Ted Reed breathes life into Furillo's Dodger legacy

What began as a senior thesis at Wesleyan University over forty years ago for Ted Reed, turned into a long overdue tribute to one of Brooklyn’s overlooked “Boys of Summer,” Carl Furillo. Reed, author of “Carl Furillo: Brooklyn Dodgers All-Star,” (McFarland, 2010) appeared Wednesday evening at Bergino Baseball Clubhouse in New York to set the record straight about the rifle-armed right fielder’s legacy regarding Jackie Robinson’s debut and Furillo’s messy divorce from the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Carl Furillo: Brooklyn Dodgers All-Star / McFarland

Furillo was wrongly labeled as an opponent to Robinson’s entry into the Brooklyn Dodgers, with false innuendo spreading that he was one of the players circulating a petition against Robinson.

“Furillo was wrongly painted as a racist [in the media],” Reed said. “He was the Italian fall guy [so the writers] could make Branch Rickey look better.” This tag would follow Furillo into retirement, infuriating the long-time Dodger outfielder. In fact, Furillo was so affable with Robinson, Reed revealed that Furillo kissed both Robinson and his wife Rachel after winning the 1955 World Series.

Ted Reed at Bergino Baseball Clubhouse / N. Diunte

He was part of an aging group of veterans that followed the Dodgers to Los Angeles from Brooklyn in 1958. Like his Brooklyn counterparts, the sun was setting quickly on his career, moving to a platoon role by the 1959 season. Furillo was potent enough to help the Dodgers win Game 3 of the 1959 World Series with a pinch-hit single; however, that was his last hurrah, as injuries would force the end of his career early in the 1960 season.

The injury left Furillo just short of earning his 15th year of service time for the major league pension, which would have greatly impacted his pay in retirement. He sued the Dodgers for the remainder of his 1960 salary and entered in a drawn-out battle with Buzzie Bavasi in the newspapers. The Dodgers moved to settle and pay Furillo’s demands. While Furillo may have won the battle, the bitter Dodgers won the war. Furillo would never work in baseball again.

Reed encountered Furillo at the same time he was being interviewed for Roger Khan’s epic, "Boys of Summer." While still bitter with baseball, Furillo opened up to him, building an unparalleled relationship with the upstart biographer. The result of their friendship is an illuminating look into Furillo’s career, one that deserves the same platform as his legendary teammates Reese, Robinson, and Snider.

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Is Pujols the next to join the cast of 'Mendoza's Heroes'?

Al Pepper's Mendoza's Heroes / Pocol Press

While Albert Pujols flirts with the proverbial “Mendoza Line,” one would consider his $30 million dollar a hefty price tag for someone whose output is resembling that of Luis Pujols (no relation), the former catcher for the Houston Astros in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s. For every superstar such as the younger Pujols, rosters across major league baseball have been filled with good-glove, no-hit backup infielders, fifth outfielders and defensive-minded catchers in the mold of the elder Pujols.

Light-hitting crusaders such as Choo Choo Coleman, Brian Doyle, and Ray Oyler are valiantly profiled in Al Pepper’s book, “Mendoza’s Heroes: Fifty Batters Below .200.” Pepper provides vivid details on the un-heralded careers of these blue-collar players that struggled mightily at the plate in the majors. Included in the bunch are players that would go on to become stellar major league managers, Herman Franks, Charlie Manuel, and future Hall of Famer Tony LaRussa who is the owner of a career .199 average.

While nobody expects Pujols to be celebrated as the next of Mendoza’s Heroes, Pepper’s attetion to the careers of these anonymous journeymen is a keen reminder that many in baseball have spent their entire careers fighting through the struggles that have the power to humble even the game’s biggest star.

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Book review: Wherever I Wind Up: My Quest for Truth, Authenticity and the Perfect Knuckleball - R.A. Dickey

The title of New York Mets pitcher R.A. Dickey’s autobiography, Wherever I Wind Up:  My Quest for Truth, Authenticity and the Perfect Knuckleball (Blue Rider, 2012), holds a meaning of unpredictability that has followed him from his youth all the way to the mound at Citi Field. The metaphoric title refers to much more than the curious flight of his knuckleball, with Dickey bearing much of his soul in this unprecedented work.

