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At Tigers spring training in 1971, Joe Coleman had the look of a pitcher whose career was on the upswing. Traded by the Senators, Coleman was with a contender for the first time. At 24, the right-hander with a potent fastball and forkball seemed on the cusp of becoming an ace.

Then, a Ted Simmons line drive nearly shattered Coleman’s outlook. Simmons’ scorcher struck Coleman above the right ear, fracturing his skull.

Hardheaded, in more ways than one, Coleman insisted on pitching again as quickly as possible. He returned to the starting rotation in mid-April and won 20 games for the 1971 Tigers.

Nearly 20 years later, in 1990, Coleman and Simmons were part of the same management team. Simmons was the Cardinals’ director of player development and Coleman became the club’s pitching coach.

Part of a three-generation family of big-league pitchers, Joseph Howard Coleman had a 142-135 record in 15 seasons (1965-79) with the Senators, Tigers, Cubs, Athletics, Blue Jays, Giants and Pirates before becoming a coach for the Angels and then the Cardinals.

His father, Joseph Patrick Coleman, was 52-76 in 10 seasons (1942, 1946-51, 1953-55) with the Athletics, Orioles and Tigers.

Joseph Casey Coleman, son of Joseph Howard and grandson of Joseph Patrick, was 8-13 in four seasons (2010-12 and 2014) with the Cubs and Royals.

Teen dream

The first of the Coleman pitchers, Joseph Patrick, attended Malden (Massachusetts) Catholic High School near Boston in the late 1930s. The principal, Brother Gilbert, was a friend of Babe Ruth. During a visit to the school, Ruth took Coleman into a hallway and used an eraser as a ball to show the teen pitcher how to throw a curve, according to Russ White of the Washington Daily News.

When Coleman’s son, Joseph Howard, attended Natick (Massachusetts) High School in the early 1960s, he became a prized pitcher because of his fastball. He spent summers at the Ted Williams boys camp. “Ted taught me more about hitting than anything,” Coleman recalled to the Washington Daily News. “He always wanted to make me a switch-hitter.”

Coleman didn’t become much of a hitter, but his pitching was a different story. In three varsity high school seasons, he was 21-4 and achieved three no-hitters, according to the Boston Globe.

On the recommendation of farm director Hal Keller, the Senators chose Coleman, 18, with the third overall pick in the first round of the June 1965 amateur draft.

To convince Coleman to sign with the Senators instead of opting for college, general manager George Selkirk offered him $75,000 and promised the teen a start in a big-league game that year, the Washington Daily News reported.

Sent to a farm club in Burlington, N.C., Coleman didn’t seem ready for the minors, posting a 2-10 record, let alone the big leagues, but Selkirk delivered on his promise. Called up to the Senators in September 1965, Coleman, 18, was matched against Catfish Hunter, 19, in a start against the Athletics at Washington.

“He’s the youngest looking 18-year-old I’ve ever seen,” Senators manager Gil Hodges told the Washington Daily News. “I doubt if he even shaves yet.”

Among the fewer than 2,000 spectators at the twi-night doubleheader opener were Coleman’s parents. “His father sat in the presidential box, nonchalantly blowing cigar smoke straight up into the sky,” the Washington Daily News noted.

“Old Joe’s as nervous as the kid,” George Selkirk told the newspaper. “Those are his butterflies blowing that smoke out.”

While his father blew smoke, young Joe threw it. Three months after graduating high school, he pitched a four-hitter for a 6-1 victory in his big-league debut. Of Coleman’s 136 pitches, 100 were fastballs.

“I was shaking when I went to the mound,” Coleman told the Boston Globe. “I was still shaking nine innings later. I never did calm down.” Boxscore

The Senators gave him another start, in the last game of the season, and Coleman responded with a five-hitter in a 3-2 win against the Tigers. Boxscore

Good, bad, ugly

Sent back to the minors in 1966, Coleman didn’t impress (7-19), but the Senators wanted to take a look at him in September. Given one start, in the final game of the season, Coleman pitched a six-hitter and beat the Red Sox before a gathering of 485 at Washington. Boxscore

Not even 20, Coleman had made three big-league starts and all three were complete-game wins.

A good pitcher on bad teams, Coleman won eight for the Senators in 1967 and 12 in 1968, the year he developed a forkball to compensate for his inability to throw an effective curve. (Maybe he should have tried learning with an eraser.)

In 1969, Coleman’s former summer camp instructor, Ted Williams, was Senators manager. Coleman again had 12 wins that year, but Williams was of the opinion Coleman would win more if he threw a slider. That led to a rift during the 1970 season. “He wanted me to throw the slider and I tried like a son of a gun to do it,” Coleman told the Detroit Free Press. “I hurt my arm doing it and he thought I was faking it. I didn’t appreciate that and we had a go-round about it.”

Coleman also said to the newspaper, “He wanted me to throw slider, slider and then spot my fastball … I couldn’t pitch that way.”

Coleman’s win total for 1970 fell to eight. At one point, Williams banished him to the bullpen and fined the pitcher for chewing gum on the mound.

The Tigers, who coveted Coleman (his career record against Detroit at that point was 8-0), took advantage of the turmoil in Washington, engineering a trade lopsided in their favor. On Oct. 9, 1970, the Tigers swapped Denny McLain, Elliott Maddox, Norm McRae and Don Wert for Coleman, Ed Brinkman, Aurelio Rodriguez and Jim Hannan.

Looking back on his Senators stint, Coleman told Jim Hawkins of the Detroit Free Press that some of the players “should have been out digging ditches” instead of playing and “we just didn’t have enough professionals on that club.” As for Ted Williams, Coleman said, “I just don’t think we played together as a team as much as we should have … That was Ted’s fault more than anyone else’s.”

