Joe Durham, 84, first African-American to hit a home run for the Baltimore Orioles

Joe Durham was a bona fide All-Star well before he made history as the first African-American player to hit a home run for the Baltimore Orioles. Playing in 1952 for the Chicago American Giants in the Negro Leagues, Durham was selected to the East-West All-Star Game at Comiskey Park. It was a thrill for a rookie to share a prominent stage amongst the league's veterans.

Joe Durham

“It was kind of exciting,” Durham said to me during a 2010 phone interview from his home in Maryland. “The All-Star game was good; we had a fairly decent crowd. We had a chance to play against one another and participate against guys from the East and the West. Most of the guys on those teams were older… There were several veterans that got my attention. I saw them play when I was a kid. Henry Kimbro and Doc Dennis… these guys had been playing for ages.”

Durham passed away Thursday, April 28, 2016, at the Northwest Hospital Hospice Center in Randallstown, Maryland. He was 84.

The outfielder found himself in the Negro Leagues after signing with the St. Louis Browns in 1952. The Browns wanted to place him on their farm teams in the South, but racial tensions at the time prevented that from being an option for Durham. Luckily Browns owner Bill Veeck was able to use a long-standing connection to place Durham on one of the flagship Negro League franchises.

“Everything they had in the farm system where they wanted to start me was in the South and I couldn’t play there,” he said. “Abe Saperstein who owned the Chicago American Giants and Bill Veeck who owned the St. Louis Browns were very good friends. So that’s how I got over there [to Chicago] for just one year.”

As major league teams signed more players from the Negro Leagues, these prospects served as agents of change across the minor leagues. In 1953, Durham along with future Baltimore Orioles outfielder Willie Tasby helped to break the color barrier of the Piedmont League as members of the York White Roses. Even though Durham grew up in segregated Newport News, Virginia, that still didn’t prepare him for the taunting he faced while playing.

“Hagerstown was the worst team in the whole damn league,” he said in Bruce Adelson’s book, Brushing Back Jim Crow. “They were really bad. I used to hate to go there. We opened the season in Hagerstown. I’m telling you, I never heard so much stuff in my life.”

Tasby further explained the degree of insults they faced while playing in Hagerstown. They retaliated against the hateful slurs by taking it out on the opposition.

“That was as bad as Mississippi,” Tasby told Adelson. “That was one of the worst places I played in my life. It wasn’t even in what you’d call the South. It’s in Maryland. But you see, Baltimore and Washington used to be bad too.

“We got called everything except our names there, all of the derogatory names. Of course, we beat the hell out of them every time we played there. But we still had to hear them.”

Durham responded by batting .308 with 14 home runs, earning a promotion to San Antonio in the Texas League in 1954. Still deep in the South, he had to figure out a way to keep his performance on the field unaffected by the social conditions at the time.

“Black ballplayers of that era had to have a little something extra to go along with their playing talent because of things you had to endure,” Durham said to Adelson. “You had to tell yourself not to let anything get in your way or distract you. There was nothing you could do.”

After another standout minor league season, where he hit .318 with 14 home runs and 108 RBI, Durham earned a September call-up to the Baltimore Orioles. Upon his arrival, he was immediately inserted into the lineup, and in his fourth major league game, he became the first African-American to homer for the Orioles, hitting a circuit blast off of Philadelphia Athletics pitcher Al Sima.

“The first night I got here, I played,” he said in during our 2010 interview. “I played out the season and then I had to go into the Army. I was scheduled to go in July, but I got a deferment until October.”

Durham spent two years in the Army, serving first at Camp Gordon in Georgia and then later with the Seventh Army in Germany. Upon his discharge in October 1956, he went on to play winter ball with San Juan in Puerto Rico, preparing him for major league spring training in 1957.

He responded to his two-year absence by leading the team in batting during spring training. Finally, Durham felt that he proved his worth as a full-time major leaguer. However, Orioles manager Paul Richards thought otherwise.

“The strange thing about it, I led the Orioles in hitting in spring training,” he said. “I had tremendous spring training. The prejudiced manager Paul Richards, the last day he told me, ‘If we go to Baltimore, you are only going to play 20-30 games and you are going to get rusty. We want you to go down to San Antonio.’ I asked him about going to Triple-A Vancouver and he said the roster there was full. He said, ‘Go on down there for a couple of weeks keep hitting, and we’ll bring you back up here.’”

A dejected Durham returned to San Antonio, determined to prove Richards wrong in his decision to keep him in the minor leagues. Upon his return to Texas after a three-year absence, Durham encountered greater indignities than when he left in 1954. The city of Shreveport, Louisiana enacted a law barring white and blacks from playing on the same field together. Rather than forcing the Texas League to remove Shreveport from competition, the league allowed the rest of the clubs to carry an extra player to compensate for keeping their players of color at home while they traveled to Shreveport.

“The first year I played at Shreveport, you could go in [and play],” he said. “I went in the Army and came back out. I started in 1957 and no blacks or whites could participate on the field, arena, or against one another in Shreveport. We would go to Houston and the team would go to Shreveport; we would go back to San Antonio.”

Showing tremendous character in the face of adversity, Durham’s on-field performance was at its peak. Durham maintained a .400 average during the first two months of the season, finally forcing the Orioles to call him up in the middle of June after he hit .391 in 50 games.

“I didn’t get recalled until June 10th and I was hitting over .400 until the 1st of June,” he recalled. “I came up and played the rest of the season in Baltimore.”

Unfortunately, Durham couldn’t duplicate his minor league success, hitting only .185 with four home runs in 77 games for the Orioles in 1957. Save for five at-bats with the St. Louis Cardinals in 1959, it would be his last foray in the major leagues.

“I really hate to say it, but I never got a good chance to play,” Durham lamented. “They would tell you that they wanted to have you on the team and you were doing well, but he [Richards] was playing all of his boys. In 1959, I went to the St. Louis Cardinals. I had another tremendous spring, made the team and I got five at-bats before they decided to send me back to Baltimore.”

