Brooks Robinson, Mister Oriole

This week a fair amount of attention has been focused on the Brooks Robinson statue, which is scheduled to be unveiled on October 22^nd in the plaza between Russell Street and Washington Boulevard, just northwest of Oriole Park.

The project is the brainchild of local businessman Henry Rosenberg, who for more than three decades employed Brooks at Crown Central Petroleum. Henry, as well as anyone, knows how important number five has been to our community, both on and off the playing field. For as ‘other-worldly’ as Brooks’ ability was around the hot-corner, where he thrilled and dazzled us for two decades, he proved equally adept in his role as model citizen.

Since their inaugural American League season in 1954, the Orioles have sported any number of superlative athletes, but none understood nor grasped their role as an integral part of the soul of the community better than Brooks.

And because of that, he is universally regarded as Mister Oriole, and why he and Johnny Unitas remain the face of Baltimore sports. Back in the fifties, when Baltimore was generally perceived as nothing more than a rest stop between Washington and Philadelphia, it was Johnny U’s Baltimore Colts and then Brooksie’s Birds of Baltimore,  Hon, who gave us something to be proud of: world champion football and baseball teams.

Their mild-mannered but prolific athletic swagger landed them not only in their respective sports’ halls of fame, but in the hearts of 20^th Century Baltimoreans, forever.

And so on October 22^nd the Brooks Robinson statue will be unveiled, depicting the greatest third baseman in the history of the game, as he peers southward towards Camden Yards, built in part on the tradition of excellence he helped to foster.

For information on how you can get involved with the Brooks Robinson statue project, go to brooksrobinsonstatue.org.

See you out there.

Mike Gibbons is the executive director for the Babe Ruth Birthplace Foundation, Inc. 

Interleague Play

Last Friday night I had tickets to the Orioles-Reds game at Camden Yards. As I walked to the park a few minutes before game time with my buddy, Ed, you couldn’t help but notice a different kind of buzz spurring through that lovely summer evening. Part of it could be attributed to the huge crowd filing into the ball park. Baltimore hasn’t enjoyed too many 40-plus-thousand home dates lately, and tonight would be a sellout. Yes, there were out-of-town fans, but this was mostly an orange and black event.

The other thing was that our Birds were playing the Cincinnati Reds, a National League standard with franchise roots burrowing back to 1869, when the Redstockings became America’s first professional team. The Orioles took their name in 1882, so tonight fans would be treated to two of baseball’s founding franchises, going head to head in the regular season for only the second time. The two teams had squared off once previously, with the Reds taking two of three in Cincinnati. They had never been to Baltimore during the regular season, so tonight’s series’ opener was special because of its rarity…which contributed to the buzz, for sure.

The other ingredient, for old-timers like me at least, is that these two teams had met in Baltimore one other time…the 1970 World Series. Cincinnati’s Big Red Machine, Johnny Bench, Joe Morgan, Pete Rose and Lee May, versus Earl Weaver’s powerhouse Orioles, Boog Powell, Frank and Brooks, and that fabled pitching rotation of McNally, Palmer and Cuellar. The Orioles took four out of five to snatch the crown from the favored Reds, and that was the series when Brooks Robinson established himself once and for all as the human vacuum cleaner. Hoover! God but did he have a series.

So walking into the ballpark that night was such the treat. The buzz, the big crowd, the storied franchises in a rare square-off, and special memories of Earl and his men, especially number five, Brooks Robinson.

All of which makes inter-league play something baseball ought to keep around, though I’d love to see them play National League rules in the American League parks, and vice-versa. How about you?

See you out there. 

Mike Gibbons is the executive director for the Babe Ruth Birthplace Foundation, Inc. 

Taking Back Our Yard

October 15, 1997. I had just started working at the B&O Railroad Museum and was asked to stick around after work for a late meeting. I was a little annoyed because it was Game 6 of the ALCS against the Cleveland Indians. The Orioles had gone wire-to-wire under Davey Johnson with a 98-64 record. They were one game away from the World Series. This was going to be the year.

From my office I could hear the crowd’s every reaction to the action on the field, the cheers, the sighs, the clapping. “No worries…” I thought…after all…there would be other playoff games. 

Fast-forward to the present. It is hard to believe that fourteen years have passed since the Orioles were last in the playoffs. Hard to believe it has been fourteen years since we had a winning season. Hard to believe that this year’s college sophomores hadn’t started kindergarten the last time the Birds finished a season over .500. A whole generation has come to age not knowing what it feels like to support a winning hometown baseball team.

