeck befriended and recruited one of the White Sox's best hitters, Harold Baines. Finley came to him either in desperation or perhaps inspired by one of his by-now-famous impulses - seeing the sign on U.S. Route 50 in Sacramento, which gives the distance of 3,077 miles to the road's eastern end - in Ocean City.

The elder Veeck has said that it was fine for Finley to own the stadium and he'd put in the majority of his profit from the sale of the White Sox for a new team...as long as he didn't have to travel too far to go see them. And thus, as Mike had a head for baseball but nowhere to ply his skills after the debacle at Comiskey ("As soon as I saw that first guy shimmy down the outfield fence," Mike once related to me, "I knew my life was over!"), he was dispatched as his dad's representative in the front office, the Director of Baseball Operations. And I, probably because I happened to be in town at the time, became Finley's "representative" - the GM.

I must've turned white as a sheet at that realization. This was no minor league franchise. I wasn't going to be organizing a farm team of a new major league enterprise...this was it. Bill Veeck and Charlie Finley were going to bring baseball to O.C. - and I was stuck in the middle of it.

Still blanched, with a fixed, thousand-yard stare, I settled the tab and stumbled out onto the Boardwalk with Mike, who saw what was happening and steered me to a luckily vacant bench, even as I dazedly called for more alcohol.

"Scooter," said Mike intensely, "you don't get it. Finley doesn't want a franchise in Ocean City. With any luck, it'll become a minor league team. It'll just be held over Lee MacPhail's head and that'll be it. You and I will get paychecks for a while, Finley will cash out and give Shirley nothing..."

"But what about your dad?" I asked. "He's going to lose his money, too."

Mike shook his head, somewhat sadly. "Dad...just loves baseball. He can't really bear being away from it. When the time comes, we'll cash out and move the investment elsewhere and just take the loss." He looked a bit wistful. "Having baseball on the Eastern Shore would be such a hoot for him."

"Besides," Mike continued, "this whole strike business during spring training hasn't gone away. Marvin Miller will be back in the off-season, and the 'old men of the game'" - he meant the owners, of course - "aren't going to let him keep trying to change things. Heck, if we do have a team next year, we might be the only ones playing."

We sat back, as the youth of the city, newly sprung from high schools and colleges from across the state, marched by in their beach finery, preparing for the night's parties. There was a whole sense of unreality about it. Daydreaming, I imagined baseball caps on them as they headed to an imaginary park for a day game. Blue caps. Hmmm. Maybe blue with some green piping.

"So. What do you say now?" asked Mike.

"Alright," I said, after recovering from the reverie. "Alright. We'll go with it for a while. But I refuse to finalize this decision sober."

Mike gave a little laugh. "I suppose I'm buying this one?"

"You have the Lincoln," I reminded him, as we headed down towards the Inlet.

[OregonDuck1989]

I think the Centennials is pretty clever. Not everyone knows Colorado is the Centennial state.

That logo is nice! Go Centennials!

[oriole^]

More of the story. Enjoy!


The mammoth hangover of the next day notwithstanding, the next several months went very well. The paycheck I made wasn't fantastic, but it was more than serviceable, especially considering that Charlie Finley's signature was on it, and with no fanfare whatsoever, I was installed as the GM of "The Ocean City Baseball Club, Inc.", an at-that-time independent, unaffiliated franchise. Mike Veeck split his time between O.C., St. Michael's, Chicago, and wherever else baseball would lead him; every so often, we'd switch off when he wanted some beach time, and I'd go watch some baseball or attend some meetings. We called them "scouting trips" in our expense reports. It didn't matter much; whatever we did as a franchise at that point, it wasn't likely to surpass what Reggie Jackson was getting from the Angels in a single season, and every so often when Charlie showed his frugal side, Bill Veeck would just as frequently overrule him and pay up.

We ended up in a tiny office on 71st St., across the Ocean Highway from the post office and up a flight of stairs; you couldn't see the beach, thanks to the high-rise condo next door, but you could hear the seagulls, the jubilant children splashing away with their high-pitched squeals, and, if the tide was right, the surf of the Atlantic Ocean itself, crashing relentlessly away. We even got a secretary: Lisa, fresh out of community college and newly transplanted to the shore. She was a lovely beach blonde who didn't even stand a full five feet tall, so I had some serious doubts as to her ability. They were erased the first day, as over a lunch break, she'd taken our few files and organized them into the system we would use from that point onward. Of course, I couldn't ever find anything, either, but asking her for them got them as quickly as if I'd gone through the stack on my desk and retrieved it myself. Her only drawback was that she'd occasionally come to work from the beach, still in her beach clothes and with damp hair. We authorized it beforehand, of course, but hadn't counted on its distracting effect; all work would cease except hers for the next hour, while Mike and I struggled not to stare.

Beyond that, there wasn't a lot to do. I found myself at times working out lineups of imagined players, figuring out what managers were available, and doing my best impression of being the GM of a major league franchise. Every so often, Mike would get a call: "Hey...is Danny Ozark managing anywhere?" Or I would get one in return: "Yeah, I'm in Richmond. Listen, write this kid's name down..." There was no real thought with what to do with the information once we got it, but it was too exciting to be back in baseball once again.

We were informed through Bill Veeck at one point that we did actually have to operate a baseball team for tax purposes, and so, in the early spring of 1981, we corralled some skinny local kids through some of the colleges in the area. Nominally, this was the basis for the team as it stood, and would become the first minor leaguers in our system - not that we had any illusions that that would actually happen. It was still rather fun, anyway, trying out the kids and letting them do some barnstorming against some low-level minor league teams in the mid-Atlantic. The kid who turned out to be the best pitcher we had was the last to arrive at the mini-tryout we held...from Russia. The boy's father who came with him spoke not quite as much English as the kid did, and that wasn't much, but as best we could determine, the boy had been raised by his family as a true fan of America ever since his great-granddad lost his livelihood during the October Revolution - and that included teaching the boy how to play baseball. Of course that was the Soviet version of how to play baseball; in actuality, the boy didn't know much at all...but he was a strapping lad with a fastball that actually raised the college coaches' eyebrows to the point that you could see their pupils for the first time all afternoon.

"He's got nothing else," one of the coaches remarked to me in delivering the scouting report.

I inked the kid onto the roster. "Ya gotta start somewhere," I said with a smile.

It wasn't too long after those tryouts and the first games that O.C. played as a team that I received a nasty shock. When the Jolly Roger Amusement Park moved out, there was little outcry; it was relocating to the mainland, as Finley had planned, and the young folks always had Trimper's, the amusement park down at the inlet. I didn't pass the place every day, and so was surprised when, seeing it a week or two after the relocation, there was new construction that was being started...and the foundations of a new baseball stadium, roughly to Finley's specifications, had emerged. The city was building a stadium for a phantom team with an owner who had a vested interest in the team remaining that way. I decided that I needed to talk to the Mayor.

Despite my earlier unease at having to do so with Charlie in the room, I discovered that it really wasn't a huge deal to talk to Mayor Harry Kelley. Many of the visitors to O.C. did so without even realizing it, as His Honor was fond of walking the Boardwalk and chatting up the young passersby, asking if they were having a good time here. He often got a reaction of "Who's that old coot?" from the teeners, but Mayor Kelley knew exactly what was going on, and often could point out to police when he felt a situation was going to arise, or call for the Beach Patrol when someone needed help.

The next day, the Mayor, in his standard comfy shirt and windbreaker, was enthusiastically welcoming me to his office. The walls of the office were covered with the works of local artists, usually depicting the still-abundant wildlife of the Eastern Shore. Every picture had a story - about that variety of duck or dog, or the vegetation in the background, or the artist who painted it - and I was told every single one before he finally asked me, "So tell me, how is the team doing, son?"

"Well, your Honor, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. There's the site on 30th Street..."

Mayor Kelley finally and deliberately had a seat in the overstuffed office chair behind his desk. "The new stadium, yes."

"Yes...and that's the point. I, um, am not really...certain that we'll...uh...be ready for occupancy, and...command the sorts of crowds that would justify it," I stammered, adding, "Sir."

The Mayor still held a very slight grin. "And when do you think that will happen?"

I started sweating, a little. I'd been wasting a bunch of time flipping baseball cards, or doing the equivalent - and now I had to justify myself. "I...don't know, your Honor. I mean, well...let me be frank. I don't think Mr. Finley is really that interested in --"

"I know," said the Mayor, without changing his expression.

I blinked twice. "You do?"

He sighed. "Scooter, you've no doubt seen this city. I've had developers ten times better than Finley in this office before. I know when people are blowing smoke and when they're not."

I was dumbfounded. "So why build the stadium?"

Harry Kelley rose and began pacing very slowly. "Because I also know what else is going on in baseball now. You're going to have a strike soon, you know, a work stoppage. I could tell that from that MacPhail fella. He's not going to give in to anything, and I'll bet it's the same with that Bowie Kuhn."

He turned to face me. The little, clever grin was still there. "We don't have a chance now, but we could, soon. If not, a minor league franchise could happen."

"That's still a huge risk," I protested, dropping the honorifics entirely. "Sure, we're here now, but it's Finley's and Veeck's money, not mine. I can't guarantee anything!"

Mayor Kelley got downright grandfatherly, sitting at the edge of the desk. "Scooter, you know that condo that's on 94th? Have you been in there? I mean, up to the top, the penthouse?"

I shook my head no. "I want you to go there sometime soon," he said, adding, "Just tell them I said it was okay. Anyway, it's the tallest building in the city, and you can look up to the Delaware line on one side and almost down to the inlet on the other."

He leaned in, his voice getting low, gentle. "Just do me a favor and go take a look. Look at the entire city, all laid out in front of you. And then, I want you to remember that everything you see, the whole city...is all built on sand."

Satisfied, he went back to sit behind his desk. The folksiness was back. "So, anyway, that's why we're building the stadium."

+=+=+=+

It wasn't quite yet summer, so the city was mostly asleep by midnight when I returned to the darkened office from 94th Street. I snapped on a single light and ended up sitting at my desk for just a couple of minutes, staring, thinking. There was something that needed to be done. I needed to remember this feeling. Then I rose, rummaged through Lisa's desk, and grabbed a marker. Flailing about for something suitable, I ended up ripping the panel off a cardboard copy paper box and flipping to the blank side. I wrote on it, quickly, and then with a hammer and a nail, banged it up onto the wall directly next to my desk, just above the level of my head if I was sitting.

With the deed done, I calmed down from the minor frenzy of activity and became aware that I needed a bite to eat. I paused at the door, and just before I turned off the light, I looked at my new sign with the scrawled, three-inch letters across it. My new reminder.

"DON'T LET THIS DIE"

[CDuffy26]

You know, you've had about 10 posts and still with no games played, a roster, or even a stadium. And I love it! Keep it up. Veeck and Finley would be the perfect pair to battle throughout this story. Good vs Evil. Veeck vs Finley. The biggest match of the year!

[oriole^]

Thanks. Actually, I was indeed planning on posting stadium info, so here we go:

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/atlanticfield.jpg

I had an idea of the rough stadium design, and went looking for parks, old or new, which approximated the general shape. The best fit, though not too close, was Sportsmans' Park in St. Louis, with the boxy shape to the outfield and the short(er) porch in right from the bullpen being located behind the fence...

Not to mention the "poor" condition of the field, as the topsoil would have to be relocated to the site, and would probably only be an inch or two thick. Shame there's not further customization; imagine what a warning track of mostly sand would be like! :)

The park is a single deck all the way to the foul poles, bleachers of varying depth around the outfield wall, and a partial upper deck behind home plate, shared by the press box and some intermittent skyboxes on the same level.

[oriole^]

And more of the story...bringing us just up to the impending draft! How could this happen? Read, and enjoy...


I was on the beach at 71st Street. The mid-day sun was beating down hot. Despite my earlier promise, tacked onto the wall next to my desk a couple of months ago, things hadn't gone well. Baseball was still on strike, as they had been for several weeks, and while the minors played on (meaning that Mike Veeck was still out on the road much of the time), the whole sport had taken a huge beating in the public eye. Marvin Miller and Ray Grebey were pilloried on the morning talk shows on a regular basis; the whole thing was seen as pure greed - which, of course, in basic terms, it was, despite protestations to the contrary. I was generally on the side of the players - not just because I'd been one, but also because I'd met so many of the owners - and while I succumbed to an attack of stars in my eyes when the idea of replacement players was floated in the press by Grebey, I came back to Earth very quickly and chided myself for thinking it.

What hadn't been counted on by either side was that Marvin Davis, the jilted owner of the prospective Denver A's, was going to take full advantage of the situation. It's not a wise thing to cheese off somebody with unlimited capital and a large ego, and while the owners had both in abundance, they did so with someone who had more. Davis was moving full steam ahead with a competitor league in the absence of MLB, opening up a new front and giving a new urgency to the talks. Davis found fertile ground in those cities which had coveted baseball, and owners in those locations began to step forward; namesake Al Davis was reportedly aiming to build a stadium in Sacramento, while a group of real estate magnates led by a local named Don Trump had staked out the Meadowlands. In all, the new "Municipal League" was scheduled to start with ten franchises, and Marvin Davis himself was leading the way, offering "personal services contracts" to some ballplayers to assist with the promotion of the new league. Some players, like Reggie Jackson and Pete Rose (both unsurprisingly), had publicly stated they would consider playing in the "Muni".

None of this fared well for Ocean City. While Mayor Kelley had been correct in guessing that an opportunity would open, it closed just as quickly. Marvin Davis and Charlie Finley didn't want anything to do with one another, and Finley's (and Veeck's) money was tied up in the American League, not the Municipal. While there was some possibility of being involved with one of the new Muni franchises, it was pretty distant; no one yet knew how seriously to take the threat of the new league, or how close MLB was to solving its problems, though the Veecks had been trying to take that pulse themselves.

Until then, there was little I could do. Even the Mayor had reluctantly asked the developers to stop work on Atlantic Field. I had actually heard the night before, while driving around the city, a fantasy "All-Star Game", broadcast by an intrepid bunch of radio sports guys with nothing else to do either. They took the best players of all time and pitted them against each other in a computer simulated match. That's what we were reduced to: playing baseball on computers.

It had driven me to the beach in a fit of depression. I lay there for much of the afternoon, ignoring the sounds of the children and the sights of the ladies, as my baseball "adventure" of the past year looked like it was coming to an end. The Steely Dan album I was playing on a cassette deck next to my head had reached a slow, melodic portion, and even with shades on, everything was lost in the July sun, when suddenly, the light went away. Lisa was standing over me, blocking out the sun; her wrap was carelessly open, and she wore nothing else but a red and yellow bikini. For a split second, despite all else, I thought I was in heaven.

"You're needed back at the office," she said. There are no words more proficient at destroying daydreams.

"Pffft. Like hell," I mumbled.

"Mike is on his way," Lisa insisted. "Come on."

"Tell him I'm busy," I responded, flopping back onto the blanket. Then I propped up on my elbows. "Wait, what? He's supposed to be in New York."

"That's the point!" she hissed, losing patience. "He called from a gas station in Millsboro. He's coming here and said to make sure you were there!"

"But what's going --"

She kicked sand at me. "I don't know! Come on!"

I quickly showered off and flip-flopped across to the office, where I changed - I had slightly more professional garb in a closet - and emerged with a white Ocean City Baseball Club golf shirt we'd had made, and some lightweight blue slacks with dockside-style shoes. I suspected that he may have had someone with him, and discovered in the outer office that Lisa'd had the same idea, and was in a beach dress with stylish sandals and some earrings. "Ocean City Baseball Club, how may I help you?" she said with a smile in her most pleasant professional voice.

It was twenty minutes later that Mike's "hot rod" Lincoln barreled into the lot, and Veeck himself clomped up the stairs and burst into the office. It was the first time I'd seen him in two weeks. He had that staring, strung out look that drivers have after long trips, particularly those taken in a single-minded fashion, and he bore a small piece of paper in his hand. "Nice tan," he said, then, "You look like a real estate agent."

"You don't want to know what you look like," I said. "Thought you might have had someone with you. What's that?" I asked, indicating the paper.

He handed it instead to Lisa. "Can we expense this?"

Lisa looked, and whistled low. "Eighty-five? On the Jersey Turnpike?"

"Dad'll know what to do," said Mike with a wave, then turned to me. "You're not gonna believe this."

"What, you doing eighty-five?"

"No, you idiot," he said, still wide-eyed and gasping from the trip. "Davis was there. So was Finley."

"Charlie? What was he --"

"It's over," said Mike. "Marvin Miller just had Davis in the background, like a big stick. He got what he wanted. They're still ironing out the details, but the main part is over."

I was genuinely happy. It didn't necessarily mean anything to Ocean City; we were no nearer to knowing our eventual fate, or having it improved...but baseball in some fashion was going to return. Trips to the beach would mean more. Work at the office, with my frequent dabbling in the reins of general management, had more of a ring of truth about it. I reached for a pad of paper and pulled out a pen. I'd been following the details of the negotiations and knew something of what to expect -- at least, I thought I did. "Okay, calm down. What were the terms?"

"Revenue sharing."

I dropped the pen. "What? This was over the whole free agent compensation nonsense! How did that get into the mix?"

"I told you: Davis. Marvin Miller could ask for the moon, and they'd have gotten it for him...anything to block the Municipal League," said Mike. "Now the whole negotiation is between Grebey and Davis...and Davis is going to hold out for getting his Denver franchise into the league!"

"Wait..." I said, trying to make sense of what I'd heard. All at once, Mike Veeck's insistent words began to click together, and I must have gone completely white when I saw what they'd spelled out. "Oh...my...God," I breathed.

"What?" said Lisa. "I don't get it."

I stared at Mike like a man transfixed, with the goofiest of looks on my face...but at that moment, I didn't care. "If Denver joins, then they'll have to have a new team join with them for balance...and there's only one other team with the fee already paid to the American League."

Mike's mind was already going in the same direction. "With revenue sharing in place, they can't say the market's too small and turn it down on that basis --"

I finished: "-- especially not if we go in with Davis...which explains why Charlie was there! He doesn't want the money reinvested, which means the only person who could've stopped that --" I cut off that thought. I had to know. "Mike. Tell me you got to him first."

The grin began. "By the time Finley reached Davis...he'd already had a phone call from St. Michael's."

There was a beat. Two beats. He was right: I couldn't believe what I'd just heard.

Then there was the eruption, the screaming! We all grabbed each other as if we'd just won the World Series - and we hadn't even played a game yet! It wasn't official, Mike reminded us, and a lot could still go wrong, but it was no matter; suddenly, we'd managed to once again place ourselves on the map of baseball, riding the waves of fortune around us with the skill that could only come from boys on the beach.

"Call the Mayor," I shouted to Lisa five minutes later. "Tell him Atlantic Field is a go, baby!"

[3RunHomer]

Wooo! Catch the Wave!

[oriole^]

3Run: I like it!

Anyway, after a short hiatus, on with the story...


Our sudden jump from an improbable pipe dream to a full-fledged franchise stunned everyone: the sport, the nation, the world, and most of all ourselves; there was a mix of amazement, amusement, elation, and anger. We gathered the few workers we had for a celebration, and after a few drinks, the party settled down as everyone thought about the work we had ahead. Ocean City was transformed from a beach party community to a player in baseball history - which it celebrated, of course, with a blowout party on the Boardwalk - and sports journalists from around the nation descended upon it. There were numerous interviews, a full spread in Sports Illustrated, the works. Most focused on our lack of experience. We ignored those parts.

Charlie Finley, of course, had changed his tune entirely and was waving his cigar loftily in front of the cameras, declaring that all along, he knew that this was the place for baseball, blah blah, and so forth. Bill Veeck gave a few as well, undoing most of the more grandiose and lunatic things that Charlie had said - no orange baseballs or dancing mules or anything - and then excused himself in front of the next few reporters, saying he was going fishing and didn't want to be bothered.

That left Mike and I to handle the influx. We needed help, and we needed it badly...and fortunately, people came from all over the baseball and non-baseball world to do so. With the office on 71st Street woefully inadequate for the job, we moved into temporary digs at the Ocean City Convention Center, about seven blocks away from the future site of Atlantic Field.

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/OCCC.jpg

Those that stayed at 71st, namely me and a few others, became known as the "jitney squad", since we ended up regularly hopping one of the city's jitneys down to the Convention Center or nearby Atlantic Field.

Atlantic Field was shaping up to be...well, strange. The builder was an Italian fellow whose family had come over many years ago, but that didn't stop him from talking with his hands a great deal. I would greet him every few days asking how the latest part to be built was going, and the answer was always the same, "Yeah...well, about that..."

As a result, the original plan for a simple, single-decker, symmetric stadium turned into an on-the-fly engineering project. Finley insisted on more seating, thus a partial second deck to the fourteen sections behind home plate, housing the press box and the new "skyboxes" that many new stadiums had in addition to the upper deck seating. The already boxy outfield changed dimensions every time I visited; bleachers went around the outfield wall in a hodge-podge of different sections at different altitudes off the field. After adding the visitors' bullpen, it was discovered that the tiny center field bleachers and the larger and higher right field bleachers, already pushed up against 32nd Street, did not exactly meet...leaving a notch in center field that Jimmy Piersall would've had trouble playing. At one point I brought up to Tony, the builder, that an especially energetic home run that cleared the center field bleachers 410 feet away was completely out of the park and onto 32nd, with a good chance of landing in the bay beyond.

"Ya mean like Reggie Jackson?" he offered.

"Well, I hope not...since we're not going to get Reggie Jackson. But yeah, like that."

"Hmmm," he began. "Well, it could, but that depends on the boat slip."

"Boat slip?"

"Yeah," he said brightly. "The city, they're putting in a slip out there so's they can ferry in fans from the mainland. Less traffic problems. You didn't know that?"

I shook my head and grinned. This was going to be a trip.

Getting back to the hiring, it proved to be easier than expected, as several old-timers were looking around for some jobs. Greg, the new intern, walked into the room shortly after being hired, with a phone in his hand, announcing that there was a "Nelson Briles" on the line for Mike. Mike threatened to break an Olympic vaulting record getting to the phone. Minutes later, the Surf had a pitching coach.

Yes, "Surf". It was on the menu as part of the "Surf 'n' Turf" dinner where we ate while discussing the name. Mike reasoned that O.C. was White Marlin Capital of the World (said so on the sign coming into town), so why not call them the Marlins? "Who the heck wants to root for a team called the 'Marlins'?" I shot back, and, unusually, I won the argument in one fell swoop. :D

[oriole^]

Draft day finally came at the end of a bitter fight between me and Mike. Mike insisted that we snag the young rookies that we can develop from scratch - the conventional wisdom. I was sure that the Centennials would be doing the same, and argued that veteran talent was going to be left in the streets. The resultant list, once we calmed down, was a mish-mash of aged veterans and buck rookies.

I had no idea that the draft would be televised until we were ready to go to the studio in L.A. where it would take place. As a result, I was in a hastily-snatched blazer that didn't match my slacks with a baseball-themed novelty tie. The contrast with the Cents' front office team was amusing: they walked in with impeccably-tailored power suits and broad grins, with Marvin Davis leading the way beside his hand-picked GM, Roland Hemond, an old friend of Veeck's. We had Finley and Veeck, who stood on opposite sides of our group, not speaking to each other; I carried a stack of folders and papers representing our compromises that was a good six inches thick - I nearly dropped it when shaking hands with the Cents' officials.

As I predicted, the Cents made a play for young kids, some of whom barely had any major league experience. They believed they scored with a deal with the Royals, obtaining Bud Black, a highly regarded prospect.

I leaned in to Mike and whispered the name he didn't want to hear. "Kingman," I said.

"Like hell," Mike quickly responded. "Dave Kingman is clubhouse poison."

"Have you seen what Tony did with the fences?" I whispered with increased urgency. "They're back again. You're getting a bunch of guys who can't get it over. Get Kingman."

"No. There's no way. Go with Terry Felton. Discussion closed."

We had to make a pick...the slip of paper rested in my hand. Quickly, I scribbled down the name "Dave Kingman" and rose from my seat to a sharp look from Mike. "Sorry...I really am," I explained, "but, well...Mayor Kelley said something to me once about being built on sand." We unexpectedly ended up with Felton on the next pick, which probably ensured that I would leave the studio in one piece.

At one point, the camera panned to the Surf's desk to find it empty. I was pacing in the background, on the phone, wildly waving Bill Veeck over to the desk. Mike Veeck, meanwhile, went to have a discussion with Roland Hemond. "Rollie," he began. "How do you feel about Rick Monday?"

"He'll probably bounce back. You should get him. Now, would you excuse --"

"No, for you," said Mike, smiling. "We'll take Gordie Pladson off your hands."

Hemond looked perplexed. "Who do you have on the phone over there? Peter O'Malley?"

Mike shrugged. "It was a local call. And we have to do something with Mike Ivie. The Dodgers get him."

Hemond smiled. "So. Once a Veeck, always a Veeck, right?"

At that point, Mike's father called out from over my shoulder. "Well, Rollie? We're doing it?"

Hemond nodded, still smiling. After all, he'd done this with Bill before - making deals in a hotel lobby as part of the White Sox "Done, Bill. Thanks!"

At the end of the day, the lineup wasn't good...but, I mused, it sure was interesting. Which, given our team, made more sense, I guess.

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/lineup.jpg

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/pitching.jpg

A few notes: I admit freely to editing two players: Glenn Gulliver, to give him the walks ratio that he had as a member of the Orioles (resulting in an Eye of 100 though his Contact remains at 69) and Mario Mendoza, to improve his fielding (which improved his Overall from a 57).

And yes, that's Bill "the Spaceman" Lee as the closer. Aside from Terry "Tub O'Goo" Forster, he's the only one in the bullpen with any major league experience at all, despite being listed as a starter.

As you can tell, this team was built for being interesting, not being a powerhouse!

[oriole^]

I'll also admit to changing around some salaries to reflect that this was a team built mostly on an expansion draft. The most noteworthy example was Lenny Randle, a 71 Overall with a $250K salary that got dropped to $60K - pretty good for a minor leaguer. Anyway, the Surf's financials are still pretty tame; only Seattle, Milwaukee, Toronto, and Denver have a lower payroll.

[CDuffy26]

Man, that team doesn't look as bad as you think it might. I predict about 70 -75 wins, but the thing Im most interested in is the characters you got on this team. You got a major a****** in Kingman, but you also got the Spaceman. The only thing that I think could make this team better would be The Bird Man Mark Fidrych.

[3RunHomer]

Is this sim-version of the Spaceman throwing mainly knuckleballs? Got to love those knuckler closers.

[oriole^]

Is this sim-version of the Spaceman throwing mainly knuckleballs? Got to love those knuckler closers.

No knuckler, though he does have five listed pitches. That was another edit I made that I'd forgotten about: adding an eephus to Lee. He did have one and would throw it to screw with a hitter's timing.

Incidentally, I was reading that Lee recently started a game for the Alaska Goldpanners - and got the win, too. :)

[PotatoOfCouch13]

Bill Lee is awesome! Good luck trying to control him: he's a bit of a "free spirit", if you know what I mean ;)

Nice start to the dynasty. It's been 2 whole pages and you haven't even started playing yet! Great story!

[oriole^]

Potato: Yeah, but I'm a free spirit too, so...not a problem! :)

On with the story:


While Mike and I may have disagreed with each other on some aspects of running the Surf, picking a manager wasn't one of them. After all, Mike knew Larry Doby. Larry was briefly the manager of the White Sox during the Veecks' tenure there, the second black manager in the Major Leagues to Frank Robinson, just as he was the second black player in the majors to Jackie Robinson. That didn't mean that he had to undergo any better than Jackie or Frank; there were still, to be frank, a great many racists associated with the game who were determined that the first example of each would be the last, and Larry proved them wrong. He did so with a combination of talent and grace that few before or since possessed - qualities he would need to have in abundance to lead the micro-market Surf and their contentious and divided management.

We brought in Doby for an interview, and it was clear from the first five minutes that he was remarkably well-suited for the job. I was in awe, which I didn't really get into much with other ballplayers; sitting here before us was a living legend - one who conducted himself in such a way that he didn't have to announce it: he carried it in his whole demeanor. The nuts-and-bolts of the job evaporated as a topic of conversation, as he knew precisely how to handle them; the rest of the time, we sat around enjoying the cocktail shrimp that Greg the intern had somehow brought for the occasion and listened to Larry tell fascinating stories of his days with the Indians, when he broke the American League's color barrier.

There was no question we'd found our guy. Nellie Briles was overjoyed with the choice of Doby, as was Bill Veeck, of course, and we prepared to announce his hiring in the next day or two...but of course, that was before Jackie Brandt walked through the door.

We were all mystified as to what Brandt was doing there; nobody there'd sent for him, and he himself seemed a bit unsure as to his role - though Zeke, one of our new scouts, assured us that that was simply Jackie Brandt - the man about whom the term "flake" had been coined. It turned out, after some discussion, that it was Charlie Finley who had sent Brandt to Ocean City - to serve as my assistant general manager!

I invited Jackie into my office and shut the door. I'll admit to being frosty about the whole thing - anything done by Finley can't be all good, I reasoned - but, while not the swiftest, Jackie was engaging and, well, free-spirited. This was a guy who ran the bases backwards when he got bored, after all...he fit into Ocean City just fine in that sense. We had the fact that we were both former Orioles in common as well; though separated by several years, we knew a lot of the same people back in "the other city", as Surf management had taken to calling Baltimore.

