While searching recently for some tidbit of information needed for a project, I happened across an amazing accomplishment by a player for a minor league baseball team in Tennessee, a feat that has to this day never been equaled. Western Pennsylvania native Ron Necciai had signed a professional baseball contract right out of high school when he was barely 19 years old. He was assigned to the Class D minor league team in Salisbury, N.C., where the manager told the young first b

The subject of today’s post is perhaps one of the best examples of the truth of the adage “It’s not over till the fat lady sings.” Or, in the words of the great and eloquent philosopher Yogi Berra, “It ain’t over till it’s over.” Things had gone wrong for the team from the start of the 1914 season. They had won only 4 of their first 22 games. They were so bad that in an exhibition game against their Buffalo minor league club they lost 10-2. At one point early in the season, t

The proverb says, “Records are made to be broken.” And some records resist for a long time all attempts to break them. When they do fall, some people rejoice, marveling at the discipline and hard work of the ones who topple them. But other people seem to think that such records are sacrosanct and seek to vilify the record breaker. And, by doing so, they make the athlete’s life miserable. Maris described his ordeal of not only the chase but also the aftermath as “mental h— for

Cesar was a real jack of all trades. He quickly got the nickname “Mr. Versatility.” How versatile was he? He was only the second major league baseball player to play all nine positions in a single game, and he did it on this date, September 22, 1968. Tovar’s is not a household name. But he was no slouch as a player. In fact, in his 1,448 major league games, he got 1,546 hits, averaging more than one hit per game. Not bad. His lifetime batting average was only .278, still not

I fell in love with baseball long before I knew any of the intricacies of the game. As soon as the Knoxville News-Sentinel arrived in our mailbox late in the afternoon, my brother and I grabbed it, stretched out on our bellies on the grass, and turned to the sports page (after a brief stop at the comics page) to devour the baseball news. I poured over those box scores. I had no idea what all the numbers meant, but I memorized names of teams and players. Names like Mickey Mant

He stepped from the Cleveland dugout swinging his bat as though he meant business and strode to the plate. He stepped into the batter’s box, shouldered his bat, and took his characteristic hunched-over stance, his head nearly in the strike zone. Ray Chapman was the Cleveland Indians’ star shortstop and one of the most popular players in the team’s history. In his nine-year major league career, he already had led the league in put-outs three times. As a batter, his specialty w