“Eddie Murray Baltimore Orioles Collector”

Eddie Murray Baltimore Orioles Collector

This Eddie Murray collection found in an online auction listing stands in a category all of it’s own. Look how obsessively meticulously this “Steady Eddie” stash has been laid out as a feast for nostalgia-glazed eyes. Sure, there’s the canvas of circa ’70s elderly shag carpet. Look past that—or just a millimeter above its dingy surface. Cherish the dulled but still apparent shimmer to the miniature discs (call them pogs, call them coins) accompanying whatever 7-Eleven jumbo slurpee. Regard an almost artful novelty to the can of RC Cola. Or learn trivia from some 1979 Topps wax comics, such as the fact that Eddie Murray “led the Orioles in ’78 with 85 runs and 95 RBI’s.” Any one of these should very well appeal to the restless seeker of schlock, that curator of oddball gems. Taken together, it’s pure bliss—a Murray-magic carpet ride!

*Image provided with permission of Ebay auction seller.

Ephemera Found When You Move, Part I: Nostalgia-making of a Ticket Stub

Orioles vs. Brewers 9-13-92 ticket stub front

I don’t remember ever seeing the Baltimore Orioles play at Camden Yards, the place whose very name evokes feelings of an Arcadia or Camelot—some legend, myth, or fogged history. But apparently I did visit the cathedralesque ballpark with its once newly minted cast-iron gates, ochre-bricked arches, and sprawled, luxuriant lawns. Judging by the date printed on one bruised, lavender-hued ticket stub from when the Orioles played the Milwaukee Brewers on September 13, 1992, the inaugural season for Camden Yards, I was twelve years old at the time and thus likely accompanied by my dad. (According to Baseball-Reference, we were but two among 44,242 spectators in attendance.) A true Yankees fan born in Yonkers, though unfortunately raised in New Jersey, my dad must have suffered through the tedium of that daytime game between two relative non-contenders scrapping it out—and he all the while humoring, even accommodating a traitorous son’s burgeoning love for the Orioles. Or perhaps he suffered more my fanaticism for exorbitantly priced stadium hotdogs and souvenir bric-a-brac and my comparative inattention for the actual game. Whatever the case, the O’s eventually conceded in a 1-3 defeat with good ole Ben McDonald the losing pitcher of the afternoon. Sure it wasn’t a great game, or even a very important one for that matter. But it was my game. And although the memory has sadly faded from my always aging mind, thankfully the ticket stub still serves its truest, most admirable purpose: as memorabilia, nay memento. Now the game becomes meaningful—and I a new meaning make. Because even if I don’t remember, well, at least I can imagine.

Orioles vs. Brewers 9-13-92 ticket stub back

Showalter’s Stratagems

Game commentators, sportswriters, and couch critics alike seemed to cherish reporting on Baltimore Orioles manager Buck Showalter and his latest eccentric training gimmick: his new water polo clock. Jocular chatter brewed throughout spring training and well into the opening weeks of the 2013 season. Were the Orioles still playing in the same league—much less the same sport? Not surprisingly, Showalter’s motives were far more practical than the amusing lore implied. He simply felt that the clock was an effective timing device during spring training fielding practice for calibrating a strict “internal clock” for his players.

Admittedly, this notion of a clock in baseball seems curious for a sport that historically shuns all manner of imposed time constraints—to say nothing of a lacking awareness of time in general. Particularly in recent decades, baseball continues to drag its feet with lengthy, elaborate, and some may hazard to say tedious gaps in the game: pitcher and batter rituals, almost comical sign exchanges, and intervals between pitches and swings. Apart from a speeding base runner, any urgent threat of time running out simply does not exist. For not unlike tennis or golf (and I say that begrudgingly), baseball of course knows nothing of game clocks, shot timers, or buzzers. Strangely, though, what Showalter valued most in the water polo clock was its emphasized feature of a countdown.*

But O’s fans need not fear: Camden Yards will not become the Water Polo Grounds. Sportswriter Jayson Stark on ESPN blogs assures Orioles fans that “No, the Orioles aren’t performing any PFPs underwater.” However, Showalter did commission some research and “determine[d] that the average hitter took 4.5 seconds to run to first base last season, [so] he then took that info to the next level,” naturally.