After a half an hour or so, Jackie and I emerged from the office, and I saw out of the corner of my eye Zeke sweep up a couple of singles from the outer office desk, while Lisa gave a brief frown. Lisa, apparently, lost the bet when Jackie emerged unscathed. "Well," I said with a bit of a laugh, "I don't think I've ever gotten a co-worker quite like that before! But well, welcome to the team, Jackie."

"Thanks!" said Jackie amiably. "I think we're gonna like it here, a whole lot."

My laugh trailed off a bit. "Uh...we?"

"Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you," said Brandt, reaching into his jacket pocket. "Mr. Finley asked me to give you this as well. Something about the manager."

Though I shouldn't have been anywhere near as incredulous as I was, given the conversation I'd just had, I snatched the paper from Brandt's hand rudely, and, according to Lisa and Zeke, went white as a sheet. "Mike? MIKE?? Finley, you son of a...MIKE!!" I bellowed, bolting quickly from the room.

Mike was so startled at my shrieking that he smacked his forehead on the door frame leaving his office. "Jesus Christ Almighty, Mike!" I yelled, brandishing Jackie Brandt's envelope with clenching, bone-white knuckles. "Finley's already hired a manager! And it's - it's Marv...****ing...THRONEBERRY!!"

They had to have heard the screams in Salisbury.

[3RunHomer]

They heard the screams all the way down in Cape Charles!

Marvelous Marv. He's the man.

[oriole^]

Slight pause here, guys. Sorry that I haven't done anything with this in the past week or so, but there's a slight problem: I have to do some repairs to my laptop. The replacement part is on its way, so hopefully this weekend, after I do my final shows for the play that I'm in (and sleep off the cast party hangover :) ), I'll be able to install it and get back on line. (I'm on my work machine right now - which I'm sure the boss would be overjoyed to know...)

I have all the notes for my next post just about ready to go, and I have in fact already played the Surf's first series against the visiting Red Sox! What were the results? Stay tuned!

[oriole^]

Well, okay, some weird doings here. My laptop is still busted, but it's the screen that's the problem - the CPU itself is fine. So I rescued BBM and put it on a different system...and I'm back in business! Only one thing, though: I didn't rescue the story I was writing, which was the second half of the hiring of Marv Throneberry. Hmmm!

After that, though, was the Surf's first game, and I think people are ready for that. So what I decided to do was just launch right into the season, and save the second half of that story for later when I get the old laptop back. That will mean skipping ahead just a bit, but you haven't missed that much...and hopefully you'll like it as we start playing the season!

Let me know what you think...



From downtown, near Caroline Street on the Boardwalk in the early morning, I made my way up to the new Atlantic Field. It was Opening Day, and I was pessimistic. The whole thing seemed so unbelievable, so surreal - here we were, thousands of people short of the next-smallest market in the league, with a team full of characters and one owner out of two who was suicidally incompetant, playing in a beach resort. Oh, sure, there was novelty to it - our caps were among the league's best sellers, and the whole nearby state of Delaware, with the possible exception of Wilmington, had embraced us, as had Atlantic coast Virginia - but how long was it all going to last? And what was worse, the sun was stubbornly refusing to make an appearance...

As the day went on, my outlook brightened somewhat. Atlantic Field, which I had expected to be a leaky, cobbled-together mess of a stadium, actually ended as a quaint, quirky, gem-like field: mostly brick to the outside, mostly wood on the inside, with a fresh coat of paint in the team's cool-but-chipper colors gracing the seats. It was Thursday, when the good parties started in town during the season, and Ocean City and its visitors came out in good numbers. Sure, there were Orioles and Phillies caps, to be sure, but the majority were decked out in their brand-new Surf finery, not yet broken in...some hauled around signs welcoming the new home town team, or exhorting their new heroes. A gaggle of shirtless guys in the gallery had dubbed themselves the "Jamie Quirk Fan Club", and there were one or two signs for the slugger, Kingman, that simply read, "KONG".

It still wasn't quite right, though. I arrived and took my bows before the crowd in a pre-game ceremony wearing a Hawaiian shirt as a lark, thanks to a pissy comment made by Frank DeFord in Sports Illustrated a week or two ago - and I was cold. The visiting Red Sox were by far the better team on paper, and had a chance, if, as always, their pitching held up, of taking the AL East, while we were slating to be competing with the Blue Jays for the AL basement. And for a team that was trying to market itself to young beachgoers as a hip, up-and-coming squad, Gaylord Perry might not have been the guy to start our history with...but I wasn't going to second-guess Marv Throneberry about that. Yet, anyway.

Once I got up to the skybox, however, I heard a whistle - a low moan that I swore rattled the scoreboard. From beyond the center field wall, I saw...yes, the boat. The passenger ferry from the mainland, carrying enough fans to insure a sellout. And that's when, as my grin spread, it all began to happen.

It was like a movie script. As the dulcet sounds of the Beach Boys began to waft over the field (Mike picked the music, of course) taking over from the echoes of the boat whistle, the last stubborn cloud began to move slowly, slowly out to sea. From the left field foul pole, spreading across outfield and to the front gate with a cheer following it across, the sun made its first appearance of the day, minutes before the anthem, and the temperature began to rise as the new Boys of Summer took their places on the diamond. If there was any doubt that this was the day to play ball, and that we were in the best place ever for it - Charlie Finley be damned - they were erased by the rays of the sun.

The Red Sox began as they usually did, with second baseman Jerry Remy standing in against Gaylord Perry. Perry floated in a 2-1 pitch, and Remy smacked it back through the box. Oh, great, I thought...but a Remy baserunning mistake and a knee-bending sinker to fool Dewey Evans brought the inning to a close and the fans to their feet.

The Sox's pitcher, Mike Torrez, was also more than up to the task of taking on the AL's newest franchise, and he and Perry settled into each other's lineup for an old-fashioned pitcher's duel.

It wasn't too long before I got a phone call in the skybox. It was Jackie Brandt, in the clubhouse.

"Scooter," Jackie half-whispered, "the Sox think Perry's loading 'em up."

"Of course Perry's loading 'em up," I hissed. "Where've the Sox been for the past twenty years of this guy's career?"

Brandt began to get mealy-mouthed. "But...but...they say they're gonna report it to the league. What do we do?"

Oh, fer pity's sake, I thought. This was gonna be a long summer. "Look, don't say anything back. Just pull out a program and keep track of the number of times Torrez fixes his hair while he's on the mound."

"Okay." A pause. "Uh...why?"

"Have you seen that guy's head?" I asked, unsure if he ever paid attention. "If I took a squeegee across his hair, I could solve the energy crisis. Between him and Gaylord, and the way the sun's coming down out there, I'm expecting a grease fire to start on the mound before the seventh-inning stretch. Anyway, if they give you any more grief, just show them the tally and tell 'em we won't mess with their Brylcreme if they don't mess with ours." Jackie said something affirmative, and that was the last I heard of that.

Mike showed up in the box in the middle of the fifth. "So," he said with that little-boy grin of his. "Whaddaya think, huh?"

"I think Torrez is kicking our butts. We haven't even gotten it out of the infield against him! This is really embarrassing for an opener."

"Yeah," he said in that wistful tone of his, staring out at the game. "Beautiful, ain't it?"

I stayed silent for a while. "Yeah, it is," I said finally. "Now shut up."

Down on the field, the lead batter, Kingman, somehow laid off a 3-1 fastball from Torrez and took his base - the Surf's first baserunner. I whooped along with the crowd. Mitchell Page looked silly on a three-pitch strikeout before Tony Bernazard laid down a bunt to get Kong over to second. A bit early for that, I thought, but again, Throneberry had something of a free pass for the first few games. A runner was in scoring position for Jamie Quirk. Tim Foli and Glenn Gulliver followed. My heart sank.

But Torrez tried to be too cute to Quirk, and after allowing a few to pass, the catcher looped one off the end of the bat over Carney Lansford's head at third. The ball skittered into the left field corner and took an odd, pinball bounce, momentarily handcuffing Jim Rice - Kingman headed for home while Kranepool leaped out of the coach's box at first to wave the high sign to Quirk, who had never once been mistaken for Ty Cobb. Rice recovered with a rocket throw to Remy at second, which arrived just after the least graceful slide in American League history. It was completely ugly - and the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Surf 1, Red Sox 0.

Top of the next inning looked like it wouldn't hold. The Sox got Remy and Evans on, and with two down, Perry fell behind Rice. Then the wily Perry unleashed his change-up - or maybe it was the change-up from his change-up. I'd seen cars parallel park faster than that pitch reached the eager Rice. Gulliver visibly winced at third as Rice took a titanic swing - and topped it harmlessly up the middle. Bernazard fielded it and stepped on the bag to end the threat.

The Surf had another chance in the seventh when Kingman doubled and Dwayne Murphy raced around from first to score - but Jim Rice wasn't going to let that happen twice on his watch.

Top of the ninth, and I was pacing in the box. Throneberry not only hadn't gotten Lee to warm up - the Spaceman had actually moved down into the dugout to watch. Jay Johnstone, sitting next to Lee, had donned a pair of enormous joke sunglasses. But no one in the park was cooler than Gaylord Perry. He resembled an Easter Island statue, staring, unchanging, from the beach out to the sea for generations. He'd lost none of his zip since the first inning, which...wasn't that big of a deal as he had none to begin with. But then, he didn't need it. And, as I noted, he didn't once go for the dippity-do.

Jim Rice grounded out harmlessly, and Yastrzemski did the same. Then, with the crowd on their feet, Boston's highly touted rookie, Wade Boggs, skied a forkball to the infield.

At that very moment, Greg walked in with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. "Here you go," he said to me and Mike, landing it on the table just as Kingman squeezed the final out...

[oriole^]

Week 1 (Apr 1 - Apr 3)
1-2 (.333)
6th in AL East
1.5 GB Cleveland


OCEAN CITY 1, Boston 0
W: Perry (1-0) L: Torrez (0-1)
HR: None
Both pitchers go the distance, with Perry only a bit better; Quirk bats in Kingman with the game-winner in the fifth.

Boston 5, OCEAN CITY 2
W: Tudor (1-0) L: Christenson (0-1)
HR: Rice (BOS)
Tudor tosses a gem of a game, with 7 Ks, and Rice's HR cements it in the eighth. Bernazard tries to spark a rally with an RBI double, but no cigar.

Over in the NL, Roy Smalley of the Twins hits for the cycle against the brand new Centennials!

Boston 6, OCEAN CITY 5
W: Eckersley (1-0) L: Felton (0-1) Sv: Stanley (1)
HR: Murphy, Kingman
A see-saw, never-say-die game. The Surf get a solo shot from Kingman against Eck, but can't scratch out the next run against Stanley.

[oriole^]

Some more scores for this time around. Does everyone like this format?

Week 2 (Apr 4 - Apr 10)
3-6 (.333)
6th in AL East
4 GB Cleveland


CLEVELAND 4, Ocean City 3
W: Sorensen (1-0) L: Stuper (0-1) Sv: Glynn (2)
HR: Thornton (CLE)
The Surf rally falls agonizingly short in the 9th; Glynn strikes out Bernazard with two on to end it.

CLEVELAND 5, Ocean City 2
W: Blyleven (2-0) L: Perry (1-1) Sv: Glynn (3)
HR: Bernazard
Tony Bernazard with 3 extra base hits, but Perry walks five before giving way to Ted Power; the damage was done. Blyleven K's nine. Mitchell Page somehow fractures his finger, which may explain his batting to start the season...

Ocean City 6, CLEVELAND 3
W: Christenson (1-1) L: Denny (1-1)
HR: Puhl, Bannister (CLE)
The Surf open up the game in the top of the 9th against Dan Spillner; Gulliver doubles in Quirk and Puhl hits a 3 run HR. But Bill Lee threatens to give in back in the 9th when the Indians mount a two-out rally; he finally entices Mike Hargrove into a fly ball to end it. First loss of the year for the Tribe!

Baltimore 2, OCEAN CITY 1
W: McGregor (2-0) L: Kaat (0-1) Sv: Williamson (1)
HR: Kingman
Kaat gave up three hits, Kingman homered, Terry Forster struck out the side in the ninth...and we still lose.

Baltimore 8, OCEAN CITY 5
W: Flanagan (1-1) L: Stuper (0-2) Sv: Snell (1)
HR: Murray (BAL), Singleton (BAL)
The O's were one better than the Surf for most of the night, taking advantage of Stuper's wildness (5 IP, 5 H, 5 BB, 1 WP, 1 HB) and Forster's (1 IP, 3 BB). Singleton's homer in the eighth puts it out of reach.

OCEAN CITY 4, Baltimore 2
W: Perry (2-1) L: D. Martinez (0-3)
HR: Murphy, Quirk
Gaylord gets the loogie workin', striking out 11 O's. The visitors have a two-out rally against Felton in the 9th, but can't come all the way back.

[oriole^]

Hi, folks. I just wanted to check in and let everyone know I'm still alive...the computer is battered but hanging in there, just like, well, me...and I hope to be resuming this dynasty over the Christmas and New Year's holidays.

[oriole^]

Week 3 (Apr 11 - Apr 18)
7-9 (.438)
6th in AL East
6 GB the Yankees

The Centennials have completed their first sweep - over the Reds at Mile High!

OCEAN CITY 8, Baltimore 7 (14 innings)
W: Altamirano (1-0) L: Stewart (0-1)
HR: Murray (BAL), LeFlore
A wild one! Murray's HR jumps the Birds out to an early lead, but the Surf tie it up twice with timely hitting before Ron LeFlore's grand slam puts them ahead for good - at least, until Cal Ripken's sac fly in the ninth (the O's third of the game). The relief staffs settle the game down until Jamie Quirk singles in Dave Revering in the 14th! On to Yankee Stadium!

NEW YORK 5, Ocean City 3
W: Guidry (2-1) L: Kaat (0-2) Sv: Frazier (3)
HR: Watson (NYY), Murcer (NYY)
Guidry nonchalantly mows down the Surf for no runs on five hits, but they rally in the 9th against Righetti, who didn't retire a batter! George Frazier comes in to retire Kingman and Bernazard for the save.

NEW YORK 6, Ocean City 0
W: May (2-0) L: Stuper (0-3)
HR: Gamble (NYY), Murcer (NYY)
Well, that didn't work. Rudy May two-hits the Surf, striking out six.

Ocean City 5, NEW YORK 2
W: Perry (3-1) L: McGlothen (2-1) Sv: Lee (1)
HR: Kingman, Bernazard
The Surf scrap for their first win against the Yanks - and Perry's 300th in his career! Revering's sac fly gave the Surf the lead in the sixth; Gulliver added an RBI single and Kingman a solo shot. Cerone leads the Surf in mobbing the "World's Oldest Beach Boy" on the mound, as the Yankee Stadium faithful applaud respectfully!

OCEAN CITY 7, Boston 3
W: Christenson (2-1) L: Tudor (1-2)
HR: Kingman 2
After a day off, Kong blasts a double and two HRs against John Tudor back in the friendly confines of Atlantic Field.

OCEAN CITY 9, Boston 8
W: Forster (1-0) L: Stanley (0-2) Sv: Lee (2)
HR: Rice (BOS), Revering
Oh, heck yes! Kaat comes apart in the fifth against the Sox, capped by Reid Nichols, of all people...but Revering smashes a drive off new pitcher Oil Can Boyd over the center field wall out to the big boat for a grand salami in the 7th! Red Sox rally against Lee, who has yet another shaky outing, but holds on for the save, as Bernazard snares Remy's line drive to end it.

Boston 11, OCEAN CITY 0
W: Clemens (2-1) L: Stuper (0-4)
HR: Rice
Well, that was rude. Stuper is blown to smithereens in the fourth, and Ted Power fares no better; Clemens, meanwhile, has control issues but gives way to Mark Clear having given up only three hits. Stuper would sue for non-support, but he isn't giving much reason to...

The Expos complete the sweep of the Cards following their earlier one of the Phils - they're out in front and on a roll in the NL East!

[oriole^]

Some more story. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!


I'd been back in Ocean City for about fifteen minutes before Zeke tossed me a copy of The Sporting News. "Scooter, d'ja see this?"

The cover bore the jubilant face of none other than Gaylord Perry, with Rick Cerone and some infielders preparing to mob him on the storied mound at Yankee Stadium. "SURF" was emblazoned on his chest, and an interlocked "OC" fronted his probably-greasy cap; the bold caption beside him was a simple "300!" I smiled right along with him. For a franchise barely two weeks into their first year, the Surf was beginning to settle in to the league and its own city admirably. Atlantic Field already felt like home after the series split with the Orioles, even in front of an equally split stadium. The locals, never one to back down to out-of-towners at any time, began to modify the usual "OH!!" chanted during the national anthem, replacing the "say" that usually followed with a leather-lunged "SEE!!" rather than trying to over-shout the Orioles' fans during the initial syllable. The new anthemic "O.C.!" chant complimented the loopy boat whistle just before the first pitch, which the captain of the ferry insisted upon for some unknown reason, and added character to the already character-laden configuration of the ballpark and the beach party mood of its denizens. And now, there was reason to celebrate a historical moment of the sport, as Gaylord Perry returned to Atlantic Field as the fifteenth man ever to win 300 games in major league baseball - the first in almost twenty years.

It was the next day that I decided to hit the field during the afternoon with some sweats on and actually work out with the guys. Obviously it's a bit weird to have someone from the front office down in the clubhouse without a suit on, but I wasn't that far removed from my playing days, and I kind of knew some of the older guys like Gaylord and Jim Kaat...and everyone else decided to have some fun with it when I stood in for some BP against the kids like Porfi Altamirano (I couldn't pick up that submarine pitch for love nor money). I actually did get a few hits and drew a few "oohs" - but not until Nellie Briles himself took the mound and tossed a few, which once again got the guys to laughing.

The team was pretty loose. Even the glowering presence of Dave Kingman didn't get anybody upset - particularly not after his homer during Gaylord's 300th, and his two to follow up last night against the Red Sox. "He might be a son of a *****," reasoned Gaylord, "but he's our son of a *****."

I'd finished my hacks and was about to step aside when I noticed Terry Forster off to the side, pumping fastballs to Rick Cerone. Jamie Quirk was catching next to me, and I turned to him and asked, "Hey, has Cerone lost weight?"

"Have I what?" asked Cerone, bat in hand, waiting to replace me.

I was mightily confused, and stared off at the now-unknown catcher who was backstopping for Forster. "Wait a sec. If you're here, and Jamie's here...then who's that?"

Quirk flipped up his mask. "Bobby Bailor. He's breakin' in his new mitt."

"Ah," I said, then stopped. "Wait, what's Bailor doing with a catcher's mitt?"

That drew a shrug from both catchers. Jay Johnstone waited on deck, swinging a donutted bat, and chimed in, "Don't worry, Scooter, you won't have to tell Mr. Finley about the extra glove! We had some money left in the budget since Mitchell doesn't know how to use one!"

Quirk looked over to Mitchell Page, the career DH who hadn't taken the field in the last three seasons with the A's and had yet to for the Surf, who was sitting nearby with a packet of sunflower seeds, a growing field of shells gathering around his feet. Mitch had fractured his middle finger while we were in Cleveland, and shot Johnstone a look while displaying the splint to the cackling outfielder. "Naw, Mitch has a glove in his locker...somewhere, I think," Quirk jibed. "Don't you, Mitch?"

Page looked thoughtful as he spat out a few more shells. "Can't remember," he said finally, and dug in the bag for more.

In any case, no one quite knew what Bailor was doing catching, so I wandered over to find out myself. Over by the foul line, Bailor put down two fingers and Forster wound back and unleashed a wicked curve, which Bailor did well to land in the middle of the now-not-as-new mitt. "Hey, Bob," I asked, "what're you doing?"

Bailor flipped up the mask and gave me a look. "That's one of those trick questions you guys in the front office ask, isn't it?"

"Great, we've hired a comedian. No, I mean why are you breaking in a catcher's mitt when you're not a catcher?"

"Well," said Bob, lowering the mask again, "you never can tell."

"Tell what? You're a shortstop!"

"I played center field for the Blue Jays last season," said Bob, snaring another Forster curve.

"Well, yeah -"

"When they didn't need me in left or right field, that is."

"Yeah, but -"

"And for the Orioles, I was a third baseman and played a little bit of sec-"

"Okay, I get the picture," I interrupted, throwing up my hands in mock exasperation. "Whatever. As long as Throneberry doesn't warm you up in the bullpen."

Bailor gave a little shrug. "Well, that's up to the skip. I did start a game once, down in Greenville."

I was starting to head off to shower when that turned me around. "Yer kidding."

"Nope. We'd just picked up this kid to start, and he went out to celebrate the night before...kinda tied one on. He didn't answer when I called him the next morning, so we figured he was just too hung over, and left for Danville without him." Bailor waved off Forster and stood to head back to the dugout and change out of his gear.

"Serves the kid right, I guess," I commented.

"Actually, no," explained Bailor. "He wasn't really hung over, it turned out, and he was none too happy about missing that start. Still, there wasn't any way he was making that bus."

"Really? Why's that?"

Bailor gave a huge grin as he strolled away. "'Cause I was drivin' it."

[oriole^]

Week 4 (Apr 19 - Apr 25)
12-11 (.522)
5th in AL East
5 GB the Yankees

Ocean City 4, TORONTO 2
W: Perry (4-1) L: Key (0-3) Sv: Forster (1)
HR: LeFlore
Perry with another gem of a game, striking out seven. LeFlore and Murphy give the Surf the RBI's they need, and Forster slams the door.

TORONTO 6, Ocean City 0
W: Stieb (2-3) L: Christenson (2-2)
HR: McGriff (TOR)
Stieb goes the distance for the win, giving up three hits. Okay, we might just need to do something about the bats on this team...

Ocean City 8, TORONTO 5
W: Kaat (1-2) L: Leal (2-2)
HR: Kingman, Woods (TOR), Moseby (TOR)
And just like that, the bats come back! Puhl and Bernazard with three hits each.

The Centennials pull off a stunner: Charlie Moore and John Castino sent to the Astros for Jose Cruz(!) and Jim Pankovits...

SEATTLE 6, Ocean City 1
W: Moore (2-2) L: Stuper (0-5)
HR: none
Stuper falls apart in the very first inning in the Kingdome; Phil Bradley does most of the damage for the Mariners.

It's time for some folks to get some seasoning. In the Surf's first designations, John Stuper (0-5, 9.95) is sent all the way to AA, while Mitchell Page (.118) is sent to Dover to get his swing back. Lenny Randle and John Pacella are brought up; Bill Lee will take Stuper's place in the rotation, and Terry "Tub O'Goo" Forster becomes the new closer...

Ocean City 3, SEATTLE 2
W: Forster (2-0) L: Caudill (1-2) Sv: Pacella (1)
HR: Revering
Revering's pinch-hit homer opens the scoring for the Surf in the ninth, as the Mariners got one in the eighth and one with two outs in the ninth off Sisk. Caudill K's the side in the eleventh, but loses it in the 12th to a Terry Puhl groundout! John Pacella, the rookie, is brought in for the save, and with two outs and two on, improbably completes it!

Ocean City 3, SEATTLE 0
W: Perry (5-1) L: Bannister (3-3)
HR: Puhl
The Surf rollllll! Perry goes the distance, striking out six for the shutout. Puhl homers in the first and the bench again roughs up Caudill in the ninth (Gulliver with a bases-loaded walk!)

Ocean City 3, SEATTLE 1
W: Christenson (2-1) L: Stoddard (0-1)
HR: Foli, Murphy
With pitching like this, who needs hitting? Christenson goes the distance, scattering seven hits. The Surf have a winning record!

[JeepGuy63]

The Surf have a winning record!Congrats on the winning record.

One question, can we get a look at what you have sitting in the minors?

[oriole^]

Jeep: Sure, but don't look too close - it'll make ya woozy... :)

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/lineupminors.jpg

The pitching situation looks much better, but I'm going to have to get some of these guys moved for some actual players in the field:

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/pitchingminors.jpg

[oriole^]

Also, I've pulled off a few trades thanks to the logjam that the Astros made for themselves at 3B, trading for John Castino as the starter with Ray Knight, Art Howe, Denny Walling, and Ken Caminiti already on the team. The Orioles begin by sending Tom Dodd, Nate Snell, and $50K to Houston for Ray Knight (in real life, they waited until he was a free agent). And the Mariners swap Thad Bosley and $50K for Art Howe...

[oriole^]

I hadn't expected the Yankees front office to do me a good turn, but sometimes, the horsehide takes a funny hop. The Yanks rolled out the red carpet for us on our first trip up there - a full wine-and-dine trip in midtown Manhattan with several of the Yanks' brass before the game, including the latest GM, Bill Bergesch, and the Boss himself. I say "The Boss", because that was all they called him; I don't think his full name was used the entire time we were there.

It certainly wasn't used while I was with Bergesch. We scheduled a meeting after the first game, just to touch base and say hi, nominally - and all he did was repeat what Steinbrenner - sorry, "The Boss" - had said over wine the night before. They were interested in Terry Puhl. Or Dwayne Murphy. Or some of our pitchers in triple-A...they were, in short, already looking at us as one of their free agent development squads - even after we'd spent the previous night blowing their highly touted prospect, Dave Righetti, out of the box. The talking continued until Perry earned his 300th on the last night; we left the Big Apple with no further fanfare afterwards, without even the hint of a deal on the table. The next week was spent in Jackie's or Mike's office, having the occasional "the nerve o' those guys" conversations...though we all knew the Yanks had something of a point: we weren't going to be able to resign everybody.

A week later, we were in Seattle for a nail-biter. Dave Revering had socked a pinch-hit homer to put us on the board, but the Mariners came back against Doug Sisk to send it into extra innings. Big Bill Caudill was blowing the ball past us when he finally and inexplicably lost it in the next inning. Throneberry manufactured a run when Gulliver and LeFlore walked the bases loaded, and the never-will-be-a-Yankee Terry Puhl topped it to third; Edler did well to get Puhl at first, but Jamie Quirk scored. Sisk had already worked in relief of the youngster, Candiotti, and the rotund Terry Forster certainly wasn't going to last a third inning. That's when I spotted the bullpen door open at the Kingdome...and someone walked out to pitch the 12th inning.

"Who is that?" I said to Mike, who had a pair of opera glasses.

"Dunno," Mike said. "Did we hire a walking topiary for our bullpen?"

A NBA 'fro like that on top of an obvious white guy meant one thing. "Pacella! Throneberry's putting Pacella in to close the game!"

We'd just gotten John Pacella up from Dover to cover Bill Lee when he had a blister, but John Stuper's first inning self-destruction against these self-same Mariners earlier in the week meant he was staying for a while. Mike and I didn't really think he was ready for prime time, and feared he was about to prove it. Exhibit A was his first warm-up pitch, which featured exactly the same goofy phenomenon that every single one of his pitches did: his Surf cap, barely constraining that big Italian 'fro at the most stationary of times, popped off like a jack-in-the-box as he lurched his fastball towards the plate. I screamed for the phone.

"To call who?" asked Mike. "Tell me you aren't calling -"

"Throneberry!" I barked. "Or Nellie. Or Kranepool. Or the National Guard!"

"No," said Mike, slightly more calmly. "You are not going to be the 'Boss' of Ocean City!"

That caused a nasty shock, I'll admit...but I persisted. "If he loses this game -"

"You're going to let him," scolded Mike. "We're fine in the standings, ahead of where we should be. Now pipe down!"

I sat and fumed. Bruce Bochte walked on a high fastball (pop went the cap), and Danny Tartabull was about to stand in, so I began to pace...amazingly, Pacella got ahead of him (pop went the cap twice), but Bailor couldn't turn the DP on the grounder that resulted (past that stupid cap on the turf). One out. Then he balked Tartabull to second - and damned if he didn't lose his cap then, too.

"Mike, give me -" I began.

"You're not getting it."

"No, I meant -"

Greg handed me a Scotch, already properly iced. "Here, Scooter," he said, and I thanked him.

Bradley flew to center (pop, pop) for the second out and Joe Simpson walked behind him (pop, pop, pop, etc.), bringing in Thad Bosley, whom Mike knew from his White Sox days. Pacella, of course, worked it to a 3-2 count. The few fans left began making some real noise. The cap kept hitting the turf. The ice in my drink began to rattle from shaking...

Swing and a miss. Strike three. The Surf take it.

The moral for the day? Don't be "The Boss".

Good Scotch helps.

[oriole^]

Week 5 (Apr 26 - May 2)
16-13 (.552)
4th in AL East
4 GB the Yankees

Dave Dravecky is traded from San Diego to Oakland for Tony Phillips and Jeff Kaiser...

Toronto 3, OCEAN CITY 2
W: Leal (3-2) L: Sisk (0-1) Sv: McLaughlin (3)
HR: Barfield (TOR), Mayberry (TOR)
Lloyd Moseby singles in Ernie Whitt in the ninth off Doug Sisk, and Joey McLaughlin contains the Surf in the bottom of the inning.

OCEAN CITY 3, Toronto 1
W: Lee (1-0) L: Bomback (1-2)
HR: none
Let's hear it for the Spaceman! Bill Lee completes the game, scattering seven hits.

Ocean City 4, TORONTO 2
W: Perry (6-1) L: Key (0-3) Sv: Forster (1)
HR: none
Perry keeps on slip slidin' away, and Foli, somehow, raps two doubles.

The Surf passes Boston in the standings, while the A's, previously on a 10-game slide, pick up two in a row at home against the Yankees!

Ocean City 3, BALTIMORE 2
W: Christenson (4-2) L: Palmer (4-1) Sv: Forster (3)
HR: Murray (BAL)
I have no idea how long we can keep this up, but until then, I'll take it! The O's attempt a late-inning comeback against Forster, but it falls short! LeFlore breaks out of a slump with 2 RBI.

