The YouTube Debates: Orioles Edition

Roar from 34 - Strengthening democracy one posting at a time

By Matthew Taylor

The 2008 presidential election introduced the nation to the concept of YouTube debates. It's about time that our country dealt with some issues weightier than those presented by the likes of the talking snowman. Therefore, Roar from 34 proudly presents the first-ever YouTube Debate: Orioles Edition. Let the enlightened conversation begin (in the comments section).

Question 1: Which "Evening Magazine" fan profile is better, Wild Bill Hagy or Pat "The Bugler" Walker

Wild Bill Hagy




Pat "The Bugler" Walker


Question 2: Who was the better pitchman, Boog Powell or Jim Palmer?

Boog Powell




Jim Palmer


Question 3: Which is the more random player tribute, Luke Scott or Brady Anderson?

Luke Scott


Brady Anderson


Question 4: Which is the better episode of "Orioles Everyday," Devil Rays or Red Sox?

Devil Rays


Red Sox


Question 5: Which is funnier, the Orioles-themed church sign or the Earl Weaver tirade?

Church


Earl


Question 6: Which is the better nostalgic O's video, Orioles Magic or Orioles Magic? (Sorry, no room for democracy on this one.)

Orioles Magic


Orioles Magic

Cox's Record Sparks Nostalgia for O's Fans

Record comes near the anniversary of a classic Weaver ejection

By Matthew Taylor

It’s fitting that we get to read about Braves manager Bobby Cox’s record-setting 132nd ejection in this morning’s paper. On this very date in 1975 Earl Weaver got ejected from both games of a twi-night doubleheader as the O’s split a pair with the Texas Rangers at Memorial Stadium.

Umpire Ron Luciano tossed Weaver in the opener during a fourth inning argument about a double play. Weaver wasted no time in the nightcap, getting tossed during the exchange of lineup cards when he decided to continue the argument with Luciano, his longtime nemesis.

Weaver would miss the following night’s game so he could fly to St. Louis and give his daughter away in marriage.

For his entire career, Earl Weaver was ejected from both games of a doubleheader on three separate occasions. [Check out our "Vide-O Corner" for a classic Weaver outburst.]

Sports Illustrated writer John Donovan uses Weaver’s doubleheader ejections on Sept. 30, 1985 against the Yankees as a measuring stick for Bobby Cox. The O's lost both games, 4-0 and 9-2.

Once, back in the waning days of the 1985 season, the dean of disputatious big-league managers, Earl Weaver, was thrown out of both games of a doubleheader in Yankee Stadium. The second time it happened, he barely made it to home plate for the pregame exchange of lineup cards before he was run.

The first time, though, was the beauty. In the third inning of the first game on that late-September day, after Weaver already had been out on the field three times to argue something or other, umpire Jim Evans finally tired of the show and tossed the diminutive Baltimore skipper. The ump then took out his watch and gave Weaver one minute to leave the field.

Weaver grabbed the watch, reared back and flung it into the visitors' dugout, where it skidded to a stop under the Orioles' bench.

"If my arm was still good," Weaver told reporters after the game, "I would've thrown it into the stands."

Memories of The Tractor

Was anyone else thinking of Chris Hoiles last night when Aubrey Huff, having already hit a grand slam, came to the plate with the bases loaded for a second time?

Huff had a chance to become the fourth Oriole, the 13th player overall, to hit two grand slams in the same game. Instead, Huff had an RBI single.

The O's who have achieved the feat are Jim Gentile ('61), Frank Robinson ('70), and Hoiles ('98). You can read more about it in our previous posting, "Beltway Baseball Wasn't Always So Bad."

Reflecting on Cal's Cooperstown Speech

Celebrating past accomplishments and future possibilities

By Matthew Taylor

Cal Ripken may as well have been quoting James Earl Jones last Sunday when he stood at the podium at the Clark Sports Center and remarked, “Today is about celebrating the best that baseball has been and the best it can be.”

James Earl Jones, playing the role of Terence Mann in the classic film, “Field of Dreams,” summed up the beauty of the sport in similar fashion: “This field, this game, is a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and it could be again.”

Jones’ classic rhetoric in “Field of Dreams” does well to describe my experience at Induction Weekend. His words, some of which are quoted below, speak to the innocence of youth, the peace associated with that period of life, and baseball’s ability to trigger memories of those treasured times, places, and feelings long past.

They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. "Of course, we won't mind if you have a look around," you'll say. "It's only twenty dollars per person." They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it; for it is money they have and peace they lack.
…

They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the baselines, where they sat when they were children and cheered their heroes. And they'll watch the game, and it'll be as if they'd dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick, they'll have to brush them away from their faces.

Some of baseball’s most accomplished players and managers appeared in Cooperstown for Induction Weekend. Many of them are connected with the game’s greatest moments. But for me, it was more about the hometown heroes whose presence brought to mind their more youthful, archetypal images and the pure joy of being a young fan.

Chanting “Ed-die” throughout an at-bat and believing all the while that enthusiasm conferred strength upon players. Only later did I learn that “Ed-die” was more than just an exhortation; it was an expression of gratitude as well.

Seeing Earl charge out of the third base dugout and knowing he would fight the good fight in theatrical fashion. There was a certain instructiveness in Earl's determination to right perceived wrongs.

Watching Cal range deep into the hole and make the difficult look routine. It took a while before the lesson set in that greatness can sometimes be subtle, defined more by consistency than flashiness.

Seeing Eddie, Earl, and Cal in Cooperstown also brought to mind simple, meaningful moments that extended beyond the field.

Soaking in my father’s own childlike excitement following the ’83 Series as he led an impromptu family victory celebration. He punctuated the celebration with a dash to the family car, where he repeatedly honked the horn.

Heading to visit my grandfather and eagerly anticipating his predictably grumpy response to the question, “How bout dem O’s?”

Leaving school early with dad to see the first-ever game at Camden Yards, an O’s-Mets exhibition on my birthday.

And a host of shared experiences that provide a consistent link to family and friends.

Inevitably, the sense of nostalgia I experienced during Induction Weekend was accompanied by sadness for days, people, and innocence lost. But Cal, like James Earl Jones, invited optimism from his audience by looking forward while celebrating the past.

Said Cal: “And finally, as I experience another new beginning with this induction, I can only hope that all of us, whether we have played on the field or been fans in the stands, can reflect on how fortunate we are and can see our lives as new beginnings that allow us to leave this world a bit better than when we came into it.”

From his celebration of unheralded heroes who show up for work every day, to his call for people to help young people lead better lives, Cal demonstrated in his Cooperstown speech an understanding that baseball at its best is about more than what happens on the field.

Read Cal's entire speech at the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum website.