Durham continued to play in the minor leagues at the Triple-A level until 1964 and continued his involvement with the Orioles organization until his passing. A link to the franchise's birth, Durham’s six-decade association with the Orioles made him the longest-tenured employee in the team’s history. He spent 20 years as a batting practice pitcher after he hung up his spikes, and then served as their community coordinator for baseball operations, as well as a minor league coach, instructor, and scout.

“I do clinics and go around to some of the schools, community relations they call it,” he said in 2010. “I’m not on the regular payroll. I’ve been on their payroll in some capacity since 1954. I used to do a lot of traveling, hitting schools and private organizations; that was part of my job. I worked in the front office as the community relations director. I scouted one year. That was the last year I worked.”

As with many of his African-American counterparts in the early 1950s, Durham’s major league stats fall short of explaining the totality of his story and skills. His ability to stand tall in the face of Jim Crow segregation to become the Orioles’ most respected employee demonstrates Durham proved his All-Star status long after he left the diamond.

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Tony Phillips | Brian McRae Explains How His Arrival Stabilized The Mets Lineup

When the New York Mets acquired Tony Phillips in a string of perplexing moves at the trade deadline in 1998, many wondered if bringing Phillips to the Big Apple was the right move in Flushing. For Mets outfielder Brian McRae, Phillips’ arrival was just what the team needed to stabilize their lineup.

“I was excited when they said that trade went through because I was hitting down in the order by that time and we really didn’t have a leadoff [hitter],” said McRae speaking Friday evening from Marshall, Texas where he was coaching the Park University baseball team. “We had done all of the shuffling in the outfield with [Todd] Hundley playing a little bit in the outfield after [Mike] Piazza got traded [to the Mets], so it was good to have him on the ball club.”

Tony Phillips with the New York Mets / Fleer

The versatile Phillips passed away at the age of 56 on Wednesday February 17, 2016 in Arizona due to an apparent heart attack. The news hit close to home for McRae who still had the death of another mutual teammate on his mind.

“It was like a month and a half ago with Dave Henderson too,” he said. “I lost two former teammates in a short time.”

Coming up with the Kansas City Royals in 1990, McRae was familiar with Phillips from playing in the American League. He remembered Phillips as a hitter that pitchers weren't fond of seeing at the plate.

“You didn’t like him because he was pesky,” he said. “Pitchers couldn’t bury him and get him out. He fouled off a lot of pitches and always seemed like he was in the middle of rallies for those good A’s teams. He just did a lot of things well to help his team win games."

The 39-year-old Phillips brought the same tenacious approach that McRae described to the Mets, quickly invigorating the clubhouse. There were a lot of intangible elements to Phillips’ game that didn’t show up in the box score, but enabled the entire team to elevate their play.

“He was a good on-base guy for all the guys hitting behind him,” he recalled. “I think our offense got better once he came along. It wasn’t so much him hitting his way on, but just working the count. He might have had a low average, but his on-base percentage was pretty high, and he did a good job running up pitch counts to let everybody else in the lineup see pitches that the pitcher had. He was really comfortable in that role as far as taking a lot of pitches, getting deep in the count, and doing those types of things.”

Spending time with Phillips away from the field gave McRae the opportunity to see how Phillips approached the game that could not be learned from the opposing dugout. He found Phillips to be a real student of the game who was willing to share the intricacies of the trade with him.

“I got to know him a lot better than I did in passing from playing against him,” he said. “We spent a lot of time talking about baseball, his approach mentally, and how he went about getting prepared for a game by checking scouting reports of other teams, pitchers, and things that he picked up.

“He was good with sharing a lot of that knowledge with me; I liked to sit at his locker [to] listen and learn as much as possible. [He] put a lot of his heart and soul into what he did on the ball field, and with him being on those championship teams, you gravitated to those guys because there’s something special about them. When you’re around guys who have been a part of something special, you listen to them and try to learn as much as possible.”

McRae shared an example of Phillips’ tenacity while playing for Mets by relaying an incident that occurred against the St. Louis Cardinals and his former manager Tony LaRussa. After a first-inning brushback by Cardinals starter Matt Morris, Phillips directed his angst at the Hall of Fame skipper.

“He brought a different aura to our ball club and he didn’t back down from anything,” he stated. “I remember we played against the Cardinals and Matt Morris threw up and in on him. He was jawing at Matt Morris, and then Tony LaRussa his former manager was yelling at him; he went right back at LaRussa. He brought a different edge that I think we needed.”

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Tony Phillips, 18-year major league veteran dies of heart attack at 56

Tony Phillips, who enjoyed an 18-year career in the major leagues from 1982-1999 primarily with the Oakland Athletics, passed away Wednesday February 17, 2016 as the result of a heart attack according to Susan Slusser. He was 56.

Very sad news: Dave Stewart tells me that Tony Phillips has died of an apparent heart attack at the age of 56.

— Susan Slusser (@susanslusser) February 19, 2016

Tony Phillips made this outstanding play for the final out of the 1989 World Series. #RIPTonyPhillips pic.twitter.com/D7TzQw6GzE

— Oakland Athletics (@Athletics) February 19, 2016

An extremely versatile fielder, Phillips saw action at every position on the field except pitcher and catcher during his major league career. He amassed 2,023 hits with a .266 average over his 18 seasons with the Athletics, Detroit Tigers, California Angels, Chicago White Sox, Toronto Blue Jays, and New York Mets.

Tony Phillips on his 1986 Topps card / Topps

Phillips played professionally as recently as the 2015 season, when at the age of 56, he played in eight games with the independent Pittsburgh Diamonds.

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Jim Davenport, a fixture with the San Francisco Giants passes away at 82

Jim Davenport, a longtime fixture with the San Francisco Giants organization as a player, coach, manager, scout, and executive, passed away Thursday evening according to an announcement made by Barry Bonds. He was 82.

Davenport started in the major leagues with the Giants in 1958, playing primarily third base during his 13-year career, retiring after the 1970 season. In 1985, he served as manager of the Giants, posting a record of 56-88 before losing his job to Roger Craig during the last month of the season.

Jim Davenport Signed 1988 Pacific Legends / Baseball-Almanac.com

Joe Amalfitano, Davenport’s former teammate on the Giants and close friend, deftly described Davenport’s deep roots with the Giants organization.