Ocean City 5, BALTIMORE 2
W: Kaat (2-2) L: Flanagan (1-4) Sv: Forster (4)
HR: Murray (BAL), Kingman
Kaat, fresh back from a minor injury, pitches a gem against the O's at Memorial Stadium, surrendering only four hits.

Forster will take two days off with an injured calf, leading to...

BALTIMORE 5, Ocean City 4
W: T. Martinez (1-0) L: Pacella (0-1)
HR: Kingman, Murray (BAL), Bumbry (BAL), Dwyer (BAL)
Kong hits the 300th of his career to start the second inning...but talk about snatching defeat from the jaws of victory - Bumbry and Dwyer hit back-to-back two-out home runs against Pacella in the bottom of the ninth!

[oriole^]

Week 6 (May 3 - May 9)
21-15 (.583)
3rd in AL East
5.5 GB the Yankees (and pct. points behind the Indians)

An extended home stand coming up for the Surf!

OCEAN CITY 4, Cleveland 0
W: Candiotti (1-0) L: Whitson (2-3)
HR: Revering
Candiotti's the man! The rook goes the distance for the shutout despite seven hits, three walks, and no strikeouts.

Ozzie Smith's 24-game hitting streak(!) comes to an end in the NL...

Cleveland 8, OCEAN CITY 1
W: Blyleven (4-4) L: Perry (6-2)
HR: Quirk
The Surf come unglued in the 8th, committing three errors.

Cleveland 9, OCEAN CITY 7
W: Denny (6-2) L: Pacella (0-2) Sv: Glynn (7)
HR: Thornton (CLE), Quirk, Manning (CLE)
Thornton hits a grand slam in the 1st before Jim Kaat even records an out, but Kitty settles down and the Surf battle back behind him against John Denny, with another Quirk HR and Revering batting in Terry Puhl. Then Pacella comes apart, and Manning inside-the-parks one against Altamirano. Gulliver and LeFlore RBI'd to start a rally against Ed Glynn, but it fizzled when Puhl batted to Harrah, who turned the DP.

OCEAN CITY 3, Chicago 2
W: Lee (2-0) L: Dotson (1-4) Sv: Forster (5)
HR: Kingman, Fisk (CHI)
The Spaceman sails once again: four hits, no walks in 8 IP. Kingman's late blast earns the win for the Surf!

OCEAN CITY 4, Chicago 3
W: Candiotti (2-0) L: Kern (0-1) Sv: Forster (6)
HR: Kingman, V. Law (CHI)
Yeah, this is nuts, but it's my kinda nuts! Kingman with two doubles and a dinger, and Candiotti gives 7 IP of shutout ball before Law's HR in the eighth.

OCEAN CITY 6, Chicago 1
W: Perry (7-2) L: Burns (1-6)
HR: Fisk (CHI)
Britt Burns issues a bunch of free passes, and LeFlore and Gulliver go wild on the basepaths; Kingman reaches base four times while Jay Loviglio boots the ball twice at third base.

OCEAN CITY 4, Chicago 3
W: Christenson (5-2) L: Koosman (2-2) Sv: Forster (7)
HR: Baines (CHI), Kemp (CHI), Puhl
Puhl homers in the 7th, and the Surf come from behind again! Christenson whiffs nine and Forster K's two in the ninth to close it!

[JeepGuy63]

Week 6 (May 3 - May 9)
21-15 (.583)
3rd in AL East
5.5 GB the Yankees (and pct. points behind the Indians)A great week for the Surf, going 4-2, even sweeping Chicago.

[oriole^]

And now a bit of a gap-filler: I had mentioned several weeks ago that I'd written a short piece after the hiring of Marv Throneberry, but it was lost when I did some computer repair. Well, it wasn't, it turns out, so here ya go...



I was rude to the new manager when he came to Ocean City. Hell, I was probably ruder to Marv Throneberry than anyone I'd ever met in baseball. The sad part about it was that Throneberry himself was a fairly likeable guy, and had some idea of how to manage a team, though he'd never done so before. He had an "aw-shucks" demeanor about him that the media, including the local papers, ate up. Finley's idea was transparent: he would get a genuine "nice guy" who'd become famous through loveable ineptitude and self-effacing beer commercials to mis-manage the Surf without fear of being dismissed, then the team would collapse and Finley would write the loss off on his ex-wife. Charlie Finley's name was never spoken at the Convention Center or Atlantic Field for weeks afterwards without being accompanied by a string of swear words. It got serious enough that Mr. Veeck ("Mister" was understood to be Bill Veeck; Mike was just "Mike") took a break from his semi-retirement to travel to Ocean City (on a bus, naturally) and personally supervise some further acquisitions for the front office and coaching staff. This led to one of the more priceless looks I'd seen on any manager's face, as we introduced Ed Kranepool, who we'd hired on sort of a whim, to Throneberry as his first base coach. "Yeah...we've met," said Kranepool with a grin, as he shook the hand of the guy he replaced at first base with the Mets.

We expected and fully would have understood if Larry Doby had completely blown us off after we revealed what Finley had done and gone to another team. As it turned out, however, Doby was still interested in a job with the coaching staff - turned out he did need the work, which we attributed to the spectre of racism not completely being eliminated from baseball. We resolved to give Doby the third base coaches' job, leaving him the heir apparent to the managerial position. We apologized profusely again to him as we did, but he responded, years beyond irony, "It's okay...I'm used to being second."

The new Surf hit the field in Titusville, Florida, for the first time in spring training, and later in the month of March, tried practicing in Atlantic Field for the first time. When the team came out of the tunnel into their new home, I saw Dave Kingman smile for the first time since we'd signed him. Looks like Tony hadn't moved the fences back that much after all.

[oriole^]

Week 7 (May 10 - May 16)
23-19 (.548)
3rd in AL East
8 GB the Yankees

Ocean City 5, DETROIT 4
W: Pacella (1-2) L: Lopez (0-1)
HR: none
You can't script this kind of stuff: the Tigers jump out 4-1 at home, but the Surf come back in the eighth; Kingman singles in LeFlore and Johnstone hits a 2 RBI pinch double. In the ninth, Bernazard bats in Foli while Pacella somehow holds it together in the bottom of the inning!

The Expos, Phillies, and Braves are now tied atop the NL East with 20-15 records...Fergie Jenkins has struck out his 3000th batter for the Cubs - only six have more in their careers, including the Surf's Gaylord Perry in second place...

DETROIT 10, Ocean City 6
W: Saucier (2-3) L: Pacella (1-3)
HR: Kingman, Brookens (DET), Quirk
Johnstone with another two-run pinch double, and another dinger by Quirk!...but Pacella can't hold onto the lead this time, nor can Doug Sisk.

DETROIT 7, Ocean City 6
W: Saucier (3-3) L: Altamirano (1-1)
HR: Hebner (DET)
The Surf hang in there until the last, but Kingman pops up with two outs in the ninth and Tony Bernazard on second base.

The Surf pull the trigger during the off-day on a trade, sending Rick Cerone, John Stuper, Jerry Mueller, and Justin Underwood to the Dodgers for Don Crow, Craig Shipley, and Dave Anderson. Crow is immediately brought up to replace Cerone on the roster, joining the team in Toronto, much to the consternation of Rick Sweet, the catcher at AAA Dover...!

Ocean City 8, TORONTO 5
W: Perry (8-2) L: Key (0-6)
HR: Bernazard, Upshaw (TOR)
Bernazard goes 5 for 5, Don Crow with a double in his first game as a Surf, and Pacella once again on the mound to close the game - but thankfully it wasn't close this time. Upshaw comes within a single of hitting for the cycle.

TORONTO 6, Ocean City 5
W: Eichhorn (2-0) L: Christenson (5-3) Sv: Jackson (1)
HR: none
Christenson unravels in the 7th against the Jays.

TORONTO 5, Ocean City 0
W: Leal (4-5) L: Kaat (2-3)
HR: none
A masterful two-hit shutout by the Jays' Luis Leal, striking out 7 and walking none.

[oriole^]

I hated like hell losing Cerone. He was a gamer; a good backstop who knew how to handle a staff, and was on the verge of becoming a favorite with the Yankees before they left him dangling in the expansion draft...but alas, we'd come to the same conclusion that they had - he was simply overpriced. We'd signed him with the expectation that he would be starting for us and Rick Sweet would be the backup, but Jamie Quirk simply proved he wanted the job more in spring training, and had kept it going for the season thus far. The four homers to his name weren't much, but they were exactly four more than he'd hit all of last year for the Royals, who had plenty of other options behind the plate and were sorry to see Quirk go. They were also four more than we expected from him.

Following the "we want Terry Puhl" discussions with the Yankees and Bill Bergesch, a collection of the Surf's front office brass gathered at the office at the Convention Center. The nominal reason was to welcome Herm Franks, our new executive vice president, sent by none other than Charlie Finley himself, after Charlie realized he wasn't going to get the sort of nosy, regular updates from Jackie Brandt that he might have expected (and after Herman realized he needed a job, any job, after Dallas Green had pushed him out as the Cubs' GM at the end of last year). It turned into an in-depth conversation on how we could cut some costs from our payroll, and, after bringing Marv Throneberry and Larry Doby into the room, Cerone was the one name that kept popping up.

Mike had unfortunately gotten the ball rolling thanks to some scouting he'd done of Don Crow, a Dodgers farmhand who was blocked by the backstop phenom, Mike Scioscia. Scioscia was the only one who could really talk to their Mexican pitching sensation, Fernando Valenzuela, who may have been destined to break single-season rookie records had the strike not happened last year. The regular catcher, Steve Yeager, was now deeply ensconsed on their bench. An endorsement of Crow came from an unexpected source: Porfirio Altamirano, the Nicaraguan submariner that Briles had been grooming in our 'pen. Porfi didn't speak a heck of a lot of English either, so Mike was surprised to find that he knew Crow's name, and pronounced him "good, sí, sí. Goooood." After a translator was quickly called in, the younger Veeck found that they'd played against each other in the Amateur World Series in Italy a few years back, and while Crow was none too swift with the lumber, he was quite solid behind the dish - and as he was asking much less money, that was all we were really looking for.

I'd expected to peddle Cerone to another team - most likely the Phillies - and deal with the Dodgers for other money or talent, but Peter O'Malley surprised me by insisting on Cerone in return. Far be it from me, I reasoned, and called a distraught Paul Owens back to tell him no; he responded with a few choice adjectives to describe O'Malley.

Crow arrived in Toronto for our game against the Blue Jays with that "holy smokes" stare in his eyes, not quite believing that he'd made a major league roster - which was probably in retrospect why Throneberry simply wrote him into the batting order and told him to go meet Tom Candiotti, the starter he'd be catching that night. Crow apparently didn't know whether to jump for joy or plotz, right there; he might've done both.

Jamie Quirk took news of the benching pretty well, just asking Dave Revering nearby whether that was the "new kid" on the lineup card. "Yeah, I think so," replied Revering, and the two had a seat on the bench, waiting for the game to begin.

After a minute, Quirk said, "You don't suppose I should tell the kid that Candy's slider is all over the runway tonight?"

Revering mulled that one. "Nahhh," he said finally. "He'll figure it out."

Welcome to the bigs. Or at least, welcome to the Surf.

[BINGLEBOP]

This is very well-written so far... excellent quality in your posts. Just the right amount of information in each post.

[oriole^]

BINGLE: Thanks! Glad you're enjoying it.


Week 8 (May 17 - May 23)
27-21 (.563)
4th in AL East
6 GB the Yankees

New York 4, OCEAN CITY 3
W: May (5-1) L: Lee (2-1) Sv: Gossage (9)
HR: Watson (NYY)
Bernazard and Gulliver with three hits each, but it wasn't enough to overcome May. A rally in the 8th falls short.

OCEAN CITY 10, New York 4
W: Candiotti (3-0) L: John (5-2) Sv: Pacella (2)
HR: none
The Surf pounce on Tommy John for four in the 1st, and later bat around in the 6th against two relievers!

OCEAN CITY 9, New York 0
W: Perry (9-2) L: McGlothen (8-2)
HR: none
A matchup against two of the top pitchers in the season thus far - and it wasn't even close! Perry shuts out the Yankees, while the Surf chase McGlothen in the 5th, scoring six runs!

Ocean City 9, CLEVELAND 2
W: Christenson (6-3) L: Denny (7-3)
HR: Kingman, Murphy
Once again, the Surf break out the whippin' sticks; Kingman hits his twelfth of the season, and Tim Foli collects three hits. Glenn Gulliver gets a hit, a sac fly, two walks, and two RBIs.

Luis Leal, the Toronto pitcher who stymied the Surf at the Ex, does the same to the Yankees at the same venue: 8 2/3 IP of four-hit ball, giving up two runs and getting the win!

CLEVELAND 6, Ocean City 2
W: Barker (3-2) L: Kaat (2-4)
HR: none
All good things...Barker K's 9, while Jim Kaat may have earned a stint in the bullpen...

Chet Lemon hits 3 HRs as the Tigers behead the Red Sox 18-2...!

Ocean City 8, CLEVELAND 7
W: Power (1-0) L: Spillner (3-1) Sv: Forster (8)
HR: Harrah (CLE), Puhl, McBride (CLE), Quirk, Murphy, Thornton (CLE)
A wild one at the Lake, with numerous lead changes, and two SBs by Dave Kingman(!) Power runs into a jam after Thornton puts the Tribe within one run in the ninth, but Forster comes in to slam the door!

The Yankees, who started with a 19-win April, are now looking mortal, with series losses to the Surf and Jays on the road...meanwhile, the Tigers and Orioles are on tears, tightening up the AL East...

[oriole^]

Of course I do realize now, after re-reading over my dynasty, that I violated my own rules a bit by not "submitting" that Cerone trade to the masses first. Ah, well...if people want the complete details on the trade, they can ask me and I'll provide them, and if I don't hear any major complaints that this was a serious rip-off, I'll let it ride. :cool:

The short details are:

To the Surf:

Don Crow C 70/75 Earning 43,500 until Arb '84
Dave Anderson SS 58/71 Earning 1,700 until Arb '85
Craig Shipley 3B 60/77 Earning 1,350 until Arb '85

To the Dodgers:

Rick Cerone C 72/74 Earning 200,000 until FA '82
John Stuper SP 67/75 Earning 2,250 until Arb '84
Justin Underwood LF 55/67 Earning 2,250 until Arb '85
Jerry Mueller SS 58/62 Earning 2,250 until Arb '85

[oriole^]

Most of the team was actually from California. Combine that with the beachfront locale of the Surf - albeit with a change of coasts - and the girls showing up for games in the bleachers with beach wraps and little else on, and it made for a pretty mellow team. Sure, there was the glowering presence of Dave Kingman, and the occasional bitchfest from Tim Foli, but for the most part, between the antics of Jay Johnstone in the dugout and the yammering of Bill Lee about some Eastern religion he'd read about out in the bullpen, things stayed loose.

The guy that might've had the most problems adjusting to this was Ron LeFlore. This was a kid who'd come off the meanest of streets there were: Eastside Detroit. His entire life had consisted of drug and alcohol abuse and related crime for the first part, and incarceration for the second part. It's likely the cycle never would have broken if it hadn't been for a prison baseball league and Billy Martin, who came in search of the talent that the ravages of young Ron's life had disguised before he got off the drugs and drink in prison. He'd shuttled to different teams after his "hometown" Tigers...the White Sox weren't too keen on keeping him, nor were the Expos before them, and he'd thought about hanging up the spikes and seeing what his new life held besides baseball. Instead, as he told an SI reporter, he decided to give it one last try, to see what "God had in store for him", in what he assumed would be Denver, or another Municipal League team. To his surprise, he found himself in the party atmosphere of Ocean City, Maryland, and on a team whose presence in the Major Leagues was as improbable as his own.

Being in Montreal was enough of a shock to an inner-city kid just seven years removed from prison who'd dropped out of school shortly after his teenaged years began. Hanging out on the beach was another matter. He'd taken solace in one of the churches down on 3rd Street, and became withdrawn, hoping not to be taken in by the party atmosphere and fall back into drinking. He'd barely hit .200 in April, barely spoken to anyone on the bench, and was thinking about retiring once again. It took Larry Doby giving LeFlore a serious man-to-man talk before he would begin to come around, and realize he was strong enough to retain this chance on a new life that baseball had given him - even if it meant patrolling an outfield which had a warning track composed of sand. It was all so crazy, so impossible, so one-in-a-million, that he couldn't do anything but "surf" on that wave of craziness. The kid-like grin of the little boy from Detroit who never quite had a childhood began to emerge. The stroke of his bat came back, and the speed, which had never abandoned him, began to reassert itself in play. He still stayed in church; he remained off the booze...but the game, his ticket out, now held for Ron LeFlore just a bit of impish glee in addition.

LeFlore was in the outer office at Atlantic Field to pick up something or another while I was there reading the paper and sipping some of Sam's terrific Hawaiian coffee. It was Tuesday, and that meant stat time - my weekly dose of agate type, directly from the Delmarva Register. Granted, we had statisticians working for the Surf, and I already knew 95% of what I needed to as a GM, but somehow seeing it in the paper made it seem more real. We were chatting absently, and LeFlore had cracked on the song Lisa was playing on the radio before I'd grumbled at her to turn it off - some new duet between Stevie Wonder and Paul McCartney. "Don't need no ebony and ivory," quipped Ron, indicating the two of us, "we got it right here already!"

I'd moved on to the front page when Jackie Brandt walked in. "Jesus, Jackie...can you believe this?" I said as I displayed the headline to him, complete with grey images beneath of British warplanes taking off.

Jackie shook his head in a resigned way. "I tell ya, Scooter," he began, "I'm a old military man myself, and I still don't get it. No one really wants to go to war, but they all do it."

I handed him that section after a quick skim of the accompanying article. "Britain and Argentina are two modern, supposedly allied nations, and here they are at war. And over what? The Falkland Islands!"

Jackie looked back at me. "You know...I still don't know what that's about."

LeFlore chimed in, looking at Jackie. "Yeah, man...which Falkland Islands you suppose they're talkin' about?" Ron finished by shooting me a surreptitious grin and a wink. I suppressed a grin of my own with some difficulty and rolled my eyes back to Jackie, who continued to look confused.

"Whaddaya mean?" asked Brandt.

"Well," started LeFlore, exaggerating his accent, "I mean, if you gonna take a bunch of falklin' soldiers and invade some falklin' island, you betta falklin' know which one it is, right? What if they invade the wrong falklin' one, man? What if they invade, like, Gilligan's falklin' island or sump'nin?"

This got us all to cracking up, and Jackie Brandt headed back to his office, chuckling, "Heh...Gilligan's Falkland Island!", which caused me and Ron to laugh even harder, because there was the distinct possibility that Jackie hadn't gotten the joke. Ron exited laughing to a high-five from me, and I was still wiping tears out of my eyes and holding my sides when Mike Veeck walked in.

"Yanks made an offer for Puhl again?" Mike guessed.

"Nah..." I said, still laughing, "but I think LeFlore's officially a Surf now." I produced the sports section, already opened and creased to the stats page. "You seen these?"

Mike smiled. He knew, of course; we'd been talking about it since our victory over the Orioles - the Orioles! - last night, but he still couldn't resist another perusal, another look, another head-shake in disbelief. "Scooter...what the heck are we doing, man?"

I paused. "Don't know about you, but I'm sitting down and having some coffee."

"You know what I mean. I mean, look at this!" His finger stabbed the paper. "When was the last time Gaylord Perry was 10-2? And leading the league in ERA?"

I allowed myself a bit of a grin. "Well, Rolaids has that 'Relief Man' award...maybe Geritol can sponsor the Cy Young."

"Or Vaseline," added Mike, still looking through. "Look at this...Kong's third in homers, LeFlore's fifth in steals - even Gulliver's leading the league in walks!" I grinned as I recalled Bob Tewksbury for the Yankees screaming bloody murder at the ump as Gully, a fellow Detroiter along with LeFlore and one of the most supernaturally calm men ever at the plate, watched four wicked breaking balls go by him without so much as a bat wiggle; they may have collectively missed the plate by six inches.

After a moment's silent reading, Mike said, "This can't last, can it?"

I gave just a little snort. "Nah," I said. "You know it and I know it. It's impossible."

"Yeah," Mike agreed. There was another pause, then he pointed down, at the floor of our front office. "Then again," he added, "this was impossible, too."

As I reached for my coffee while mulling that over, I thought about the guy who'd just left the room: the now-jovial left fielder with wings for feet, patrolling a sandy outfield at a major league beach resort...the one who, just over a short decade ago, was in a Michigan penitentiary for armed robbery, with the thought of any future beyond the wire-topped concrete walls - impossible.

"Maybe," I said finally. "Just...maybe."

[oriole^]

Week 9 (May 24 - May 30)
30-24 (.556)
4th in AL East
8 GB the Yankees

OCEAN CITY 6, Baltimore 1
W: Perry (10-2) L: D. Martinez (3-8)
HR: Murphy
Page, who regained his swing in the minors, doubled and Murphy homered against Dennis Martinez in the first inning, and the Surf never looked back. Perry becomes the first 10-game winner in the majors - unbelievable!

OCEAN CITY 5, Baltimore 3
W: Christenson (7-3) L: McGregor (6-4) Sv: Forster (9)
HR: Kingman
Christenson was wild in the 2nd and the O's took the lead, but the Surf tied it in the 4th on a Crow RBI...then Kong bashed his 13th in the 5th and Forster closed it out.

Baltimore 3, OCEAN CITY 2
W: Palmer (9-2) L: Lee (2-2) Sv: T. Martinez (5)
HR: none
Rick Dempsey was the hero for the Orioles, batting in the last RBI of a three-run rally against Lee in the ninth.

The Centennials swap Doyle Alexander to the Dodgers, receiving Brian Holton, Steve Shirley, and Ricky Wright - all pitchers - in return. A canny, build-for-the-future move by the Cents!

Detroit 6, OCEAN CITY 3
W: Rozema (6-1) L: Candiotti (3-1)
HR: LeFlore
Gulliver's first error of the season is a costly one, allowing Larry Herndon to hit a two-out bases-loaded double. The Surf rally in the ninth with a Kevin Saucier wild pitch scoring a run, but can't finish up.

Bernazard has a minor injury, so Mario Mendoza will make an appearance for the Surf. Bob Bailor will cover second base in the meantime...Kaat has been relegated to the bullpen while the Surf will go with a 4-man rotation for a while...

Detroit 6, OCEAN CITY 4
W: Petry (10-3) L: Perry (10-3) Sv: Saucier (2)
HR: Parrish (DET), Murphy
Gulliver's second error, but he did go 2-for-3 out of the #2 slot. The Tigers were just slightly better in this game in an oddly-becalmed Atlantic Field. 24,001 on hand!

Power's now injured. We scoot Pacella into his slot and continue with the 4-man for a while longer...

OCEAN CITY 7, Detroit 1
W: Christenson (8-3) L: Wilcox (3-6)
HR: Revering, Kingman, Gibson (DET)
Christenson throws a four-hitter, and Revering pounces on Wilcox with a 3-run shot in the 1st.

The Mariners have hit .500 for the first time this season; they're on a 9-game winning tear. The White Sox, on the other hand, are on a 9-game skid the other way and have hit the basement. The entire NL East is within 6 games of each other; the Mets are on a 5-game roll and threatening to climb out of the cellar there!

Mike Scioscia has dislocated his shoulder. For the next two weeks, former Surf Rick Cerone is the starter in Los Angeles!

[RedsoxRockies]

Good work, looking great!

[Amishmike1]

I'm intrigued. Wonder if a town like Myrtle Beach could support a major league club. Or Atlantic City

[OregonDuck1989]

This is currently my favorite dynasty on these boards.

[oriole^]

I'm intrigued. Wonder if a town like Myrtle Beach could support a major league club. Or Atlantic City

That's a good question...my guess would be it couldn't, but it would probably do better than many would think it would do. One possible exception might be Virginia Beach, since it's a pretty big city and it's got some other cities right around it.

[oriole^]

Here's a stat update, as of May 30, 1982. I've included the traded players with asterisks. (Check out Glenn Gulliver for a laugh...this is why I always thought the Orioles gave up on the guy too early...)


1982 Batting Team G AVG AB H 2B 3B HR BB K SB CS R RBI SLG OBP
LeFlore, Ron OCS 51 .278 212 59 12 2 3 20 42 20 5 34 22 .396 .343
Kingman, Dave OCS 54 .239 209 50 14 1 14 18 59 4 0 33 43 .517 .300
Puhl, Terry OCS 52 .291 203 59 9 6 4 18 27 11 1 30 30 .453 .345
Bernazard, Tony OCS 49 .304 194 59 14 0 3 16 37 5 1 28 16 .423 .360
Murphy, Dwayne OCS 51 .208 173 36 6 0 7 28 47 5 4 26 26 .364 .319
Foli, Tim OCS 49 .262 172 45 5 1 1 10 16 4 1 15 9 .320 .306
Gulliver, Glenn OCS 51 .201 149 30 6 0 0 38 28 1 0 16 10 .242 .362
Revering, Dave OCS 41 .297 145 43 4 3 4 12 24 0 1 18 22 .448 .350
Quirk, Jamie OCS 36 .218 124 27 5 0 5 7 27 0 0 14 19 .379 .263
Bosetti, Rick OCS 17 .340 53 18 1 0 0 0 8 0 3 5 5 .358 .340
*Cerone, Rick OCS 18 .224 49 11 3 0 0 7 9 0 0 1 4 .286 .328
Page, Mitchell OCS 12 .149 47 7 2 0 0 4 10 2 0 5 4 .191 .216
Bailor, Bob OCS 14 .182 33 6 0 0 0 2 2 2 0 2 0 .182 .250
Crow, Don OCS 5 .238 21 5 1 0 0 0 4 0 0 1 2 .286 .238
Johnstone, Jay OCS 12 .375 16 6 3 0 0 5 1 0 0 2 5 .563 .524
Householder, Paul OCS 2 .143 7 1 1 0 0 0 2 0 0 0 0 .286 .143
Randle, Lenny OCS 4 .143 7 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 .143 .143
Mendoza, Mario OCS 1 .333 3 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .333 .333



1982 Pitching Team IP ERA G GS W L SV K BB R/9
Perry, Gaylord OCS 101.2 2.04 13 13 10 3 0 62 26 10.36
Christenson, Larry OCS 92.0 3.23 12 12 8 3 0 54 26 11.05
Kaat, Jim OCS 64.1 5.46 10 10 2 4 0 37 15 11.89
Lee, Bill OCS 51.1 3.68 11 6 2 2 2 24 16 12.62
Candiotti, Tom OCS 45.1 2.78 7 7 3 1 0 23 18 12.51
*Stuper, John OCS 25.1 9.95 5 5 0 5 0 12 21 19.89
Altamirano, Porfi OCS 21.2 3.74 16 0 1 1 0 18 12 12.88
Felton, Terry OCS 19.1 4.19 10 1 0 1 0 16 17 17.69
Forster, Terry OCS 18.0 3.00 18 0 2 0 9 16 10 12.00
Power, Ted OCS 15.0 4.80 8 0 1 0 0 6 8 15.00
Pacella, John OCS 15.0 6.60 10 0 1 3 2 7 9 13.80
Sisk, Doug OCS 13.2 3.95 12 0 0 1 0 7 10 17.78

[Amishmike1]

That's a good question...my guess would be it couldn't, but it would probably do better than many would think it would do. One possible exception might be Virginia Beach, since it's a pretty big city and it's got some other cities right around it.


Virginia Beach wouldn't be bad. The big navy population in the area would come down to watch ballgames and fill some seats

[Amishmike1]

Time to start thinking about the upcoming amateur draft and trade deadline, eh? Any ideas?

[oriole^]

Time to start thinking about the upcoming amateur draft and trade deadline, eh? Any ideas?

Well, as I said before, I won't be able to participate in the Amateur Draft (see my other thread on this forum), so that will depend on the choices of others.

As for trades, I'm in a bit of a pickle. I was expecting to trade veterans for prospects, but now that I have a winning record, I'm less liable to do that.

[oriole^]

Week 10 (May 31 - June 6)
33-27 (.550)
5th in AL East
8 GB the Yankees; 1 GB 2nd place Cleveland and Detroit

OCEAN CITY 3, Toronto 1
W: Lee (3-2) L: Clancy (1-3)
HR: none
Lee goes the distance again, striking out 6 on a five-hitter. Kingman and Revering touch Clancy for RBIs in the first.

The Surf go 16-12 for the month of May...

In the first picks of the Amateur Draft, the Blue Jays choose Barry Bonds, the Cubs take Dwight Gooden, the Twins take Floyd Youmans, the Mets take Rafael Palmeiro, and the Padres take Terry Taylor...

Figuring they have nothing to lose and no one else to go out there, the Centennials start 16-year-old Stew Way, a high school sensation from Champaign, Illinois, at home against the Giants for their last game in May. Way pitches well the first five innings, and goes 1-for-2 at the plate, but then falls apart in the 6th and can't put it back together in the 7th. Way takes the loss with 20,447 on hand.

OCEAN CITY 9, Toronto 7
W: Candiotti (4-1) L: Key (0-8) Sv: Sisk (1)
HR: Whitt (TOR, 2), McGriff (TOR, 6)
Candiotti is less than stellar and the bullpen is worse - Whitt greeted Pacella with a HR in the 6th and McGriff homered off Sisk in the 9th - but the Surf rap out 18 hits against Key and a host of relievers and hang on for the win!

