Neal Watlington | An unlikely baseball sojourn for a Christmas birth

Christmas is universally known as a holiday where families get together to exchange gifts and celebrate each other’s presence. For Neal Watlington, the date of December 25th holds an extra special meaning, as it marks the 91st birthday for the son of Julius and Laura Watlington.

Watlington, who was a catcher for the Philadelphia Athletics in 1953, is one of 67 major league players born on December 25th, which includes Hall of Famers Nellie Fox, Pud Galvin, and Rickey Henderson. At 91, he is one of the oldest living alumni of Philadelphia’s American League team.

Speaking via telephone from his home in Yanceyville, N.C. earlier this week, Watlington reflected on the auspicious start to his professional baseball career in 1941 with the Mayodan Millers of the Class D Bi-State League.

“I played with them for only about a week to ten days,” Watlington said.

Just as quickly as his professional career started, it abruptly ended when the team folded. It was the beginning of a long journey to an improbable major league career.

Watlington waited an additional six years before had the opportunity to play again professionally, a lay-off that would be unheard of in today’s era of baseball. World War II intervened, and as a member of the United States Army, he quickly found himself wearing a different set of protective gear.

“I served three years in the Army,” he said. “I put in six months on the front lines in France, Belgium and Germany.”

Watlington earned a Purple Heart for his service, and like many young ballplayers coming out of the military, he returned home looking for a place to play baseball. At 23, he was now considered old for a prospect and with the staggering amount of players suddenly available, Watlington quickly discovered teams were looking for younger talent.

“It’s quite a story,” he said. “I came home and I contacted George Ferrell who was a scout for the Detroit Tigers. I played against him [when] he was managing Martinsville. I asked him about the possibility of playing and he said he would send me to Winston Salem (St. Louis Cardinals affiliate) to talk to the general manager. They said they would take me to spring training. A week before spring training, they called me up and said, ‘You’re 23 years old and we’re not going to sign anyone over 21.’” 

He was deeply disappointed by the news. “It broke my heart,” he said.

Not one to be discouraged, Watlington kept on playing with the hope that he would create another opportunity for himself. It came at an unlikely time, after a single-game elimination in a state tournament.

“I was working in Yanceyville, and they had a pretty good baseball team,” he said. “We went to the state tournament in Asheboro, N.C. We played just one game and got beat 2-1. After the game, there were three scouts at my car. It was the Cardinals, Giants and the Cubs. It was a big surprise to me.”

This scout for the Cardinals was less concerned with Watlington’s age, and offered him a contract on the spot. He declined.

“He offered me a contract for $500 and [told me] that I would be playing the next night in Valdosta, Ga.,” Watlington said. “I told him I wasn’t going to sign for that amount of money.”

Most players would have jumped at the opportunity, but Watlington was confident that the other teams were going to make stronger offers.

“I probably would have signed later, but I didn’t want to sign for that kind of money,” he said. “I came on home and about three days after that, the Giants scout Bill Harris was there. He wanted to sign me for $1,500.”

Watlington once again held out, knowing deep down that he was worth more than the bonus that they were offering.

“I told him, ‘No, I would like more than that,’” Watlington said. “He suggested that I go to Danville, try out over there, and talk to the manager. If they thought I was worth it, they probably would sign me. So I went.”

Danville manager Duke Brett only needed a half-hour to size up Watlington. They quickly made him an offer.

“I worked out about 30 minutes,” he said. “I hit about 4-5 balls over the fence, ran around the bases, and threw down to second. He told me to come back tomorrow and that he would call the Giants that night. I told him what I wanted, $3,000. The next day, they gave me the $3,000. That’s how I got started.”

He impressed right away, batting .328 in 111 games in 1947. The Giants organization moved him to Knoxville in 1948, where he followed up with a .302 average in 134 games. After two seasons in the minor leagues, the Giants decided he was ready to be a lot closer to the major leagues, elevating him to Triple-A with the Jersey City Giants in 1949. Watlington didn’t find much difficulty with the extreme jump within their minor league system.

“It wasn’t too bad, I hit pretty good in the lineup,” he said.

Watlington responded by hitting .270 while splitting his duties between catching and the outfield. While patrolling the outfield, he was flanked by a future Hall of Famer, Monte Irvin. Irvin was biding his time until the Giants were ready to call him up, which Watlington said was a mere formality.

“Monte was quite a ballplayer,” he said. “He could throw the ball from deep right field to home plate and he didn’t even bounce it in.”

While Watlington was in Triple-A proving that he could handle high level pitching on both offense and defense, he was behind Giants mainstay Wes Westrum at the catching position, as well as Ray Noble and Sal Yvars.