"Jimmy's a pillar of that organization," Amalfitano said to MLB.com in 2014. "If you cut his veins, red wouldn't come out. It would be orange and black. I truly believe that."

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Virgil Jester, 88, won final game for Boston Braves

Virgil Jester, one of Denver’s prodigal baseball figures has passed away. The former pitcher for the Boston and Milwaukee Braves died due to complications from pneumonia on February 15, 2016. He was 88.

Jester was a standout athlete at Denver’s North High School, where he played both infield and pitched. So renowned for his accomplishments on field, Jester was selected for the 1944 Esquire All-American Boys Baseball Game at the Polo Grounds in New York City. Jester was the starting pitcher for the West Squad that was managed by Mel Ott. Other notables who played in that game were Hall of Famer Richie Ashburn, as well as future major leaguers Erv Palica and Billy Pierce.

Virgil Jester (second from left) at the 1944 Esquire All-American Boys Baseball Game

After attending Colorado State Teacher’s College, Jester was signed by the Braves in 1947 for the princely sum of $2,500. In a 2012 interview with the Denver Post, Jester wished his bonus arrived a half-century later.

"If you look at the salaries today, I was born 55 years too soon," Jester said.

The Braves initially placed Jester not as a pitcher, but as an infielder, an experiment that was quickly abandoned after he hit .169 during his first season with Class C Leavenworth. It was a move that paid dividends for both the Braves and Jester, as he posted winning records each of the next five seasons in the minor leagues, including a 10-5 record at Triple A Milwaukee in 1952 that led to his arrival in the big leagues.

“I won 10 straight games real quick, after that they called me up,” he said during a 2008 interview from his home in Colorado.

Jester pitched his way to a 3-5 record in 19 games for the Braves for 1952, with his third victory coming against the Brooklyn Dodgers on September 27, 1952. It was the final victory of the season for the Braves, as their last game of the 1952 campaign ended in a 12-inning tie against the Dodgers. Unbeknownst to him, it was also the final victory for the Boston baseball franchise, as owner Lou Perini moved the team to Milwaukee the following year.

“I pitched in the last game and beat the Brooklyn Dodgers in the last game of 1952,” he said. “None of the ballplayers knew anything [about the move].”

Jester accompanied the team to Milwaukee and made the 1953 club out of spring training. He pitched sparingly in relief during April and was sent down to the minor leagues when rosters were trimmed at the end of the month. His demotion signaled the end of his career as a major leaguer.

He left the Braves organization after an arm injury in 1954 and remained out of baseball until 1959 when he was called by an old friend to help bolster the Denver Bears pitching staff. He gladly accepted.

“I left after the 1954 season and I never did ever hear from the Braves,” he said. “After that I rejoined the Denver Braves in 1959. I just kept myself in good shape working out with them in Bears Stadium. … They were having trouble with their young pitchers they were expecting a lot of. Bob Howsam called me in and asked me if I wanted to join the ballclub and I told them, ‘Sure!’ That's how I got back with the 1959 club.”

Jester kept himself involved in athletics working as a college football and basketball referee, as well as a baseball umpire for over 25 years. He attributed his success as an umpire to his former teammate and long-time major league manager Gene Mauch.

“I played with Gene Mauch and he was one of the men that I really followed because he knew the rule book inside out,” he said. “I think he was the only manager / ballplayer that I ever knew that knew more about the rule book than the umpires did. I felt like that was the best thing to learn what to do was to sit down with the rule book and read it. I umpired with a lot of men that knew the rule book real well, but they didn't have the guts to really apply it on the field.”

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James 'Red' Moore, 99, fancy first baseman in the Negro Leagues

In 2007, James "Red" Moore regaled reporters at Newark Bears stadium with his tales of playing in the Negro Leagues during the 1930s with the Newark Eagles. At the time, the 91-year-old former first baseman was accompanied by three of his junior alumni from the Eagles franchise, Benny Felder, Monte Irvin, and Willie Williams. Moore outlived them all, including the Hall of Famer Irvin, who died in January at the age of 96.

James "Red" Moore (second from left) at 2007 Negro Leagues tribute in Newark, NJ / N. Diunte

Unfortunately, on February 6, 2016 Moore played his final inning. He died in Atlanta, Georgia at the age of 99.

Born November 18, 1916 in Atlanta, Moore developed his talents at Booker T. Washington High School. His exploits in the field and at the plate attracted the attention of the Chattanooga Choo Choos of the Negro Southern League in 1935. Word of his play at first base spread through the league and he was picked up by the famed Newark Eagles of the Negro National League in 1936. He joined an infield that earned the nickname of “The Million Dollar Infield,” which included Hall of Famers Willie Wells at shortstop and Ray Dandridge at third base.

“Wells was one of the greatest shortstops you’d ever want to see,” Moore said in a 2008 interview. “Dandridge, I can’t see why he didn’t make it into the majors. … He was one of the best third baseman that ever played the game.”

Moore was fancied as one of the finest fielding first baseman in the league, going as far as taking throws behind his back during infield practice to the delight of the fans. When the Atlanta Black Crackers joined the Negro American League in 1938, Moore returned to his hometown to shore up their infield defense. He quickly became a fan favorite, earning a selection to the Southern News Service’s Negro American All-Star team.

“He could pick it,” Buck O’Neil noted. “He was quick around first base and had outstanding hands. He could handle that low throw in the dirt better than anybody. Nobody had better hands than Red Moore. Most first basemen back then used two hands, but Red was a one-hand first baseman. As far as playing first base, nobody was better. People came to see him play.”

He continued to play in the Negro Leagues through the 1940 season, finishing his career with the Baltimore Elite Giants where he was a roommate of a young Roy Campanella for two seasons. Five years older than Campanella, Moore kept an eye on the catching prodigy.

“At that time he was just a teenager,” Moore said. “He was a nice young fellow, good to be around. He was always telling jokes. He loved baseball—he loved the game."