R.A. Dickey - Wherever I Wind Up / Blue Rider

An All-American and Olympian from the University of Tennessee, Dickey was on a direct path to major league stardom when the Texas Rangers in the 1996 draft drafted him in the first round. Offered a bonus of $810,000, Dickey began to envision a life of financial security and a fast track to the major leagues; however, the same arm which enamored the Rangers’ top scouts, almost brought Dickey’s career to a screeching halt before even a pitch was thrown.

Noticing a slight irregularity in the angle of Dickey’s elbow from a baseball magazine cover, the Rangers wanted an MRI of his golden arm. A few hours later, the Rangers rescinded their offer. The culprit was Dickey’s UCL or lack thereof. The ligament, which keeps the elbow secure while pitching, was missing after multiple MRIs. It was a medical wonder that his arm stayed in one piece after all of those innings of 90+ MPH fastballs.

Labeled as damaged goods and ready to walk away from baseball, the Rangers made Dickey a take-it-or-leave-it offer of $75,000. Starting from baseball’s murkiest depths, Dickey embarked on a path toward the major leagues that was anything but direct and haunted by the demons of an unspeakable past.

Reaching into the darkest places where no child should ever visit, Dickey peels away layers of a child tortured by vagrancy, alcoholism and sexual abuse. In a bold move, especially for an active player, Dickey publicly reveals his victimization by a family babysitter at the age of nine. Opening the door to a place that he locked away before revealing it to his psychologist in his 30s, Dickey suppressed the anger and horror of a child whose innocence was taken too soon.

On top of the abuse he suffered, Dickey discovered in his teenage years that living with an alcoholic parent only compounded the dismay he faced, leaving him to seek refuge as a vagrant, spending many nights sleeping in vacated homes. Despite these tremendous obstacles that Dickey faced, he earned a scholarship to Tennessee, where he majored in English, a skill he was passionate about that is obvious from this work.

While it seems miraculous that Dickey garnered the necessary strength to continue to excel on the mound as an amateur, getting signed was only the beginning of a tumultuous relationship with baseball.

Trolling the minor leagues for five years, Dickey finally received the call from the Rangers in 2001. Four short appearances later, he was back in AAA with the Oklahoma City 89ers. He wouldn’t return to the majors until 2003. After three unremarkable campaigns with the Rangers from 2003-05 and a shoulder injury, a meeting with Rangers manager Buck Showalter and pitching coach Orel Hershiser would once again change the course of Dickey’s career. They asked him to give up being a conventional pitcher and convert to throwing the knuckleball full-time. Realizing he was at a crossroads, Dickey accepted the challenge.

As with the uncertain nature of the knuckleball, Dickey experienced a hellacious ride back to the major leagues including giving up a record-tying six home runs in his first start as a knuckleballer. Looking for help that his major league coaches could not provide, Dickey sought advice from Charlie Hough, Phil Niekro, and Tim Wakefield.

Despite following the Rangers’ request to covert, they released him after the 2006 season. Dickey bounced around organizations more than a spinning knuckleball. Signed by the Milwaukee Brewers, Dickey lasted one year with their AAA club, before shuttling between the Seattle Mariners and the Minnesota Twins. Released by the Twins in 2009 after an unspectacular 1-1 record in 35 appearances, he was running out of time and options. Lost in the mix of his rapid change of uniforms, Dickey almost died trying to swim across the Mississippi River, and his wife moved to another house after discovering his infidelity. Desperate for a paycheck that would offer more than that of a sojourning baseball nomad, Dickey contemplated playing in Korea before the New York Mets offered him a shot to go to spring training in 2010.

Rejuvenated by a move to the National League and a struggling Mets club, Dickey liked his chances to play in New York City. To his great surprise, he was the first person cut from the major league club in spring training. Still, driven by his tremendous spirit, Dickey soldiered to Triple-A, determined to stand tall in Queens. After pitching a nearly perfect game early in his Mets minor league campaign, the Mets summoned Dickey to Flushing, where he has remained a fixture in their rotation, earning his first multi-year contract at the beginning of the 2011 season.

Dickey’s story reaches far outside the lines of the baseball diamond, touching widespread emotions unseen in any baseball autobiography. The courage he has displayed to tell his story in full leaves behind a human element that is sorely missing in this era of distant multi-millionaires.

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Book review: Heart & Hustle - An Unlikely Journey from Little Leaguer to Big Leaguer by Frank Catalanotto

Signed as a skinny 18-year-old from Smithtown, N.Y., Frank Catalanotto was almost cut from the Detroit Tigers during their fall instructional league after his rookie season in the minors. That was until minor league hitting instructor and former All-Star Larry Parrish intervened on the kid’s behalf.