Reggie Jackson gets the 2000th hit of his career for the Angels, but Rod Carew sprains his knee in the same game - which California loses to Seattle...

Toronto 3, OCEAN CITY 1
W: Stieb (4-8) L: Perry (10-4) Sv: McLaughlin (9)
HR: none
The bats fail Perry in his quest for an eleventh win.

Ocean City 4, BOSTON 2
W: Christenson (9-3) L: Clemens (4-4) Sv: Forster (10)
HR: Revering (OCS, 5), Rice (BOS, 11)
Rookie sensation Clemens is pounded by the Surf...Revering doubled in a run in the 1st and homered for two in the 5th. Christenson with another brilliant game, scattering 8 hits.

Mike Flanagan (BAL) and Pete Vuckovich (MIL) go down for five and three weeks respectively...

BOSTON 6, Ocean City 2
W: Torrez (3-8) L: Lee (3-3)
HR: Yastrzemski (BOS, 4)
Torrez was steady; Lee simply wasn't that sharp. Kingman with 2 RBI, but that's all she wrote for the Surf offense.

BOSTON 7, Ocean City 1
W: Ojeda (6-6) L: Candiotti (4-2)
HR: Lansford (BOS, 4)
Candiotti is chased early by Red Sox bats, and Ojeda pitches masterfully, with 6 K's. Bernazard knocks in Crow for the only Surf run.

The Surf fall to fifth behind the surging Orioles... :eek:

[TheBigBomber]

I vacationed in Virgina Beach in the summer of '08, obviously I was right next to the beach but it had a bunch of people in the hotels and boardwalk and crap but I've never really explored much else. Anyways I had to add that, but nice job on your dynasty I'm reading.

[Amishmike1]

Well, as I said before, I won't be able to participate in the Amateur Draft (see my other thread on this forum), so that will depend on the choices of others.

As for trades, I'm in a bit of a pickle. I was expecting to trade veterans for prospects, but now that I have a winning record, I'm less liable to do that.

Sorry about the screw up reading about the amateur draft.
Yea, I'd probably hold off on dumping the veterans since you've got a winning record.

[3RunHomer]

Figuring they have nothing to lose and no one else to go out there, the Centennials start 16-year-old Stew Way, a high school sensation from Champaign, Illinois, at home against the Giants for their last game in May.


Way? No Way!

:rolleyes:

[oriole^]

Week 11 (June 7 - June 13)
36-30 (.545)
4th in AL East
8 GB the Yankees

Ocean City 6, CLEVELAND 3
W: Pacella (2-3) L: Blyleven (7-8)
HR: Revering (OCS, 6), Murphy (OCS, 8)
An astonishing development, as the Lid-Flipper is given a spot start - and responds with seven shutout innings! LeFlore goes 4-for-5; Revering scores three runs.

Ocean City 5, CLEVELAND 3
W: Perry (11-4) L: Denny (9-5)
HR: none
LeFlore scores the first and last runs of the game - the latter on what was ruled a triple with an error to Von Hayes - and Perry allows only five hits. The Tribe get a run in the ninth off Forster, but that's all she wrote!

Mitchell Page fails to impress in his return to the majors, going 3-for-17 and earning his ticket back down again. Lenny Randle is the replacement.

CLEVELAND 6, Ocean City 0
W: Barker (5-4) L: Christenson (9-4)
HR: Harrah (CLE, 7), Manning (CLE, 3)
Len Barker and Rick waits combine on a 9 K, 3-hitter (though with 7 walks).

Jamie Quirk is in a dreadful slump, with only four hits in his last ten games.

New York 5, OCEAN CITY 3
W: Rawley (3-2) L: Lee (3-4) Sv: Gossage (12)
HR: Bernazard (OCS, 4), Murcer (NYY, 11), Bosetti (OCS, 1)
Winfield gets three hits and Murcer chases Lee in the sixth with a homer...the Surf get a solo dinger from Rick Bosetti but can't come all the way back.

Elsewhere, Jim Rice hits for the cycle against the Blue Jays - but the Red Sox lose anyway...

New York 5, OCEAN CITY 2
W: John (8-3) L: Candiotti (4-3) Sv: Gossage (13)
HR: Watson (NYY, 6), Nettles (NYY, 7)
The Surf outhit the visiting Yanks 8-7, but Tommy John scatters them. 93 degrees at Atlantic Field!

OCEAN CITY 5, New York 4
W: Power (2-0) L: McGlothen (9-5) Sv: Forster (11)
HR: Kingman (OCS, 15), Winfield (NYY, 11), Foote (NYY, 6)
Neither team wasted time scoring, as Pacella lasted three innings and Kingman blasted a 2-run homer off McGlothen in the first. Ted Power came in for three innings of scoreless relief, while the recently slumping Jamie Quirk hit a two-run single in the 6th. Foote homered in the ninth off Forster, but the big guy retired Dent and Collins to put it away. The heat wave continues: 96 degrees in O.C.!

Kingman somehow sustained a hip pointer during the game (or did he have it from last game?) LeFlore will take over as the DH, while a rotating cast will hold down LF during his short time off.

[oriole^]

Sorry for doing this, everyone...but I just lost the second part of this story to a crash. I'm going to do a backup and then try to piece everything together again - fortunately, the second part isn't that long - but for now, here's the first part of the next story. Enjoy...and feel free to let me know what you think.



So Irv the Hat and Sam the Samoan invaded my office one sunny afternoon to argue about junebugs.

Okay, maybe I should back that up.

Irv "The Hat" Mankiewicz is the Surf's VP in charge of Marketing and Promotions. "'Kevitch" is an older fella with a tatty suit and a habit of wearing a thin-brimmed fedora everywhere - even inside, much to the annoyance of Bill Veeck. His stated reason was that he adopted it on reaching Ocean City to keep the sun from "overheating" him, but the more likely reason was that he was vain about his bald spot. Mike Veeck tried to convince him that he should market it as being the solar panel for a sex machine - "You're a marketing guy, right?" jibed Mike - but Irv kind of screwed up his face and grumbled something untoward, and that was that.

Whatever the case, Irv was indeed a promotional genius, as we were out-drawing cities with thousands more people in their metropolitan area; he accomplished most of it with one gimmick after another, born by bursting into my office at strange times and exclaiming, "I got it, Scooter! This is it! This is gonna put us on the map!" He would then go into a long-winded explanation containing things like "verticals" and "demographic leveraging" and other impressive terms that I was too embarrassed to admit I didn't know...and at the end of it, I'd say, "Sounds great, Irv. Why don't you run it past Mr. Veeck?" Irv would say something complimentary, like, "Thanks, Scooter, I knew I could count on you!", and with a brief double point of his index fingers at me, he'd dash out...and a few days later, something would change.

This was exactly the scenario that prompted a call from Charlie Finley several weeks ago when I realized I'd green-lighted "The Surf Network", a plan to sell Surf games on pay television, a relatively new medium here on the East Coast. Finley was going completely bananas on the phone and for once I didn't have anything to say back to him, even with regards to tossing it to Mr. Veeck so I could get him off the phone. In retrospect, Finley was likely doing so because of his experience with pay TV on the West Coast, where it was more common, and realized that Irv might have found the niche before anybody else in MLB. The major hotels in O.C. immediately signed up and offered the games as part of their hospitality, and communities up and down the coast were beginning to follow suit. The money was starting to roll in, and of course, we got a generous contractual cut. I certainly had misgivings at first, but no one yet can say it hasn't worked, and worked well.

Now Sam Kahai'i'amanakoa first showed up in my office along with Irv in those heady, crazy days shortly after we'd gotten the franchise into the AL. Sam was, obviously, from Hawai'i, and was one of the main partners looking to put a franchise in Honolulu - which got closer than one might have thought.

Unbeknownst to Sam, Irv had called over to 71st Street beforehand, giving me the skinny. When he wasn't trying to buy into baseball teams, Sam was in the soft drink business, and figured if wasn't going to be peddling his wares for his own team, he'd find another. Why he chose us, in particular, was something of a mystery, but his purpose in pricing was clear - he was looking to turn a good profit - and Irv, as the purchaser, expressed his preference that we not "talk up" the product too much, so as to get a decent price.

Sam was straight out of a casting director's dream of who a Hawai'ian was: tall and portly without being overly fat, with black hair raised into a comical topknot and skin so tanned it bordered on orange. He was already dressed for Ocean City: a crisp Hawaiian shirt with longish shorts and flip-flops, accented with a bulky and waterproof wristwatch around a sizable arm, and a pair of cheapie sunglasses pushed up onto his forehead. Irv tried to do the introductions as I shook his beefy hand, but couldn't at all manage the last name. Sam filled it in, in a deep rumble.

I paused for a second, and then said, "I'll just call you 'Sam'."

Sam gave a barely perceptible shrug. "Most white guys do."

Instantly, I knew I could do business with Sam Kahai'i'amanakoa.

As it turned out, Sam didn't sell conventional soft drinks, but Hawai'ian ice, very much like the snowballs that you might find at any number of small wooden stands along the roadside from here to Baltimore and all over Maryland in the summer. He'd brought some samples, though, prepared from an ice machine in his truck, and these compared to the kid's stand snowballs the way a filet Mignon compared to a McDonald's hamburger. They'd be absolutely perfect to sell at Atlantic Field during games; Sam was going to make a mint in Ocean City, and we stood to gain an excellent residual on the sales...but in accordance with what Irv had said on the phone before, I coolly pronounced my black cherry ice "pretty good", and put it on my desk, which made Sam a little nonplussed - though I kept sneaking bites of it when no one was looking.

I tried to broaden the subject and lower his expectations. "You know, Sam, you could sell this anywhere else; there are franchises out there with more money than us. Why'd you come to us first?"

He thumbed toward the window. "You have a beach."

Again, I instantly realized that I was right about my first impression of this guy.

The talk turned to numbers despite my efforts, and Irv picked up the bulk of the conversation for the Surf. Though he left no doubt that he loved his product and put a great deal of Hawai'ian pride into it, Sam was also a consummate salesman, and spoke like a guy who had the best thing on Earth sitting there on my desk, and was gonna get paid for it. Irv and I knew he was pretty much right, with respect to the concession stands at the soon-to-be-built stadium, but were still trying to drive a good bargain. Things had gone back and forth when Lisa popped her head in with an empty cup of what was lemon-lime ice and a little-girl grin on her face, with a slightly green tinge to her lips. "C'n I have some more, please?"

Sam turned back to me and gave that shrug again, this time with a grin of his own. "She available for commercials?"

I gave a bit of a sigh, and Irv stared daggers at my secretary as she got her refill and skipped back out into the outer office, praising how great it tasted and imploring us to buy more the entire time. The whole scene was astonishingly cute, even if it did cost us five figures' worth of wiggle room in the price. Once she exited, I started again, with the higher of the two numbers we were discussing: "So. Seven hundred, right?"

Sam nodded. "And one-fifty for the coffee."

"How much for the what?" said Irv and I, simultaneously.

"Hawai'ian coffee," said Sam. "Comes as a package deal. Normally it's two-fifty. Got some brewing out there, if you want a --"

Now I got into it. This was too much. "Sam, we're a ball club. We don't need any coffee!"

"Not just coffee," Sam corrected, raising a finger and opening his eyes a bit wider. This was obviously a matter of pride. "Hawai'ian coffee. Royal Kona. The best you will taste anywhere."

"Nobody drinks coffee in Ocean City, Sam," I said, not letting up, "least of all at the ballpark on an 87 degree day in July! Not to mention I'd rather have the team keeping the fans awake, so they won't need the coffee!"

"Royal. Kona." Sam insisted. "Look, this is not what you get at the Waffle House or anything - this is premium stuff. It's grown by my family on the Big Island; they roast it right there. And we get 87 degrees at home, too!"

I got insistent right back, rising a bit out of my chair. "No! Coffee! A'right? It's just not a baseball thing. Baseball fans don't do coffee." Irv nodded in assent.

At that moment, there was a voice drifting in from the outer office - Mike had walked in. "Holy Christ, Scooter, whad'ja do with this coffee, here? It's doesn't taste like you melted a crayon in it, for a change! This is terrific!"

Irv pushed his hat over his eyes, while Sam leaned back in his chair, beaming. Not a word was said until I broke the silence with, "One-fifty, y'said?"

Sam, however, turned out to be a fine vendor, and after paying handsomely for promotional considerations at Atlantic Field, ended up sticking around in O.C. and expanding his franchise onto the Boardwalk. He acknowledged us as where he got his start in the town, and frequented our offices quite a bit, sometimes to work another promotional angle, but mostly just to chat. In that time, I hadn't really seen him all that angry - except for the most recent time, on a hot, sunny afternoon...which brings us back to the junebugs.

To be continued...

[oriole^]

Way? No Way!

:rolleyes:

Way. :cool:

Way has a peak of something like 96, but his current is like 54, and the Cents have better starting pitchers around in AAA than that...I don't know what's up with this. Way made a second start since and got creamed again. :confused:

[oriole^]

And now, the second part!


"Junebugs", in the local parlance, were the cream of the high school class of the year, freshly graduated, newly free of parental supervision, and ready to indulge in the time-honored tradition of turning Ocean City into their personal playground of nascent adulthood. Unfortunately, for the locals, the standards of the local school jurisdictions weren't necessarily all that great of a hurdle to clear...and regardless, teen hormones were still kicked in and ruling the day for every single one of the young vacationers. The typical junebug would trundle out of a rickety car after a four to five hour drive, hauling cases of (usually cheap) beer and "beer bongs" - the funnels they used to drink it down without tasting it - together with who-knows-what other ceremonial chemicals that were safely stashed out of sight, probably next to a box containing at least a dozen condoms.

Despite loving our city, most of the Surf staff were new to town, and weren't sure what to expect from this new influx. The head groundskeeper, Benny, wasn't one of them, and therefore wasn't all that surprised when he found his first of them in the stadium while we were off at Fenway, losing to the Sox. It was about 6 a.m., and the poor unfortunate was lying on second base, still pretty toasted from the night's festivities, with his face painted with lipstick and his pants missing. Stuffed inside his shirt pocket was his wallet, a note with his hotel's address on it, and fifteen bucks for cab fare; there was, it seemed, a sense of fair play about these junebugs.

Benny was able to handle that situation and the few similar ones which followed with no real difficulty, but the homestand afterwards began to get more dicey. Our sales department specifically hadn't considered the junebug "market" when doing its promotions. There were an exceptional number of drinking establishments in the city, and since drinking was the main thing on a junebug's mind, we figured that the last place they'd want to go would be the stadium for a ball game, where drinking was decidedly secondary - except in the owner's box, during a losing slide, such as the one the Yankees treated us to...but that's another story.

Little did we fathom that the junebugs were, basically, out for a "good time", and that's exactly what we advertised ourselves as. Apparently, one can only hit the clubs in town so often without getting carded, and Atlantic Field and the Surf were "fun for the whole family!", according to our ads. This wasn't what we had in mind with the slogan. Dad, Mom, and Junior didn't ordinarily come to the stadium blitzed and then proceed to get further hammered into oblivion even after passing the gates, regardless of attempts to card them at the beer stands...and it was a great annoyance to those families who were there to have to deal with hordes of drunken junebugs, who had little interest in the game and often a violent disposition. After our Saturday game against the Yankees, which became a P.R. disaster in addition to a loss (there were five times as many ejections as we usually had), Mike Veeck recalled "Ten-Cent Beer Night" in Cleveland ten years ago, where the fans quickly got out of control and caused the Indians to forfeit the game to the Rangers. (Mike was very aware of it, as his "Disco Demolition" promotion took the Indians brass off the schneid of having caused the last forfeit in the American League.)

In any case, I received a call from the Worcester County Police at my office. I suppressed the initial impulse to spread myself over my desk and tried to deal with the situation as a nice, adult GM. After all, we were going to lose money on this if it got out into the wider news media.

The big mystery for the Surf was, where were they getting it? We had undercover cops and security guards checking out the beer kiosks, and while the line was now predictably moving slower, they didn't find any serious violations. Some were undoubtedly swizzled when they got there, but they should have been getting more sober as the game went on, not more trashed. I was at sea as to what to do, and told the Chief of Police as much.

As it turns out, the Chief of Police has detectives at his disposal and a General Manager does not, and he told me precisely what was happening in my own ballpark. And that was what led Sam the Samoan and Irv the Hat into my office hours later.

"What are you trying to do to me?" was the opening gambit as Sam threw open the door to my office. Irv was in his wake, trying vainly to calm him down. Sam was not the sort to get perturbed at any time, so this was entirely out of character for both men.

Irv eventually explained that Sam had gotten a call from the police, but it took several attempts over Sam's protestations of his wounded pride before he could make that clear to me, as I was throwing up my hands and repeatedly asking what the deal was, and several folks from the surrounding offices, including Mike, were gathering in my doorway to figure that out as well.

The problem, in a sense, lay with Sam's delectable Hawai'ian ices. The junebugs couldn't smuggle an entire flat of beer into the stadium, so they made do with a half-pint or a pint of rum, as befits denizens of a beach community, secreted somewhere on their person, and mixed it with Sam's Hawai'ian ices on the inside. Essentially, that was a quick route to an instant frozen daiquiri. The cops had called Sam letting him know of this, with the additional warning, I discovered, that sales of his ices would be regulated if this couldn't be brought under control somehow. Hence, Sam was none too happy with me - since I was the one who (under some pressure, mind) requested the cops get to the bottom of this.

Even as he paced about my office, haranguing me constantly, Sam was not putting me on. He was one of those vendors who had grown up with his product, and took a familial pride in it. He was an excellent salesman, no doubt about it...but when you talked about his ices and his coffee, you were talking about his family and their work. He was genuinely offended, and it took at least fifteen minutes before Irv and I could get him to consider the situation more rationally.

"Sam! Believe me, yes, we have a contract! No one is going to make us stop selling the ices or the coffee!" I finally yelled at Sam as he was beginning yet another circuit of my office to decry how the Surf had screwed him and all of Hawai'i.

"Then why do I get this from the Chief of Police?" he demanded, adding, "The Chief of Police!" and thrusting his arms heavenward at the indignity of it all.

"Look, Sam," I tried to reason. "There are some...of the wrong element, let's just say, and they are...misusing your product. That doesn't mean it's a bad product. We just have to safeguard it more carefully."

"Yeah," chimed in Mike. "How dare they do that! Everyone knows that's only supposed to be done in the owner's box, like we do."

"Shut up, Mike," I said immediately. "Sam, we're going to get to the bottom of this. Right, Irv?"

Irv was never, ever taken off-guard, even in situations like this. "Right, Scooter!" Then he mouthed to me, "How?"

"Look, it's simple," I said, as if I knew what I was going to do. "We'll just have the police review everyone who's buying your Hawai'ian ice, to make sure they ain't got any rum. No rum, no problem with the sale. Okay?"

That brought Sam out of his histrionics with an abrupt stop. "You'd do that? For me?" Then he became more suspicious. "How are you going to be able to guarantee the cops will be here?"

"Don't worry," I said, and summoned Irv to my side. "How am I going to be able to guarantee that?" I whispered.

He nodded as if he had the plan. "You were the idiot that opened your mouth," he whispered in my ear.

I gave a sage nod, and silently resolved to twist the heads off Irv's golf clubs at the next opportunity. In the meantime, I had to come up with some way of -- yes! I snapped my fingers for emphasis. "Lisa!" I called.

Lisa had been one of many listening in the outer office, bunched up at my door, and there was a comical pratfall as she, Zeke, and Greg extricated themselves from each other so she could enter. I summoned her to the desk and whispered instructions to her. They ended with "...and then, get me the Chief of Police!" in more audible tones.

It was two days later when I received a bear hug from a familiar Hawai'ian. "Scooter, I was wrong about you," he said. "You do understand. You know how important this is." He stopped hugging and looked at me intensely. "If you should ever find yourself in Hawai'i," he said, complete with the native accent, "you call my people. They'll take care of you."

"Mahalo," I responded, in the best way I knew how, and received another bear hug.

Sam left to check on his stores on the Boardwalk, and Mike, who was in the door, finally commented. "Okay," he said finally, "how'd you do it?"

"What do you mean?" I replied as I tried to re-straighten my spine.

"C'mon," said Mike. "The league was breathing down your neck, as were the police, and you got the Chief to come back in and have the cops to pick up the bulk of the work in controlling the junebugs."

I shook my head with a grin. "It wasn't me, Mike. Why don't you ask Lisa?"

"She was wearing a short skirt?"

"You have a dirty mind. All she did was...well, put on some coffee."

We might end up at a net loss for supplying all our police officers for free...but I have to admit, Sam was right about the coffee.

[oriole^]

Week 12 (June 14 - June 20)
38-35 (.521)
4th in AL East
8.5 GB the Yankees

Boston 4, OCEAN CITY 2
W: Torrez (4-8) L: Perry (11-5)
HR: none
Gulliver's throwing error led to the Sox's third run. He later batted in both of O.C.'s, including the one in a ninth-inning rally, but it fizzled as LeFlore flied to left.

Boston 10, OCEAN CITY 3
W: Ojeda (7-7) L: Christenson (9-5)
HR: Rice (BOS, 14)
No one ever doubted the Red Sox's ability to hit, and they proved it, touching Christenson and Kaat for five runs each.

OCEAN CITY 5, Boston 4
W: Lee (4-4) L: Tudor (3-7) Sv: Forster (12)
HR: Lansford (BOS, 5), Householder (OCS, 1)
A makeshift Surf lineup matches the Sox hit-for-hit, culminating with Householder's first O.C. HR. Sisk gets roughed in the 9th, but Forster comes in to close.

Dwayne Murphy is now below .200 on the season, and has been benched...Rick Bosetti will inherit CF for now.

Another shocker of a trade out of Denver: the Orioles trade Ken Dixon to the Centennials for Jose Cruz!

BALTIMORE 10, Ocean City 3
W: D. Martinez (8-8) L: Candiotti (4-4)
HR: Cruz (BAL, 8)
The Cruz trade pays immediate dividends for the O's, as he delivers a triple, a homer, and 4 RBI, and the Candy Man is chased after three innings for the Surf. A host of relievers fare no better.

BALTIMORE 6, Ocean City 4
W: McGregor (10-4) L: Pacella (2-4) Sv: T. Martinez (10)
HR: none
As opposed to the previous game, the Orioles had no extra-base hits all game; their 6-run 5th was helped by Terry Puhl dropping a fly ball and Pacella uncorking two run-scoring wild pitches.

Tom Filer is brought up from the Surf's AAA affiliate in Dover, where he was 3-4, 3.66 for the White Cliffs. John Pacella will now be flipping his lid in Delaware for a little while.

Julio Valdez, the stopgap SS for the Red Sox, has fractured his skull. He joins Jerry Remy, Glenn Hoffman, and Dewey Evans on the DL in Boston; their DP combo is now Jody Reed and Ed Jurak!

BALTIMORE 1, Ocean City 0
W: Palmer (13-2) L: Perry (11-6)
HR: none
A clash of the titans. Singleton's 2-out RBI double is the only XBH and only RBI of the game. Perry struck out eight, walked one, and gave up 7 hits; Palmer K'd 6, walked one, and gave up five hits. The Orioles extend their winning streak to eight games, and are now 2.5 behind the Yankees.

Don Sutton of the Astros wins his 250th game...

OCEAN CITY 6, Texas 5
W: Christenson (10-5) L: Matlack (8-8) Sv: Forster (13)
HR: Parrish 2 (TEX, 6, 7), Householder (OCS, 2)
The Surf get their groove back at the expense of the visiting Rangers. Larry Parrish takes advantage of the fences to hit a pair of HRs, and Jim Sundberg hits a triple(!), but Tim Foli has two timely doubles for 4 RBIs, and Forster once again is good for the save.

Flash from the Left Coast in the National League! Phil Niekro has thrown a perfect game against the Padres! The Braves win 2-0, as Niekro strikes out seven!

[oriole^]

Now tell me...how do you get this by throwing a knuckleball?


Atlanta Braves (34-38) at San Diego Padres (32-42)

June 20, 1982
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 R H E
Braves 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 6 0
Padres 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0


Braves AB H BB R HR RBI K SB AVG
Brett Butler RF 3 0 2 0 0 0 1 0 .336
Glenn Hubbard 2B 3 1 0 1 0 0 0 0 .257
Chris Chambliss 1B 4 4 0 1 0 1 0 0 .355
Dale Murphy CF 4 0 0 0 0 0 2 0 .216
Rufino Linares LF 3 0 1 0 0 0 1 0 .216
Biff Pocoroba 3B 3 0 1 0 0 0 1 0 .263
Rafael Ramirez SS 2 0 2 0 0 1 1 0 .229
Paul Runge SS 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .242
Bruce Benedict C 4 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .205
Phil Niekro P 4 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 .128
Totals 30 6 6 2 0 2 7 0

2B: Glenn Hubbard (9)
GDP: Brett Butler, Dale Murphy


Padres AB H BB R HR RBI K SB AVG
Garry Templeton SS 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .269
Ruppert Jones CF 3 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .279
Tony Gwynn RF 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .178
Joe Rudi 1B 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .275
Joe Lefebvre LF 3 0 0 0 0 0 2 0 .288
Terry Kennedy C 3 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .226
Luis Salazar 2B 3 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .258
Tim Flannery 3B 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .241
John Montefusco P 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .188
Sixto Lezcano PH 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .253
Gene Walter P 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .000
Gary Lucas P 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .500
Gene Richards PH 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .261
Totals 27 0 0 0 0 0 7 0


DP: Joe Rudi 2, Luis Salazar 2, Garry Templeton, Tim Flannery

Braves IP H BB HR R ER K PIT ERA
Phil Niekro 9.0 0 0 0 0 0 7 97 4.04
Totals 9.0 0 0 0 0 0 7 97

Padres IP H BB HR R ER K PIT ERA
John Montefusco 6.0 5 5 0 2 2 6 103 3.43
Gene Walter 2.0 1 1 0 0 0 0 30 2.88
Gary Lucas 1.0 0 0 0 0 0 1 12 2.05
Totals 9.0 6 6 0 2 2 7 145

WP: Phil Niekro (4-8)
LP: John Montefusco (6-9)

Temperature: 72F
Wind: 4 MPH (in from left)
Attendance: 22,543
Time: 2:39

[oriole^]

Surf picks in the 1982 Amateur Draft

Tom Izaguirre, 18, SP (63/88) - A gawky, righthanded junkballer from right in the area. Izaguirre's fastball isn't up to major league standards yet, but he has a screwball/sinker combo that might be ready for prime time very soon.

Sherwin Cijntje, 18, CF (59/85) - The speed is already there for this product of Curacao in the Netherlands Antilles; everything else will need time to develop. A young Lou Brock type? The front office is hopeful...

Howie Shapiro, 17, 2B-SS (56/81) - A youngster who turned in some extremely impressive high school numbers in south Florida. Could turn into a five-tool player.

Chip Hilton, 18, 1B (51/81) - The best of the bunch on raw potential; a long-term prospect with an impressive work ethic and a lot of strength. Could move from first depending on his development.

Francis Phelan, 18, RF (53/75) - All the tools are already there...the question is, can he hit a major-league curve?

Archie McPhee, 20, RP (55/67) - A lefty with a live fastball and good movement on it. The sort that might impress if another pitch develops well.

[oriole^]

Week 13 (June 21 - June 27)
40-39 (.506)
5th in AL East
10.5 GB the Yankees

OCEAN CITY 7, Texas 0
W: Lee (5-4) L: Medich (7-7)
HR: none
The Rangers had some sloppy pitching (Medich walked in two runs before giving way to Smithson) and sloppy fielding (four errors); the Surf had a ShO effort from the Spaceman, K'ing 5 and walking 1.

Texas 4, OCEAN CITY 1
W: Darwin (4-7) L: Candiotti (4-5)
HR: Bell (TEX, 6), Kingman (OCS, 16)
Kong whiffs three times, then homers in the ninth for the Surf's fifth hit. A great performance by Darwin, who K'd 11 in eight innings.

Texas 2, OCEAN CITY 1 (10 innings)
W: Tanana (6-11) L: Forster (2-1)
HR: none
A heartbreaker, as Filer's excellent first start for the Surf is squandered when the Big Tub o' Goo loses his control in the tenth, walking three and throwing a wild pitch.

The Blue Jays beat the Orioles 15-9 at the Ex, breaking the O's 10-game winning streak as Lloyd Moseby hits for the cycle...

Glenn Gulliver has a bruised rib; Lenny Randle has been summoned to play third base for now.

TORONTO 12, Ocean City 3
W: Stieb (7-8) L: Perry (11-7)
HR: Garcia (TOR, 1), Murphy (OCS, 9), Barfield (TOR, 4)
Yikes! First time all season that Perry really hasn't had it, lasting 1 2/3. When Damaso Garcia gets 5 ribbies, you know it's bad.

TORONTO 5, Ocean City 3
W: Jackson (1-3) L: Sisk (0-2)
HR: LeFlore (OCS, 4), Moseby (TOR, 10)
Oboy. This one was blown courtesy of Doug Sisk out of the bullpen, who continues to struggle with his control (25.2 IP, 18 BB, 9 K).

Ocean City 9, TORONTO 6
W: Lee (6-4) L: Garvin (2-4)
HR: Kingman (OCS, 17)
The Surf narrowly avoid going under .500 in a slugfest. LeFlore delivers twice with the bases loaded for 3 RBI's, while Kingman puts an exclamation point on the game with a blast to the center field bleachers for his second, third, and fourth RBIs of the game. Altamirano provides solid relief for the Surf, but Felton lets in two runs to make the game exciting before finishing.