Just like earlier in his career after returning from the war, Watlington waited patiently for another break. This one came when Watlington’s contract, along with three other players from the Giants organization was sold to Philadelphia in 1952. The Athletics brought Watlington to spring training in 1953, where he made it to the final cutdown day.

“We got back to Philadelphia,” he said, “and the manager Jimmie Dykes told me, ‘You’ve had a good spring training, but I’m sorry we’ve got to let you go back, we can’t carry three catchers. I feel real surely we’ll call you back, and if you do, you’re going to be number one.’”

Dykes stayed true to his word, and after an injury to catcher Joe Astroth during the middle of the season, Watlington was a finally a major leaguer at the age of 30.

“It was great to be there; there’s nothing like the big leagues,” he said.

Watlington played the waiting game for almost a week before he had the chance to play. He made his debut on July 10, 1953, against the Boston Red Sox, getting a hit in his first time at bat off of Greensboro native, Hal ‘Skinny’ Brown. He started the next few games but was relegated to pinch-hitting duties for the remainder of the season when Astroth returned. With three catchers on the club, there was little room for Watlington to get an opportunity.

“Both [Ray] Murray and Astroth only hit .250 in the big leagues, but both of them hit in the .290s that season,” he said. “Both of them had good years, and there wasn’t just any place for me. You can’t get a better batting average by pinch-hitting.”

He finished the season batting .159 (7-for-44), and didn’t get another opportunity to return to the major leagues, spending the next five seasons at Triple-A until he hung up his cleats in 1958.

After his playing days were over, he was a tobacco farmer in his hometown of Yanceyville and owned Watlington's Inc., a department store, and the Watlington farm store before retiring in 1999.

Despite his short stay in the majors, Watlington remained proud of his accomplishments.

“I played in every ballpark,” he said. “I hit in Yankee Stadium against Vic Raschi, I hit against Bob Feller. It was just quite an experience for me.”

Read More

Honoring the tremendous character of Don Lund

I made my first contact with Don Lund via telephone late in 2007 when I started my research to find out what the experience was for the major league players who debuted as the color line was slowly eroding.

He shared his stories of being signed to the Brooklyn Dodgers only a few weeks before Jackie Robinson, and how both of them were offered positions on the major league club on the same day in 1947. We talked about his travels through a variety of major league organizations, as well as his long standing career at the University of Michigan as a three-sport athlete, coach and later assistant athletic director.

Don Lund with the author in 2008

His bird's eye view at Michigan of the budding talents of Bill Freehan, Barry Larkin, and Jim Abbott all rolled off his tongue as he proudly told his favorite stories of each player. He glowingly spoke about his 1962 National Championship team and the influence that Ray Fisher had on his career. He had energy to continue telling stories, not about himself, but the many people he met along the way. Our conversations routinely lasted an hour or more.

Earlier this week, I sadly received the news that Lund passed away last week at the age of 90 at an assisted living facility in Ann Arbor. The mention of his death immediately brought back memories of our 2008 meeting in New Jersey.

Knowing he would be coming to the local area for what was most likely to be the final Brooklyn Dodgers reunion, we made plans to meet at the show and spend some time together. My only picture of Lund was what was on his baseball cards, so it was difficult for me to imagine what I was going to encounter. Time works differently on our baseball heroes, and Lund was 55 years removed from the portrait on his 1953 Topps card.

I walked up to the room, and there was Lund, holding onto a walker, partially stooped forward, smiling as we finally made our acquaintance in person. It was hard for me to envision him as the square shouldered running back that garnered a first-round draft choice from the Chicago Bears, but his grip was still incredibly firm as he reached out to shake my hand.

Within minutes of our meeting, Don made me feel like we were old pals from yesteryear. He introduced me to all of his old teammates as his friend. I watched as he signed away at all of the items the promoters put in front of him, and then as he happily met with the many fans that traveled from far and near to spend some precious moments with the living members of New York's bygone team.

As the signing finished, I went with Don to pick up his check from the promoters, as he had a few hours left before his ride to the airport. He never once scoffed at the amount, even though the quantity of items he signed brought the total to maybe $1-$2 per signature. The money wasn't his motivation for being there; it was to see teammates that he hadn't seen in some fifty years—guys like Howie Schultz, Lee Pfund, Mike Sandlock, Ralph Branca, and Clyde King, all teammates when he made his debut in 1945.

We sat around with Schultz and a few others in the hotel lobby, talking baseball while we shared some refreshments. As I went to pay, he steadfastly refused to let me do so, insisting that I was his guest for the day. As I wished him a safe trip home, he extended a handshake and a hug, wishing me well in my endeavors.