In 1941, he entered the Army during World War II, serving four years in England, Belgium, and France. At the completion of his baseball career, he worked with Colonial Warehouse in Atlanta until his retirement in 1981. As with many Negro Leaguers of his generation, Moore received much recognition in his later years.

In 2007, Moore was honored at a ceremony with fellow Newark Eagles Billy Felder, Monte Irvin, and Willie “Curly” Williams at Newark Bears stadium in New Jersey. The Topps Baseball Card Company followed suit quickly by giving Moore an official baseball card in their 2009 Allen and Ginter set.

If the aforementioned tributes weren’t enough, on August 5, 2013, Moore took part in a ceremony at the White House before President Barack Obama. Greg White, who handled many of Moore’s personal affairs later in life and helped to raise the money necessary for Moore and his wife to meet President Obama, took pride in bringing these two pioneers together.

“Red was thrilled, they all were,” White said. “I’m just so happy for them to not only get the recognition they deserve but to have the once in a lifetime chance to interact with the President.”

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How Luis Arroyo gave one baseball fan an experience of a lifetime

Luis Arroyo, the great Puerto Rican left-handed reliever for the 1961 New York Yankees World Series championship team, passed away at the age of 88 on Wednesday January 13, 2016 in Puerto Rico after a bout with cancer. As the closer for their team, Arroyo preserved many of their victories, but one of his greatest assists came to a complete stranger well after his playing days ended.

In 2011, while milling around the hotel where the Yankees Old Timers were stationed for the weekend, I encountered Arroyo sitting regally in a chair in the lobby corner. There he was, free from the crowds swarming the other alumni making their way through the hotel's corridor. While the droves of fans and collectors flocked to the younger retired Yankees, I sensed an opportunity to talk with Arroyo about his vast treasure of experiences as a ballplayer in Puerto Rico in the late 1940s with the legendary Negro League and Puerto Rican stars who passed through the famed winter league.

Luis Arroyo (r.) with the author in 2011 / N. Diunte

As I approached Arroyo to gauge his desire to discuss his early baseball career, he seemed a bit surprised and guarded. As we started to talk, I told him I was a friend of his former teammate Cholly Naranjo. After putting them in touch on the phone as we sat there in the lobby, Arroyo relaxed and opened up his tremendous knowledge of baseball’s unheralded superstars. For thirty minutes, he brought up the names of such greats as Willard Brown, Bus Clarkson, Perucho Cepeda, Ruben Gomez, and Satchel Paige. The more he spoke, the more pride he showed sharing his recollections of being amongst these superstars before he hit the major leagues.

Photo of Arroyo with Ponce in Puerto Rico / N. Diunte

One fellow Puerto Rican he made sure to emphasize was Francisco “Pancho” Coimbre. An early standout with Ponce’s team in Liga de Béisbol Profesional de Puerto Rico, as well as in the Negro Leagues with the New York Cubans, Arroyo insisted Coimbre was the finest hitter on the island.

“I could name you the best hitter ever to come out of winter ball — Frank Coimbre,” Arroyo said in 2011. “He didn’t get a chance to play because he was colored. He was the best hitter in Puerto Rico and I could bet you anything that he could hit in the big leagues. He could run, throw, and hit. He was a hell of a ballplayer.”

As our conversation progressed, the then 84-year-old Arroyo said he was tired from the travel and wouldn’t be attending the team’s evening festivities at a local restaurant. He then proceeded to show me his tickets and to my surprise, he offered me the tickets as he didn’t want them to go to waste. I surely couldn’t turn down an opportunity to have a good meal and meet more Yankees alumni.

Old Timers Day Reception Pass / N. Diunte

Before retiring to his room, Arroyo asked me to meet him in the lobby at 9AM the next morning, as he said he would have something good for me. I thanked him for his generosity and assured him I would be there.

David Wells (l.) and the author at Yankees alumni party / N. Diunte

After waking up from an enjoyable evening mingling with the players at a Times Square restaurant, I sat on the train to the hotel with a child-like excitement for my morning encounter with Mr. Arroyo. When I arrived in the hotel lobby, Arroyo was sitting alone reading the newspaper while the slight bustle of the early risers passed him by. After a friendly greeting, we picked up where we left off yesterday’s conversation, as he started running off stories about his time in the National League with St. Louis, Pittsburgh, and Cincinnati. Whether it was colorful anecdotes of seeing Hank Aaron, Orlando Cepeda, Roberto Clemente, and Sandy Koufax toil in Puerto Rico before hitting superstardom in the majors, or playing with Stan Musial and a young Frank Robinson, Arroyo had seen it all — even the time in Havana when he was playing with the Sugar Kings and shortstop Leo Cardenas was shot by wayward gunfire.

Arroyo (l.) with Fidel Castro (r.) in 1959 as a member of the Havana team / N. Diunte

As the early sunlight penetrated the glass doors of the lobby, Arroyo perked up even more, speaking with wonderful candor about his time with the Yankees. Like an assembly line, the vaunted names of the Yankees championship team rolled off his tongue: Berra, Ford, Howard, Mantle, and Maris. For each of them he had his own colorful bit, each told with a laugh and a smile. We finally got down to his stellar 1961 season, when he appeared in 65 games for the Yankees, saving 29 of them en route to a 15-5 record, an All-Star appearance, and a sixth place finish in the American League MVP voting.

“When I had that good year, [finishing] 15-5, and we won the World Series, I used to pitch all year around,” he said. “When I finished the World Series in 1961, the GM Roy Hamey said to stop pitching all year around. I told him that I pitch winter ball because I wasn’t making any money. He took care of me. He gave me $10,000.”

Photo of Arroyo pitching that is outside of the Yankees suites / N. Diunte

Arroyo’s decision to take the money from the Yankees was one that he regretted later in life. Instead of keeping in shape during the time he would have normally been playing winter baseball, he strayed from his training routine; a decision he felt ultimately shortened his career.

“I made a mistake,” he lamented. “When I wasn’t pitching, instead of going to the ballpark and keep running and doing some throwing, I went out with all the friends, drank, and ate, and when I came to spring training, I was 20 pounds overweight; it was the biggest mistake of my life. I don’t blame him, he did me a favor. When I gained all those pounds, I couldn’t throw at all. In 1963, I hurt my arm. … I went to bed and I felt something to my elbow and that was the end of my career. I had an operation. I tried to play winter ball and I couldn’t do it.”