“Yes, he’s weak and needs to get stronger, but his hand-eye coordination is great.  … He’s got a God-given gift. He never misses if he swings at it,” said Parrish to farm director Joe McDonald.

Parrish’s words were enough to save Catalanotto from baseball purgatory and give him the push he needed on the way to the major leagues. He is a central figure in Catalanotto’s rise to a 14-year major league career, detailed in his new autobiography, Heart and Hustle: An Unlikely Journey from Little Leaguer to Big Leaguer (Bantry Bay, 2012).

Frank Catalanotto - Heart and Hustle / Bantry Bay Books

Heart and Hustle is both inspirational and instructional, written not only for those who have followed Catalanotto’s career, but also for youngsters dreaming of following in his footsteps.

The first half of the book is dedicated to detailing Catalanotto’s trials and tribulations on his way to the big leagues. He opens the door to the exhausting grind of the minor leagues: the long bus rides, substandard food, lack of sleep and other challenges to your general well being while trying to play baseball at an optimal level.

For all of the challenges and setbacks that he faced in the minor leagues, including his near release, they were made that much sweeter when the Detroit Tigers made Catalanotto a late-season call-up in 1997. He would hold on that ride for thirteen more seasons, playing with the Rangers, Blue Jays, Brewers, and Mets before retiring after his release during the 2010 season.

Catalanotto breathes life into his expedition with a behind the scenes look at the game, detailing his game day routines, pulling back the curtain on a day that starts with him arriving six hours before the first pitch to begin treatment and all of the necessary preparations for a 7:05 PM start. Catalanotto’s immense pre-game preparation is just the tip of the iceberg regarding his attention to detail.

So meticulous is the Long Islander, that he kept a handwritten notebook with a scouting report on every major league pitcher he faced, using the advice of Parrish from his minor league days to keep records of the pitchers he would see on his way up through the minors that would follow him to the major leagues. Peeling away another layer, Catalanotto takes you deeper into the lengths he would go through to gain an edge on the competition, providing full page photos of the scouting reports he wrote.

He is also quick to reveal the most humbling time in a player’s career; the time when you find out it’s over. It is the rare player that can go out on their own terms, such as Chipper Jones, who is making his final lap around the league this year. For the majority like Catalanotto, a tap on the shoulder after the game and a quick talk with management seal the deal. He openly takes us inside the manager’s office and the locker room after a mid-season game with the Mets in 2010 that came with the worst news for a veteran; you’ve been released. The reader can only help but feel Catalanotto’s emotions as he wrestles with life after baseball.

Catalanotto bounces back quickly after accepting his retirement and settles the second half of the book serves with an informal baseball “how-to.”  He provides plenty of pointers from a major league perspective regarding conditioning, hitting, and psychological preparation, finishing each chapter with a neat summary of “Cat’s Tips,” which are easily digestible for young ballplayers.

While the sub-title of Catalanotto’s book suggests that his journey to the major leagues was unlikely, it is evident after reading that his character and determination put him on a direct path with destiny to a successful major league career when many other 18-year-olds would have thrown in the towel.

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Fritz Peterson: Who needs a coach?

This week’s guest article is from former All-Star and 20-game winner Fritz Peterson. After the self-coached Bubba Watson won the Masters tournament earlier this month, Peterson reflected on his own experiences with coaching during his major league career.

“I don't need a coach.”-- Bubba Watson 4/8/12

“I didn't either.”-- Fritz Peterson 4/11/12

In golf, you are out there all by yourself. As a pitcher you are the only one out there on the mound. The type of pitch you throw is ultimately up to you even though your catcher can suggest a pitch he thinks you should throw. The ball is in your hand until you let it go at the end of your delivery. Bubba Watson chose his clubs at the Masters last Sunday and even though his caddy may have made suggestions, it was ultimately Watson's decision. On April 8th, 2012 it was Watson that walked off the course after the second hole of the playoff against Louis Oosthuizen with the green jacket.

Fritz Peterson / Baseball Alamanac

Who needs a coach? After Watson's father showed him the basic fundamentals of the swing and the grip, Watson took it from there. After my father showed me the fundamentals of throwing a ball and having an idea of where each pitch should go, I was done, in essence, being coached. Everything I picked up over the years was from experimenting on my own, not from a coach other than my dad until I got into college. By the time I finished my major league career, I had six pitches I could use effectively. Since Thurman Munson only had five fingers he had to start backwards and use his little finger for my 6th pitch. Jim Bouton did teach me his palm ball which angered our pitching coach because Bouton had taught it to me and not him. Bouton was not “old school.”