Now Rufino Linares of the Braves hits for the cycle...but they almost lose the game to the Cubs in the 9th!

[JeepGuy63]

What's that? Three losses in a row for Perry? Ouch.

[3RunHomer]

The Archie McPhee (http://www.mcphee.com/)?

It looks like your team went past one of the season's ratings adjustments and your crazy-good pitching from early in the year got adjusted. Time to move the vets and build for the future?

[oriole^]

The Archie McPhee (http://www.mcphee.com/)?

It looks like your team went past one of the season's ratings adjustments and your crazy-good pitching from early in the year got adjusted. Time to move the vets and build for the future?

Ten points for getting the reference! What can I say...I needed a name...

I think the next story is going to be about that, actually. I mean, we're right at .500 now, and just before the All-Star Break, with a lot of one-year contracts in place. It's an open question - what do ya do? :confused:

[oriole^]

Week 14 (June 28 - July 4)
43-43 (.500)
T-4th in AL East
11 GB the Yankees

BOSTON 7, Ocean City 0
W: Clemens (6-6) L: Candiotti (4-6)
HR: none
Scoreless game in the seventh with two outs, when suddenly, we couldn't get a batter out. 3 hits and 2 BBs for Candy, followed by four straight hits off Altamirano before Power stopped it. That was the game's only scoring...Clemens tossed a 3-hitter with 10 Ks, and the Surf are back to .500. :(

BOSTON 2, Ocean City 0
W: Ojeda (9-8) L: Filer (0-1)
HR: none
Goose eggs again! Filer has a case for non-support, throwing five-hit ball for 7 2/3, while the Surf manage only five hits themselves, all singles (two by Lenny Randle). Welcome to a losing record... :(

Just changed Trade Frequency from -20% to +0%. Accordingly, the Mariners send Jim Beattie to the A's for Davey Lopes, John D'Acquisto, and Jeff Newman.

BOSTON 3, Ocean City 2
W: Torrez (6-10) L: Perry (11-8) Sv: Clear (12)
HR: none
File this series under hitting, comma, complete lack of; 15 hits total in three games. Kingman ties this game in the eighth with a run-scoring single, but Dewey Evans bats in Boggs with two outs in the bottom of the same inning.

The Surf end with a 9-18 record for June! :(

OCEAN CITY 4, Cleveland 0
W: Christenson (11-5) L: Barker (7-7)
HR: Revering (OCS, 7)
Christenson goes the distance, and doesn't even bother waiting for the bats to catch up...but they do, putting one on the board in each of the last four innings.

John Pacella and his lid have had a pretty good stint in Dover, while Doug Sisk has had control issues...thus, they'll pass each other on Route 1 north out of O.C.

OCEAN CITY 4, Cleveland 3
W: Forster (3-1) L: Farr (0-2)
HR: LeFlore (OCS, 5)
LeFlore seals it with a walk-off homer!

OCEAN CITY 5, Cleveland 4
W: Kaat (3-4) L: Blyleven (8-11)
HR: Murphy (OCS, 10)
An improbable 4-run eighth puts the Surf back on top...Murphy greets Blyleven with a solo homer, the tying run scores on a bases-loaded plunk of Jamie Quirk by an errant curve, and Ron LeFlore scores pinch-hitter Terry Puhl with a sac fly. An error by Tony Bernazard at short starts the ninth, but Jim Kaat refuses to get ruffled, and quietly sets them down in order from there...

The Surf briefly take back fourth place and a winning record once again!

KANSAS CITY 7, Ocean City 2
W: Splittorff (6-10) L: Filer (0-2)
HR: Aikens (KCR, 13), McRae (KCR, 9), Geronimo (KCR, 4)
All the fireworks on Independence Day are from Kansas City, as Filer falls victim to the Royals' big hitters, and Terry Felton fares no better in relief. On a side note, they do collar the AL's leading hitter, Willie Wilson, and Householder and Kingman score ribbies.

Pirates' second baseman Johnny Ray loses his 25-game hitting streak when he's used as a pinch-hitter in Denver!

The AL East is now the closest race going, with the Orioles 1.5 behind the Yankees, and the Tigers 5.5 back. (The Surf and Indians are tied for fourth. Has there ever been an expansion franchise which made it to the All-Star Break with a winning record in its first season?)

[AthleticsFan2k8]

Well thanks to that 7-2 win on Independence Day '82 for the Kansas City Royals, the Surf Lost, and by the way how is Tim Foli doing?

[oriole^]

Well thanks to that 7-2 win on Independence Day '82 for the Kansas City Royals, the Surf Lost, and by the way how is Tim Foli doing?

Foli is doing...eh. He's just barely adequate, which is pretty much what we expected from him.

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/foli.jpg

His FA is .978; he's sixth in the AL in Range Factor (SS).

He is the subject of trade rumors, thanks to his dislike of the beach; we have the versatile Bob Bailor, and, waiting in the wings (and hitting .281 in AAA!), the redoubtable Mario Mendoza waiting to take over! Both make considerably less than Foli.

[JeepGuy63]

Yeah, time for one of the kids to take over at SS for Foli.

[oriole^]

We'd taken the Amtrak back into Wilmington from Boston - Finley was cheap, you remember - and bussed back from there...and throughout the entire trip, I might've said five words, and only two were printable in a newspaper. The fellows were keeping it loose, as best they could, but the fact was, we'd gotten our butts kicked at Fenway, and the expected "June swoon" that those self-same papers were talking about was coming to pass. Murphy was hitting below .200, Gulliver was trying to get over his bruised rib, and Gaylord Perry was silently fuming over his mistake late in the game to Evans that allowed the Red Sox off the hook - though no one really faulted him for it.

I was staring out in the dark of rural New Jersey and Delaware. Losing sucked. It didn't matter how many times it happened, or how much cold comfort it was that we began with a ragtag bunch of has-beens and never-weres, charging off against the American League like the Keystone Kops in beach baggies. We'd had a taste of winning, nothing else would taste as sweet, and I wasn't going to justify it at all right now.

I stomped into the office at Atlantic Field with a scowl that could penetrate bricks; Greg knew what was going on and pulled Zeke out of my way, which was fortunate for him. Trailing me, Mike Veeck was trying to lighten things up, saying something that I wasn't even listening to. Herm Franks was with him, and, for some reason, our bench coach, Cloyd Boyer, still in his cap and warm-up jacket from the game.

"...so the bartender says to the blonde, 'Okay, the duck can stay - but you have to take off your shirt first!'" said Mike to Herm Franks. "So the blonde - Scooter, are you listening? - so the blonde --"

I had already fished around in my left-hand drawer to find the bottle of Johnny Walker Black, which I slammed on the desk. "I'm not in the mood, Mike!"

"For Crissakes, Scooter," said Mike, loudly, "we could be in last right now, and by all rights, we should! Look at what the Blue Jays went through - and they're still behind us. You need to ease up."

"It really could be a lot worse, Scooter," agreed Herm.

"What was that about the duck?" asked Cloyd.

"Look," I hissed. "If you aren't up on current events, that was two shutouts in Boston, and it could've been three if Kong hadn't gotten going." Shots of scotch were poured. It was, honestly, the first time I'd touched the bottle myself all year - Greg usually just brought a glass to me at some opportune time. I didn't even know where he kept the ice - hence, the first appearance of the shot glasses.

"So?" asked Mike.

"SO?" I shrieked. Mike had a habit of bringing out the worst in me sometimes. "We're trying to win ballgames here! We should be challenging the Yankees right now!"

"Oh, the hell..." Mike dismissed, taking the shots and passing them to the others.

"We should!" I insisted. "And if we expect --"

Mike got angry right back. "Scooter, listen to yourself! We're a first-year team! We're already one of the best in history, way ahead of expectations, but we're not going to challenge in our first year!"

Herm shook his head and sagely averred. "Too many problems. Too many unknowns."

"Can we get back to that girl with no shirt?" said Cloyd.

"There's no reason we can't!" I said to Mike. "If we start talking like that, we're settling for mediocrity. Just before I was with the A's --"

"-- it was lightning in a bottle," finished Mike. "No one's done it before, and no one's done it since. And look at them now."

"We got girls with no shirts in the center field bleachers some games," Cloyd Boyer piped up.

Herm added with a slight nod, "Could explain Murphy, then."

"We'll get there," added Mike. "But we aren't going to now."

I continued ignoring them and barked, "Not now? Why not?"

"I'll tell you why not!" screamed Herm Franks, suddenly, cutting off Mike and looking at me sharply. "We've got half the team going to arbitration or free agency at the end of this season, and we haven't extended one contract - not one! - yet. The player earning the most is hitting .194, and we've got a 43-year-old anchoring the pitching. There's only one guy in the bullpen who knows how to pitch, Bernazard and Foli want out of town, and we're playing in a sandbox!" He slugged the scotch, having made his point, and continued. "We're at .500 now. We can make a run for it, or we can build for later. That's the same choice that every major league team has to make, every single season."

Herm put down his glass directly in front of me. "And you," he added, "are the general manager. So instead of bitching about what happened at Fenway, which is in the past, you tell me now...what move do we make next?"

I sank into my chair. Herm was right. Losing sucked - but losing was in the past at this point. We stood to lose much, much more if we - if I - didn't make the right decision about what to do next. Charlie Finley put me in charge specifically because he thought I couldn't do this...that I didn't have the capacity. That the whole thing would collapse and he'd be able to hand his estranged wife a worthless shell of a baseball team - baseball's version of the Broadway play The Producers. Yelling about games lost in Boston, where many had lost before and would again, wasn't going to change that. Thinking the matter through...putting the effort into having a vision and following through on it...that was what was going to make the Surf a great baseball team. And I had some great baseball minds around me to help.

Boyer finally broke the silence. "So...what about that duck?"

[oriole^]

Week 15A (July 5 - All-Star Break)
44-45 (.494)
5th in AL East
13 GB the Yankees

KANSAS CITY 6, Ocean City 3
W: Blue (9-8) L: Perry (11-9) Sv: Quisenberry (11)
HR: Aikens (KCR, 14)
Vida Blue struck out 8 in 8 innings, while Perry had another sub-par performance, lasting 3 1/3 and surrendering 8 hits. Power was very solid in relief, but Pacella gave up the Aikens HR.

Ocean City 5, KANSAS CITY 2
W: Christenson (12-5) L: Leonard (12-5) Sv: Forster (14)
HR: Revering (OCS, 8)
Christenson becomes the Surf's winningest pitcher, Foli goes 3-for-4 with a double, and Revering homers...the Surf make the most of seven hits.

KANSAS CITY 2, Ocean City 0
W: Gura (8-11) L: Lee (6-5)
HR: none
Another shutout, this one by Larry Gura, who'd lost his previous five decisions coming into this game. George Brett had two doubles, and Amos Otis didn't make an out all game.

[JeepGuy63]

And just when the trade rumors on Foli start swirling, he has a game like that. Should have started those rumors a little earlier in the season.

Maybe you need to shift those rumors in Gaylord's direction. What's he dropped now? Five or six in a row?

[oriole^]

Another "how'd this happen?" version of the All-Star Game...particularly the Twins' Albert Williams starting for the NL. Brett's two HRs seals it for the AL...Gaylord Perry was the sole Surf representative on the AL team. (And incidentally, Denver's representative on the NL team was Rick Monday, who came in the deal that the Surf swung on expansion draft day. :) )


National League at American League

July 9, 1982
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 R H E
National League 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 3 7 2
American League 0 0 0 1 0 0 1 5 x 7 8 0


National League AB H BB R HR RBI K SB AVG
Ozzie Smith SS 4 1 1 1 0 0 0 0 .303
Cesar Cedeno DH 4 1 1 1 0 0 0 0 .298
Leon Durham RF 3 1 2 1 1 3 1 0 .289
Johnny Bench 3B 4 3 0 0 0 0 1 0 .306
Derrel Thomas 3B 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .322
Mike Easler LF 4 0 0 0 0 0 3 0 .340
Ellis Valentine LF 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .296
Gary Carter C 4 0 0 0 0 0 2 0 .297
Chris Chambliss 1B 3 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 .355
Keith Moreland 1B 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .301
Ken Landreaux CF 4 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .307
Dickie Thon 2B 3 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 .293
Totals 34 7 5 3 1 3 7 0

2B: Johnny Bench
HR: Leon Durham

DP: Chris Chambliss 2, Dickie Thon 3, Johnny Bench, Ozzie Smith 2, Keith Moreland
E: Ozzie Smith, Mike Easler

American League AB H BB R HR RBI K SB AVG
Willie Wilson CF 3 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 .358
Jim Rice PH 1 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 .287
Paul Molitor DH 4 1 0 1 0 0 0 0 .292
George Brett 3B 4 3 0 3 2 5 0 0 .293
Eddie Murray 1B 3 1 1 0 0 0 0 0 .295
Jeff Burroughs LF 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .292
Fred Lynn PH 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .272
Ted Simmons C 4 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .281
Alan Trammell SS 2 0 1 1 0 0 0 0 .306
Lou Whitaker 2B 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .269
Oscar Gamble RF 3 2 0 1 0 0 1 0 .344
Totals 31 8 2 7 2 5 2 0

HR: George Brett 2
GDP: Paul Molitor 2, Fred Lynn


National League IP H BB HR R ER K PIT ERA
Albert Williams 5.0 2 0 1 1 1 1 55 3.94
Rich Gale 2.1 5 1 0 5 3 0 41 3.22
Bruce Sutter 0.2 1 1 1 1 1 1 17 1.80
Totals 8.0 8 2 2 7 5 2 113

American League IP H BB HR R ER K PIT ERA
John Denny 2.2 3 2 1 3 3 2 50 2.83
Jim Palmer 3.1 2 1 0 0 0 3 55 2.78
Larry Andersen 1.0 2 1 0 0 0 1 24 1.57
Aurelio Lopez 2.0 0 1 0 0 0 1 28 1.52
Totals 9.0 7 5 1 3 3 7 157

WP: Aurelio Lopez
LP: Rich Gale

Temperature: 69F

Another by-the-way: Bench is having a monster season. The Reds moved him to third base to save his knees at the beginning of the year (historically happened; I helped it along a bit in commish mode). He's responded with a .306 average and 25 HR at the Break. Okay, his RF is 2.18, but if you're the Reds you can't be too unhappy with the overall results.

[oriole^]

Week 15B & 16 (July 11 - July 18)
48-48 (.500)
4th in AL East
13 GB the Yankees

Ocean City 13, NEW YORK 7
W: Kaat (4-4) L: Frazier (0-1)
HR: Murcer 2 (NYY, 15, 16), Johnstone (OCS, 1)
The Surf roll into the Bronx and straight through six Yankee pitchers! The game see-saws until the Surf post seven in the 8th, capped by Jay Johnstone's pinch-hit homer. Perry leaves with the tie; Jim Kaat picks up the win.

NEW YORK 11, Ocean City 7
W: LaRoche (2-3) L: Kaat (4-5)
HR: Murphy (OCS, 11), Puhl (OCS, 5), Griffey (NYY, 7), Murcer (NYY, 17)
Another slugfest, but this time it's the Yankees breaking the tie with a 4-run 8th. Bobby Murcer continues to cream Surf pitching!

Ocean City 8, NEW YORK 7
W: Power (3-0) L: Howell (0-1) Sv: Forster (15)
HR: Winfield (NYY, 13)
Could be the game of the year! Bill Lee is blown out of the box in the second, and after a solo homer by Winfield against Terry Felton, it was 7-2 Yankees in the 4th. Don Crow started the comeback with a double that scored Revering in the 6th - and Griffey's bobble added another run. LeFlore then singled in Crow...then in the 9th, Howell got Revering but walked Kingman and Murphy around him, setting up Bob Bailor for a run-scoring double! The Yanks pulled Howell for Goose Gossage, and the Surf responded by lifting Don Crow for Paul Householder. Householder took a 1-1 Gossage fastball and drilled it to right, scoring Murphy and Bailor! Power got in trouble in the bottom of the ninth, letting two on with one out, but Forster calmly struck out Willie Randolph, and retired Oscar Gamble on a fly to right for the save! LeFlore had three hits, Foli and Crow went 2-for-3...

NEW YORK 12, Ocean City 1
W: Guidry (13-7) L: Candiotti (4-7)
HR: none
...and you lose a few like this, too. Candiotti was touched for seven runs in 3 2/3, Power gave up four in relief, Kingman struck out in all four at-bats.

Detroit 5, OCEAN CITY 3
W: Morris (12-10) L: Pacella (2-5) Sv: Lopez (14)
HR: none
The Surf took 3-1 lead in the first, but it evaporated thanks to some shaky fielding from Bernazard and Foli, and some shaky pitching in relief from Pacella.

OCEAN CITY 2, Detroit 1
W: Perry (12-9) L: Petry (12-7) Sv: Forster (16)
HR: Gibson (DET, 14)
A pitcher's duel, and for the first time in a long time, Gaylord Perry comes out on top! The Surf collect only four hits, collecting RBIs on Dwayne Murphy's bases-loaded walk and Tim Foli's sac fly. Kirk Gibson's homer was Perry's only real mistake all evening.

All-Star Game MVP George Brett twists his ankle; he'll be out for a week.

OCEAN CITY 2, Detroit 1
W: Christenson (13-5) L: Wilcox (10-8) Sv: Forster (17)
HR: Revering (OCS, 9), Murphy (OCS, 12)
Second verse, same as the first! Christenson pitches a gem, and once again, the Surf win with just four hits!

The Orioles trade Bobby Bonner and Leo Hernandez to the Cents for Rick Monday, placing him at DH...

[JeepGuy63]

Win half of 'em, lose the other half ... Okay, I can live with that. Even Perry gets back on the winning track with a great performance.

Don't know what to say about Foli - a few good games with the stick and a bad one with the glove. I think it is time to make a deal!

[oriole^]

Per my "rules", I'm submitting another trade to my "assistants" here for approval. The rule is, three out of five votes have to be in agreement...if they aren't, I reverse the trade. And if nobody says anything, I assume the trade is okay. It's my way of checking myself to make sure I'm not taking advantage of the game's AI.

The latest, but almost certainly not the last...

To the Surf:


Mike Stenhouse LF/1B 67/75 Earning 1,700 until Arb '85

To the Expos:


Mitchell Page DH/LF 77 Earning 48,500 until Arb '82

[oriole^]

Week 17 (July 19 - July 25)
50-52 (.490)
5th in AL East
14 GB the Yankees

Cleveland 9, OCEAN CITY 1
W: Barker (8-9) L: Lee (6-6)
HR: Harrah (CLE, 9), Craig (CLE, 1), Kingman (OCS, 18), Hassey (CLE, 2), McBride (CLE, 6), Thornton (CLE, 17)
Someone juiced the baseballs? Everybody swung for the fences, but only one team connected; Barker struck out 13 in 8 innings. Quirk, Bernazard and Revering committed errors, too, so hopefully it's all out of our system.

OCEAN CITY 10, Cleveland 8
W: Power (4-0) L: Waits (2-3) Sv: Pacella (3)
HR: McBride (CLE, 8), Kingman 2 (OCS, 19, 20), Revering (OCS, 10)
Another dramatic comeback for the Surf! McBride homers to leadoff the game, and the Tribe put three runs behind it against Candiotti. But Kingman and Revering hit back-to-back homers to tie it. The Indians manufacture a few runs off sac flies against Candy to retake the lead, but Ted Power contributes 2 1/3 of scoreless relief, while Kingman hits a solo shot in the 6th, and Bernazard and Puhl break out run-scoring two-out doubles in the 7th for a four-run rally to put it out of reach! Pacella pitches a rocky 9th, but finishes for his third save.

Jim Kaat injures himself in warmups. Steve Senteney gets his first stint with the big league club!

Cleveland 11, OCEAN CITY 4
W: Blyleven (10-11) L: Perry (12-10)
HR: Quirk (OCS, 6), Thornton (CLE, 18), Kingman (OCS, 21), Hargrove (CLE, 7)
Kingman continues to punish the ball, but the entire Indians lineup continues to do it to the Surf. Perry gives up six runs and drops out of the ERA lead. Manning hits three doubles, Hargrove two.

Let the pre-deadline deals begin! Reliever Gene Nelson of the Mariners goes to Texas in exchange for Buddy Bell...

Ocean City 8, DETROIT 5
W: Filer (1-2) L: Rozema (7-6) Sv: Forster (18)
HR: Trammell (DET, 8), Bernazard (OCS, 5)
The Surf pile onto relievers Aurelio Lopez and Dave Tobik in the eighth, Johnstone collects another pinch hit, and Filer wins his first!

The first of the deals on the home front! The Surf trade Mitchell Page to the Expos for Mike Stenhouse, who will start work in the minors.

Tim Foli has a minor injury (a bruised groin - ow!) prompting Mario Mendoza up from the minors.

DETROIT 4, Ocean City 3 (11 innings)
W: Sosa (2-2) L: Altamirano (1-2)
HR: Murphy (OCS, 13), Revering (OCS, 11), Parrish (DET, 15)
A heartbreaker in Motown. The Tigers get to Christenson early, but he hangs on and posts some zeros for eight strong innings. The Surf meanwhile come back against the Detroit relievers, tying the game with Dave Revering's home run to greet Kevin Saucier in the ninth! But Forster gave way to Altamirano, and the Nicaraguan reminded no one of Dennis Martinez, hanging an 0-1 curve to Lance Parrish, who made him pay.

DETROIT 9, Ocean City 4
W: Ujdur (2-2) L: Lee (6-7) Sv: Lopez (15)
HR: Kingman 2 (OCS, 22, 23), Whitaker (DET, 14), Revering (OCS, 12)
Kong blasts two dingers in his first two at-bats to continue his amazing pace (despite hitting .236), but it isn't enough to stop the bleeding as the Detroit bats tee off on Lee, to the tune of six runs in 4 2/3. Senteney and Pacella aren't much help.

The Expos are now officially busy: they send Randy St. Claire and Steve Frey, two pitching prospects, to the Red Sox for Dennis Eckersley!

[oriole^]

Don't know what to say about Foli - a few good games with the stick and a bad one with the glove. I think it is time to make a deal!

I'll say this much - there is definitely a great deal of talking happening...as we'll find out in the next installment of the story. :)

[oriole^]

Mike Veeck walked into the outer office. We'd gotten back from Detroit the day before, on the travel day, and the Blue Jays would be arriving in Ocean City shortly for a three-game stint, but all eyes on the Surf's office staff were focused on the inner office that I was then occupying. Mike knew that, and ambled past Lisa with an enforced degree of nonchalantness even as she madly punched buttons on the main phone.

"Ocean City Surf, can you hold please? Thank you...!" Lisa said in the pleasant sing-song of an efficient receptionist, immediately punching to the next call. "Ocean City Surf, can I help you?...Yes, the General Manager is in his office, but he's on the line right now -- can you hold, please? Thank you!" She spied Mike and hissed at him as the last caller went on hold. "Will you tell him to hurry up? I've got the Padres on line one and the A's on line three, and half a dozen newspapers are calling - some of them twice! They've got deadlines and they're bugging me for a statement!"

Mike gave a shrug. "You could tell them that the GM has agreed to extend the contract of his receptionist."

"Don't think I won't!" she shot back. "And tell him...tell him I'm not going to See's on the Boardwalk to refill the candy dish in there until he calls some of these people back! That'll get him calling!" The phone rang again while she said that, and the pleasant, "Ocean City Surf, may I help you?" returned to her voice, even as her normally cherubic face contorted into a frustrated glare at the inner office door - a door through which Mike nonetheless calmly shuffled.

At that time, I was indeed on the phone inside, concluding some business. "Alors, c'est comme ca, hein? Merci bien, quoi qu'il en soit...oui, a bientot!" I set down the phone.

"Lemme guess: you just traded for Jacques Cousteau?" quipped Mike.

"Yeah, I'm promoting him to the captain of the 30th Street ferry," I deadpanned. "No, that was one of the assistants for John McHale in Montreal. I figured I would try a bit of gamesmanship with them, since I knew the language. Hey, it worked with the Mitch Page deal."

"So how'd it go?"

"Well, we went for fifteen minutes talking about Randy Johnson before they realized I was talking about the flamethrower Randy Johnson they've got down in the minors setting strikeout records, not the Randy Johnson they've got playing third base."

"What did they say? About the pitcher? In English, I mean?"

"They laughed. Hard," I admitted. "That kinda comes across in any language."

Mike gave a wry grin, laced his hands behind his head, and tilted back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. "So much for the Surf's adventures in international relations!"

"How's the mood in the clubhouse?" I asked.

"Well, you'd have to check with Marvelous Marv for that," said Mike. "Last I was there, it's a bit nervy, but not too bad. Johnstone sewed labels in everyone's jersey in the locker room in Detroit that read 'ONE SIZE FITS ALL', if that tells you anything."

I chuckled. News traveled fast, as I well knew, and after meeting with Herm Franks last week, people had gotten the idea that I was indeed serious about building the team for the future. At the same time, we were performing at .500 - pretty good for a first year franchise with no real stars to speak of, though Dave Kingman was quite a bit miffed he wasn't named to the All-Star Team along with Gaylord Perry (who'd gotten tagged with the sobriquet of "The World's Oldest Beach Boy" in the press). The trick was, how to recognize where our strengths lie, and pick away around that foundation. And if that was easy, they wouldn't be paying general managers six-figure salaries to do it...or, in the case of Charlie Finley, one figure less.

Nonetheless, Finley was one of the blessings we had to count as we neared the trading deadline - or, rather, his absence, prompted by the most fortuitous case of gout ever to befall a human being in history...together with the fact that he was seeing a woman twenty-five years his junior who was helping ameliorate it somewhat. I think all of us felt a slight twinge of guilt in rejoicing in another's pain, even if it was Charlie Finley, but we assured ourselves that the second fact helped a great deal in offsetting the first.

That meant les affaires du Surf, to coin a phrase I should've used on the phone with the Expos, fell to Bill Veeck. The elder Veeck had made his presence known in Ocean City over the last homestand against the Indians, seated pleasantly in the left-field bleachers in a Hawaiian shirt and mismatching shorts, flicking ashes from his cigar into the ashtray carved into his wooden leg. He got a whale of a game in the middle frame of three, watching Kingman smash two homers and Tony Bernazard and Terry Puhl spark a two-out rally that put the game just out of reach of the slugging Tribe...but that wasn't his entire purpose in being there, and we all knew it. Mr. Veeck sat down with the front office staff after the game, and essentially endorsed his son Mike and me to make the moves we saw fit. We explained what we thought about the team and our strategy for approaching the coming trade negotiations, and he nodded sagely, made a few comments about different ballplayers we'd seen, and that was that. The remainder of the half-hour meeting was taken up with what the crabbing was like on the Assawoman Bay, since he'd chartered a boat for later in the week.

We had the complete blessing of one owner and the complete silence of the more-troublesome-by-far owner. It was a perfect setup, and yet I left the meeting with my knees knocking. The success of the team - perhaps for the next several seasons - rested on my shoulders. Fortunately, I had the redoubtable younger Veeck, who, in a fit of inspiration, headed with me to 71st Street and combed my office looking for the pie-in-the-sky "wish lists" we filled out while thinking that a major league team would never, ever come to this town. The scouts we had were top-notch, but far overworked and equally underpaid; they also would be a help, but only to the best of their ability.

My reverie on Johnstone's prank and my professional fortune was interrupted by Marv Throneberry walking into my office (Lisa had stopped buzzing people through; I wasn't much for the artifice of the practice, and she was angry at me anyway for being slow in returning calls.) "Say, Scooter," he began. "Whaddaya want me to do with Carlton Fisk?"

I looked at him like he had two heads. "What do you mean, 'what do I want you to do with him'?"

"So, start him in front of Quirk?"

Now Mike was looking at me suspiciously. "Who said we dealt for Carlton Fisk?" I exclaimed, briefly panicking that Charlie Finley had gained coherence for one brief, devastating moment.

"Well, the paper has something on --"

Mike and I stampeded out of the office almost knocking over Marv in the process. We grabbed a copy of the Sunday Sun from Baltimore, and quickly ripped to the sports section.

I read the headline incredulously. "'Surf close to deal for Fisk'...what in the -- who wrote this?"

"Looks like Gordie Beard," said Mike. "But check out his source."

I mumbled out loud through the article to find the source. "Hmmm, hmm, blah...'according to Associated Press'...hmmm...'from a source close to White Sox GM Dave Dombrowski'!? How in God's name...I told that idiot I'd think about it and get back to him! It's nowhere close to being a deal!"

"Looks like he was trying to make it a done deal, maybe to force Finley's hand," said Mike. "Or Dad's."

"He even threw in Bill Almon. I specifically said I didn't want Bill Almon! Lisa, did we get a call from --"

Lisa raised to her full, diminutive form from behind the front desk. If looks could kill, my current residence would be a pine box. "No candy for a whole year for you!"

Now that was harsh, I thought. Nobody messed with my candy dish.

I quickly found Jackie Brandt and put him to work on damage control with the press, then wheeled to Mike just as I closed the door once again to my office. "I'm gonna make some phone calls now, and you'll want to be here for them," I said.

Mike got that grin again. "You could always switch back to French and call Dave Dombrowski..."

"I'd use more colorful language to call Dombrowski!" I spat. "No, I have someone else in mind right now."

He thought for a minute. "Haywood Sullivan?"

"It's worth a shot."

It was that point that Herm Franks poked his head in. "Scooter?"