While his arm injury spelled the end of Arroyo’s playing career with the Yankees, he remained with them as a scout for 20 years. He was instrumental in getting them to sign Ricky Ledee, Jorge Posada, and Bernie Williams, the latter for which he told me how he had to work hard on George Steinbrenner to convince him to go after a skinny 16-year-old outfielder from Puerto Rico.

As he prepared to move on with the rest of his day, he called down his grandson Gustavo from his hotel room. As he emerged from the elevator, he was holding an envelope. Arroyo introduced me to his grandson and proceeded to take a ticket and special pass from the envelope. He wanted me to be their guest at Old Timers Day. He said he thought it was something I would enjoy as a baseball fan. He instructed me to meet them at the hotel at 9AM for breakfast the next morning.

2011 Old Timers Day Suite Ticket / N. Diunte

I went home elated with my ticket and called a few friends with the news. I wasn’t sure what was in store for the next day, but I was excited about the opportunity. I met Gustavo for breakfast at the hotel in the morning and watched at the Old Timers left on the first bus to the stadium. We went on the next bus for the players’ guests, which took us directly into the private entrance to the stadium. We were escorted through the inside of the stadium up to a series of specially connected luxury suites.

A small sampling of the decor in the suites / N. Diunte

What an experience watching the ceremonies and the games from the suites. The food was top notch and as you start to mingle with the players families, you realize that the event is not only an annual highlight for the retired players, but also their families who can experience the cheers of their loved ones once again from the sold out crowd.

Arroyo's entrance on the big screen at Yankee Stadium / N. Diunte

In the sweltering heat, the elder alumni, including Arroyo made their way back up to the suites before those who played in the game. He was accompanied by the likes of Don Larsen, Hector Lopez, and Moose Skowron, as well as Hall of Famers Yogi Berra and Whitey Ford. As the aforementioned battery entered the room, they were closely guarded by security and escorted to a private area of the suites. Arroyo managed to get over to the private area to say a few words to both Berra and Ford and emerged with a photo in his hands. He handed it to me and it was signed by both Ford and himself. It was another act of generosity by the former Yankee that deepened my appreciation for his time and effort.

Autographed photo of Ford and Arroyo / N. Diunte

After watching the game and returning to the hotel on the bus sitting next to Skowron, (who was telling jokes all along the way) I met with Arroyo and his grandson and once again thanked them for bringing me behind the curtain for Old Timers Day. They extended the baseball opportunity of a lifetime to a total stranger and for their generosity, I am eternally grateful.

Moose Skowron (r.) with the author in 2011 / N. Diunte

I met with both of them in subsequent years during their return trips to Old Timers Day, last seeing Arroyo in 2013. Despite being limited by weakened knees, he made it his priority to attend.

“Even though I have arthritis in my knees, I can’t miss it.”

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Monte Irvin (1919-2016) - A true gentleman of baseball

To meet Monte Irvin was to become his friend. At least that’s how I felt as a teenager in high school when I first met Mr. Irvin at a Negro League alumni reunion in 1994. Those feelings compelled me to share my encounters with Irvin upon the news of his death at the age of 96 on January 11, 2016.

I first met Irvin at a 1994 reunion in New Jersey. It caught me off guard to see Irvin choose to sign autographs in a side room with the thirty lesser known players, instead of the main room where Hall of Famers Buck Leonard and Willie Mays were signing. Irvin’s table had little fanfare compared to his Cooperstown counterparts. Despite the ability to affix “HOF 73” next to his name, Irvin relished blending in with everyone else, a theme that repeated during our future encounters.

Milling around the room talking to each player about their careers, I spotted Irvin by himself with nobody waiting at his table. Growing up my uncle told me stories of Irvin’s tremendous abilities as a member of the New York Giants from his view at the Polo Grounds. Eager to start a conversation with him, I showed him a photo from a Hall of Fame yearbook I had recently purchased on a school trip to Cooperstown. He quickly asked me if I wanted him to sign it, and when I informed him I had spent all of my money already at the show, he told me not to worry about it and put his autograph right on the page. I thanked him profusely; he smiled and posed for a photo.

Monte Irvin circa 1994 / N. Diunte

I went back the next year armed with money I earned from digging out cars and driveways from shoveling. This time, I made sure I paid for Mr. Irvin’s signature. I told him of the story from last year and he kindly thanked me for coming and supporting what was going on.

Monte Irvin with the author / N. Diunte

As the end of high school approached, I shifted my focus from researching and collecting artifacts on the Negro Leagues to pursuing an opportunity to play baseball in college. I put keeping up with Monte and his aging counterparts on hold to walk a little bit in their shoes, as I explored how far I could advance my skills on the diamond.

It wasn’t until well after my college playing days were done that I renewed my interest in baseball’s forgotten league. Surprisingly, Irvin outlasted most of his contemporaries, and I looked for an opportunity to meet him again, hopefully to capture one final firsthand account of the Negro Leagues from arguably its last living superstar.

My chance came in 2007 when my friend Lauren Meyer, who was working on a Negro League documentary, had been hired by the New Jersey Historical Society to film an all day tribute to Irvin and three of his former Newark Eagles teammates in Newark, New Jersey. I accompanied her to the ceremonies, and despite his limited mobility, Irvin was bustling at 9AM with a youthful energy that hid his 88 years of age.

Irvin (third from left) with fellow Newark Eagles teammates / N. Diunte

Seemingly everywhere Irvin turned that day, there was a camera taking photos, a reporter asking for an interview, or a fan handing him an item to sign. Every time, his answer was, “yes.” He even eschewed his daughter’s request to eat more during a meeting at the Historical Society, as he felt it was more important to finish the story he was telling an eager baseball fan. He gave this type of attention to just about everyone he met that day; his genuine persona becoming more apparent as I shadowed him at each event. I hoped to catch a mere fraction of the jewels he dropped along the way.