The odd thing, especially in the major leagues, is that every team has a coach for everything, but in most cases they do more harm to the players than good. The majority of coaches think they have to justify their positions (jobs), so they dabble with their players, sometimes actually causing them to over think, which can negatively affect their performance.

I know! It happened to me in my first year with the Yankees in 1966. I was privileged to be one of the starting pitchers on the New York Yankees where I was surrounded by pitchers like Whitey Ford, Al Downing, Jim Bouton and Mel Stottlemyre. All of them were, or would become 20 game winners and all had been an All-Star at least once. Our pitching coach was Jim Turner, a wonderful hearty man from the “old school,” in his ways. New ideas were taboo. You just did things like they've been done from time immemorial. Turner was a sincere man and truly believed everyone should do everything the same way.

I got to the big leagues with only two pitches, a sinking fastball and a hard sharp breaking curve-ball. My strength was that I could get both of them over the plate where I wanted them to be 95% of the time. Mr. Turner, in an attempt to help me, suggested I throw my curve ball like Whitey Ford threw his. Since Turner was my coach, I tried it. It messed me up. It cost me my real curve-ball for a few weeks, until I got "my" curve-ball back. I wasn't Whitey Ford; I was Fritz Peterson.

The point is, at that level pitchers and hitters know what to do. Coaching (especially over coaching) can do more damage than it can help. Bubba Watson is Bubba Watson and he knows it. Now that he has a green jacket he will be able to be Bubba Watson for a long time if he chooses to be.

My friend, roommate, and author of Ball Four once told me that Johnny Sain was the perfect pitching coach. He said nothing. Instead, Sain befriended his pitchers like children of his own. He didn't mess with their mechanics. If I had been a pitching coach, I would have been just like Sain. By the way, Bouton was the only ex-player who attended Sain's funeral. He truly was Bouton's friend.

The rest of my career (11 years) in the big leagues, I did my own thing out there on the mound. I did it “my way,” like Frank Sinatra, and now Watson. Sure, I listened to my pitching coaches, but without them realizing I was doing it my way just the same. On top of that, I gave them credit in the press because I knew their intentions were good. What harm could that do? The coaches were going to be there anyway, looking good with their little notebooks and clipboards. Besides, we’re all there together trying to win games for our team. Watson is his own team. Leave him alone. He's having fun being Bubba Watson and that's the way it should be. Who needs a coach?

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Moose Skowron shares how he danced his way to first base

Moose Skowron at 2011 Old Timers Day / N. Diunte

Old Timers' Day for the New York Yankees this year is going to lose a bit of spice with the passing of Bill "Moose" Skowron. The slugging first baseman of four Yankee World Series championship teams died of congestive heart failure in Arlington Heights, Ill. He was 81.

I had the opportunity to interview Skowron in 2009 via telephone from his home regarding how he broke in with the Yankees. The link below contains some of the stories Skowron shared about coming up through the Yankees minor league system and how he came to play first base.

Click here to read the Skowron interview.

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Book review: Jim Abbott - Imperfect: An Improbable Life

Jim Abbott at signing for Imperfect

Jim Abbott stood in front of an eager group of preschoolers ready to talk about the tenets of his baseball career. Little did he know that the most challenging question was going to come from his four-year-old daughter Ella.

“She raised her hand and I had no idea what was coming,” Abbott said at a recent book signing in New York City. “She said, ‘Dad, do you like your little hand?’ That question took me back. I didn’t quite know what to say. We never called it my little hand at home. My whole life, I never thought about liking it.”

After a short pause to further consider her inquiry, Abbott reflected on what he learned from his deformed hand. “I looked at her and said, ‘You know what honey, I do. I like my little hand. I haven’t always liked it and it hasn’t always been easy, but you know what, my little hand has taught me important lessons that life’s not easy and it’s not always fair.’”

Abbott was at the Upper West Side location of the Barnes and Noble Bookstore in early April to promote his autobiography, Imperfect: An Improbable Life (Ballantine, 2012) which he co-authored with former Los Angeles Times writer Tim Brown

Click here to read more about Abbott's new book as well as watch video of his speech from a recent book signing.

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