"Better be good, Herm." I was already dialing.

"I've got the Reds on the line in my office."

"And?"

"That kid that we mentioned before? O'Neill? Might be available."

Mike and I exchanged a sudden, dramatic glance. This was going to be an interesting week.

[oriole^]

Week 18 (July 26 - July 31)
54-54 (.500)
5th in AL East
13 GB the Yankees

The week's been slightly shortened to accomodate the trading deadline and end of the month; the Surf are idle on August 1 anyhow.

As the homestand begins, we get a call from Dover: Rick Sweet has decided to retire from baseball. Hmmmm.

Toronto 5, OCEAN CITY 3
W: Clancy (5-5) L: Candiotti (4-8)
HR: Whitt (TOR, 5), McGriff (TOR, 11)
A hard luck loss for the Candy Man, who really, really could have used the win (he began the season 4-1). Clancy whiffed seven.

Tom Underwood is traded from Oakland to Houston for two minor league pitchers...

OCEAN CITY 4, Toronto 2
W: Filer (2-2) L: Leal (8-10) Sv: Forster (19)
HR: none
Filer and Leal duel to almost identical pitching lines; the difference is Dave Revering's bases-loaded single in the 3rd inning.

Three trades popped up that made no sense at all, including Atlanta trading away Chris Chambliss, who's leading the NL with a .349 average, and the Reds trading for a 3B (Bob Horner) to put Bench...on the bench. I reverted all three with Commish Mode, and backed the Trade Frequency back down to +20%.

OCEAN CITY 4, Toronto 3
W: Perry (13-10) L: Bomback (6-9) Sv: Altamirano (1)
HR: none
Gulliver hit a double, Foli hit two, and Bernazard hit three...but it was LeFlore's high chopper to short that scored the winning run in the seventh!

Garry Templeton's 23-game hitting streak ends...

And the Surf pull the trigger! Dwayne Murphy is sent to the Cincinnati Reds for Paul O'Neill, Tom Lawless, and Tom Hume! Rick Bosetti will take over center field for the time being, while Hume is brought up to replace Senteney and Jim Kaat comes off the DL to send Terry Felton down for more seasoning...

Ocean City 8, BOSTON 3
W: Christenson (14-5) L: Boyd (2-1) Sv: Altamirano (2)
HR: Revering 2 (OCS, 13, 14)
Dave Revering, have a game: 5-for-5, 2 HR, 4 RBI. Puhl went 4-for-5...and Altamirano is getting downright competant: 2 1/3 IP, 1 H.

BOSTON 3, Ocean City 2
W: Tudor (6-7) L: Lee (6-8) Sv: Clear (15)
HR: none
Both veteran southpaws cruise through each other's lineups until Glenn Hoffman knocks a run-scoring single in the 8th inning. Tom Hume gets his first appearance in a Surf uniform, getting all three outs after Lee failed to get any in the eighth.

Another move from the Surf: Ocean City sends Tim Foli and Rookie League prospect pitcher Justin Bann to the White Sox in exchange for catcher Don Wakamatsu and outfielder Rodney McCray! Both will report to the Surf's Rookie League affiliate, the Columbia Gatecrashers, while Bob Bailor and Mario Mendoza will share time at shortstop...

Ocean City 11, BOSTON 8 (10 innings)
W: Kaat (5-5) L: Clear (0-8) Sv: Forster (20)
HR: Evans (BOS, 10), Rice (BOS, 18)
This was a wild one, fans! Boston led for most of the game, tagging Candiotti for six runs before he gave way to Kaat, with the Surf chipping away against Ojeda each time. Finally, in the ninth, with the score 7-5, Bernazard and Johnstone deliver RBI pinch-hits, and after Mendoza's bunt, LeFlore skies one to center, allowing Bernazard to trot home! The Sox get one back off Kaat in the bottom of the frame, with Rice's sac fly. In the top of the tenth, however, with two aboard and two out, Jamie Quirk lofted one to right field, where Dwight Evans dropped the ball! Puhl scored, and for good measure, Gulliver followed with a two-RBI single! Terry Forster then trundled out to complete the save!

Once again, I reverted trades sending Jim Rice away (this time to Detroit) and Bob Horner to Cincinnati, where he'd replace Johnny Bench (.304/.374/.607, though granted .948 FPct and 2.31 Range at 3B). But there were a few I didn't revert:

Mike Scott is traded to the Giants! The Mets get Jeff Robinson, Mark Dempsey, and Dennis Cook in return.
Ruppert Jones also goes to the Giants, while Jose Barrios and Jeff Ransom head back to San Diego.
The Reds get pitcher Jon Matlack for what has the potential to be a storied trio: Tracy Jones, Chris Sabo, and Gary Redus, who'll be plying their trade in Texas from now on.

The Surf finish July at a 14-12 clip!

[oriole^]

Okay, here are the trades, for the public's approval...

The first:

To the Surf:


Paul O'Neill RF 59/85 Earning $43,500 until Arb '85
Tom Lawless IF 67/73 Earning $2,250 until Arb '85
Tom Hume RP 77 Earning $144,000 until FA '82

To the Reds:


Dwayne Murphy CF 79 Earning $430,000 until Arb '82


And here's the second:

To the Surf:


Rodney McCray CF 61/75 Earning $1,350 until Arb '85
Don Wakamatsu C 64/77 Earning $1,700 until Arb '85

To the White Sox:


Tim Foli SS 73 Earning $269,000 until FA '84
Justin Bann RP 61/74 Earning $1,350 until Arb '85

[oriole^]

Here are your standings as we begin the month of August:

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/alstandings.jpg

[oriole^]

And here are your stats. First, the pitchers...


1982 Pitching Team IP ERA G GS W L SV K BB R/9
Christenson, Larry OCS 168.2 3.52 23 23 14 5 0 89 54 11.79
Perry, Gaylord OCS 168.1 3.10 24 24 13 10 0 112 49 11.44
Lee, Bill OCS 129.0 4.12 23 18 6 8 2 56 45 13.88
Candiotti, Tom OCS 101.2 5.84 18 18 4 8 0 49 42 14.34
Kaat, Jim OCS 90.0 5.50 20 10 5 5 0 54 20 11.90
Filer, Tom OCS 41.0 3.73 6 6 2 2 0 19 15 12.29
Pacella, John OCS 41.0 5.05 19 3 2 5 3 21 26 14.05
Power, Ted OCS 40.1 3.79 22 0 4 0 0 27 23 14.50
Altamirano, Porfi OCS 40.0 3.83 31 0 1 2 2 24 19 13.73
Felton, Terry OCS 40.0 4.95 20 1 0 1 0 33 32 19.13
Forster, Terry OCS 37.1 2.17 36 0 3 1 20 28 19 9.64
Sisk, Doug OCS 26.1 5.47 23 0 0 2 1 9 18 18.80
*Stuper, John OCS 25.1 9.95 5 5 0 5 0 12 21 19.89
Senteney, Steve OCS 4.0 4.50 3 0 0 0 0 2 1 20.25
Hume, Tom OCS 1.0 0.00 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0.00

Asterisked players are no longer with the team. I must admit...Nellie Briles is indeed keeping everyone happy with their time out of the pen.

Here are the hitters.


1982 Batting Team G AVG AB H 2B 3B HR BB K SB CS R RBI SLG OBP
LeFlore, Ron OCS 102 .278 428 119 21 3 5 38 86 43 7 61 38 .376 .339
Kingman, Dave OCS 104 .239 406 97 18 1 23 34 106 5 0 56 77 .458 .297
Puhl, Terry OCS 101 .298 396 118 19 6 5 33 52 19 5 55 53 .414 .349
Bernazard, Tony OCS 97 .294 381 112 29 0 5 38 72 11 4 52 39 .409 .360
*Foli, Tim OCS 97 .268 347 93 18 2 1 10 28 5 1 28 21 .340 .291
Revering, Dave OCS 94 .308 341 105 10 3 14 39 55 0 1 45 49 .478 .382
Gulliver, Glenn OCS 99 .196 301 59 8 0 0 69 47 1 0 31 20 .223 .344
*Murphy, Dwayne OCS 87 .203 281 57 10 0 13 47 68 5 6 40 47 .377 .320
Quirk, Jamie OCS 75 .205 258 53 12 1 6 13 59 0 0 21 25 .329 .248
Bosetti, Rick OCS 43 .279 147 41 2 2 1 7 21 2 4 17 12 .340 .314
Crow, Don OCS 23 .253 83 21 4 0 0 4 17 0 0 8 8 .301 .295
Bailor, Bob OCS 33 .192 78 15 2 0 0 6 6 4 1 6 1 .218 .259
*Page, Mitchell OCS 14 .137 51 7 2 0 0 6 12 2 0 6 4 .176 .228
*Cerone, Rick OCS 18 .224 49 11 3 0 0 7 9 0 0 1 4 .286 .328
Johnstone, Jay OCS 23 .268 41 11 3 0 1 6 7 0 0 6 10 .415 .362
Householder, Paul OCS 10 .250 32 8 1 0 2 3 9 0 1 4 7 .469 .314
Randle, Lenny OCS 11 .250 28 7 0 0 0 4 3 0 0 2 0 .250 .364
Mendoza, Mario OCS 3 .222 9 2 0 0 0 3 0 0 0 2 0 .222 .417

Kind of a feast-or-famine vibe going on here, isn't there? Either well above average or pitiful.

[oriole^]

Oh, and incidentally...here's what's happening in the National League.

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/nlstandings.jpg

[JeepGuy63]

Okay, here are the trades, for the public's approval...

The first:

To the Surf:


Paul O'Neill RF 59/85 Earning $43,500 until Arb '85
Tom Lawless IF 67/73 Earning $2,250 until Arb '85
Tom Hume RP 77 Earning $144,000 until FA '82

To the Reds:


Dwayne Murphy CF 79 Earning $430,000 until Arb '82I don't know about this one - seems a little too lopsided in the Surf's favor. I think just the two Toms would be a more fair exchange.

[oriole^]

I don't know about this one - seems a little too lopsided in the Surf's favor. I think just the two Toms would be a more fair exchange.

Okay, I'll count that as one against. In my defense, the two Toms were the toss-ins in what was essentially Murphy for O'Neill. I don't think I'd have gotten Hume if we hadn't been right at the trade deadline; the Reds were looking to sign one guy next year, and wanted it to be Murphy.

In further defense, here are ratings again with Commish Mode on (mostly because I was curious myself after this):

O'Neill: 60/84
Lawless: 68/72
Hume: 75
...
Murphy: 83

Looks a bit better that way.

Didn't matter anyway; I wanted Murphy off the team, 'cause he wasn't hitting, except for the fences occasionally - and I had Kong for that.

(If you want a real rape of the AI...I was offered the last year of Bruce Sutter by the Cardinals in exchange for Foli and Bann! :eek: I couldn't do that one in good conscience!)

[JeepGuy63]

I think you also need to take into account the money and contracts involved. That way, the deal really starts to look better in your favor.

You get Hume who can play for you now, Lawless who might not get called up until September or if someone gets injured and a pretty good future player in O'Neill - on top of getting rid of someone who you no longer want, you also get rid of his contract and the money of the three new guys is less than half of what Murphy is making. You also open up a spot for someone on the bench to step in and get more playing time.

I think you got the better of this deal.

[oriole^]

Week 19 (August 2 - August 9)
54-60 (.474)
5th in AL East
16 GB the Yankees

Detroit 14, OCEAN CITY 8
W: Petry (15-8) L: Filer (2-3)
HR: Kingman (OCS, 24), Revering (OCS, 15), Parrish (DET, 16)
Even back-to-back homers by Kingman and Revering again, plus a 2-for-4 night from Mendoza(!) wasn't enough to save the home team from the wreckage of their own pitching. Filer didn't have it from the beginning, and the 'pen was no help - though Pacella struck out 4 in 2 2/3.

Detroit 4, OCEAN CITY 1
W: Ujdur (3-2) L: Perry (13-11) Sv: Saucier (8)
HR: none
Hard-luck loss for Perry. The Surf collect 11 hits, same as the Tigers (Crow gets 3), but only one run.

Detroit 5, OCEAN CITY 4
W: Wilcox (11-9) L: Lee (6-9) Sv: Saucier (9)
HR: none
A frustrating sweep at home. Lee lost his control in the fourth inning, erasing an early Surf lead. In the ninth, LeFlore doubled with one out, bringing home Randle and Crow. Gulliver grounded out, moving the tying run to third base...and Sparky Anderson instructed Kevin Saucier to walk Puhl to face Kong. Kingman grounded a 1-0 pitch straight at Rick Leach at first...game and series over. :(

Terry Puhl signs a contract extension with the Surf: 3 years for $455K...

BALTIMORE 5, Ocean City 4
W: D. Martinez (15-10) L: Christenson (14-6) Sv: T. Martinez (19)
HR: none
Another close one that the Surf end up on the wrong end of. christenson pitched well, but lost his control in the 8th, issuing three straight walks. Kaat came in, but gave up a single to Gary Roenicke for two more runs. The Surf rallied against Tippy Martinez, but Dave Revering flew to center with the bases loaded to end it.

BALTIMORE 14, Ocean City 2
W: McGregor (13-9) L: Candiotti (4-9)
HR: Ripken (BAL, 12), Ford (BAL, 4)
No mas! Everybody has an off-day, as the 'pen stinks up the joint.

BALTIMORE 3, Ocean City 0
W: Flanagan (10-7) L: Filer (2-4)
HR: none
Flanagan struck out four, allowing only one hit (LeFlore) and one walk (Randle)...erasing a good performance by Filer.


A few things to watch for: Gaylord Perry is now 56 strikeouts away from Walter Johnson for the all-time lead - Nolan Ryan, however, is only one behind Perry...Jim Kaat is 17 wins short of 300; he's also eighth on the all-time appearances list, 14 behind Roy Face.

Dwayne Murphy has come alive in Cincinnati. In his first nine games, he's hitting .343 with an OPS of .922... :eek:

[JeepGuy63]

That was not a good week.

Murphy just needed a change. Good thing he's in the NL.

[oriole^]

Just lost the last three games played due to a crash of some kind. And of course, instead of winning one of those against the Orioles, we now win none. The previous post has been edited with the new info...

[BINGLEBOP]

I would approve the trade, as long as it doesn't create any significant holes in the opposing (AI?) team.

[JeepGuy63]

Just lost the last three games played due to a crash of some kind. And of course, instead of winning one of those against the Orioles, we now win none. The previous post has been edited with the new info...That bites. This is one buggy game!

[oriole^]

That bites. This is one buggy game!

Jeep: I think this was more "pilot error" than anything with the game. My laptop's been having some issues, and it might've crashed without me having saved the results. Anyway, speaking of which, here's the latest:


Week 20 (August 10 - August 16)
57-63 (.475)
5th in AL East
17 1/2 GB the Yankees

An impossibly early feat: Mike Caldwell has become the majors' first 20-game winner with a victory for the Brewers in Kansas City! Caldwell gave up nine hits in 7 IP, walking six and striking out only one, but the Brewers somehow turn six hits into four runs and hang on to give Caldwell the 4-3 victory!

OCEAN CITY 8, Oakland 0
W: Perry (14-11) L: Beattie (10-9)
HR: Bernazard 2 (OCS, 6, 7), Kingman (OCS, 25)
Now that's the way to break out of a slump! Gaylord Perry has a great game, allowing 3 hits and 1 walk while whiffing ten, and the batters lay 7 runs on Beattie in the first three innings.

OCEAN CITY 5, Oakland 2
W: Christenson (15-6) L: Keough (7-13) Sv: Forster (21)
HR: Kingman (OCS, 26)
Again, everything worked: Kingman slugged, Christenson gave 8 strong innings, LeFlore stole two bases...Forster was shaky (three walks) but got his three outs with no runs for the save.

Oakland 10, OCEAN CITY 2
W: Kingman (7-7) L: Lee (6-10)
HR: Spencer (OAK, 5)
The A's lay some abuse on Bill Lee and Jim Kaat before Ted Power stops the madness. LeFlore goes 3-for-4. (Oh, and that's Brian Kingman winning fhe game for the A's!)

Former Dodger prospect Dave Anderson will take over for a brief period as the shortstop, as Mendoza is given a bit of time in AAA.

California 7, OCEAN CITY 2
W: Forsch (14-9) L: Candiotti (4-10)
HR: Kingman (OCS, 27)
Forsch allows only four hits in eight innings, but the Angels collect 12 from the Surf, as Candiotti lasts only 3 2/3.

OCEAN CITY 6, California 3
W: Filer (3-4) L: Kison (8-4) Sv: Hume (3)
HR: none
Filer keeps it together against a tough Angels lineup, while the Surf batters, led by Bosetti and Householder, leap all over Kison and his first replacement, Steve Renko.

California 4, OCEAN CITY 2
W: Witt (14-11) L: Perry (14-12) Sv: Harvey (9)
HR: Quirk (OCS, 7)
Mike Witt blanked Puhl, Bernazard, Kingman, and Revering - the heart of the Surf order. Dante Bichette, meanwhile, a fill-in for the Halos, went 4-for-5. Quirk's homer came with 2 out in the ninth, and prevented the shutout, but that's all.

Dave Revering gets a new deal with the Surf: two years, $355K...

Kingman is one off the lead in home runs, behind Jeff Burroughs of the A's...and Perry is second to Mike Caldwell for the ERA title.

[oriole^]

I would approve the trade, as long as it doesn't create any significant holes in the opposing (AI?) team.

The Reds are indeed AI and in good shape. Eddie Milner, the LF (69/70; .191/.272/.282) has been benched, and Murphy's been moved there after initially replacing Cesar Cedeno in CF (84; .303/.358/.514). Hume's replacement is rookie Bill Landrum (74/84; 3-3, 1 Sv, 2.27 ERA, .197 BAA). Bill Scherer (77/93) has been brought up from the minors to take over long relief, and he's given up two hits in the six innings he's pitched so far.

[oriole^]

After reading this (http://www.20game-losers.com/), I might have to trade for Brian Kingman. :)

[oriole^]

Week 21 (August 16 - August 22)
60-67 (.472)
5th in AL East
17 GB the Yankees

Ocean City 5, DETROIT 4
W: Christenson (16-6) L: Rozema (10-8) Sv: Forster (22)
HR: Revering (OCS, 16), Quirk (OCS, 8)
Rozema intentionally walked Kingman with a man on and two down to get to Revering. Mistake! Quirk's solo homer to greet Pat Underwood turns out to be the game-winner, however, as Forster gives up a run to Enos Cabell in the ninth before getting Eddie Miller to end it. Over 45,000 on hand in the Motor City!

DETROIT 2, Ocean City 1
W: Petry (18-8) L: Lee (6-11) Sv: Saucier (12)
HR: none
A pure pitchers' duel, as Lee gave up five hits and Petry four.

Bobby Murcer's 24-game hitting streak ends for the Yankees...Ken Singleton of the Orioles draws his 100th walk of the season...

DETROIT 12, Ocean City 3
W: Morris (17-11) L: Candiotti (4-11)
HR: Herndon (DET, 14)
That certainly wasn't pleasant...Candy gives up 5 in 5 innings, but not to be outdone, Ted Power gives up 6 in 1/3 IP!

Candiotti has pitched himself out of the rotation with this last start. Jim Kaat will be starting in his place next time around, though Surf scouts are looking hopefully to the minors...

Rolando Roomes, a Class A player, makes his major league debut with the Cubs in LF. All he does is go 4-for-4 with a double and a solo HR! The Cubbies win their 13th of the month already, and have stormed past the Reds and the Pirates into third place in the NL East!

Kansas City 3, OCEAN CITY 0
W: Leonard (17-8) L: Filer (3-5)
HR: Wilson (KCR, 5)
The Surf are seeing far too many good pitchers! Dennis Leonard blows through the lineup, giving up seven hits and striking out 9.

OCEAN CITY 8, Kansas City 7 (11 innings)
W: Hume (1-0) L: Armstrong (3-1)
HR: Aikens 2 (KCR, 21, 22), Brett (KCR, 14)
Holy Magoo! GO SURF! Perry was chased in the sixth, and the Surf trailed 7-2 going into the bottom of the ninth. They then proceeded to victimize Bill Castro and Dan Quisenberry for five runs, ending in two bases-loaded walks to Revering and pinch-hitter Johnstone! Two innings later, after Forster and Hume kept it close, Puhl bunted Bernazard over and Dave Revering singled him in off Mike Armstrong with two outs!

OCEAN CITY 4, Kansas City 3
W: Hume (2-0) L: Gura (10-15)
HR: Aikens (KCR, 23)
We did it again! The Surf notch three in the bottom of the ninth, with Householder's bases-loaded pinch double accounting for two and Randle's single getting the other! (Christenson gave up five hits in 8 innings, striking out 6...)

OAKLAND 5, Ocean City 4
W: Langford (12-10) L: Lee (6-12) Sv: McLaughlin (3)
HR: none
This time, the A's stage the late comeback, putting up three in the 7th and erasing a lead from a makeshift Surf lineup (with Bailor, Householder, Johnstone, and Mendoza starting - and Gulliver leading off).

[JeepGuy63]

Not the best of trips but not as bad as it could have been.

[AthleticsFan2k8]

Well Good Job for Dave Kingman, did he do well for the Surf?

[oriole^]

Well Good Job for Dave Kingman, did he do well for the Surf?

You pretty much know what you're going to get with Kong, and he's not disappointing anyone: .227/.287/.438, tied for 2nd in the AL with 27 HR, tied for 6th with 87 RBI. He's walked 40 times and struck out 128. :)

[oriole^]

Here's the first part of the latest story; part two is coming soon!


For several days after the trading deadline, I was a wreck. We'd dealt the jovial Dwayne Murphy, whom I knew somewhat as an upcoming young buck from my days with the "Swingin' A's", off to Cincinnati, and I had deemed the perpetually sour Tim Foli as a fitting punishment for Dave Dombrowski and the White Sox, after a near-deal with the Red Sox. We'd gotten some excellent prospects in return, but with the exception of the bespectacled reliever late of the Reds, Tom Hume, that was all they were at this point: prospects. Whether the Surf struck gold or formica was yet to be determined - probably for several seasons down the road - and while in my head I knew this, my heart was less than pleased with the waiting period between now and my fate.

What happened next was a predictable swan dive. To a chorus of snickers around the league, we'd named Mario Mendoza as Foli's replacement (something of an oddity, as Foli'd beaten Mendoza out of a job in Pittsburgh before). Mendoza's fielding was never in question, but the diminutive Mexican was as comfortable with a bat in his hand as he was forming sentences in English. George Brett made mention in an interview that he'd now get to see who was "below the Mendoza Line" in the papers, and it seems to have stuck. Meanwhile, Rick Bosetti, the rather juvenile reserve outfielder we'd had caddy for Murphy, whose biggest claim to fame might have been the number of outfield walls he'd urinated against in his major league career, was now the full-time center fielder. Tony Bernazard was still unhappy, Kong was still Kong, and the young and far too old arms we had in the 'pen started to have things get the better of them. Suddenly, the upstart Indians were formidable opposition, and the surging Orioles and Tigers, to say nothing of the Yankees, didn't consider us much opposition at all. Every starter looked like a world-beater against us, as half the lineup flirted with the Brett-named Mendoza Line at one point...and when they got it together, the twirlers on the mound couldn't even buy us an out.

I was just convinced it was all my fault. Bill Lee's slider just didn't have its old bite; I had somehow caused it. Every curve ball that Mendoza swung feebly at, missing it by a foot, was my fault. The rookie, Tom Candiotti, swooned his way right out of the rotation, with Marvelous Marv taking him out before he became completely shell-shocked - and that was me, too. The beer vendor served up a warm one in the right field bleachers? I was convinced there was a guy out there thinking that I personally sucked.

The younger Veeck (and even at one point, the elder Veeck) reminded me as we slid below .500 that we were still ahead of the Blue Jays and, somewhat surprisingly, the Red Sox, but this wasn't a great deal of consolation. The giddy days of two months ago, when we were chasing Junebugs through the stadium while turning in one improbable performance after another seemed to be eons ago. When Irv the Hat came up with another promotional gimmick - something about a song in a TV show that his niece really liked - I just green-lighted it without giving it a second thought and shooed him out of my office.

The Royals arrived in town, looking very much like the team that had won the American League two years ago with contempuous ease, blowing through the Yankees in three straight before somehow losing to the Phils in the Series. Glumly, I'd watched the night before as Dennis Leonard, a 20-game winner in that season and still the ace of the staff, mowed us down like tall grass for his seventeenth win this season.

The next day, rather than looking at the agate type in the paper, I caught myself looking at the farm team reports in The Sporting News first. My fate was now anchored off at sleepy St. Mary's City, as it faced off against teams from sprawling metropoli, like Greenville and Harrisburg. For the rest of the afternoon, I found myself back on the beach at 71st Street...thinking about how it had begun, and the crazy irreality of it all.

[oriole^]

Week 22 (August 23 - August 29)
63-71 (.470)
5th in AL East
16 1/2 GB the Yankees

Ocean City 10, OAKLAND 2
W: Filer (4-5) L: McCatty (9-16)
HR: Armas (OAK, 14), Bosetti (OCS, 2), Johnstone (OCS, 2)
Filer stumbles early against the A's, but the Surf bats come to the rescue. Johnstone's pinch-hit grand slam cements the game in the 7th!

Eddie Murray now has 100 RBI on the season...and Johnny Bench has 2000 hits on the career!

OAKLAND 2, Ocean City 0
W: Norris (10-14) L: Kaat (5-6)
HR: Henderson (OAK, 10)
Kaat scatters hits well, finishing with two runs on Rickey Henderson's homer, allowing 12 hits, walking one, and striking out 8...but Norris is that much better, allowing five hits, walking 4, and striking out 3.

In Denver, Ross Grimsley loses his 20th game of the season - this one to the Cubs. The Cents have shoved the Twins out of the basement of the NL West, having won only five games so far in the month...

OAKLAND 5, Ocean City 3
W: Keough (10-13) L: Perry (14-13) Sv: Taylor (16)
HR: McKay (OAK, 1)
Gulliver commits a two-out error which keeps the eighth inning going...allowing, somehow, defensive sub Dave McKay to pop a three-run game-winning homer!

Dave Anderson singled for an RBI and stole a base...he's now hitting .290 for the Surf and .305 in 58 AB on the year...

OCEAN CITY 8, Seattle 7 (11 innings)
W: Altamirano (2-2) L: Clark (0-2)
HR: Martinez (SEA, 16), Essian (SEA, 4), Kingman (OCS, 28)
Another come-from-behind victory! Christenson surrenders the home runs fairly early, allowing the Mariners to take control...but Glenn Gulliver keeps it close with a pair of two-RBI singles. Then in the 9th, Kingman bats in Bernazard, while Puhl comes home on a Revering sac fly to tie it. Two innings later, Clark gets one out before Kingman ends it with a blast to right field! Altamirano really earns the win in relief, baffling the M's with 4 2/3 innings of one-hit ball, giving up no runs and two walks, and striking out two!

Not really known for his hitting for average, Greg Luzinski of the White Sox has a 22-game hitting streak ended today by the Red Sox.

Seattle 3, OCEAN CITY 2
W: Witt (5-4) L: Lee (6-13) Sv: Clark (2)
HR: none
Seattle gets eight hits; the Surf get seven. Lee has a case for non-support, going 7 IP and giving up three runs (Hume was perfect in two relief innings).

The division races, once sure bets, are all up for grabs! In the NL West, the Dodgers have overtaken St. Louis, but the Cards are winning again and only 1 1/2 back. In the AL, Detroit is taking advantage of a Yankees swoon with a red hot month; they are only a 1/2 game back (with the Orioles only two behind them!) Likewise in the West, the Brewers have fallen apart since the All-Star Break (16-27, and now Molitor's out for two weeks), and the Royals are only 1/2 a game back; the Angels and Mariners are both 5 1/2 out. (The Royals are currently playing the Tigers: 1-1 so far, with two games left in the series!) Even the Expos have started a move on the solid Phillies at the top of the NL East - they're 5 GB, with the surprising Cubs in third (9 GB).

Tony Bernazard has bruised a rib (honestly, keeping that guy healthy and in the lineup is a chore!) Tom Lawless has been summoned from AAA to back up Bob Bailor.

OCEAN CITY 6, Seattle 4
W: Altamirano (3-2) L: Moore (13-13) Sv: Forster (23)
HR: Henderson (SEA, 12)
Another great relief stint for Porfi Altamirano, as the submariner torpedoes the Mariners: 3 innings, two hits, one walk, two Ks. The Surf share the wealth as every member of the lineup (except Householder) gets at least one of the 10 hits. 96 degrees at game time!

The Royals take the lead in the West...

CALIFORNIA 4, Ocean City 1
W: Goltz (12-13) L: Kaat (5-7)
HR: Lynn (CAL, 26), Revering (OCS, 17)
And, unfortunately, another good performance from Kitty goes to waste, as the Surf can't get anything started against Dave Goltz (CG, 7 H, 8 Ks). 64,975 on hand at the Big A!

Jamie Quirk has hurt a knee ligament! Just a stretch, but it's enough to take him out for almost the rest of the year. Don Crow becomes the Surf's full-time catcher; Doug "Eyechart" Gwosdz has been summoned from AAA!

[JeepGuy63]

Ouch! A loss and the catcher is lost for the season. That is bad luck.

[oriole^]

Week 23A (August 30 - August 31)
63-71 (.470)
5th in AL East
16 1/2 GB the Yankees

The Blue Jays are on a four-game winning streak, and have pulled even with the Red Sox in an attempt to climb out of the AL East basement!