True grit

On March 27, 1971, in a spring training game at St. Petersburg, Fla., the Cardinals’ Ted Simmons batted in the fourth inning against Coleman and lined the ball so hard that the pitcher couldn’t get out of the way. “I never saw the ball coming,” Coleman recalled to The Sporting News.

After being struck, Coleman toppled forward and landed with a thud. “It was a sickening sound,” Tigers catcher Bill Freehan told The Sporting News.

Coleman was carried off on a stretcher and sent to a hospital. Neurosurgeons said he had a linear fracture. “Four weeks and several headaches later,” Coleman was restored to the Tigers’ active roster, Curt Sylvester of the Free Press reported.

“I still have headaches, but the doctors say I’ll probably continue to have them until the fracture is completely healed,” Coleman told the newspaper. “The doctors told me that it would be a million-to-one that I’d get hit there again.”

On May 16, 1971, Coleman started against the Senators for the first time since the trade. Taking the mound, he “blatantly mocked his former manager (Ted Williams) by chewing a wad of bubble gum,” George Solomon of the Washington Daily News reported.

Coleman pitched a complete game for the win _ never once throwing a slider _ and the .106 career hitter also contributed two hits and a walk. Boxscore

Coleman went on to pitch 286 innings for the 1971 Tigers. He pitched 16 complete games and was 20-9 (including 3-0 versus the Senators).

On March 27, 1972, exactly one year after he suffered the skull fracture, Coleman was on the mound facing Ted Simmons and the Cardinals again at St. Petersburg. He pitched seven scoreless innings, overcoming any lingering psychological hurdle from the year before.

From 1971-73 with the Tigers, Coleman posted marks of 20-9, 19-14 and 23-15. For eight straight seasons (1968-75), he pitched more than 200 innings each year.

In his lone career playoff appearance, Game 3 of the 1972 American League Championship Series versus the Athletics, Coleman pitched a shutout and struck out 14. “I don’t think I have had a better forkball than I had today,” Coleman said to the Free Press. Boxscore and Video

Taking charge

After his playing days, Coleman coached and managed in the farm systems of the Mariners (1980-81) and Angels (1982-87). When Angels bullpen coach Bob Clear had back problems in 1987, Coleman filled in for him. After Clear retired, Coleman replaced him and was Angels bullpen coach from 1988-90.

Joe Torre was an Angels broadcaster during that time and he and Coleman became pals. “We got to know each other playing golf,” Torre told Dan O’Neill of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. “We’d talk about last night’s game.”

Torre became Cardinals manager in August 1990. Two months later, he hired Coleman to be the St. Louis pitching coach. “I like the relationship he had with his pitchers and his day-to-day instruction,” Torre told the Post-Dispatch. “… Joe is very good with young pitchers.”

At his first Cardinals spring training in 1991, Coleman had pitchers work on ways to keep batters from getting comfortable at the plate. “I pitched aggressively and I coach aggressively,” Coleman told the Post-Dispatch. “… I feel aggressiveness is on a downward trend in pitching … When (my father) pitched, if someone hit a home run off you, the next guy up was diving … It’s become one-sided the other way … I just want these (pitchers) to feel that part of the plate is theirs.”

As columnist Bernie Miklasz noted, Coleman became “the busiest amateur psychologist in town” during the 1991 season. “He has elevated an average pitching staff, reaching their arms by getting inside their heads.”

Cardinals pitchers in 1991 gave up 648 runs, 50 fewer than the year before. The improvement continued in 1992, when the total number of runs they allowed dropped to 604. “Coleman coaxed dozens of good outings from youngsters Rheal Cormier, Donovan Osborne and Mark Clark after they were rushed into the rotation,” Jeff Gordon of the Post-Dispatch wrote in October 1992.

Ups and downs

The pitching staff in 1993, however, unraveled like an overused batting practice ball. Cardinals pitchers gave up 744 runs, 140 more than the year before. “At the start of the (1994) year, I told Coleman the pitching had to improve and that both our butts were on the line for that,” Joe Torre recalled to the Post-Dispatch.

Under pressure, Coleman took to ranting at pitchers. When that didn’t work, he gave them a three-page letter. “Some basic premises of the letter were for the pitchers to be more aggressive, as in pitching inside; to be team-oriented; and to not feel sorry for themselves,” Rick Hummel of the Post-Dispatch reported.

Nothing worked. Among National League teams, only the Rockies (638) gave up more runs than the Cardinals (621) in strike-shortened 1994.

In a plea for his job, Coleman wrote a letter to club president Mark Lamping: “I learned more about myself (as a coach) this year and what I’m capable of doing than I ever have. I got to the point where I tried to do some things that I can’t do. I tried to restructure people mechanically at the major-league level. You can’t do that … I was looking for a quick fix, and the quick fix wasn’t there. Unfortunately, I didn’t find that out until July. At the beginning of the year, I was coaching to keep my job.”

Under orders from Lamping, Torre fired Coleman. “I still feel Joe Coleman did a good job, but, sometimes, nobody listens to you,” Torre told the Post-Dispatch.

Coleman returned to the Angels and became a special assignment scout. When the Angels fired pitching coach Chuck Hernandez in August 1996, Coleman replaced him. He then remained on the Angels’ big-league staff as a bullpen coach from 1997 to 1999.

From 2000 to 2014, Coleman coached in the farm systems of the Rays, Tigers and Marlins. He spent 50 consecutive years (1965-2014) in pro baseball. Coleman was 78 when he died on July 9, 2025.

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Ted Simmons was feeling groovy during the summer of 1975. Long mane flowing, he swung free and easy from both sides of the plate, hitting for high average, driving in runs and making consistent contact.

Big-league baseball, though, wasn’t hip to the grooves Simmons made in his bats, even though the Cardinals catcher claimed the alterations were done to preserve the lumber, not enhance his hitting.