The way Don treated me that was was the embodiment of his spirit; a classy gentleman who went out of his way to treat others well.

I kept in touch with him on the phone and in the mail, exchanging correspondence once or twice a year. He always was willing to talk baseball, and in between the lines, sprinkle a few guiding thoughts for life's travels. We last spoke shortly after he moved to an assisted living facility in Glacier Hills, and even as recently as a month prior to his passing, he still had hope that he would be up and walking again, able to hit fungoes to the Michigan baseball team.

His had a profound effect on Michigan athletics, not only for their program, but for the many players he reached. Dave Campbell, who was the first baseman on Michigan's 1962 National Championship team, (who later played eight seasons in the majors, and spent two decades as a baseball analyst on ESPN) called Lund in the wake of his passing, a man of, "great leadership ... and great integrity," and was one who, "had a great influence on me while I was there."

I wish I had the opportunity to have met Lund earlier than I did, or even to have been one of his players, because in the short time we interacted, I could see how his tremendous character helped to shape the lives of so many young men.

Read More

Remember when the Yankees actually developed home grown talent?

Following the reports of the New York Yankees losing Robinson Cano, one of their homegrown talents, to the Seattle Mariners for the sum of $240 million over the course of ten years, the future looks slim in the ranks of the Yankees' current minor league system.

"While the Yankees' minor league system is not quite as bare as it once was, more of the talent currently sits at the lower levels," Jonathan Mayo MLB.com's prospect expert said in November, 2013. "As a result, it's difficult to see many impact players ready to contribute in 2014."

There was a time; however, when the Yankees had one of the richest farm systems in all of major league baseball. Starting in the late 1940s and going through the early 1960s, the Yankees had 22 catchers behind Yogi Berra that eventually became major leaguers, many earning All-Star selections. The following is an excerpt from Phil Rizzuto's "The October Twelve," that lists all of the catchers who left the New York Yankees' organization for greener pastures.

 

Read More

Dodgers and Yankees upstarts Miller and Bella shared a taste of the big leagues in September 1957

Rod Miller

September call-ups in baseball often signal hope and excitement for the fan base, as they get to take a look at the future talents of the organization. Lost amidst the chaos of the 1957 baseball season in New York were the debuts of two rookies, Rod Miller of the Brooklyn Dodgers, and John "Zeke" Bella of the New York Yankees. One team was on the verge of moving 3,000 miles to the West, the other convincingly won the American League pennant.

Both of these youngsters shared not only their major league debuts within a few days of each other, but also sadly, their deaths. Miller passed away November 8, 2013 in Cascade, Idaho, and Bella passed away November 17, 2013 in Greenwich, Ct.

Miller was a 17-year-old outfielder from Lynwood High School in California. He was signed by scout Lefty Phillips for a $4,000 bonus, which meant he had to be kept on the MLB roster for the year and couldn't be sent below Class B. He played with Cedar Rapids after signing, batting .183, an unlikely total for someone who would receive a call to the major leagues at the end of the season. Despite his paltry batting average, the Dodgers brought him up in September, biding his time on the bench while in the presence of the legendary figures on the club.

"The biggest thrill of my career," Miller said to Richard Tellis in Once Around the Bases, "was going into the Dodger clubhouse the next day, seeing all these legends, and putting the major-league uniform on."

On September 28, 1957, the Dodgers were playing the Philadelphia Phillies at Connie Mack Stadium in front of barely 5,800 people. It was an otherwise unforgettable game, except for the young Miller. In the top of the 9th inning, manager Walter Alston summoned the 17-year-old from the bench to pinch hit for Randy Jackson.

"I didn't believe him at first. I thought he was kidding," he said.

Standing in the on-deck circle, Miller thought about the generosity of his manager, who also had only a singular at-bat in the major leagues.

"I thought about the compassion Walter Alston had for me, letting me get to bat. He was the classiest human being I've ever known," he said.

Miller faced Phillies right-hander Jack Meyer, and after working the count to 2-2, he struck out swinging. Alston replaced Miller with Pee Wee Reese to play third base in the bottom of the 9th; it would be the last time Miller's feet touched major league soil.

"You can't imagine the residual benefits I've had in my life from that one time at-bat. It's opened more doors than I ever have imagined," he said.

John "Zeke" Bella

On the other side of town, Bella was a 26-year-old Korean War veteran, hitting his stride after serving three years in the United States Army. He batted .317 with the Denver Bears of the American Association in Triple-A, his third consecutive .300 season in the Yankees farm system. During that September, with the Yankees having a comfortable lead over the Chicago White Sox in the American League standings, they recalled Bella for a look in the outfield alongside Elston Howard, Mickey Mantle, and Hank Bauer.