A year later, while interviewing Ernie Harwell, he eagerly recommended I give Irvin a call to help with my research. The late Tigers broadcaster went out of his way to mention his warm persona.

“Monte Irvin would be a great source,” Harwell said during our conversation in 2008. “[He's] very personable, a very intelligent guy; I'm very fond of him.”

I called Irvin shortly after speaking with Harwell, and after telling him of Harwell's recommendation, we spoke for thirty minutes. Irvin shared stories about many of the legends he played with and against in the Negro Leagues, beaming with positivity throughout the entire call. He encouraged for me to send him some correspondence, which I did, but what followed after further illustrated his tremendous character.

A popular figure with baseball fans and autograph collectors, Irvin frequently received mail requesting his signature. He asked those who wrote to him to send a donation to his alma mater, Lincoln University, in exchange for his autograph. Over the years, Irvin raised tens if not, hundreds of thousands of dollars to support the HBCU. In our correspondence through the mail, I donated to Irvin’s cause to have some of my own items signed. When my envelope came back a few weeks later, only one of the items were returned, with my harder to find personal photos missing. I called Irvin to ask if he remembered seeing them, as they were pretty unique. He told me he gets a substantial amount of mail, but he would look to see if he misplaced them.

A few weeks later, I returned home to find a large envelope in my mailbox addressed in Irvin’s handwriting. I open the envelope not only to find my missing items, but a note apologizing for misplacing them, as well as a dozen additional signed photos! I called to thank him again, and he said he felt it was the least he could do for making me wait to get my things back.

A sampling of the items Irvin sent / N. Diunte

Irvin was a Hall of Famer, but he didn’t expect special treatment because he had a plaque in Cooperstown. His treatment of others was duly noted not only by baseball fans, but by his contemporaries as well. While Jackie Robinson was immortalized for breaking the color barrier; however, Irvin will be remembered for his status as a gentleman ambassador of baseball during his 96 years on earth. Former Brooklyn Dodgers pitcher Jean Pierre Roy precisely captured how many of his peers viewed Irvin.

“I adored this guy as a ballplayer and a human being,” Roy said during a 2011 interview. “When I started talking with Monte, I could tell he was of the right vein; you could tell why he could communicate so well with the people in general.”

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Vern Rapp | Former St. Louis Cardinals and Cincinnati Reds manager dies at 87

Vern Rapp, former major league manager with the St. Louis Cardinals and Cincinnati Reds, passed away Thursday December 31, 2015 in Colorado. He was 87.

Rapp, who spent parts of two seasons at the helm of the Cardinals (1977-78) and the Reds (1984), started out as a catcher in the Cardinals minor league system in 1946. After surviving a beaning during his second season, Rapp found himself starting in the playoffs for the Cardinals AAA team in Columbus in 1948 just one step away from the big leagues.

“We had a pitcher by the name of Clarence Beers,” Rapp recalled in 2008. “He could throw all kinds of pitches; he threw knuckleballs, everything. I’ll never forget in the playoffs, we had an old-time umpire by the name of Moore. Clarence threw a knuckle ball to the right and I just stuck out my bare hand and caught it. He said, ‘Well, that’s the first time I ever seen that done.’ I said, ‘Well, it’s done!’”

Vern Rapp 1978 Topps Card / Topps

The promising start for the young catcher was derailed like many others of his era by Uncle Sam. In 1950, Rapp was drafted into the United States Army. He lost two years of his career to his military service, something that he couldn’t recover from.

“I was in the service for two years,” he said in 2008. “They either remember you or forget you. I went in 1950 into the Korean War. Someone else comes along and they forget about you. I had a good chance. You make your own way. The game got different. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. I stayed in the minor leagues until I was 32 and then I went into managing. Those two years, you lose a lot of things. Even though I didn’t go over [seas], I was lucky.”

He played at the AAA level until 1960, but spent most of his remaining time in the minors as a player-manager starting in 1955 with Charleston. At only 27 years old, Rapp was offered the job halfway through the season to replace Danny Murtagh. He quickly asserted himself as the manager, ruffling the feathers of many of the veterans, including the 39-year-old legendary slugger Luke Easter.

“We were in Minneapolis one night and Monte Irvin was with Minneapolis,” he said. “Back in those days, you didn’t talk to the other team before the game, it was always a war.

“We got in to this game in the old Nicollet Park. We had it won about 10-4 and they came back and beat us. I was a tough loser. I blew up in the clubhouse and Luke had a contract with Danny if he hit 30 home runs, he got bonus money. We got into an argument. I was talking about all the fraternization, I don’t buy that. If you are going to be a winner, you think about winning, you can’t be buddy buddy [with the opposition]. You can be buddies off the field, but not when the gates opened. I wasn’t against either one of them, but Luke got all upset. … I said, ‘If you don’t like what I’m doing, I can take care of that real easy.’ He said, ‘I don’t like it.’ So I said to the trainer, ‘Get him a ticket back home, you’re suspended for insubordination.’ He was off the team for three days and we got back to Charleston and the GM said you’ve gotta straighten it out with him. … At the end of the season, they were going to choose the MVP; the writer was going to choose Woody Smith. I said, ‘You can’t do that, this guy hit 30 homers and drove in over 100 runs. If you’re gonna have a MVP on the last place team, you’ve gotta put Luke’s name.’ He did. Luke put his arm around me and said, ‘You might have been mad, [but] you the man.’”

Rapp managed in the minors until through the end of the 1976, even getting a base hit at the age of 48 during that season with Montreal’s Denver farm club. During our interview in 2008, he recalled how and why he put himself in the lineup that day.

“We had a kid that was going to play every position so I started out as a catcher to save a spot in the lineup,” he said. “Hank Edwards was managing the other club and he kind of set me up with a good pitch and I hit a line shot up the middle. I threw a guy out that game. I stayed in shape; I threw batting practice two hours every day.”

In 1977, he replaced the easy going Red Schoendienst as manger of the St. Louis Cardinals. Tactics he used in the minor leagues to his players' actions didn’t fare well for him at the major league level. Enforcing strict rules about how the players dressed and forcing players like Al Hrabosky to remove his trademark mustache caused tremendous dissent among the ranks. Shortly after a public spat with catcher Ted Simmons where Rapp referred to him as a “loser,” General Manager Bing Devine fired Rapp after 17 games into his second season.