Simmons paid a price for not knowing the rules. Umpires nullified a home run he hit against the Padres, deeming he used an illegal bat.

Hot hitter

After hitting .271 over the first two months of the 1975 season, Simmons surged. He hit .370 for the month of June and did even better in July. When the Cardinals went to San Diego for a series against the Padres after the all-star break, Simmons was hitting .326 for the season, with a .400 on-base percentage and .511 slugging mark.

“Ted is just about a batting title away from being recognized as the best hitter in the league,” Cardinals pitcher John Curtis told the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. “He has received not nearly the recognition he deserves, and maybe a batting (title) is what will take care of that.”

During the first game of a Sunday doubleheader at San Diego, when Simmons contributed three hits, a walk and a RBI in the Cardinals’ 3-1 victory, Padres manager John McNamara noticed cuts in some of the baseballs. After Simmons flied out to end the third inning, the ball was brought to the Padres’ dugout. “We could see the lined scraped marks on the ball and we knew they had to have been made by something on the bat,” McNamara later told the Associated Press. Boxscore

That year, big-league baseball introduced a rule banning alteration of the hitting surface of the bat from the tip to within 18 inches of the handle bottom, according to the Associated Press.

Because he wasn’t certain Simmons had broken the rule, McNamara opted not to do anything during Game 1 of the doubleheader. Simmons sat out Game 2.

Bad bat

The next night, July 21, Simmons was back in the lineup at the cleanup spot, and McNamara was on alert. “I told the catcher (Bob Davis) to check out Simmons’ bat when he comes to the plate and see if it’s grooved,” McNamara said to the Associated Press.

In Simmons’ first plate appearance, he drew a walk. Davis informed McNamara the bat was grooved.

When Simmons batted again, leading off the fourth, he clouted a home run to left against Brent Strom. As Simmons rounded the bases, McNamara asked plate umpire Art Williams to check the bat for grooves. Williams did, determined the bat was modified against the rules and called Simmons out as he crossed the plate, nullifying the home run.

Umpire crew chief Ed Vargo confiscated the bat. “The rules say a bat can’t be tampered with 18 inches above the handle,” Vargo said to the Associated Press. “This one has grooves cut in it. It is clearly illegal.”

Noting he made no attempt to hide the bat, Simmons told the Post-Dispatch, “I was not aware of the new rule against grooving. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have grooved the bat.”

According to the Associated Press, Simmons said he used a knife to put grooves in the bat so that it wouldn’t fray. “What I did is actually what players have been doing for the past 50 or 60 years,” he said.

Simmons explained to the Post-Dispatch, “Grooving the bat doesn’t do anything to make the ball go farther or powerize it. The idea is to keep the bats from fraying. When the bats fray, you just throw them away (because) they’re no good anymore. Grooving protects the grains that are farthest from the center from breaking because of the vibration of the contact. Grooving just saves bats.”

Regarding McNamara’s decision to challenge the use of the bat after the home run, Simmons said the Padres manager “deserves credit for doing his homework,” the Post-Dispatch reported.

A notch above

After the ruling, Simmons took heat from the San Diego spectators. As he put it to the Post-Dispatch, “Unfortunately, the fans got uptight and I had to put up with the freaking.”

Swinging a smooth stick in his next plate appearance, Simmons smacked a double, silencing the detractors. His work behind the plate was impressive, too. Making his major-league debut, Harry Rasmussen (who later changed his name to Eric) followed the guidance of his catcher and pitched a shutout for the Cardinals. Boxscore

Though he stopped grooving his bats, Simmons didn’t stop hitting. The lumber may have frayed like shredded wheat from all the hard contact he made. For the month of July, Simmons hit .417 with an on-base percentage of .500 (43 hits and 17 walks in 120 plate appearances).

He hit .313 for August and .324 for September, finishing with a season batting mark of .332. Only Bill Madlock of the Cubs had a higher batting average (.354) in the league that season.

Simmons totaled 193 hits, 100 RBI and fanned a mere 35 times in 581 at-bats. He did that while catching more games (154) than anyone else in the league.

Three weeks after the incident in San Diego, Simmons lent one of his bats to Doug Rader during a Cardinals series at Houston. The Astros third baseman used it to belt a three-run homer against Al Hrabosky, but Simmons countered with a two-run shot and the Cardinals won, 5-4. Boxscore

Asked about Rader homering with a Simmons bat, the Cardinals catcher quipped to the Post-Dispatch, “Rader has done me enough favors by mishandling some of my bouncers to his backhand.”

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Yogi Berra wasn’t kidding when he said, “It ain’t over till it’s over.”

Berra’s playing days certainly appeared to be over in October 1963 when he became manager of the Yankees. “I’ll have enough trouble managing,” he said to the Associated Press in explaining why he was done playing.

More than a year later, though, the St. Louisan was behind the plate, catching for the 1965 Mets in a spring training game against the Cardinals.

Five months earlier, as Yankees manager, Berra’s club lost to the Cardinals in the 1964 World Series. Afterward, Berra was fired and replaced by the Cardinals’ manager, Johnny Keane. The Mets hired Berra to be a player-coach on the staff of the manager he played for the most as a Yankee, Casey Stengel.

Never say never

Berra appeared in a World Series in 14 of 18 seasons as a Yankees player. A three-time recipient of the American League Most Valuable Player Award, he totaled 2,148 hits and 1,430 RBI with the Yankees.

After the 1963 World Series, Yankees manager Ralph Houk was moved to the front office and Berra replaced him, getting a one-year contract for $35,000, a $5,000 cut from his salary as a player. Asked to describe his feelings about the job, Berra told the New York Daily News, “I just hope I can stay in the same shoes as Houk did.” Asked what he’d learned from those who managed him, Berra said, “You can observe a lot just by watching.”

