**

Thanks to Tirebiter for sharing his innermost thoughts and feelings in this week’s guest edition of The Crimson Chirper.  Condolences to Jimmy for having to contend with the luckiest man alive, as our 2005 season moves into the final third of the season.  If it was just matching up team talent and managerial smarts that were in play, I would like Tirebiter’s chances as well as anyone’s.  However, when you throw that old Itchie Magic into the mix, the clear odds-on-favorite has got to be the boisterous Huckster of Philippino and Eastern Indian phone-answering services (doesn’t roll off the tongue quite like “credit card huckster,” does it?). 

**

Itchie Magic, and only Itchie Magic, explains how the Skipjacks’ pitching staff notched 320 points for the week.  You need to know that pitchers drafted by Itchie during the first eight rounds of the draft (Hudson, Peavy and Hoffman) accounted for 60 of those pitching points, while Itchie’s 24th round pick (Reitsma) and two free agents (Todd Jones and Kirk Saarloos) accounted for 120 points.  Oily.  Throw in the fact that Itchie’s catch-and-release catcher, A.J. Pierzynski, was the Skipjacks’ top hitting points-getter, and you pretty much know all that you need to know about Tirebiter’s chances of winning his ten-year bet with B.T.  It’s somewhere between slim and none, and Slim just left town. 

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Of course, there’s something to be said about peaking too early.  Just ask Itchie about the month of September 2004, or Shamu about all things post-sophomore year in high school (other than that magical month of May 1981, when a certain red-haired freshman law student caught lightening in a bottle and became an Accidental Savant amongst his peers). 

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Somebody help me out with this Manny Ramirez thing.  Why would the Red Sox want to get rid of one of the top RBI machines of all time, and why would Manny want to leave Beantown, where he seems to be universally worshipped?  Two words:  media hype.  And now for an oxymoron:  Responsible journalism. 

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Funny how when a guy gets in the Hall of Fame, past sins all seem to be forgiven.  Case in point, has anyone heard a word about Margo what’s-her-name?  To the contrary, from his recent press clippings, you would think that Wade Boggs was about to be nominated for sainthood, or at least knighthood.  I’m not saying this is a bad thing, but there certainly seems to be a double standard, depending on whether one is inside or out. 

**

Saw a fun game with the family at Coors Field in Denver last Thursday night, an 8-5 win by the Phillies over the hometown Rockies.  Unfortunately, my hopes for a couple of thin-air home runs from newly-drafted and freshly-promoted Senator Mike Lieberthal didn’t pan out.  Consequently, he’s no longer a Senator.  However, even though he’s not on my team, it was fun seeing Tribesman Chase Utley destroy the hapless Rockies’ pitching staff, including a home run to right field that landed in the lap of a guy sitting exactly four rows in front of young Will.  So close.  The shame of it is that the recipient of the home run ball -- who by appearance and by the company he was keeping at the game is probably an engineer or computer nerd-- probably doesn’t even know the name of the player who hit the home run ball.  Young Wilbur knew and would never have forgotten the name of Chase Utley. 

**

I will probably be subjected to scorn and ridicule for having Rafael Palmeiro in my lineup on the day of the announcement of his suspension for testing positive for steroids, but I want it printed here that I did not knowingly or intentionally draft a player who took steroids, and I have no idea how he ended up on my team.  As has been noted in these pages before, I tend to be somewhat naïve when it comes to great baseball players that I admire, and I must confess, when Raffy looked into the camera at the congressional hearing on steroid abuse and steadfastly denied ever taking steroids, I believed him.  I placed credibility in Palmeiro (and others) over that of the perpetually ridiculous Jose Canseco, and the fact of the matter is that I done got fooled.  Twenty-two years of training in ferreting out liars and tellers of half-truths, and where did it get me? 

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By the way, Palmeiro is no longer in my starting lineup, and will soon be an ex-Senator, available to the several of you that have no compunction about drafting liars and cheats. 

**

Since I didn’t quite have a chance last issue to finish reporting on what I learned recently from Baseball in Omaha, indulge me for a few more paragraphs while I close the chapter on this book: 

♦

I mentioned last week a few of the baseball greats who have played at Rosenblatt/Municipal Stadium, including Mordecai “Three-Finger” Brown, Bob Gibson and Richie Ashburn.  Another denizen of Cooperstown who once played in Omaha might surprise you, because he never played a single inning of baseball in the majors.  Earl Weaver (shown here with legal counselor and long-time confidant), the fabled “Earl of Baltimore,” played for the Omaha Cardinals A team in Omaha in 1951 and 1952, handling the second base chores with great dexterity.  As is stated in the book, one sportswriter commented that ground balls hit to Weaver were “the sure recipe for extinction.”  I also have it on good authority from a local fan who remembers watching Weaver play at Rosenblatt -- more than fifty years ago, mind you -- that Weaver had a very distinctive whistle that he put to good use during baseball games. 

♦

For one season, Weaver shared the Omaha Cardinals’ infield with another baseball great, the late Kenny Boyer of Alba, Missouri, who went on to have an outstanding career with the St. Louis Cardinals, and whose number has been retired by the parent club.  As referenced in the book, Boyer was one of seven baseball-playing Boyer brothers from the small town of Alba, Missouri.  While most of us have heard about Clete Boyer of Yankee fame, a few of us will remember Cloyd Boyer, of lesser renown, I had not heretofore heard that there actually were seven Boyer brothers who played organized baseball.  A review of the baseball encyclopedia reveals that only Ken, Clete and Boyd made it as far as the major leagues.  Interestingly enough, Clete and Ken made their major league debuts within two months of each other in the early part of the 1955 season, while Cloyd was finishing out his career with a final season with the Kansas City Athletics in 1955. 

♦

Many of you have probably seen the photograph and/or heard the story of Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig coming to Omaha as part of a barnstorming tour in 1927, after completing one of the greatest seasons by a major league baseball team.  Gehrig, looking sharp in his “Larrupin Lou” uniform, played for the Omaha Print team, while Babe, wearing his “Bustin’ Babe” uniform, played with the Omaha Brown Parks.  In the team picture that was taken on the day of the game, Johnny Rosenblatt himself is standing just to Babe Ruth’s left.  This is of course the same Johnny Rosenblatt whose name now graces our beautiful ballpark. 

♦

A couple of other major league players who spent time on Omaha’s baseball fields while paying their dues in the minors include Heinie Manush, who played for seventeen years in the big leagues between 1923 and 1939, ending up with a career batting average of .330 and who was inducted into Cooperstown in 1964; and Babe Herman, known for his often adventurous fielding and erratic throwing in the majors, who played the first six years of his career with the Brooklyn Dodgers and then bounced around a number of other teams during his thirteen seasons in the bigs.  He finished with a career batting average of .324, but is not in the Hall of Fame. 

♦

When the Omaha Rourks played in the Western League during the 1911 season, the other teams in the Western League included the Denver Grizzlies, the St. Joseph Drummers, the Wichita Jobbers (later the Pueblo Indians), the Sioux City Packers, the Lincoln Railsplitters, the Topeka Kaws, and the Des Moines Boosters.  Great names. 

♦

In 1956, the all-black team known as the Kansas City Monarchs played in a game at Rosenblatt, a team that included the beloved Buck O’Neal.  During this same decade, Omaha’s own Bob Gibson played for an Omaha YMCA team also known as the Monarchs, undoubtedly named after Buck O’Neal’s team, and in 1951, when Gibby was 15 years old, the Y Monarchs became the first black team to win the Nebraska State Championship.