“The climax could have been averted, but it did appear more or less inevitable,” Devine said in a 1978 Associated Press article. “Frankly, it was a problem, a continuing problem. When it became apparent, we decided, ‘Why wait for something you can’t solve any other way?’”

Rapp quickly got back on his feet, joining the Montreal Expos as a coach from 1979-1983. Just as he was going to retire, the Cincinnati Reds hired him as their manager to start the 1984 season. One of his prized pupils was John Franco, who currently holds the major league record for saves by a left-handed pitcher. Rapp helped encourage Franco’s transition from a starter to a reliever during his rookie season.

“I made him into a relief pitcher,” Rapp said. “I asked [Roy] Hartsfield, how come he couldn’t go past five innings. He said, ‘He’s great a pitcher for five innings.’ I got information. When I saw him in the spring, I could understand. His stature, he wasn’t a big man. He was short and about 170 lbs. I pulled him aside, ‘How about giving it a whack as a short reliever?’ Well, he became a great short reliever. He knew how to pitch inside and wasn’t afraid to.”

His work with Franco was one of his few highlights of his time with the Reds. After posting 50-71 record in which he used 101 different lineups, Pete Rose replaced him in August. Rose was acquired from the Expos as a player-manager. It spelled the end of Rapp’s managerial career. He finished with a 140-160 record in parts of three seasons in the majors.

Despite his reputation as a strict manager, Rapp felt a tremendous obligation towards the fans. Well into his retirement he continued to receive autograph requests sent to his home and he proudly fulfilled every one of them.

“I was taught in the old school that you take care of the fans first,” he said.

Some sixty years later, Rapp continued to look at the game through the his managerial lens. He noted how the minor league system has experienced an upheaval in almost every regard possible.

“When I was managing in the minor leagues it was just me,” he said. “Now they have five coaches and they still can’t do it. In those days, you only had nine pitchers. What are you going to do? You can’t take them out every day. Back then, you had a four man staff. Once they gave money to the pitchers, that’s when it changed. We’ve got $2 million in this guy, what are you going to do, wreck his arm? Then there was the development thing; that’s when it changed. They were making decisions on guys 20 innings. How can you judge on 20 innings? In my day, they’d play two-to-three years and pitch over 100 innings to find out if he’s going to be a prospect.”

The million dollar salaries that Rapp felt were affecting player development were a far cry from the peanuts he made at the lowest level of minor league baseball in 1946. The struggles he had to make a dollar stretch during those years ultimately fostered a deeper love for a game that gave back to him for almost the next 40 years.

“I got $150 per month if you were lucky,” he recalled. “We used to get $1 per day in meal money. We used to go to Walgreens for $.35 for breakfast. That was about the only place you could go on the road.

“When I was in Marion, because I wasn’t old enough, a guy from the bar invited me into the kitchen. He gave me a big platter of spaghetti. I’d eat my garlic bread and spaghetti and he’d charge me $.50. You were always looking for ways to get through because you had no money. They had signs in left field and they would give you $5 if you hit it over the sign, and they [home runs] always seemed to come before payday. I had about 15 home runs, five over the signs. I’d go and take guys for breakfast. That was the love of the game. We didn’t even have showers at the ballpark so we’d go back to my home; I was about 10 blocks from the park. We’d used to just do anything to play the game.”

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Frank Malzone, six-time Boston Red Sox All-Star dies at 85

Frank Malzone, the legendary Boston Red Sox third baseman from the 1950s and 1960s, passed away Tuesday morning at the age of 85 according to an announcement Tuesday on Twitter by Red Sox broadcaster Jerry Remy. This was also confirmed via e-mail from his grandson, John Malzone.

My sincere condolences to the Malzone family. Frank was a staple in the RedSox family and great guy. Jerry

— Jerry Remy (RemDawg) (@Jerry_Remy) December 29, 2015

The Bronx, New York native was a 1947 graduate of Samuel Gompers High School. After playing for their varsity during his last two years at the school, he was spotted by the longtime scout, Cy Phillips.

"I never gave a thought to professional baseball until this bird dog scout, Cy Phillips, recommended me to the Red Sox," Malzone told author Chaz Scoggins in the book, "Game of My Life Boston Red Sox: Memorable Stories of Red Sox Baseball."

"He asked me if I would be interested in playing pro ball, and I said: 'Yes, why not? I'd love to.' You should have seen the expression on my dad's face when the Red Sox offered me $150 a month. He didn't know you could get paid for playing baseball."

Frank Malzone - 1959 / Leslie Jones Collection

After playing four seasons in their minor league system, he served two years in the Korean War that caused him to miss the 1952 and 1953 seasons. Upon his return, the Red Sox jumped him to their top farm club at Triple-A in Louisville, Kentucky. His .310 average in 1955 with Louisville impressed the Red Sox enough to give him his first taste of the majors, calling him up for 20 at-bats at the end of the season.

By 1957, he cemented his position at their third baseman, finishing second to Tony Kubek in the 1957 American League Rookie of the Year Voting. He played virtually every game at the hot corner for the next nine seasons, and by the time he finished his tenure with the Red Sox in 1965, he earned six All-Star selections and three Gold Gloves. He capped his big league career by playing one more season with the California Angels in 1966.

Malzone spent 35 years scouting for the Red Sox and continued to work with them after he retired from scouting in player development. He lived in Needham, Massachusetts, just outside of Boston and made frequent public appearances on behalf of the club. Despite playing in an era where the Red Sox never made the playoffs, Malzone cherished his entire professional career.

"The whole 11 years I was in the big leagues, I enjoyed every minute of it," he told Scoggins. "I wish I had got a chance to play in the postseason. I guess I was 10 years too early, because I would have gotten to play in two World Series: '67 and '75."

Malzone was a six-time All-Star and three-time Gold Glove winner during his 11-year career with the Red Sox from 1955-1965. He finished his last season in the majors with the California Angels in 1966. He finished his career with a .274 batting average, hitting 133 home runs and driving in 728 runs. Upon the completion of his playing career, he spent over 35 years as a scout for the Red Sox.