Though the 1964 Yankees won the American League pennant with the best record (99-63) in the majors and reached Game 7 of the World Series, Berra was fired. As the Daily News noted, “It is generally believed the Yankees brass felt Berra had lost disciplinary control of the ballplayers.”

The Yankees offered him a contract to remain as a consultant. Berra accepted, but got them to include an escape clause. A month later, in November 1964, he jumped to the Mets. In addition to coaching, Berra would be added to the playing roster as a catcher and pinch-hitter if he performed well enough at spring training.

Old-timers’ days

On the first day of spring training for the 1965 Mets at St. Petersburg, Fla., observers had flashbacks to another era. Berra took cuts in the batting cage. Pitcher-coach Warren Spahn, the former Braves ace, instructed prospects on the mound. Four-time 1936 Olympic gold medalist Jesse Owens, listed as Mets track coach, led players in conditioning exercises. Former Cardinals manager Eddie Stanky, director of player development, was in uniform, directing infield drills.

As Joseph Durso of the New York Times noted, “The Mets opened their spring training circus while manager Casey Stengel (approaching 75) stood like a ringmaster behind home plate bellowing, ‘Yes, sir, come see the amazing Mets.’ ”

Berra was the main attraction, drawing cheers from onlookers when he put on a catcher’s mitt to warm up a teenage pitcher and then again at batting practice.

A couple of weeks later, on March 14, Stengel selected Spahn (nearly 44) and Berra (nearly 40) to start in a Grapefruit League game against the Cardinals. Philadelphia Daily News columnist Larry Merchant described the pitcher-catcher combination as “the oldest, ugliest battery in captivity.”

When the Cardinals took batting practice, their vice president, Stan Musial, 44, came out in uniform and joined in. Musial, who retired from playing two years earlier, “slammed out a dozen drives,” Cy Kritzer of the Buffalo News reported.

Some of the Mets, including Berra and Spahn, gathered to watch him. After sending a pitch to the bleachers in right, Musial said to them, “You fellows inspire me. If you ancients can make a comeback, maybe I’ll try it, too. I’m only nine months older than you, Spahnie.”

Spahn replied, “Don’t do it, please. This league is rough enough without you to worry about.”

According to the Buffalo News, Stengel chimed in. “You’re a vice president, ain’t you?” he said to Musial. “You can do what you want to do. If you’re aiming for a comeback, we can use you. I’d have some fun in those late innings, sending you and Yogi to pinch-hit.”

Musial replied, “Yogi will hit. Hitting is like swimming. If you learn early enough, you’ll hit long after you’ve lost the rest of your skills.”

When the game began, the sight of Spahn on the mound and Berra behind the plate “was enthusiastically greeted by the Geritol set” that made up most of the crowd of 2,989 at Al Lang Field, the Daily News reported.

Spahn’s first pitch, a fastball that cut across the plate for a strike to Lou Brock, sent “a murmur of approval” through the stands, columnist Red Smith noted.

Brock then beat out a high bouncer over the mound for an infield single and Curt Flood walked on a 3-and-2 pitch. After getting two strikes on the next batter, Bill White, Spahn spun a roundhouse curve from a sidearm delivery, fooling White, who swung and missed for strike three, then stood there and laughed. “The pitch fooled me, too,” Berra told Red Smith. “I didn’t expect it to act like that.”

Spahn worked three innings and allowed three runs. Berra was hitless. He flied out against Bob Gibson and whiffed versus rookie Nelson Briles. “He struck me out with a heck of a quick-dipping sinker,” Berra told the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. “The kid has a real arm.”

Asked by the New York Times what was the hardest thing to do in catching a game for the first time since September 1963, Berra replied, “Bend down.”

Like old times

On April 27, two weeks after the Mets began the 1965 season, Berra was activated to the playing roster while maintaining his coaching duties. In his first week, he made one pinch-hit appearance. Then came one last moment of glory.

A couple of hours before the Mets played the Phillies on May 4 at Shea Stadium, Berra was talking with Newsday’s Joe Donnelly. “Give me a cigarette,” Berra said to the reporter. After inhaling deeply, Berra continued, “Maybe I’ll play tonight.” When Donnelly chuckled, Berra barked, “Why not? Let’s find out.”

Moments later, Berra met with Stengel and asked to catch. Stengel put him in the No. 6 spot in the batting order.

When Berra saw Phillies ace Jim Bunning before the game, he needled him: “I wish you were pitching. If I couldn’t get a hit off you, I’d know I was through.”

The Phillies’ starter instead was Ray Herbert, a pitcher Berra faced often during the 1950s when both were in the American League.

Berra’s first test came on defense in the first inning and he did well, making a tough putout at the plate. With Johnny Callison on third, Alex Johnson hit a chopper that was fielded by pitcher Al Jackson. As Callison charged home, Jackson threw to Berra, “who had the plate guarded beautifully,” Red Foley of the Daily News reported. “Callison stopped short, ducked, then tried to veer around Yogi,” but Berra ‘”was spry enough to pin him with the ball.”

Berra got a standing ovation when he batted with Ed Kranepool on second and Joe Christopher on first, two outs, in the first. Herbert threw a pitch around Berra’s eyes and he lined it to center for a single, his first National League hit.

It also should have been his first National League RBI, but this being the Mets, the hit didn’t deliver a run. Center fielder Cookie Rojas threw to third, where Christopher was tagged out before the slow-moving Kranepool reached the plate.

As the game unfolded, Al Jackson got into a good groove with Berra catching him. The Phillies couldn’t score.

With the Mets ahead, 1-0, in the seventh, reliever Gary Wagner gave up a leadoff single to Berra. “I was going to take him out for a pinch-runner,” Stengel told the Philadelphia Daily News. “I only wanted to catch him five innings.”