Oriole Park is still the magnificent ballpark that set the standard for all others. It is still the gem of downtown Baltimore. The team has a skipper that is determined to win. The front office under Andy MacPhail has returned to the team’s roots of developing young talent in the minor league system. The ownership has even spent money on some star power.

So what is missing? The answer is simple…us. As a baseball fan it is sad to see Oriole Park nearly empty on a mild Friday night when the Birds take on one of their AL East Division rivals. It is sad to see whole sections of that beautiful ballpark go unused. It is time for us to come back.  

A couple of weeks ago I was invited to join a group led by Debbie and Steve Peroutka called “Take Back Our Yard” (http://takebackouryard.com/). The group buys blocks of Orioles tickets when the Yankees or Red Sox are in town to help bring orange back to the ballpark. In addition to the camaraderie of other Orioles fans, participants get orange Oriole t-shirts and a pre-game party at the Sports Legends Museum. The catch? Wear orange and do not sell or give away the tickets to opposing fans.

The idea for “Take Back Our Yard” came from Debbie Peroutka. She and her husband Steve were out for a drink one night when they heard a young golfer refer to Oriole Park as “Fenway South.” The couple was irritated. Debbie determined right there that they were going to take back Oriole Park one section at a time. “In the tradition of Big Wheel and Wild Bill Hagy, Steve Peroutka said of his wife, “Debbie wants to be the cheerleader for the next big comeback.”

Debbie Peroutka is exactly what Oriole Park needs. “We want companies, or little leagues, or whatever organization to say ‘let’s buy a section’ with everyone wearing orange,” says husband Steve. Every grassroots movement has to start somewhere.  It is needed. We need to show our support. We need to show that Baltimore can support its team. I hope this movement catches on.

Shawn Herne is the Chief Curator for the Babe Ruth Birthplace Foundation, Inc.

Saluting Two Old Birds, Harry and Earl

One afternoon several years ago I received a telephone call from a woman who wanted to talk baseball with me.  I could tell from her voice that she was elderly, in her late seventies or early eighties.  She asked me if the museum had anything on exhibit from the International League Orioles.  I indicated we did.  “The 1944 team?” she asked.  “Yes” I replied.  She wondered if I knew about Harry Imhoff and did I know his connection to the 1944 Baltimore Orioles?   I did not.

Baltimore-born Harry Imhoff isn’t the first name to come to mind when talking about the ’44 Orioles.  The pennant-winning team was led by notable veteran and fan favorite Tommy Thomas. Other standouts included Howie “the Howitzer” Moss, who led the International League with 27 homers in 1944, catcher Sherm Lollar, left-fielder Stan Benjamin, third baseman Frank Skaff and pitcher Charles “Red” Embrees. Imhoff, newly signed by the Orioles in the spring of 1944, was to be an important part of the team’s future.  The Washington Post wrote, “Harry Imhoff, just out of high school, is another promising receiver with a whale of an arm.”

But Harry appeared in only one game for the ’44 Birds, and went 0-2 at the plate.  And although his story sounds like that of “Moonlight” Graham, the real-life baseball player popularized in the movie Field of Dreams , Imhoff chose to suspend his playing career in order to serve his country.  Harry, like so many young people of his generation, put his future on hold and joined the Marine Corps.  But, Harry’s baseball dreams would never come to be. In April of 1945 he was killed exiting a landing craft during the Okinawa Campaign.  He was just 18 years old.

This was the story I heard from the gentle voice on my telephone.  The woman wanted me to know about Harry.  She wanted me to know about Earl Springer, too. Earl was an Orioles pitcher from 1940-41, and was killed in Nennig, Germany on January 25, 1945 while serving with the American Eighth Armored Division.  Unlike Harry, Earl enjoyed a couple of years of professional ball, going 6-11 with a 4.39 ERA between Baltimore and Hagerstown.  She wanted me to know because she felt Orioles’ fans should know the sacrifices these men made. 

She wanted me to know because she was Harry’s childhood sweetheart.

Over 340 major leaguers served in the Armed Forces during World War II and as many as 3,000 minor leaguers joined or were drafted.  Nearly 20 former Orioles served, including Harry and Earl.  This weekend people will watch parades, enjoy cookouts, and probably take in a game of baseball.  I’ll do the same.  But I’m going to make time to salute our veterans, especially Harry and Earl.

Shawn Herne is the Chief Curator for the Babe Ruth Birthplace Foundation, Inc.

There is Something about Buck.

     What a difference a year makes. This time last year, the Orioles were 1-5. The hope and enthusiasm that came with Opening Day quickly faded into misery and despair. The Orioles were once again bringing up the rear in the American League East. Despite new acquisitions and a relatively impressive roster, thirteen years of losing was not going to change.