Showalter, quite rationally, further explains the origins of his new gizmo:

I’ve talked about this with our infield guys for three or four years. . . . How do we teach a clock? Everybody says, you’ve got to have that [internal] clock. Well, you don’t teach it. You can’t say, ‘Hey, slow down. You don’t have to hurry that much.’ You’ve got to go, ‘Here’s how much time you’ve got.’

Indeed, how do you “teach a clock?”

Well, apart from the countdown element, the clock’s salient buzzer appears to hold some additional appeal for training purposes—appeal for the trainer, not necessarily the trainee. Again, Stark explains:

So the concept here is to give players a sense of how their internal clock should function by supplying an external clock that pounds the amount of time they actually have into their noggins. The only downside is that, when that water polo clock hits zero, the shrill buzzer it uses to get that message across is also doing wonders for Advil business in the clubhouse.

The players concur: “‘I’d say it’s not the kind of buzzer you want to hear,’” [player Jason] Hammel chuckles. “‘It’s kind of like the alarm you get in the morning.’”

In any case, it seems to be working so far (although the season is still early at the time of this writing). The O’s currently sit in their division standings just behind the first-placed Boston Red Sox, as the Baltimore team boasts a winning record safely above the .500 mark—and in one of baseball’s tougher divisions. More relevant to Showalter’s spring training stratagems: as a team, Baltimore currently ranks first in fielding in MLB.

In fact, even with nary a reference to the water polo clock, some sportswriters genuinely discern this noticeably improved talent of timing in the Orioles. For example, speaking of young Manny Machado (currently at third base), The Baltimore Sun observes how “Machado’s internal clock is tuned pretty precisely.”

Leave it to seasoned manager Buck Showalter to find something new under the sun in a game as old as baseball. And while he’s certainly not as old as the game, Buck has been around for a while. . . .

1981-82 Arby'sBuck Showalter

Image courtesy of COMC.com.

*Note: there seems to be an absolute dearth of any available images of Buck’s infamous water polo clock. From various reports, however, it should be assumed that Showalter opted for an updated, digital clock system rather than some antique analog one (as fun as that would be).

Works Cited

Stark, Jayson. “To no surprise, O’s rotation far from settled.” Spring Training. ESPN, 19 Feb. 2013. Web. 27 April 2013.

The Official Site of the Baltimore Orioles. MLB Advanced Media, 2013. Web. 26 April 2013.

Vensel, Matt. “Manny Machado isn’t showing his age at third base.” The Baltimore Sun, 24 April 2013. Web. 25 April 2013.

Why is Texas in the background of Eddie Murray’s rookie card?

1978 Kellogg’s, Eddie Murray Card Image

I was utterly enamored when the 1978 Kellogg’s Eddie (Clarence) Murray rookie card arrived in the mail today. That lesser known moniker was one of the first details that struck me, as strangely I do not recall ever noticing his middle name before; however, I must have seen it at some point, since I was a self-professed Eddie Murray “fan” going back to second grade when I wrote an essay (though I doubt it really qualified as such for my dismayed English teacher) about the star Orioles hitter. Funny thing about that little school paper: my Mom was initially so perplexed as to why in the world her six-year-old son wanted to write about a rather age-inappropriate, late-night television comedian. Oh, Mother.

But to return to this exquisite cereal box artifact. . . . Well, it’s just absolutely stunning, especially if it’s your first close encounter with one of these vintage “3-D” Kellogg’s cards. And I truly doubt whether even a hi-resolution scan can quite do this specimen justice. After well over thirty years, the front image still vibrantly pops–so much that when tilted the image of the state of Texas discernibly floats just above Eddie’s turned back high up on a stadium wall. If the background was indeed part of the original photo, then I can only guess that it was taken before some regularly scheduled Baltimore and Texas game. If the background was subsequently placed in during the card layout or design process, however, then it must have been some kind of editorial error or oversight. (Question: do baseball card producers really have “editors,” or are they given some other staff title, like “designated copy writer”?)

But full disclosure: I’m really not the most observant individual at times, and it was only when I with childlike, goofy pride presented the card to my wife that she pointed out this rather quirky anomaly for my (and now your) edification.