Jackson interceded, saying to Stengel, “Leave him in there.”

Berra took second on Ron Swoboda’s single, then scored on Roy McMillan’s single to center. When Swoboda reached second, he applauded while watching Berra cross the plate. “I get such a kick out of it because I think a lot of people decided he was no longer capable of this,” Swoboda told Newsday.

Berra’s run turned out to be the difference in a 2-1 Mets triumph. Jackson pitched a complete game and struck out 11. In the book “Baseball’s Greatest Players,” Jackson said, “Yogi was … a huge asset to me … You looked in for the sign like he had some magic. He did.” Boxscore

Stepping aside

When he tried to catch five days later against the Braves, it was a different story. Berra went hitless, striking out three times, and made an error, dropping a pop fly. “Essentially, his reflexes weren’t up to the major league standards,” the New York Times declared.

Berra knew that this time his playing days really were over, and he called it quits. “It’s hard for me to see the ball,” he confessed to the New York Daily News.

As he told Joe Donnelly, “I always felt when a guy couldn’t hit a fastball, he might as well hang up the bat.”

Berra remained with the Mets as coach until 1972, when he took over as manager after the death of Gil Hodges and led them to a pennant a year later.

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In a race to determine the slowest runner in the National League, the loser was the commissioner of baseball, and he didn’t even run.

A pair of catchers, Del Rice of the Cardinals and Rube Walker of the Dodgers, were the contestants in what Bob Broeg of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch described as “a snail versus tortoise match race.”

When some of the Cardinals made small, friendly wagers with their Dodgers counterparts on which of the two leadfoots would win, heavy-handed baseball commissioner Ford Frick initiated a gambling investigation.

Frick backed down quickly after baseball writers mocked him in their newspaper stories for being unable to see the difference between harmless fun and scandal.

Slow going

Signed by Cardinals scout Frank Rickey, brother of general manager Branch Rickey, Del Rice was 18 when he began his pro baseball career in the minors in 1941. Rice reached the majors with the Cardinals four years later.

Listed as 6-foot-2, Rice also played one season (1945-46) of pro basketball with the Rochester Royals. His teammates included Red Holzman (the future head coach of the St. Louis Hawks and New York Knicks), Otto Graham (better known as quarterback of the Cleveland Browns) and Chuck Connors (the big-league first baseman who became TV’s “The Rifleman”). Rochester won the National Basketball League (NBL) championship that season. (In 1949, the NBL merged with the Basketball Association of America and became the National Basketball Association, or NBA.)

Like Rice, Rube Walker also was 18 when he became a pro baseball player, signing with the Cubs in 1944 and advancing to the majors with them four years later. Joe Donnelly of Newsday described him as “a large man with a twinkle in his eye and a heart that reached out to people.”

Rice and Walker were good defensive catchers who didn’t hit much. In 17 seasons in the majors, mostly with the Cardinals and Braves, Rice batted .237. Walker hit .227 in his 11 seasons with the Cubs and Dodgers.

Both also were notorious plodders on the base paths. “Neither could outrun me,” Dodgers owner Walter O’Malley, who chain-smoked cigars, said to Dan Daniel of The Sporting News. (Rice managed to steal bases twice in the majors; Walker did it three times.) A good case could be made for either being the slowpoke of the league. Their teammates decided to settle the matter with a footrace.

Amazing race

During warmups before their game on May 17, 1955, at St. Louis, the Cardinals and Dodgers got into some good-natured bantering about who was the slowest man in the league. Rice and Walker were coaxed into having a 50-yard race across the outfield.

(Walker was not the type to back down from a test. According to the New York Times, “he once challenged manager Walter Alston to a billiards match after Alston had taken 130 shots without missing.”)

Members of the teams lined up in two rows _ Cardinals on one side; Dodgers on the other _ forming a lane for Rice and Walker to rumble through, the New York Times reported.

Cardinals manager Eddie Stanky joined some of his players in making bets with Dodgers on who would win, according to the Post-Dispatch. Most of the wagers were for $5. “All told, it was guessed that $45 rested on the outcome,” the St. Louis Globe-Democrat reported.

(Dick Young of the New York Daily News noted that the wagers on the Rice-Walker footrace were pocket change compared with what went on in earlier times. When speedy outfielder Ben Chapman was with the Yankees in the 1930s, he’d routinely race all challengers and usually won. According to Young, “Babe Ruth used to bet hundreds of dollars on every race.” Chapman’s teammate, Dixie Walker, told Young, “The first time, Babe bet against Chapman and lost. After that, Babe always bet on Chapman, and cleaned up.”)

In the St. Louis contest, Rube Walker trudged out to a lead but Rice steamed ahead at the finish and won by a yard. One of the observers, 19-year-old Dodgers rookie Sandy Koufax, recalled to the New York Times years later, “They didn’t go fast enough for a photo finish. It was a study in slow motion.”

Little big man

Walker took his loss in good spirit. “I once was a gazelle,” he told the New York Times. However, baseball commissioner Ford Frick was not amused when he learned wagering was involved. He decided to investigate. According to the Daily News, the wires Frick sent to managers Stanky and Alston read: “You are ordered to submit names and amounts bet by the ballplayers.”

While Frick awaited the reports from the managers, the newspapers ridiculed him for overreacting.

_ Dan Parker, syndicated columnist: “Ford Frick is a man of fine character, but a sense of humor forms no part of it.”

_ Morris McLemore, Miami News: “It would appear Ford Frick might have more to do than worry about the footrace between Del Rice and Rube Walker.”

_ Whitney Martin, Associated Press: “Frick probably feels that from such molehills mountains grow, and that the first thing you know the boys will be … gambling that when they put a penny in a (vending) machine a stick of gum will come out.”

_ Dick Young, New York Daily News: “Frick may have been watching too many ‘Dragnet’ shows.”