Speaking with the New York Daily News in October, 2013 after being inducted into the Greenwich High School Hall of Fame, Bella said one of his clearest memories of Mantle was the on the first day he reported to the team.

"I walked into the clubhouse," remembered Bella, "and Mickey yells across the room, 'Hey Yogi, Zeke’s here. You’re not the ugliest one here now!'"

Bella went 1-10 in his rookie campaign, earning his first major league hit off of Rudy Minarcin of the Boston Red Sox on September, 27, 1957. Despite another season of hitting over .300 at the Triple-A level, there was no room on the roster for him on their World Series Championship team in 1958. With the Yankees looking to bolster their pitching staff for the stretch run of the 1958 season, Bella was part of a late-season trade to the Kansas City Athletics for pitcher Murray Dickson.

His trade to Kansas City provided the opportunity for greater playing time, as he appeared in 47 games, batting .207 with one home run. His time in Kansas City was highlighted by a race with a teammate to the dugout from the outfield that had gone awry, resulting with Bella knocking himself unconscious on the dugout roof.

Bella played one more season in the minor leagues in 1960, before returning to Connecticut where he embarked on a long career with the United States Postal Service. He continued to stay involved in youth sports, serving as an umpire and referee at many levels. One of the local youths he inspired was future Hall of Fame quarterback, Steve Young.

"I remember Zeke Bella and how he umpired," Young said to the Greenwich Time in October, 2013. "He's a tough guy, and I learned about fairness from him."

Read More

Gene Michael receives 2013 Firefighters Charitable Foundation Humanitarian Award

Once teammates on the New York Yankees some forty years ago, Gene Michael and Frank Tepedino demonstrated the durability of the special bond created by wearing the famed pinstripes during Thursday evening’s Second Annual Firefighters Charitable Foundation Dinner at the Chateau Briand in Carle Place, N.Y.

Frank Tepedino (r.) presents Gene Michael with the Humanitarian Award

Tepedino presented Michael with the organization’s Humanitarian Award on behalf of his efforts with the Ed Lucas Foundation, which assists those who are blind or visually impaired. Speaking to a crowd of 300 people, Michael paid tribute to his former teammate Tepedino, who is now the president of the Firefighters Charitable Foundation.

“I knew Frank was a nice guy when I found out Thurman Munson liked him, because Thurman didn’t like too many people, but he really did like Frank a lot,” Michael said. "His organization does a lot of good work, and I am thankful to be honored with this award."

Tepedino, Michael, and Tom Sabellico / N. Diunte

Read More

Lee Mazzilli and LJ Mazzilli bring lung cancer awareness to Brooklyn

Lee Mazzilli and his son, LJ, stood up to cancer in a very personal way this Saturday at New York Methodist Hospital in Brooklyn. Bearing their emotions in front of a group of family and patients, the Mazzilli family told of the struggle that the elder Mazzilli’s brother, Fred, faced in his battle with lung cancer.

Lee Mazzilli and LJ Mazzilli - N. Diunte

Fred Mazzilli passed away last September, and since then the family has been hard at work in creating the Fred L. Mazzilli Foundation. The foundation’s goal is to raise overall awareness for the disease, as well as offer opportunities at New York Methodist Hospital for eligible patients to receive free lung cancer screenings using a low-dose computed tomography (CT) scan.

In July 2013, while playing for the Brooklyn Cyclones, LJ was interviewed by the Hartford Courant about the impact his uncle had on his life.

"He was like my other father," LJ said. "I would talk to him about things I didn't want to talk to my dad about. Of course, he would tell my dad anyway, but he was a buffer. And he was the same way for my dad. Everyone has always turned to my dad for advice and help, for the answers to things. He was the one guy my dad could turn to."

Read More

Bill Sharman was a prized Brooklyn Dodgers prospect before he became a Hall of Fame NBA player

Bill Sharman, one of only three players to be named to the Basketball Hall of Fame as both a player and coach, died at his home in Redondo Beach, Calif., on October 25, 2013 due to complications from a stroke. He was 87.

For all of the accolades Sharman received due to his sharpshooting basketball abilities, his prowess on the baseball diamond was often overlooked. Sharman signed with the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1950 out of the University of Southern California at a time when the NBA was viewed as a fledgling operation. He was a sure-handed outfielder who looked to break in alongside burgeoning Dodgers greats Carl Furillo and Duke Snider.