     Fast forward to Tuesday, August 3, 2010. The team limped along with a 32-73 record. Dave Trembley was long gone as Orioles’ Manager and Interim Manager Juan Samuel was being sent back to coaching third base. The small crowds that still turned out to Camden Yards were either the last of the diehard fans or the out-of-towners that called the ballpark “Fenway South” or “the House that Jeter Built.” But something was different this warm August night…there was a new face in the dugout…and a new sense that maybe…just maybe…things were going to change. The boss had finally arrived.

     Baltimore loves Buck. In the short nine months since his arrival, the face of the Orioles’ organization has changed. It’s not the faces we’ve come to love that we see. It’s not the new faces coming up from the minors. It is not even those of Derek Lee or Vladimir Guerrero, the Orioles’ biggest off-season acquisitions.  It is the 54-year-old, no-nonsense Floridian that has a reputation for building playoff contending teams that has captured our attention.

     Yes, we love Buck. We love the billboards along I-395; we love his TV ads explaining how he handles a young pitcher; we love the way he leans on the dugout fence watching the game with those piercing eyes; and we especially love the way he reminds us of Earl Weaver. Yes, we love that. We even love the gigantic banner hanging from the side of the Warehouse asking us, “Are You Ready?”  We’re buying Buck t-shirts and even wearing foam antlers to the games. But why?

     The answer is simple. Baltimore loves the guy that delivers what he promises, doesn’t make excuses, and goes out and does his job. We love the guy with confidence.  That’s why we loved Johnny Unitas, Earl Weaver and Davey Johnson. Why we’re so fond of John Harbaugh and why we’re crazy for Ray Lewis.  Baltimore loves a hard worker with a little swagger.

     But this fascination with Buck is even a little more. In his book, The Colts’ Baltimore, Michael Olesker reminds us of a time when Baltimore was in the shadow of the major cities along the East Coast. “A municipal inferiority complex” he called it…”New York nightlife meant Rogers and Hammerstein on Broadway, and Baltimore’s meant strippers on the Block.”  There was New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Washington…and this little blue-collar Baltimore. We were, “just a town on the way to another town.” The Colts’ triumph over the New York Giants in the 1958 NFL Championship game changed that. It was the story of David over Goliath. It was the story of hardworking men that got the job done. Unitas and the Colts gave us a reason to be proud and they gave us a little swagger…at least for a time.

     The past fourteen years have not been easy for Orioles’ fans. In that time New York, Boston and Philadelphia have all won Championships…seven in fact. Buck hasn’t given us a Championship. He hasn’t even given us a winning season. But Buck has given Baltimore a reason to hold our heads up. He is one of us…just as much as if he’d grown up on the streets of Highlandtown, Glen Burnie, or south Baltimore. He’s proof that the right manager can make a difference…that the Orioles can compete in the A.L. East. He’s given us a reason to be proud and a reason to return to the Yard. Let’s hope this love affair continues!

Shawn Herne is the Chief Curator for the Babe Ruth Birthplace Foundation, Inc

The Joy of Opening Day

     In April 1954, four days removed from my seventh birthday, my father gave me maybe the best present I ever got, a ticket to the Baltimore Orioles’ very first home opener. That April 15 made enough of an impression on me, what with the green grass, huge crowd, and victorious final score, that I begged and pleaded for him to take me out to the old ball game each and every home opener until I went away to college. In fact, I’ve been to every Orioles’ home opener, except for the four years from 1970-73 when I was in the Navy.

     Now, 57 years later, as we anticipate with great excitement the start of another Orioles’ season, opening day remains one of the special days of the year; kind of like Christmas in springtime, and certainly the best sporting event by far.

     The reasons why baseball’s inaugural reigns supreme are too numerous and complex for this accounting, but here are three…

First - the start of the baseball season coincides with the close of winter. After months of crunching and sliding our way over brown, frozen tundra, we get to embrace the perfectly manicured, freshly cut green grass of Oriole Park.

Second - there’s the eager anticipation of the very special pre-game festivities: player introductions, the national anthem, and the umpire shouting, “Play Ball.”

Third - it’s a new beginning for our Birds and their fans. Everything is equal and even, at least for that one day; the advent of a championship season floating wonderfully in the dreams and hopes of those assembled.

     So for me, and certainly for many others, the day is made even more special because it is shared with friends and family…with my wife and my son, whose presence in that lower-reserve seat next to mine reminds me of that long ago April, 57 years past, when my father introduced me to the greatest tradition any fan could ever embrace.

Mike Gibbons is the executive director for the Babe Ruth Birthplace Foundation, Inc.