Soon after, Frick dropped the investigation, the Jersey Journal reported.

Changes afoot

Stanky, Rice and Walker made headlines for a variety of other reasons in the days following the slowest man contest.

On May 27, 1955, the Cardinals fired Stanky. A week later, they traded Rice to the Braves. (The footrace had nothing to do with either move.)

On June 30, 1955, Walker was carted off the field and sent to a hospital for treatment of a gashed shoulder after Willie Mays ran over him while trying to score. “Walker went down flat on his back, clutching the ball grittily,” the Daily News reported.

(Four years later, in June 1959, Rice suffered a broken left leg in a collision with Mays near home plate. Mays slid hard into Rice, who was straddling the line while awaiting a throw. “It wasn’t his fault,” Rice told the Associated Press. “He had to slide _ that’s baseball _ but he certainly slides hard.”)

After his playing days, Walker coached in the majors for 21 seasons. He was the pitching coach for the 1969 World Series champion Mets. He later was a scout for the Cardinals when Whitey Herzog was their manager.

Rice ended his playing career with the 1961 Angels. He was the first player signed by the American League expansion franchise and was the starting catcher in their first regular-season game. Boxscore

According to the Los Angeles Times, during his stint as an Angels coach in the 1960s, Rice “etched his name into the club’s lore by organizing and winning a golf tournament played in the halls of the team’s Boston hotel (Rice wore golf spikes, glove, hat and pajamas), with the players putting into cocktail glasses.”

After four seasons managing in the minors, Rice was the Angels’ manager in 1972, Nolan Ryan’s first season with the club after being coached by Rube Walker with the Mets.

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Carl Warwick seemed an unlikely candidate to shine for the Cardinals in the 1964 World Series.

A week before the season ended, Warwick suffered a fractured cheekbone when he was struck by a line drive during pregame drills. He underwent surgery the next day.

After the Cardinals clinched the National League pennant in the season finale, manager Johnny Keane opted to put Warwick on the World Series roster as a pinch-hitter, even though he hadn’t swung a bat in a game in almost two weeks.

Warwick delivered, with three pinch-hit singles, two of which contributed to wins against the Yankees, and helped the Cardinals become World Series champions.

An outfielder who played for the Dodgers (1961), Cardinals (1961-62, 1964-65), Colt .45s (1962-63), Orioles (1965) and Cubs (1966), Warwick was 88 when he died on April 5, 2025.

Left and right

After leading Texas Christian University in hitting (.361) as a junior in 1957, Warwick got married and planned to start a family. So when Dodgers scout Hugh Alexander offered a contract in excess of $30,000, Warwick signed in December 1957, opting to skip his senior season. “I figured one year in pro ball would be worth more than a final year in college,” Warwick told the Austin American.

(Warwick earned a business administration degree from Texas Christian in 1961.)

He was the rare ballplayer who threw left and batted right. “I’m a natural southpaw,” Warwick said to the Los Angeles Mirror, “but as long as I can remember I’ve always picked up a bat with my right hand and hit right-handed.”

(Before Warwick, big-leaguers who threw left and batted right included outfielders Rube Bressler and Johnny Cooney, and first baseman Hal Chase.)

Though listed as 5-foot-10 and 170 pounds, Warwick looked shorter and lighter. As Joe Heiling of the Austin American noted, “Carl didn’t fill the popular image of a slugger. His shoulders weren’t broad as the side of a barn.”

In college, Warwick hit drives straightaway and to the gaps. To hit with power in the pros, he’d need to learn to pull the ball, said Danny Ozark, his manager at Class A Macon (Ga.). Taught by Ozark how to get out in front of pitches with his swing, Warwick walloped 22 home runs for Macon in 1958.

Moved up to Class AA Victoria (Texas) in 1959, Warwick roomed with future American League home run champion Frank Howard and tore up the Texas League, hitting .331 with 35 homers and scoring 129 runs. Victoria manager Pete Reiser, the St. Louis native and former Dodgers outfielder, rated Warwick a better all-around prospect than Howard.

“Carl can play there (in the majors) sooner than Howard,” Reiser told the Austin American. “Carl has a better knowledge of the strike zone than Howard and he’s starting to hit the curveball. To me, that’s a sign that a hitter is coming into his own. You won’t find any better than Carl. Defensively, there’s not too many better than him in the minors or big leagues. He can go get the ball.”

Climbing another notch to Class AAA in 1960, Warwick was a standout for St. Paul (Minn.), with 104 runs scored and double digits in doubles (27), triples (11) and homers (19).

Seeking a chance

Warwick, 24, opened the 1961 season with the Dodgers, who were loaded with outfielders. A couple were veterans (Wally Moon, Duke Snider); most, like Warwick, hadn’t reached their primes (Tommy Davis, Willie Davis, Don Demeter, Ron Fairly, Frank Howard). In May, the Dodgers sent Warwick and Bob Lillis to the Cardinals for Daryl Spencer. According to the St. Louis Globe-Democrat, Cardinals manager Solly Hemus called Warwick the “key man for us” in the deal and named him the center fielder, replacing Curt Flood. “Warwick fits into our future plans very well,” Hemus told the Los Angeles Mirror.

Warwick’s first hit for the Cardinals was a home run he pulled over the fence in left against Bob Buhl of the Braves at Milwaukee. Of his first 12 hits for St. Louis, seven were for extra bases _ four doubles, one triple, two homers. Boxscore

Harry Walker, the Cardinals’ hitting coach, didn’t want Warwick swinging for the fences, though, and suggested he alter his approach.

“He said I didn’t have the power to hit the ball out,” Warwick told the Austin American. “He said I wasn’t strong enough. He wanted me to punch the ball to right field. After you’ve been hitting a certain way so long, it’s hard to change. He made me go to a heavier bat with a thicker handle.”