Speaking of which, the Surf sign two free agents to try and avoid the same. Joe Pittman, a second baseman late of his home town of Houston, joins the Surf for the remainder of the season, and will back up Bernazard, sending Tom Lawless back to the minors without an appearance. Also, an overlooked young pitcher from the Amateur Draft, Ron Rightnowar, is signed, and will report to the Gatecrashers of the Rookie League.

CALIFORNIA 3, Ocean City 2
W: Witt (15-13) L: Perry (14-14) Sv: Harvey (11)
HR: Bailor (OCS, 1)
Once again, the Surf end up on the wrong end of a pitcher's duel. Perry strikes out 8, but Witt strikes out 9, and gets rescued by Harvey after walking PH Paul Householder to score a run in the ninth. Over 66,000 in the crowd!

Ocean City 4, CALIFORNIA 2
W: Christenson (17-6) L: Forsch (15-11)
HR: Burleson (CAL, 5)
Christenson goes the distance, allowing two runs on 6 hits, whiffing 4 and walking 2; Don Crow chipped in with the bat, getting RBIs in the 2nd and 8th innings.

The Surf finish the month of August with a 10-18 record... :(

The Orioles have overtaken the Tigers for second, and are now 1 1/2 behind the Yankees, with the Tigers two games back.

[oriole^]

Here are the stats as we enter September. All these are only accrued with the Surf...asterisked players are currently on other teams.


1982 Pitching Team IP ERA G GS W L SV K BB R/9
Christenson, Larry OCS 215.2 3.55 29 29 17 6 0 112 67 11.39
Perry, Gaylord OCS 214.1 2.90 30 30 14 14 0 144 61 11.25
Lee, Bill OCS 159.0 4.47 28 23 6 13 2 70 56 14.09
Candiotti, Tom OCS 112.2 6.63 21 21 4 11 0 56 50 15.26
Kaat, Jim OCS 110.1 5.47 27 12 5 7 0 66 24 12.64
Filer, Tom OCS 79.2 3.95 12 12 4 5 0 35 28 12.31
Power, Ted OCS 52.2 4.96 29 0 4 0 0 34 32 15.21
Pacella, John OCS 52.0 5.54 23 3 2 5 3 29 33 15.58
Altamirano, Porfi OCS 51.1 2.98 36 0 3 2 2 31 25 12.80
Forster, Terry OCS 42.0 2.36 41 0 3 1 23 32 24 10.29
Felton, Terry OCS 40.0 4.95 20 1 0 1 0 33 32 19.13
Sisk, Doug OCS 26.1 5.47 23 0 0 2 1 9 18 18.80
*Stuper, John OCS 25.1 9.95 5 5 0 5 0 12 21 19.89
Hume, Tom OCS 14.2 1.23 12 0 2 0 1 11 7 9.82
Senteney, Steve OCS 4.0 4.50 3 0 0 0 0 2 1 20.25


1982 Batting Team G AVG AB H 2B 3B HR BB K SB CS R RBI SLG OBP
LeFlore, Ron OCS 129 .274 541 148 29 3 5 47 107 48 12 71 45 .366 .333
Kingman, Dave OCS 132 .224 517 116 20 1 28 44 143 6 1 68 92 .429 .285
Puhl, Terry OCS 126 .283 484 137 23 7 5 47 64 21 5 64 61 .390 .344
Bernazard, Tony OCS 120 .292 459 134 33 0 7 54 85 15 6 64 48 .410 .368
Revering, Dave OCS 122 .295 451 133 14 4 17 48 66 0 1 57 64 .457 .365
Gulliver, Glenn OCS 122 .197 376 74 10 0 0 82 62 1 0 37 30 .223 .338
*Foli, Tim OCS 97 .268 347 93 18 2 1 10 28 5 1 28 21 .340 .291
Quirk, Jamie OCS 96 .214 327 70 15 1 8 19 71 0 0 28 34 .339 .261
*Murphy, Dwayne OCS 87 .203 281 57 10 0 13 47 68 5 6 40 47 .377 .320
Bosetti, Rick OCS 69 .269 245 66 4 2 2 16 38 4 5 29 18 .327 .316
Crow, Don OCS 33 .261 111 29 5 0 0 7 23 0 0 11 10 .306 .317
Bailor, Bob OCS 41 .206 102 21 4 1 1 7 9 4 1 7 5 .294 .264
Householder, Paul OCS 21 .250 60 15 5 0 2 8 14 1 2 9 12 .433 .338
Randle, Lenny OCS 19 .286 56 16 0 1 0 6 8 0 0 6 1 .321 .365
Johnstone, Jay OCS 31 .294 51 15 4 0 2 7 7 0 0 7 17 .490 .379
*Page, Mitchell OCS 14 .137 51 7 2 0 0 6 12 2 0 6 4 .176 .228
Anderson, Dave OCS 15 .220 50 11 0 1 0 3 9 2 0 5 3 .260 .264
*Cerone, Rick OCS 18 .224 49 11 3 0 0 7 9 0 0 1 4 .286 .328
Mendoza, Mario OCS 18 .167 48 8 1 0 0 6 6 0 0 7 1 .188 .259

[oriole^]

Week 23B (September 1 - September 5)
65-75 (.464)
5th in AL East
16 1/2 GB the Yankees

CALIFORNIA 3, Ocean City 2
W: Tiant (14-10) L: Lee (6-14) Sv: Harvey (12)
HR: Bosetti (OCS, 3), Kingman (OCS, 29), Downing (CAL, 14)
Lee pitched a complete game, giving up only three runs, but got no help from most of the bats. Bosetti and Kingman had solo shots, Anderson had two hits, and Crow had three...but that was all she wrote.

To make matters worse, Dave Anderson is now on the mend, having strained a knee. Mario Mendoza will join the parent club once again!

MILWAUKEE 3, Ocean City 1
W: Slaton (14-15) L: Filer (4-6) Sv: Harvey (12)
HR: none
Slaton holds the Surf to six hits and walks none, erasing yet another great performance from Tom Filer...

The Yankees have released Lou Piniella...

Tug McGraw of the Phillies gets his 200th save. He's fourth on the all-time list...

MILWAUKEE 4, Ocean City 2
W: Haas (13-13) L: Kaat (5-8) Sv: Fingers (19)
HR: Simmons (MIL, 14), Meyer (MIL, 4)
Once again, the bats are asleep, even with the return of Tony Bernazard. Kitty pitches great with the exception of the two long balls, but the Surf can't take advantage. (By the way, is this the first result ever in baseball history where both pitchers had an "aa" in the middle of their names?)

Ocean City 5, MILWAUKEE 3
W: Perry (15-14) L: Caldwell (22-6) Sv: Forster (24)
HR: Howell (MIL, 8), Cooper (MIL, 21), Simmons (MIL, 15), Bernazard (OCS, 8)
Caldwell is denied a 23th win, as the Surf make up for their recent problems with a fine bit of baseball. Perry gives up only two hits aside from the three solo homers, and Forster again pitches a scoreless ninth...and some timely hitting briefly returns, with even Mendoza getting an RBI. Bosetti doubles twice and scores twice.

[oriole^]

Here's one for Oregon Duck: I realized in looking at the standings that I hadn't given the Denver Centennials their amateur draft picks. Remember that expansion franchises don't ordinarily get them in BBM, but I faked it with the Surf and gave us some anyway.

For the Cents, I just went through the leftover free agent amateurs and grabbed some good ones whose names I'd heard of before (so no fictionals). So, welcome to the Cents' farm roster...Jose Bautista (52/82), Billy Jo Robidoux (54/67), Jeff Reboulet (56/75), Chris Gwynn (55/66), Willie Fraser (46/79), and Luis Aquino (52/79).

The poor Cents, btw, are looking very much like the first year franchise they are, with a record of 50-89 (.360), 34 games behind the Dodgers in the NL West. Joe Charbonneau currently leads the squad with 14 HR, and Warren Cromartie is hitting .324 as their first baseman (but is currently injured). Juan Berenguer is their best pitcher (11-14, 3.85), but right behind him in the rotation is Ross Grimsley (8-21, 5.81).

The Centennials are developing an unfortunate early case of the Orioles Syndrome - those who've left blossom into instant stars. Jose Cruz was batting .265/.356/.389 in 48 starts before being traded to the Orioles to get prospects; since then, in 66 games with the O's, he's .354/.402/.523! Doyle Alexander was 3-6, 5.48 in 11 starts as the #1 ace on the Cents; since his trade to the Dodgers, he's 12-3, 2.43...

[oriole^]

Week 24 (September 6 - September 12)
68-78 (.466)
5th in AL East
18 1/2 GB the Yankees

California 5, OCEAN CITY 0
W: Goltz (14-13) L: Christenson (17-7)
HR: Boone (CAL, 9), Downing (CAL, 17)
Same ol' story: Goltz gives up five hits and walks no one in a complete game shutout victory. In our stadium!

OCEAN CITY 4, California 3
W: Lee (7-14) L: Kison (8-8) Sv: Forster (25)
HR: Bosetti (OCS, 4), Grich (CAL, 11)
Terry Forster picks up just in time for a faltering Lee in the eighth, with Don Crow throwing a runner out at third...Mendoza, LeFlore, and Bosetti account for most of the offense.

The division races are all extremely close at this point:

Yankees ahead of the Orioles by 2 1/2, the Tigers by 3 1/2
Royals ahead of the Brewers by 2, the Angels by 5 1/2, the Mariners by 6 1/2...
Phillies ahead of the Expos by 3
Dodgers ahead of the Cards by 2 1/2

Meanwhile, Dan Petry of the Tigers becomes the AL's second twenty-game winner with a victory over the Brewers...

OCEAN CITY 6, California 4
W: Altamirano (4-2) L: Witt (15-14)
HR: none
Filer gives up four runs, but Altamirano starts slingin' magic underhanded in the 7th and doesn't look back: 3 IP, one walk, three strikeouts. Meanwhile, the Surf rallied in the 8th, with a single by Johnstone, an error by Rod Carew, and Doug Gwosdz's walk...then Ron LeFlore came off the bench to pinch hit for Mendoza, delivering a two-run double, and afterwards prompting Don Aase to balk in Gwosdz for insurance!

Glenn Gulliver has finally and tearfully played his way out of the starting lineup (.193/.332/.219), particularly since Lenny Randle is 8 for his last 14...

New York 5, OCEAN CITY 2
W: Guidry (19-9) L: Perry (15-15) Sv: Gossage (25)
HR: none
The ancient ones, Perry and Kaat, combine to scatter eleven hits, but can't quite do a good enough job: Jerry Mumphrey, of all people, does the damage with 2 RBIs.

New York 10, OCEAN CITY 7
W: John (14-8) L: Christenson (17-8) Sv: LaRoche (7)
HR: Foote (NYY, 10), Nettles 2 (NYY, 20, 21)
Figures that just when the bats finally get on track, the arms fail us! Altamirano wasn't available due to a pulled muscle, and Ted Power, who is ridiculously hot and cold, was no replacement: 3 hits, 3 walks, 4 runs in 2/3 of an inning. Paul Householder's two-run pinch single made things exciting, but the Surf were already too far back...

And with the latest loss, the Surf are mathematically eliminated from post-season play. :(

OCEAN CITY 8, New York 3
W: Lee (8-14) L: Rawley (9-7)
HR: Nettles (NYY, 22), Griffey (NYY, 12), Kingman (OCS, 30)
Take that! Lee didn't pitch a gem, but the lineup had something to prove. Four hits for Randle, three for Puhl and Revering...Mendoza chips in the way he should - handling three double plays in the field.

Len Randle is a man on a mission: he's hit safely in his last eight games...and in those games, he's hit .485!

The Mariners are three games above .500 with an impressive 29-16 record in one-run games...they look like they're headed to their first winning season ever.

[oriole^]

The Braves might be challenging the Surf for most interesting team of 1982. :)

Stuck for options, the Braves took a pitcher from the Rookie League, Phil Hemming, along with them on their most recent road trip. In response, the Twins put up their recent acquisition in the Amateur Draft, the third overall pick, Floyd Youmans.

The scary, scary result for the young Mr. Hemming...


Atlanta Braves (65-88) at Minnesota Twins (62-91)

September 9, 1982
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 R H E
Braves 0 0 0 0 0 0 4 0 0 4 11 1
Twins 3 6 1 5 0 0 0 1 x 16 20 0


Braves AB H BB R HR RBI K SB AVG
Jerry Royster 2B 5 2 0 1 0 0 0 0 .220
Rafael Ramirez SS 5 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 .250
Claudell Washington RF 5 3 0 1 0 2 2 0 .288
Dale Murphy CF 5 1 0 0 0 2 1 0 .223
Ken Smith 1B 3 1 1 0 0 0 0 0 .231
Larry Whisenton LF 3 1 1 0 0 0 0 0 .333
Biff Pocoroba 3B 4 1 0 1 0 0 0 0 .278
Bruce Benedict C 4 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .205
Phil Hemming P 2 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 .500
Larry McWilliams P 0 0 1 1 0 0 0 0 .174
Terry Harper PH 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .268
Joe Cowley P 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .000
Totals 37 11 3 4 0 4 4 1

2B: Claudell Washington (27)
GDP: Bruce Benedict

DP: Ken Smith, Rafael Ramirez, Jerry Royster
E: Claudell Washington

Twins AB H BB R HR RBI K SB AVG
Gary Ward LF 6 4 0 3 1 3 1 0 .264
Randy Bush RF 6 3 0 3 2 5 0 0 .323
Kirby Puckett CF 6 4 0 3 0 0 1 0 .248
Gary Gaetti 3B 4 1 1 2 0 1 1 0 .263
Randy Stuart Johnson 1B 2 1 4 2 0 0 0 0 .296
Tim Teufel 2B 4 1 2 0 0 2 1 0 .258
Butch Wynegar C 5 3 1 1 0 5 0 0 .256
Ron Washington SS 4 1 1 1 0 0 0 0 .202
Floyd Youmans P 4 2 0 1 0 0 2 0 .286
Doug Corbett P 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .000
Totals 42 20 9 16 3 16 6 0

2B: Tim Teufel (15), Gary Ward (24), Kirby Puckett (4), Randy Bush (7)
3B: Kirby Puckett (2)
HR: Gary Ward (11), Randy Bush 2 (5)
GDP: Ron Washington

DP: Randy Stuart Johnson, Ron Washington 2

Braves IP H BB HR R ER K PIT ERA
Phil Hemming 5.0 17 7 3 15 15 4 144 27.00
Larry McWilliams 2.0 1 2 0 0 0 0 25 6.04
Joe Cowley 1.0 2 0 0 1 1 2 18 1.84
Totals 8.0 20 9 3 16 16 6 187

Twins IP H BB HR R ER K PIT ERA
Floyd Youmans 6.2 8 3 0 4 4 4 130 4.85
Doug Corbett 2.1 3 0 0 0 0 0 37 3.66
Totals 9.0 11 3 0 4 4 4 167

WP: Floyd Youmans (1-0)
LP: Phil Hemming (0-1)

Temperature: 42F
Wind: None (Domed Stadium)
Attendance: 19,142
Time: 3:51

[oriole^]

The second part of the latest story - and a third part's on the way later...


Getting to the ballpark was a chore even though it was a Friday and a fairly decent crowd had shown up. On the mound this time was none other than Vida Blue, the A's ace from back in that day, who was at the helm of one win after another, and probably hadn't lost as much of a step as folks thought he had. He was going for his sixteenth win. We countered with Gaylord Perry, the ancient beach boy, his gray mop held in place underneath that blue, green, and white cap with a generous helping of dippity-do, which we knew would soon be decorating every baseball in the place. I settled into the skybox seat as if I had ringside seats for Gary Gilmour's trip to the gas chamber. The only thing breaking the mood was Mike Veeck tossing Junior Mints at me, seeing if he could land them in my shirt pocket from where he was sitting. (It was only fair; I'd usually be doing it to him.)

We started well. Puhl tripled off Blue in the first, and Kingman skied a deep fly ball after him; two runs scored. But the Royals began to solve Perry, and in the fifth and sixth, the chunky Willie Mays Aikens had blasted home runs. The one in the sixth followed a similar homer from George Brett, which in turn followed Dave Revering, whose contract I had just extended, muffing a quick toss from Tony Bernazard to grant the Royals another out, and earning a glower from Gaylord. I muttered something under my breath. It was as if I'd kicked the ball myself.

5-2, Royals, became 6-2, then 7-2 under the tender ministrations of our young and inexperienced bullpen heading into the ninth, when the Royals sent out Bill Castro. Castro! We weren't even worthy of their closer, the underhand-slinging Dan Quisenberry. I grumbled. Our bench grumbled. And then something began to happen.

Castro notched the first out against Crow, but Lenny Randle cheekily slapped one at Brett at third. Brett motioned to throw, but thought better of it. Dave Anderson, the young former Dodgers prospect we'd picked up in the Cerone trade, lined a fastball back through the middle, and Randle, something of a free spirit at any time, ran straight through Doby's stop sign from the third base box, sliding in on an annoyed Brett.

Ron LeFlore followed, and was fooled by a curve, chopping it high into the air. Frank White had it...if it would ever come down from the heavy, humid air. LeFlore knew he had a chance and rocketed to first; White was a blur in throwing it, as first base was his only chance. Not in time. LeFlore was safe and Randle was home. The crowd was back in it.

There was life in the bullpen as Tony Bernazard stepped in; a mustachioed Royal looked as if he was playing lawn darts. Quiz was up for Kansas City, and Porfi Altamirano, our own underhander, was standing on the fence in our pen, watching him intently.

Bernazard swung over the first pitch, a curve again, from Castro. He came back to the curve with the second pitch - but in a split-second I noticed it didn't bite. Tony didn't need an invitation, and blasted it savagely into the gap in right field. Another run was in. I stood up. Junior Mints skittered to the floor of the box.

[oriole^]

Week 25 (September 13 - September 19)
71-82 (.464)
5th in AL East
21 1/2 GB the Yankees

DETROIT 6, Ocean City 5 (10 innings)
W: Saucier (8-8) L: Hume (2-1)
HR: Bernazard (OCS, 9), Lemon (DET, 20)
The Tigers make four errors, and the Surf come back twice in the 8th and 9th innings - and it still ends up with a Surf loss!

Scotty McGregor joins Mike Flanagan and Al Bumbry on the DL for the Orioles, who are limping down the stretch...!

DETROIT 8, Ocean City 6
W: Tobik (1-0) L: Hume (2-2) Sv: Lopez (18)
HR: Revering 2 (OCS, 18, 19), Herndon (DET, 17)
Arrrrgh! Tim Lanigan starts his first game for the Surf, and instantly regrets it - five runs in the first. Nonetheless, he settles down and pitches six innings, while the Surf come back against Wilcox (with Dave Revering smacking two HRs for 5 RBI) to tie it 6-6. But Mario Mendoza, of all people, kicks the ball with two outs in the eighth, and Larry Herndon bombs one off the hapless Tom Hume to send him to his second loss in as many nights in Detroit.

Ocean City 5, DETROIT 2
W: Perry (16-15) L: Petry (21-11) Sv: Forster (26)
HR: Parrish (DET, 22)
We get one, at least. Perry is back to his old tricks, allowing only four hits and giving way to the once-again-reliable Terry Forster. The Tigers continue with the sloppy D, committing three errors, and the Surf chase 20-game winner Petry with nine hits.

The Spaceman's season is over, as he separates his shoulder (in practice, as he wasn't even pitching! Maybe he was performing yoga or something...) Tom Candiotti will take his place for the rest of the way.

Nolan Ryan is now ten strikeouts behind Walter Johnson for the all-time lead...and O.C.'s own Gaylord Perry is only seven behind Ryan after this latest six K performance in Detroit! Ryan is due to go against the Cubs on Saturday...

CHICAGO 10, Ocean City 7
W: Hoyt (14-8) L: Christenson (17-9) Sv: Kern (4)
HR: Baines (CHI, 17)
No problem with the bats, but the White Sox make even more of their at-bats, scoring 10 on 12 hits. Hoyt surrenders 12 in only five innings, but walks away with the win.

The Phillies have gone into a tailspin, losing their last seven - Montreal is now in first place in the NL East!

Ocean City 5, CHICAGO 4
W: Candiotti (5-11) L: Burns (10-18) Sv: Kaat (1)
HR: LeFlore (OCS, 6), Bernazard (OCS, 10)
The Candy Man comes back with a 7 strikeout performance...and Ron LeFlore's rare homer is the difference in the 7th inning!

Ocean City 5, CHICAGO 4
W: Filer (5-6) L: Dotson (11-15) Sv: Forster (27)
HR: none
Tom Filer kept his wits about him as the White Sox scored three to tie early in the game with none out...and retired the next three batters on pop-ups! Dave Revering doubled to greet Sparky Lyle in the 8th for the game-winner, as Bill Almon was caught off base by Terry Forster for the final out in the 9th!

The Expos are now 2 1/2 ahead of the Phils, who've dropped nine straight!

CHICAGO 3, Ocean City 0
W: Lamp (12-16) L: Lanigan (0-1)
HR: none
The rookie gets a bitter first decision, as Dennis Lamp pitches the game of his life: 2 hits, 1 walk, 4 strikeouts, and a complete game shutout.

[3RunHomer]

Stuck for options, the Braves took a pitcher from the Rookie League, Phil Hemming, along with them on their most recent road trip. In response, the Twins put up their recent acquisition in the Amateur Draft, the third overall pick, Floyd Youmans.

The scary, scary result for the young Mr. Hemming...

They took him out after 5? Suck it up kid and get back out there! You're not done until you give up 20 runs!

[oriole^]

Once again, the last three games of the last week got clipped...either I'm really careless or something's going on! The games turned out the same results, though the circumstances are obviously different...

[oriole^]

Here's the third part of the story. Part One is here (http://www.sportsmogul.com/vbulletin2/showpost.php?p=1260895&postcount=107), and Part Two is here (http://www.sportsmogul.com/vbulletin2/showpost.php?p=1264222&postcount=116). Sorry about this, but it wouldn't take it all in one post - too many characters - and it's slow going to write this, 'cause life keeps getting in the way...this game happened back in August!

Pretty soon I hope to have the season wrapped up with another story and then it's on to the post-season.



"Oh, you're awake!" quipped Mike Veeck. I shushed him up as Terry Puhl stepped in.

Castro had lost his nerve and couldn't find the plate. Ball two followed ball one. A couple of kids were dancing around in the box seats behind the plate, waving and leaping in order to distract the Royals pitcher - an usher came down to get them, but not before some of the paying customers decided to join in, from the safe confines directly in front of their own seats. It must've worked. Ball three followed, then a strike before Puhl calmly watched ball four settle in Don Slaught's glove. Now the bases were loaded: LeFlore, Bernazard, and Puhl were on.

I grabbed Mike's shoulder. "They're going to bring in Quiz!"

He gave me a look. "Of course they're gonna bring in Quiz!"

On that cue, Dick Howser stepped slowly out of the dugout, motioning off to the bullpen beyond the left field fence. He wanted the right-hander. The guy on the P.A. cued up Ray Charles's "Hit the Road, Jack" for the outgoing Bill Castro as Kansas City's real relief ace jogged to the mound. In the first three seasons of his career, the first being a half-season and the third being interrupted by the strike, he'd racked up 16 wins, all in relief, and 56 saves. "We're doomed," I observed gloomily.

"A little faith, willya?" said Veeck. "Anyway, Kong's up, so we should know our fate in about sixty seconds or so."

He was right - and not in the way that either of us had imagined. Kingman swung weirdly at the second pitch, topping it slowly off the end of the bat and somehow poking it past a diving Frank White and into right field. Bernazard held up at third, but LeFlore was home with the crack of the bat. It was now 7-5 Royals, and I was pacing in the skybox as the stadium began to show some volume. There was still too much that could go wrong. Quiz was still too good, we were still too lucky, and I was still not ready to accept that the team I'd put together might be capable of making a dream come true on an oddly still August night off the Maryland coast.

Dave Revering stepped in, and Quisenberry fell back on his sinker - but the pitch kept falling short. He was falling into the same trap as Bill Castro - and there was no place to put Revering. The dancing boys reappeared, and this time, the ushers weren't stepping in. Programs were being waved...jackets, shirts, anything. Quiz ignored them. Or maybe he didn't. He notched a single strike, and then...ball four. Revering took his base, and Bernazard trotted home. Crowds on Philadelphia Avenue began to take notice of the roar from 30th Street, and began to scamper into the nearby bars, where the game, long since abandoned by the beachgoers, was on.

Now Jay Johnstone, something of a magic charm for the Surf as a pinch-hitter, stepped in in place of Rick Bosetti. Quisenberry got the sign from Slaught, nodded, and proceded to loop a breaking pitch outside, almost out of reach of his lunging catcher. Somehow, someway, the Surf, and Atlantic Field, had gotten under the skin of one of baseball's best relief pitchers. The stadium roared, and the fans were standing for the duration now, jumping, gyrating, waving. Grown men were making goofy faces and shouting and screaming schoolboy epithets at the beleaguered Kansas City ace. Grown women were joining in, and according to one source later, were attempting to remove their shirts in Quisenberry's line of sight. By the time Johnstone watched ball three sail low, Mike and I had joined in, leaning out of the box, hurling bush-league insults at the submariner, and his girlfriend, and his family. There were towels waving in the Ocean City dugout...more started in the Surf bullpen beyond the right field fence.

Quisenberry's fourth pitch came in, and Johnstone watched it land without comment from his bat. It looked inside. There was a split-second, then the ump made his indication.

Ball four.

Terry Puhl ambled home as the ballpark roared its approval down to its foundations. Junior Mints were flying out of the box in handfuls now.

Paul Householder unfortunately put the kibosh on the festivities immediately after, grounding into a double play for the third out, but thanks to the Surf, that wasn't the end of the game, nor the end of the heroics. A new battery stepped in for the Surf, with the portly Terry Forster tossing to Jamie Quirk, and Quiz regained his touch for the next inning, resulting in a quiet tenth inning.

[oriole^]

Week 26 (September 20 - September 26)
73-86 (.459)
5th in AL East
24 1/2 GB the Yankees

Tom Filer has a sprained ankle; he'll miss his next start...

TEXAS 6, Ocean City 5
W: Henke (3-1) L: Forster (3-2)
HR: Johnson (TEX, 9)
A rare breakdown by Terry Forster allows Johnny Grubb to bat in his third RBI of the game with two outs in the ninth. Tony Bernazard has three RBIs in the losing cause.

Now Dave Revering has a fractured bone in his hand! I almost hate to say it, but it's a good thing we're not going to the playoffs...

Ocean City 8, TEXAS 7
W: Christenson (18-9) L: Darwin (11-15) Sv: Hume (4)
HR: Johnstone 2 (OCS, 3, 4), Kingman (OCS, 31), Parrish (TEX, 12), Mazzilli (TEX, 13)
Kong goes to play first in Revering's absence, and Jay Johnstone takes over as the DH - and promptly wins the game, going 3-for-5 with a double and two homers! Tom Hume's slider unravels in the ninth, and the Rangers nearly sneak back into it, as the seventh run scores on a wild pitch, but Lamar Johnson then grounded back to Hume to end the game!

TEXAS 3, Ocean City 2
W: Guzman (1-2) L: Candiotti (5-12) Sv: Henke (25)
HR: Householder (OCS, 3), Johnstone (OCS, 5)
The Surf can't string together any hits, and waste a decent performance by Candiotti, who gives up only five hits and two walks in going the distance.

The Pirates beat the visiting Centennials at Three Rivers Stadium...it is Denver's 100th loss of the season. :(

Milwaukee 3, OCEAN CITY 1
W: Higuera (2-0) L: Kaat (5-9) Sv: Fingers (23)
HR: Thomas (MIL, 26)
It's possible that this Teddy Higuera guy could be good someday! The Surf get five hits to the Brewers' six, one of which is a homer by Gorman Thomas. 20,700 on hand at Atlantic Field for one of the season's last games...

The Expos have fallen back to the pack - they are now tied with the Phillies atop the NL East, with the surging Cubs still having a chance!

OCEAN CITY 3, Milwaukee 2
W: Felton (1-1) L: Haas (13-16) Sv: Hume (5)
HR: Cooper (MIL, 24)
Somewhere, there are choirs of angels singing, and not the kind that play in Anaheim. Terry Felton wins his first major league ball game! Tossed in as an emergency starter, Felton pitched 5 2/3 innings, striking out three, walking three, and giving up three hits, including Cecil Cooper's HR...but Len Randle provided a two-run single for the game-winning hit in the bottom of the fifth, and Doug Sisk and Tom Hume make it hold up. Rest easy tonight, friend...you are off the schneid! (http://www.baseball-reference.com/f/feltote01.shtml)

The Yankees have clinched the AL East, as Detroit finally drops a game and Tommy John beats Texas for New York's 96th victory.

Montreal just dropped their sixth in a row - the Phillies regain the lead in the NL East, and the Cubs are eliminated!

Milwaukee 4, OCEAN CITY 2
W: Caldwell (24-8) L: Perry (16-16) Sv: Fingers (24)
HR: none
We beat Caldwell once after he won 20 games, but not a second time.

Despite the Brewers' win, the last laugh goes to the Royals, who clinch the AL West 5 games ahead of them! The Dodgers also clinch in the NL West - they've lost two games since their 98th win, but so did the Cardinals, putting them out of contention despite a great season. That leaves only the Phillies, who have a determined Expos franchise only one game behind them...