Bill Sharman - Dodgers

Immediately upon his entry into professional baseball, Sharman's energies were divided between his two passions. Dick Teed, who later went on to play with the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1953, roomed with Sharman in 1950 during his rookie season in Class A Pueblo. Teed emphasized Sharman’s desire to shoot every day, a routine he later made famous as an NBA head coach.

“We were roommates; we went to the Y every day and shot baskets,” Teed said in a 2008 interview from his Connecticut home.

Sharman soared up the ranks of Branch Rickey’s vast minor league system, advancing to Class AA Fort Worth of the Texas League in 1951. Another future Dodger, Glenn Mickens, teamed with Sharman that year and spoke of his penchant for ice cream in the Texas heat.

“We'd stop at every other ice cream parlor in the street when the streets were boiling and see who could eat the most ice cream,” Mickens said in a 2009 phone interview from his home in Hawaii.

Playing in only his second year of professional baseball, he hit .286 at Fort Worth. The Dodgers called him up in September with the hopes that he could provide Snider with some rest en route to the World Series. Unfortunately, for Sharman, the Duke's services were needed for the remainder of the season, as the Dodgers encountered a surging New York Giants club that went 50-12 over their final 62 games. The Giants forced a best-of-three-games playoff in the Polo Grounds, and Bobby Thomson infamously took care of the Dodgers with one mighty swing.

Sharman’s tenure with the Dodgers wasn’t without controversy, and that was due to a disputed call by umpire Frank Dascoli in a September 27, 1951 game against the Boston Braves. Braves outfielder Bob Addis tried valiantly to slide under the tag of Dodgers catcher Roy Campanella on an infield hit. Dascoli called Addis safe and Campanella immediately tossed his glove towards the sky in protest. Dascoli ejected Campy, and as the unrest grew louder from the Dodgers bench, he cleared them out too. Sharman went down in history as the only player to be ejected from a major league game without appearing in one. Author Rob Neyer disputes that Sharman was ever ejected in his book, “Big Book of Baseball Legends”, as the Dodgers later sent one of the players that was driven from the bench in to the game as a pinch-hitter.

While it makes for good theater that Sharman was ejected before he could get his cup of coffee, he was on the Dodgers bench as Bobby Thomson sent Ralph Branca’s fastball screaming over the left-field wall a few days later. It was his last taste of the big leagues, as the pounding of his knees on the basketball court eroded whatever speed he had to play the outfield.

“He quit baseball because of the speed,” Teed said. “He said basketball slowed him down to a walk. He had to choose.”

Even though his baseball talents were hampered by his pursuit of an NBA career, he confided to at least one teammate that baseball was his preferred sport.

“He always told me he liked baseball more than basketball,” Mickens said. “[Even though] he slowed down from all that pounding on that basketball court, obviously he picked the right sport.”

The Dodgers advanced Sharman to St. Paul of the Class AAA American Association in 1952. He hit .294 with 16 home runs, but with the Dodgers on their way to another World Series appearance, his services weren’t needed at the major league level. He played half of the 1953 season with the Dodgers farm team in Mobile, until he was sidelined with a broken hand. His injury put his baseball career on hold, devoting his full attention to basketball. He sat out the entire 1954 baseball season. He attempted a comeback in 1955 with St. Paul, batting .292 with 11 home runs. Despite his strong showing, there was no space for him on their World Championship team.

Would Sharman flourish in baseball if he didn’t choose the rough and tumble 1950s NBA that robbed him of the speed necessary to patrol the vast outfields of that era? Would he have been provided an opportunity to play if he wasn’t behind two legendary outfielders in Furillo and Snider?

I spoke with Sharman in 2009, but he politely refused to discuss the details, as he said he was saving it for a book he was writing. Regrettably, the book never surfaced. Those who were close to him on the baseball field are dwindling, and they remember more of his warm personality than details about his Dodgers days.

One such teammate was fellow two-sport athlete Gene Conley, who described in Terry Pluto’s, “Tall Tales: The Glory Years of the NBA,” how Sharman’s biggest assist came from their encounters on the baseball diamond.

“Bill Sharman was the reason I ended up with the Celtics,” Conley said. “In the early 1950s, Bill played basketball at Southern Cal, and for one year I played basketball at the University of Washington. Then I ran into Bill again, this time in minor league baseball. I was pitching for Milwaukee, Bill was an outfielder with St. Paul of the Class AAA American Association. Bill told me that he mentioned my name to Red Auerbach, who was looking for guys with size. In 1952, Red made me his last draft pick even though he never saw me play – it was done purely on Sharman’s word.”

For further insight regarding Sharman's baseball career, read J.G. Preston's excellent article, "No, Bill Sharman was never ejected from a major league game as a member of the Dodgers."

Read More