Out of sync, Warwick said he tried hitting one way in batting practice, then another in games. On July 4, his season average for the Cardinals dropped to .217. Two days later, Solly Hemus was fired and replaced by Johnny Keane, who reinstated Flood in center. Warwick was dispatched to the minors. “We’re sending him out so that he’ll have a chance to play every day the rest of the season,” Keane told the Globe-Democrat.

Houston calling

The next year, Warwick figured to stay busy with the 1962 Cardinals subbing for their geriatric outfielders, Minnie Minoso in left and Stan Musial in right. (“Our outfield has Old Taylor and Ancient Age with a little Squirt for a chaser,” Flood quipped to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.)

However, when an expansion club, the Houston Colt .45s, offered the Cardinals a pitcher they’d long coveted, Bobby Shantz, they couldn’t resist. On May 7, 1962, the Cardinals swapped Warwick and John Anderson for Shantz.

The trade was ill-timed for the Cardinals. Four days later, Minoso fractured his skull and right wrist when he crashed into a wall trying to snare a drive.

Warwick became Houston’s center fielder. In his first appearance in St. Louis after the trade, he produced four hits and a walk, including four RBI against Bob Gibson with a two-run double and a two-run homer. (For his career, Warwick hit .333 versus Gibson.) Boxscore

In addition to Gibson, Warwick also homered against Don Drysdale, Sandy Koufax and Juan Marichal that season.

When Cardinals general manager Bing Devine had a chance to reacquire Warwick, he swapped Jim Beauchamp and Chuck Taylor for him on Feb. 17, 1964.

Shifting roles

On Opening Day in 1964 against the Dodgers’ Sandy Koufax, Warwick was the Cardinals’ right fielder, with Flood in center and Charlie James in left. Boxscore

After two months, the club determined an outfield overhaul was needed. Flood remained, but Lou Brock was acquired from the Cubs in June to replace James and Mike Shannon was promoted from the minors in July to take over in right. Warwick primarily became a pinch-hitter.

He went to Cardinals coach Red Schoendienst and pinch-hitter deluxe Jerry Lynch of the Pirates for advice on how to perform the role. “Both of them agree you’ve got to be ready to attack the ball,” Warwick told Newsday.

On Sept. 27, 1964, before a game at Pittsburgh, Warwick was walking to the sidelines from the outfield during warmup drills when a line drive from a fungo bat swung by pitcher Ron Taylor struck him in the face, fracturing his right cheekbone. The next day, in St. Louis, Cardinals surgeon Dr. I.C. Middleman and plastic surgeon Dr. Francis Paletta performed an operation to repair the damage.

When the World Series began on Oct. 7 in St. Louis, Warwick was on the Cardinals’ roster, even though he hadn’t played in a game since Sept. 23. He also hadn’t produced a RBI since Aug. 2 or a home run since May 8.

However, as Keane explained to columnist Bob Broeg, “Pinch-hitting, Carl is extremely aggressive.”

Big hits

With the score tied at 4-4 in the sixth inning of World Series Game 1 at St. Louis, the Cardinals had Tim McCarver on second, two outs, when Warwick was sent to bat for pitcher Ray Sadecki. As Warwick stepped to the plate against the Yankees’ Al Downing, “my head was aching and my (scarred) cheek was hurting,” he later told United Press International.

Warwick whacked Downing’s first pitch past shortstop Phil Linz for a single, scoring McCarver and putting the Cardinals ahead to stay. St. Louis won, 9-5. Video, Boxscore

“I went up there with the idea of swinging at the first one if it was anywhere close,” Warwick told the Post-Dispatch. “I was looking for a fastball and I got one.”

In Game 2, Warwick, batting for second baseman Dal Maxvill in the eighth, singled and scored against Mel Stottlemyre. Batting again for Maxvill in Game 3, Warwick was walked by Jim Bouton.

The Cardinals, though, were in trouble. The Yankees won two of the first three and led, 3-0, in Game 4 at Yankee Stadium as Downing limited the Cardinals to one hit through five innings.

Needing a spark, Warwick provided one. Sent to bat for pitcher Roger Craig leading off the sixth, Warwick stroked a single on Downing’s second pitch to him.

“I seem to carry a different attitude up there coming cold off the bench,” Warwick told Joe Donnelly of Newsday. “I wouldn’t call it confidence. I come up there swinging. You’ve only got three swings. I don’t want to pass up an opportunity.”

The Cardinals loaded the bases with two outs before Ken Boyer clouted a Downing changeup for a grand slam and a 4-3 triumph. Video, Boxscore

Warwick’s three hits as a pinch-hitter tied a World Series record. The Yankees’ Bobby Brown (1947) and the Giants’ Dusty Rhodes (1954) also produced three pinch-hits in one World Series. Since then, Gonzalo Marquez of the Athletics (1972) and Ken Boswell of the Mets (1973) matched the mark.

(Allen Craig of the Cardinals had four career World Series pinch-hits _ two in 2011 and two more in 2013 _ but not three in one World Series.)

With a chance for a record fourth pinch-hit, Warwick batted for Maxvill in Game 6 but Bouton got him to pop out to third baseman Clete Boyer.

The Cardinals clinched the championship in Game 7, but for Warwick the good vibes didn’t last long. Bob Howsam, who replaced Bing Devine as Cardinals general manager, sent Warwick a contract calling for a $1,000 pay cut. “An insult,” Warwick told the Associated Press.

The magic of 1964 was gone in 1965. Warwick had one hit in April, one more in May and entered June with an .077 batting average. In July, the Cardinals shipped him to the Orioles, who traded him to the Cubs the following spring.

Bing Devine, who as Cardinals general manager twice traded for Warwick, became Mets general manager and acquired him again. Warwick, 29, was invited to try out at 1967 spring training for a reserve spot with the Mets but declined, opting to embark on a real estate career.