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Evelio Hernandez, former Washington Senator pitcher passes away at 84

Evelio Hernandez, a Cuban-born pitcher for the Washington Senators in the 1950s, passed away Friday December 18, 2015 at his home in Miami, Florida, just days shy of his 85th birthday. The reporting of his death was confirmed by former Almendares teammate Cholly Naranjo.

Born December 24, 1930 in Guanabacoa, Cuba, the right-handed pitcher was signed into the Washington Senators organization in 1954 by the legendary scout Joe Cambria. It was during that winter that Hernandez had his first taste of winter ball, pitching two games for Almendares en route to a Cuban League Championship.

Evelio Hernandez

Hernandez used the lesson he learned from the veterans during the 1954-55 winter ball season to amass 23 victories in 1955 for Washington’s Class C team in Hobbs, New Mexico. This earned him a promotion to Class A Charlotte in 1956. His domination on the mound continued, and after going 18-4, the Senators called him up in September. He pitched four games, earning his first major league win with a complete game 7-1 victory over the Baltimore Orioles on September 29, 1956.

He returned to the Senators in 1957 in a more prominent role as he made the club out of spring training. He pitched in 14 games without a decision before being sent to the minors in June. While he would pitch professionally until 1967, he never returned to the major leagues. He finished his career in Washington with a 1-1 record and a 4.45 ERA in 18 games.

Hernandez found success in the Mexican League, pitching for Monterrey from 1959-1967. On August 10, 1966, he threw what was at the time only the 11th no-hitter in the league’s history, blanking Puebla 2-0. It was a banner season for Hernandez, who pitched in 40 games that season, starting 31 and completing 15.

After his baseball career was over, Hernandez passed on his tremendous knowledge and experience to the youth of Miami, serving as a high school baseball coach for over 20 years. As the head coach at Loyola Miami, he led the baseball team to five Class A state championships during his tenure.

* -Ed. Note - The date of his passing has been corrected to Friday December 18, 2015. Also, his birth year has been reported in his funeral home obituary as 1930, instead of the 1931 as listed in the MLB database.

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Cal Neeman, played seven season in the majors, came up with Mantle in Yankees system

Cal Neeman, a former major league catcher with five different teams in the 1950s and 1960s, passed away Thursday at his home in Lake Saint Louis, Missouri. He was 86.

Signed by the New York Yankees in 1949 out of Illinois Wesleyan University, where he also competed in basketball, Neeman was assigned to their Class C farm team in Joplin. During his second season in Joplin, he was joined by an erratic, but powerful shortstop in Mickey Mantle.

Cal Neeman / Author's Collection

Speaking with Neeman in 2011 in the wake of the tornado that wreaked havoc on the place of his debut, Neeman recalled a more positive image amidst the devastation the town was facing.

“I had all positive memories about Joplin,” he said via telephone in 2011. “It was the first place I played professional baseball. The whole atmosphere there was really good. People liked the ballplayers. We stayed in people’s homes; they would rent a room for $5 per week. Fourth and Main (where the stadium was located) was really close to where that tornado went through, just a tad north up.”

Neeman felt at home in the Yankee organization, primarily due to his Joplin managers Johnny Sturm and Harry Craft. Both had tremendous major league experience, which helped to shape his young career.

“My first manager was Johnny Sturm the Yankee first baseman,” he recalled. “He was just a good manager and I respected him a lot. My second year, Harry Craft was our manager, so I got to play for two good people.”

In 1950, Neeman was joined in Joplin by a young shortstop named Mickey Mantle. His abilities were evident, but he was a far cry from the legend that most know today.

“Everybody knew he had a lot of talent,” he said, “there’s no doubt about that. He did some fabulous things, but he also made some errors too.”

Mantle was so erratic at shortstop that fans were hesitant to sit behind the first base seats for fear of his wild throws. His defensive shortcomings were overshadowed by his trademark speed and power.

“Mantle was just a fun-loving kid that loved baseball,” he said. “He lived for playing ball. We had a fence in center field that was about 420. The first year I was there, no one hit it over the fence during the game. One night in Joplin, Mickey hit one over it left-handed and one over it right-handed. Of course, he could run. People found out about him being able to run like he did and they would usually have races before the away games. They would bring out the other team’s fastest runner and they’d run and win five dollars. Mickey would win every time; he would just run off and leave everybody. The Yankees then sent off a directive that there would be no more races before games.”

Neeman had little time to relish his experiences with Mantle, or the Yankees for that matter. Just as the 1950 season ended, he was drafted into the Korean War, serving two of his prime years in the military.

“After 1950 I went in the Korean War,” he said. “The bad part was I went to Korea itself [for] most of 1952, so there wasn’t any baseball or anything over there.”

The time he spent away from the game while in Korea hampered his return with the Yankees in 1953; however, as with his earlier managers in Joplin, he found a supporter in his manager with Binghamton during his first year back.

“I had a tough time, not physical shape, but to be able to throw, hit, and catch,” he said. “We had a manager Phil Page who stuck with me no matter what.”

Stuck behind Yogi Berra who recently passed away, Neeman was amongst almost a dozen Yankee catching prospects whose paths were blocked to the major leagues. Just as he was about to give up hope on making the big leagues, the Chicago Cubs drafted Neeman from the Yankees at the end of the 1956 season.

“I was ready to look for a job,” he said. “I didn’t think I could stay in baseball any longer. I was married and by that time, I was thinking that I didn’t have enough money to survive on. I was very fortunate and I got to play for a really fine man and manager, Bob Scheffing in Chicago.”

Neeman played in 376 games during his seven seasons with the Cubs, Philadelphia Phillies, Pittsburgh Pirates, Cleveland Indians, and Washington Senators. He had a .224 career lifetime average with 30 home runs and 97 RBIs, serving primarily as a backup catcher.

After the completion of his professional baseball career, he went back to school to become a teacher and a coach. He later ran a school supplies business before retiring in Lake Saint Louis.

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