[oriole^]

Week 27 (September 27 - September 29)
74-88 (.457)
5th in AL East
25 GB the Yankees

OCEAN CITY 2, Kansas City 1
W: Christenson (19-9) L: Wright (0-1) Sv: Forster (28)
HR: none
The Surf only collect five hits, but Christenson is brilliant, whiffing eight in 8 IP.

Kansas City 4, OCEAN CITY 3
W: Gubicza (1-2) L: Candiotti (5-13)
HR: White (KCR, 14)
The Surf rap out nine hits, but only one of them goes for an extra base. Candiotti goes the distance against the backup Royals lineup, but Frank White's HR makes the difference.

Kansas City 6, OCEAN CITY 1
W: Splittorff (12-15) L: Filer (5-7)
HR: Johnstone (OCS, 6)
And the season ends, with the Surf rolling out at low tide against the Royals. Tom Filer is bashed around by the Royals in a tune-up for their playoff games.

On the season's final day, Floyd Bannister no-hits the Blue Jays!

Also, the Centennials finish up a four-game sweep at Wrigley Field against the Cubs! Together with the game before it against the Giants, it's the Cents' longest winning streak of the year!

The Phillies win their last two right along with the Expos after falling even with them...September 30 is set aside for the one-game playoff!

[oriole^]

First order of business to wrap up the season with: a no-no by Floyd Bannister:


Toronto Blue Jays (71-91) at Seattle Mariners (79-83)

September 29, 1982
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 R H E
Blue Jays 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
Mariners 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 1 x 3 6 0


Blue Jays AB H BB R HR RBI K SB AVG
Lloyd Moseby CF 3 0 1 0 0 0 1 0 .269
Willie Upshaw 1B 3 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 .310
Barry Bonds LF 3 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .217
Fred McGriff DH 3 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .261
Jesse Barfield RF 3 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .223
Rance Mulliniks 3B 3 0 0 0 0 0 2 0 .256
Damaso Garcia 2B 3 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .266
Alfredo Griffin SS 3 0 0 0 0 0 2 0 .289
Buck Martinez C 3 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .164
Totals 27 0 2 0 0 0 10 0

HBP: Barry Bonds

DP: Damaso Garcia 2, Rance Mulliniks, Alfredo Griffin, Willie Upshaw 2

Mariners AB H BB R HR RBI K SB AVG
Julio Cruz 2B 3 0 1 0 0 0 1 0 .254
Phil Bradley LF 2 0 2 1 0 0 0 2 .259
Buddy Bell 3B 3 1 0 0 0 1 0 0 .273
Edgar Martinez DH 2 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 .273
Danny Tartabull RF 3 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 .203
Al Cowens RF 1 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 .276
Dave Henderson CF 4 2 0 1 1 1 0 0 .260
Bruce Bochte 1B 2 1 1 1 1 1 0 0 .253
Paul Serna SS 2 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .223
Dan Firova C 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .152
Totals 25 6 5 3 2 3 2 2

HR: Bruce Bochte (11), Dave Henderson (16)
HBP: Edgar Martinez
GDP: Edgar Martinez, Dave Henderson
CS: Edgar Martinez


Blue Jays IP H BB HR R ER K PIT ERA
Dave Stieb 8.0 6 5 2 3 3 2 125 2.95
Totals 8.0 6 5 2 3 3 2 125

Mariners IP H BB HR R ER K PIT ERA
Floyd Bannister 9.0 0 2 0 0 0 10 129 3.73
Totals 9.0 0 2 0 0 0 10 129

WP: Floyd Bannister (18-19)
LP: Dave Stieb (15-16)

Temperature: 50F
Wind: None (Domed Stadium)
Attendance: 27,463
Time: 2:52

Interesting, that 18-year-old left fielder that the Blue Jays have got. That's four years early for his debut, if I'm not mistaken...and I'm not above tuning some things down, here.

[oriole^]

And this just in from La Belle Province: the Expos take it!!


Philadelphia Phillies (90-73) at Montreal Expos (91-72)

September 30, 1982
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 R H E
Phillies 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 2 0 3 7 1
Expos 2 0 2 0 0 2 2 0 x 8 8 2


Phillies AB H BB R HR RBI K SB AVG
Garry Maddox CF 4 1 1 1 0 0 1 0 .301
Greg Gross RF 2 0 3 1 0 0 0 0 .285
Gary Matthews LF 5 2 0 1 0 0 2 0 .271
Mike Schmidt 3B 5 2 0 0 0 2 2 0 .267
Darren Daulton C 3 0 1 0 0 0 1 0 .192
Pete Rose 1B 3 0 1 0 0 0 1 0 .269
Julio Franco SS 4 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .232
Manny Trillo 2B 3 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 .244
Len Matuszek PH 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .133
Luis Aguayo 2B 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .239
Steve Carlton P 2 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 .193
Ed Farmer P 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .000
Todd Frohwirth P 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .333
Mike LaValliere PH 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 .167
Totals 34 7 6 3 0 2 12 0

2B: Mike Schmidt (37), Garry Maddox (48)
3B: Mike Schmidt (4), Gary Matthews (4)
GDP: Darren Daulton

DP: Pete Rose, Manny Trillo, Julio Franco
E: Manny Trillo

Expos AB H BB R HR RBI K SB AVG
Andre Dawson CF 5 2 0 2 0 0 0 1 .274
Gary Carter C 2 2 3 3 0 1 0 0 .296
Tim Raines LF 3 2 2 1 0 1 0 0 .288
Andres Galarraga 1B 3 0 2 0 0 1 3 0 .253
Tim Wallach RF 5 0 0 0 0 0 3 0 .255
Randy Glenn Johnson 3B 3 0 1 0 0 1 0 0 .266
Chris Speier SS 3 0 1 1 0 0 1 0 .231
Mike Gates 2B 4 1 0 1 1 2 0 0 .217
Charlie Lea P 4 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 .096
Dennis Eckersley P 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .000
Totals 32 8 9 8 1 6 8 1

2B: Andre Dawson (38)
3B: Gary Carter (3)
HR: Mike Gates (2)
GDP: Randy Glenn Johnson

DP: Mike Gates, Chris Speier, Andres Galarraga
E: Tim Wallach, Andres Galarraga

Phillies IP H BB HR R ER K PIT ERA
Steve Carlton 5.2 5 7 0 6 4 5 123 3.21
Ed Farmer 1.1 3 1 1 2 2 2 30 6.75
Todd Frohwirth 1.0 0 1 0 0 0 1 19 3.03
Totals 8.0 8 9 1 8 6 8 172

Expos IP H BB HR R ER K PIT ERA
Charlie Lea 7.1 6 5 0 3 3 7 126 3.50
Dennis Eckersley 1.2 1 1 0 0 0 5 31 2.25
Totals 9.0 7 6 0 3 3 12 157

WP: Charlie Lea (16-14)
LP: Steve Carlton (19-16)
SV: Dennis Eckersley (10)

Temperature: 40F
Wind: None (Domed Stadium)
Attendance: 37,126
Time: 3:47

Wow. When Mike Gates is taking your ace deep and the catcher is hitting triples against you, you know you're not destined for the playoffs this year.

[Coach Owens]

Quick, Oriole^! Who's the Mariners draft??! :D

[oriole^]

And now, the final stats for your 1982 Ocean City Surf!

First, the hitters:


1982 Batting Team G AVG AB H 2B 3B HR BB K SB CS R RBI SLG OBP
LeFlore, Ron OCS 151 .268 634 170 32 5 6 50 117 55 13 83 56 .363 .323
Kingman, Dave OCS 158 .238 614 146 25 1 31 54 162 6 2 80 105 .433 .299
Puhl, Terry OCS 151 .277 577 160 27 8 5 51 71 23 6 72 72 .378 .333
Bernazard, Tony OCS 143 .273 549 150 37 0 10 62 108 17 7 74 57 .395 .349
Revering, Dave OCS 140 .297 522 155 19 4 19 51 75 0 1 64 74 .458 .363
Gulliver, Glenn OCS 132 .198 409 81 10 0 0 84 65 1 0 40 32 .222 .333
*Foli, Tim OCS 97 .268 347 93 18 2 1 10 28 5 1 28 21 .340 .291
Quirk, Jamie OCS 97 .218 331 72 15 1 8 19 72 0 0 28 34 .341 .263
Bosetti, Rick OCS 93 .267 329 88 10 2 4 22 53 4 7 38 23 .347 .314
*Murphy, Dwayne OCS 87 .203 281 57 10 0 13 47 68 5 6 40 47 .377 .320
Crow, Don OCS 56 .260 181 47 6 0 0 8 35 0 0 19 13 .293 .297
Bailor, Bob OCS 56 .203 123 25 5 1 1 9 10 6 1 10 6 .285 .261
Randle, Lenny OCS 37 .306 121 37 4 1 0 9 16 1 4 13 8 .355 .353
Anderson, Dave OCS 26 .241 87 21 1 1 0 5 12 2 0 9 6 .276 .283
Householder, Paul OCS 31 .295 88 26 8 1 3 11 18 1 3 13 17 .511 .370
Johnstone, Jay OCS 46 .274 84 23 5 0 6 12 12 0 0 14 23 .548 .365
Mendoza, Mario OCS 30 .193 83 16 2 0 0 8 11 0 0 8 5 .217 .264
*Page, Mitchell OCS 14 .137 51 7 2 0 0 6 12 2 0 6 4 .176 .228
*Cerone, Rick OCS 18 .224 49 11 3 0 0 7 9 0 0 1 4 .286 .328
Gwosdz, Doug OCS 7 .077 13 1 0 0 0 2 4 0 0 2 0 .077 .200
Pittman, Joe OCS 4 .077 13 1 0 0 0 1 4 0 0 0 1 .077 .143
Klutts, Mickey OCS 1 .000 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .000 .000
Waring, Randolph OCS 1 .000 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .000 .000

The pitchers:


1982 Pitching Team IP ERA G GS W L SV K BB R/9
Perry, Gaylord OCS 248.1 3.12 35 35 16 16 0 167 68 11.13
Christenson, Larry OCS 243.0 3.74 34 34 19 9 0 133 76 11.70
Lee, Bill OCS 182.2 4.34 31 26 8 14 2 75 63 13.84
Kaat, Jim OCS 140.2 5.05 35 14 5 9 1 79 33 12.16
Candiotti, Tom OCS 136.1 6.14 24 24 5 13 0 71 57 14.66
Filer, Tom OCS 113.2 4.28 17 17 5 7 0 49 38 12.27
Altamirano, Porfi OCS 59.2 2.56 40 0 4 2 2 37 26 11.92
Power, Ted OCS 55.2 5.50 31 0 4 0 0 36 35 15.68
Pacella, John OCS 52.0 5.54 23 3 2 5 3 29 33 15.58
Felton, Terry OCS 49.1 4.38 22 2 1 1 0 38 37 17.33
Forster, Terry OCS 47.2 2.27 48 0 3 2 28 35 27 10.20
Sisk, Doug OCS 27.2 5.20 24 0 0 2 1 9 18 18.87
*Stuper, John OCS 25.1 9.95 5 5 0 5 0 12 21 19.89
Hume, Tom OCS 24.0 1.88 19 0 2 2 3 17 8 10.13
Lanigan, Tim OCS 13.0 5.54 2 2 0 1 0 5 13 17.31
Senteney, Steve OCS 8.0 3.38 6 0 0 0 0 5 3 14.63

I even have fielding stats, although I didn't bother going through them to make sure they're all acquired with the Surf, as I did with the foregoing stats, so caveat emptor:


1982 Fielding Team G PCT A PO DP E RF A/G InnOuts PB SBA RTO
Altamirano, Porfi OCS 40 1.000 3 7 1 0 1.51 0.08 179 0 0 0
Anderson, Dave OCS 33 .985 75 60 11 2 4.39 2.27 842 0 0 0
Bailor, Bob OCS 56 .993 75 75 18 1 3.98 0.97 1024 0 0 0
Bernazard, Tony OCS 140 .982 346 355 89 13 5.29 2.52 3645 0 0 0
Bosetti, Rick OCS 92 .982 10 265 5 5 3.41 0.10 2219 0 0 0
Candiotti, Tom OCS 24 1.000 19 5 1 0 1.58 0.79 409 0 0 0
Christenson, Larry OCS 34 1.000 36 11 4 0 1.74 1.06 729 0 0 0
Crow, Don OCS 56 1.000 16 238 3 0 5.04 0.29 1362 5 51 10
Felton, Terry OCS 22 1.000 3 4 1 0 1.28 0.14 148 0 0 0
Filer, Tom OCS 17 1.000 10 10 4 0 1.58 0.59 341 0 0 0
Forster, Terry OCS 48 1.000 3 2 0 0 0.94 0.06 143 0 0 0
Gulliver, Glenn OCS 132 .969 227 116 25 11 2.78 1.74 3441 0 0 0
Gwosdz, Doug OCS 7 1.000 1 23 2 0 5.68 0.14 114 1 2 1
Householder, Paul OCS 22 .985 0 67 1 1 3.23 0.00 569 0 0 0
Hume, Tom OCS 62 1.000 18 2 2 0 2.08 0.29 260 0 0 0
Johnstone, Jay OCS 13 1.000 0 16 0 0 1.71 0.00 252 0 0 0
Kaat, Jim OCS 35 .964 19 8 2 1 1.79 0.54 422 0 0 0
Kingman, Dave OCS 20 .987 7 147 10 2 8.07 0.37 522 0 0 0
Lanigan, Tim OCS 2 1.000 2 0 0 0 1.38 1.00 39 0 0 0
Lawless, Tom OCS 2 .000 0 0 0 0 0.00 0.00 12 0 0 0
Lee, Bill OCS 31 1.000 36 14 2 0 2.46 1.16 548 0 0 0
LeFlore, Ron OCS 148 .965 9 353 2 13 2.61 0.06 3877 0 0 0
Mendoza, Mario OCS 30 .961 55 43 14 4 4.08 1.86 675 0 0 0
Pacella, John OCS 23 1.000 6 5 1 0 1.90 0.26 156 0 0 0
Perry, Gaylord OCS 35 .917 22 11 2 3 1.30 0.63 745 0 0 0
Pittman, Joe OCS 5 1.000 10 8 2 0 3.95 2.50 123 0 0 0
Power, Ted OCS 31 1.000 5 2 0 0 1.13 0.16 167 0 0 0
Puhl, Terry OCS 145 .989 9 338 3 4 2.47 0.07 3831 0 0 0
Quirk, Jamie OCS 97 .998 30 473 5 1 5.66 0.30 2403 2 81 20
Randle, Lenny OCS 37 .935 61 39 12 7 3.03 1.73 954 0 0 0
Revering, Dave OCS 139 .990 71 1076 95 12 8.66 0.51 3612 0 0 0
Senteney, Steve OCS 6 1.000 0 1 0 0 1.13 0.00 24 0 0 0
Sisk, Doug OCS 24 1.000 6 3 2 0 2.93 0.25 83 0 0 0
Waring, Randolph OCS 1 .000 0 0 0 0 0.00 0.00 4 0 0 0

Not bad overall, for the fielding. I think having a team in which fielding was emphasized - sometimes at the expense of decent hitting! - got us the record we got (finishing five games above our Pythagorean prediction). LeFlore was a liability, and Randle had his problems...but everyone else did fairly well.

[oriole^]

Quick, Oriole^! Who's the Mariners draft??! :D

Are you kiddin' me? Bannister throws a no-no and you need more? :)

The 1982 M's had a fever...and the only prescription was more fastball...!

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/marinerspicks.jpg

[oriole^]

I didn't want to bring this up at any time during the season, because I was afraid I'd jinx it, but I've known about it since the All-Star Break...

Taking over shortly after the beginning of the season as the relief ace was Terry "Tub O' Goo" Forster after Bill "the Spaceman" Lee was just too spacy out there. Forster had been the go-to guy before, earlier in his career, and though a lot of meatball parmigiana subs had been packed away since those times, Terry Forster knew what to do once he hit the hill in the ninth inning, even if the occasional walk - say, every occasion he took the mound - did prompt some pacing on behalf of Marvelous Marv in the dugout, and some extra bottles uncorked in the owner's box on behalf of the GM. Still, all of the finger-crossing and pacing and alcohol-gulping certainly did the trick:

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/forster.jpg

If you're scoring at home, that's 28 saves...in 28 tries. Pure perfection. Dave LaRoche (NYY) was the only other guy to go 100% (in eight tries), and only Goose Gossage (NYY, 31) and Larry Andersen (SEA, 29) saved more games in the AL in '82.

Wow. What a genius I am!

[oriole^]

Here's how the regular season ended. We'll start with the standings in the American League:

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/ALfinal.jpg

Both races were close at the beginning of September, but widened as things went on. The Yanks got some huge years from guys like Oscar Gamble and Bobby Murcer, the Tigers just kept it going with great pitching, and the Orioles took too many injuries at the wrong times. Sad to see that the Mariners had a shot at breaking .500 for the first time, but just couldn't put enough of it together.

The hitting categories:

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/ALpitching.jpg

Burroughs had some great years in the 1970s, but certainly wasn't expected to hit like that now. Not pictured is Glenn Gulliver's seventh-place finish in walks, despite the fact that he sat part of the second half.

Here's the pitching:

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/alpitching-1.jpg

That's a helluva lot of 20-game winners! Is that a record for the post-war era? Most impressively, we almost managed to sneak Larry Christenson in there, despite the fact that the Surf were under .500...

[3RunHomer]

To honor Terry Forster, have your concession stands sell the "Tub o' Goo" -- a bucket of nachos drowned in a gallon of melted cheese-like-product glop. Yum.

[oriole^]

To honor Terry Forster, have your concession stands sell the "Tub o' Goo" -- a bucket of nachos drowned in a gallon of melted cheese-like-product glop. Yum.

Nah! Knowing the O.C. fans, they'd probably launch them onto the field when Forster trundled in from the bullpen to start the ninth... :)

Hmmm...need to get a good contemporary entrance song for Forster...

[oriole^]

Once again, I've botched the results for the playoffs...this time, however, I know what the problem is! (In Vista, you have to run the proggie as "Administrator"; a simple right-click and choose is enough to do it.) Anyway, here are the new results of the playoffs:

National League
Game 1, in Montreal: Dodgers 5, Expos 4
Game 2, in Montreal: Dodgers 4, Expos 3 (10 innings)
Game 3, in Los Angeles: Expos 5, Dodgers 1
Game 4, in Los Angeles: Expos 6, Dodgers 2
(Expos come back against the L.A. bullpen, with 3 in the 8th and 2 in the 9th!)
Game 5, in Los Angeles: Expos 5, Dodgers 2

American League
Game 1, in Kansas City: Royals 9, Yankees 6
Game 2, in Kansas City: Royals 3, Yankees 2
Game 3, in New York: Yankees 7, Royals 6
Game 4, in New York: Yankees 4, Royals 2
(Gamble and Murcer both homer in a second straight game)
Game 5, in New York: Royals 5, Yankees 4

Game 5 was a wild one...Randolph and Gamble hit back-to-back doubles off Quisenberry in the 9th with two outs to bring the Yankees within one. Quiz then intentionally walks Griffey to bring up Winfield - and then strikes him out on a 1-2 count sinker! :D The Royals are going to the Series - and they'll meet the Expos there! :eek:

[oriole^]

Incidentally, unless there are any strong objections, I'm going to likely open a new thread for the 1983 season. Watch the Dynasties board soon for further details!

[filihok]

Are you kiddin' me? Bannister throws a no-no and you need more? :)

The 1982 M's had a fever...and the only prescription was more fastball...!

http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee347/scooterbird6/marinerspicks.jpg

I've got to hope my home(town) boy Chris Cron (http://www.baseball-reference.com/c/cronch01.shtml) does better in this life than in his real life.

[OldYankFan]

oriole^, thanks for a VERY Entertaining Dynasty. Kudos!

[oriole^]

oriole^, thanks for a VERY Entertaining Dynasty. Kudos!

Thanks! I hope everyone's enjoying it. I still have that old story from August to finish, then playing out the World Series...and after that is the first of my off-season stories. Big changes are coming for the Surf front office!

I'm kind of dawdling while waiting to purchase 2010. (I'm out of a job right now, so even a small expense is kind of large, y'understand...)

[PotatoOfCouch13]

I know I don't post here often enough, but I just wanted to pop my head in and agree with OldYankFan. I've enjoyed every second of your season (especially the exchanges with Sam the Samoan), and look forward to Y2.

[JeepGuy63]

This one dead?

[oriole^]

This one dead?

No. :) But I am considering a restart in an "Ocean City, 1983" thread...

[oriole^]

People seemed to be getting a bit anxious about this dynasty, so I decided to post part of the next story up now. Again, it's a long narrative that I'd like to write before starting the next season (hopefully with 2010), so for right now, on with the story...


The champagne cork popped, and rebounded crazily within the confines of the Ocean City Surf's offices at Atlantic Field, pegging a grinning Jackie Brandt on the ear. Balloons with "74!" written on them bounced off the ceiling; one of them, nudged by the cork, popped on an overhead sprinkler, causing Lisa to emit a high-pitched squeak of surprise.

The bubbly was poured and the flutes held high. "Here's to the most successful expansion team ever: the Ocean City Surf!" announced Herm Franks. There were clinks all around, over the raucous sound from the stereo - someone had put on Jan & Dean's "Ride the Wild Surf" for the occasion. I ended up with champagne soaking my wrist cuff; someone predictably pointed out that it isn't good luck unless some of it gets spilled.

I smiled and went along with the occasion, though there was some somberness for me. I wasn't that happy about celebrating a losing season, but it turned out that I was the only one who didn't want some kind of celebration for breaking the old Los Angeles Angels record of 70 wins in 1961 with room to spare, finishing ahead of the Blue Jays and, somehow, the Red Sox. We even got a brief call of congratulations from Rollie Hemond in Denver.

As well, Mike wasn't there. Mr. Veeck was back in the hospital, and Mike had gone to be by his side. It was getting to be an unfortunately regular occurrence; with his father still dealing with the leg he'd lost in the Second World War, and of late battling emphysema from his years of cigarette smoking, Mike had become as accustomed to the grim duty of dealing with doctors and orderlies as he had with players and coaches.

Still, the staff was in great spirits and quite deservedly proud of themselves, and some of the coaches and even the players dropped by. There was a long table which had been rolled into the outer office for the occasion; it was spread with newspaper, mallets were set at every place, and, to a round of applause, bushels of crabs dressed appropriately in Old Bay seasoning were hauled in and dumped in the middle. Cases of cold beer followed. Not exactly the most sophisticated of team celebrations, and perhaps more appropriate for the winners of an over-40 softball league...but honestly, I'd have rather had things this way.

It was towards the end of the evening, and cigar smoke began to collect as some of the old-timers - and nowadays that includes me - swapped stories around the table. Lisa scolded us a bit and opened the window, though it was a bit misty outside, and the room, heated by the people and the food, chilled just a bit. I had no idea at that time how appropriate that chill was.

"Well, well," said a voice. "What have we here?"

The conversation and comraderie came to a screeching halt. It was a scene that could have come straight out of that Bill Murray movie from the last year. In that film, the hated drill sergeant walks in on the recruits as they party after a successful parade. The scene was no different with the substitution of Charlie Finley walking in on the Surf front office.

Under my breath, I added the requisite line: "It...is...alive."

Jackie Brandt didn't quite get it, of course, and offered Finley some crabs, which Finley refused with a forced, pasted-on smile, afterwards having the temerity to ask one of the finance guys on staff what account the food was being billed to.

After some supremely awkward conversation, including a dreadfully insincere congratulatory speech with an unenthusiastic round of applause to culminate it, came the moment I was dreading. "Scooter," he said as if he was a spider addressing a fly, "may I speak to you in my office?"

[OldYankFan]

Ahhhh, got my fix of the Surf.

[oriole^]

The next installment of our story...



Hearing the door shut behind me was like hearing the seal of my tomb being firmly put into place. I had a feeling what was going to happen next...but even I couldn't have guessed the way it all worked out.

"...appreciate what you have done here," began Charlie, as I missed the first portion of what he was saying while contemplating my coming fate. "But, of course, there are realities to what we are doing, and it requires us to make some difficult choices." He reached into a folder that was already in his top drawer and handed it to me. "Here," he said.

Inside was a single sheet of paper in Finley's hardwriting. It was a list of players, our players. Kingman. Perry. Revering. Christenson. Puhl. There were a dozen or so names on the list; if I'd been paying attention at the time, I'd have noticed they were in salary order, but at the time it struck me that these were the players, for the most part, who were responsible for getting us the 74 wins that we got, and perhaps had the potential to get us more next year.

"Alright, Mr. Finley," I said. "What would you like me to do?"

Finley looked at me quizzically for a moment, as if I hadn't understood something elementary. He stepped behind his desk and slowly sat, the cushy leather padding making an ostentatious "whoosh".

"Sell them, of course," said Finley.

There was a feeling in the pit of my stomach - a wave of nausea. He rested his elbows on his desk and tented his hands before continuing. "Again, I do appreciate what you've done, but I'm not certain you appreciate the situation that you, and I, and the team are in. We're in a beach town. It was an accident that we got a team at all...it was never meant to be serious." He was trying to sound sympathetic. "I know you enjoy baseball, but I'm a businessman, and at this point, so are you. And we need to make a business decision."

"One that wouldn't have anything to do with the judgment against you?" I asked flatly, reminding him of the divorce settlement which would rob him of his profits in the team - unless he could bankrupt it and stick his ex-wife with the bill.

What little genuine sympathy there was vanished. "We all have our personal issues to deal with."

"Does Mr. Veeck know about this?" I asked.

"Mr. Veeck - Bill - is in the hospital. He's an ill man...and shouldn't be bothered with the operations of the team right now." Charlie leaned back, comfortably and a bit smugly. "I'm authorized to act on behalf of the team as much as he is, and he exercised that while I was dealing with my own health issues."

I looked at the sheet again, the names of the players whom I dealt with and rejoiced with and agonized with and managed, in so many ways, throughout the past year. "Scooter," Charlie said, "I was the general manager of the A's. I know how this is." Another try at sympathy. "But this is my t-- half my team, and I run it like a business. I'd prefer to do it with you."

I paused, but only briefly. Then I slid the note back into the envelope and tossed it lightly back onto Finley's desk.

"No," I said.

There was a silence. I think I was holding my breath. Finley's face resumed that fixed, humorless stare that he got when I mentioned the divorce...now a hundred times colder with my rejection.

"Need I remind you who got you this job in the first place?" he questioned.

"No, I'm well aware," I said matter-of-factly, "and I'll always be grateful. You saved me from a lot of financial hardship. But you didn't change who I am."

I paused and reflected a moment. "Ever since I was a kid," I continued, "all I wanted to do was play baseball. I didn't have much of a career doing that, but it was a good one. I have memories about it that I wouldn't trade for the world. And through you, and through other teams, I've had the ability to keep living my dream - maybe in a different way, but still in a good way - by helping run a baseball franchise. I've gotten into the profits and the promotions, the contracts and the deals. I know how to read those scouting reports, and I even know how the ushers and the hot dog vendors get paid."

"And since I've done that, I've realized something. I've realized that you're wrong, Mr. Finley. This isn't just a business. For all the legalese in all the contracts, and all the balance sheets I've seen, it's not even a business first. This is baseball. This is a game. And it's a game like no other."

"I don't care if we're sitting on a beach, or if this whole thing was an accident to make your bottom line better, because it isn't about that. It's about the kids sitting in the stands and collecting the baseball cards and wanting their heroes to hit and pitch and score...and it's about the adults that become kids, every time they do the same thing. We're talking about the national pastime - the embodiment of everything we stand for as a people. The idea that if we break in our first glove, or play Little League, or root for the Ocean City Surf, or even play catch in the backyard while the hot dogs cook on the grill, we're all a part of something that's bigger and better than us - something we can all aspire to, no matter who we are."

I realized I was lecturing now - and Finley didn't seem the slightest impressed. It didn't matter. All of the righteousness I'd bottled up for years was coming out.

"That's why I'm doing this," I continued. "I'm a baseball man because I believe in those things."

My voice caught a little at the next statement. "And that's why I can't work here any more, Mr. Finley. You gave me a needed break...but you aren't a baseball man."

Charles O. Finley regarded me coolly for a few seconds...then gave a little snort - a grim chuckle. "What a waste," he said.

After an awkward silence, he added, "I suppose you're through with your dramatics?"

I looked at my feet for a second. Not quite as angry as I would've liked in finally confronting Charlie Finley, perhaps, but I mustered a last bit of satisfaction out of it. "Yeah," I said, my voice now a bit husky. "Don't worry; I know the way out." I paused before going through the door. "You can back out of the way now," I said to the closed door, prompting a mighty shuffling of bodies, with one or two "oof!"'s from the other side.

I stepped through to a comical pile of a half-dozen interns and scouts who'd just fallen away from Finley's closed office door; Lisa held an empty drinking glass in her hand. All shared a shocked, helpless expression which I saw mirrored on the rest of the party attendees' faces as, without saying anything, I walked over to my chair, picked up my jacket, tossed it over my shoulder...and walked across the lobby to the elevator.

I looked back one last time. Their faces were still frozen, unbelieving. I hadn't wanted to go out like this, certainly...and yet, I couldn't help but grin back at them. It was the wildest ride that anyone could hope for - or believe - in baseball...and regardless of Charlie Finley, that was something no one could take away.

I punched the down button, stepped in as the door immediately opened, and let the doors close on that wonderful, satisfied grin.