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Looking for a good time in St. Louis when their team came to play the Cardinals, Reds fans rolled out the barrels and got busted.

One hundred years ago, in April 1925, Reds owner Garry Herrmann and seven others associated with the Reds Rooters fan club were arrested at the Hotel Statler for possessing real beer.

Home to breweries such as Anheuser-Busch and Falstaff, St. Louis was synonymous with suds, but not during the Prohibition era in the U.S.

Herrmann and the Reds Rooters found out the hard way when federal agents raided their roost before a game.

Dry land

Influenced by repressive religious groups, particularly Christian denominations, and temperance organizations, federal lawmakers approved an amendment to the Constitution that prohibited the production, importation, transportation and sale of alcoholic beverages. The Prohibition era lasted from 1920 to 1933 and prompted gangsters to fill the void with violent bootlegging businesses.

In his book “Mr. Rickey’s Redbirds,” author Mike Mitchell noted, “The battle over Prohibition pitted rural versus urban, Protestant versus Catholic, native-born Americans versus newly arrived immigrants … War gave a final push toward a national prohibition. Those who wanted to ban alcohol often made no distinction between America’s enemies in World War I and brewers in the United States with European heritage.”

St. Louis breweries Anheuser-Busch and Falstaff survived Prohibition by producing near beer, a malt beverage which typically had an alcohol content of less than 0.5 percent, and other products, such as soda pop. (The Anheuser-Busch near beer was called Bevo.) Most other St. Louis beer producers, including Lemp, a major lager brewer, went out of business.

Prohibition didn’t stop the Reds Rooters from carrying on a tradition of traveling to the city where the team played its first road series of the season. About 110 of them went by train from Cincinnati to St. Louis for the four-game set between the Reds and Cardinals April 22-25, 1925.

Beer and bratwurst

The Reds Rooters booked rooms at the elegant Hotel Statler at the corner of Washington Avenue and Ninth Street in downtown St. Louis. Built in 1917, Hotel Statler was the first air-conditioned hotel in the United States.

Another feature of the grand hotel was its 17th floor, which was designated for sample rooms used by traveling salesmen to display products. The Reds Rooters reserved the entire floor and converted it into a party clubhouse for their stay.

According to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, the Reds Rooters brought with them “several kegs of sauerkraut, barrels of pickles and great quantities of sausages, pretzels and cheeses.”

That’s not all. To quench their thirst, the Cincinnatians also brought 25 half barrels of beer. Real beer.

An informant tipped off John Dyott, special assistant attorney general in charge of federal Prohibition cases, that the Reds Rooters were guzzling illegal brew. Dyott contacted federal law enforcement agents and ordered them to investigate.

At 1:30 p.m. on April 24, 1925, four agents arrived on the 17th floor, where they found 40 Reds Rooters about to leave for the ballpark, the Post-Dispatch reported. The Cincinnati group included Reds owner Garry Herrmann.

Down the drain

Orphaned at age 11, August Herrmann had worked as an errand boy filling salt stacks and then as a printer’s apprentice, where he got the nickname Garibaldi (shortened to Garry), according to the National Baseball Hall of Fame. He went into politics, becoming a Cincinnati city administrator, and rose to prominence with his creation of a modern waterworks system.

Herrmann was the life of any party. According to the Cincinnati Enquirer, “He was considered the greatest host in Cincinnati and he entertained his friends lavishly.”

In the raid on the Reds Rooters, agents found two half kegs of beer on tap and 11 more half kegs in an ice box waiting to be tapped, the Post-Dispatch reported. After taking samples for analysis, the agents poured all the brew down the drain.

Tests showed the beer had a 3.94 percent alcohol by volume (ABV) and qualified as illegal real beer, the St. Louis Star-Times reported. (Before Prohibition, a typical ABV for beer was 4.5 percent to 6 percent. In the early 1930s, a weaker, 3.2 percent beer gained prominence as a legal alternative in states that repealed dry laws before federal Prohibition ended.)

“We were under the impression that the stuff was near beer,” Herrmann told the Star-Times. “It was just an unfortunate mistake.”

Herrmann, five members of the Reds Rooters who were in charge of the arrangements, and two employees of the group were arrested on federal warrants charging possession of intoxicating alcohol. Herrmann posted a bond of $500 immediately after the warrant was served on him. A hearing in federal court in St. Louis was set back to the fall.

Costly pitchers

In October 1925, Herrmann led a contingent of Cincinnatians to Pittsburgh for the World Series between the Senators and Pirates. According to columnist Westbrook Pegler, when Herrmann arrived at Hotel Schenley, friends approached and asked, “Where are the kegs?” Herrmann replied, “Ever since that time they took the kegs away from the Cincinnati boys in St. Louis, I go without kegs.”

Later that month, Herrmann and the other defendants appeared for their hearing in the St. Louis courtroom of U.S. district judge Charles Breckenridge Faris, a former prosecutor who was appointed by President Woodrow Wilson in 1919.

Charges against Herrmann and the five members of the Reds Rooters were dismissed on the grounds that they were not in physical possession of beer when the agents raided the clubroom.

The two Reds Rooters employees, John Rosskopf and Leonard Schwab, who were in their shirt sleeves and wearing the aprons of bartenders when the agents came, pleaded guilty to charges of possession of alcohol. Each was fined $390.

According to testimony reported in the St. Louis newspapers, agents said they saw Rosskopf at a tapped keg with a foaming pitcher of beer in his hand and Schwab also had a pitcher filled with suds.

After the hearing, Herrmann told the Post-Dispatch, “We feel no malice toward St. Louis for our difficulties in this case. You can tell the world the Reds Rooters are still loyal. They’ll be back in the spring.”

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