This yarn concerns baseball, the good part, the part they play on the field, just in case there's a shortage of same even with spring training on the launch pad and the countdown already started.
While rummaging through a bin of pictures of former sports greats, all of them nicely matted and ready for framing, there was one of a tall chap with a brilliant mustache waxed magnificently almost out to his ears. Even without the Oakland A's uniform, the man was unmistakable: Rollie Fingers.
On the occasion of his induction into the Hall of Fame, Aug. 2, 1992, this was one of "just" 10,000 shots signed personally by the right-handed relief pitcher. Attesting to the "guaranteed authentic autograph" on a very official-looking certificate on the back was Brooks Robinson via an authentic reproduction of Brooks' sometimes illegible scrawl.
Heck, this baby was worth the price (under $20). Fingers, recall, was one of the great ones save for one series in Baltimore in 1971. More on that later.
The Steubenville, Ohio, beanpole (6 feet 4, 190) made it to Cooperstown on his third try on the strength of 341 career saves. He led the American Leagues in saves three times, the same number of times he led it in relief wins. His 944 pitching appearances are fourth on the all-time list and his career earned run average ended up at 2.90.
Fingers pitched in three World Series for the A's, five A.L. Championship Series and even found his way into a division playoff series with the Milwaukee Brewers. In other words, he was a very busy fellow, especially during a couple of August evenings here back in '71.
That year should ring some bells with longtime Bird-watchers. For openers, it was the season the O's won the pennant for the third straight year and fourth time in six tries. They had four 20-game winners -- Jim Palmer, Mike Cuellar, Dave McNally and Pat Dobson.
Frank Robinson had another one of those F. Robby years, passing by 500 home runs, 1,500 RBIs and 2,500 hits. On the way to No. 500 in September, he slipped by Lou Gehrig's 494 round-trippers sometime in August. Poor Lou has always had problems with guys in Baltimore suits, obviously.
And oh yeah, the other Robinson, the third baseman, made three errors in a game. Not only that, they were in the same inning. You can look it up.
Anyway, Oakland was nearly as good as the Orioles that year, the teams both boasting 63-38 records as the three-game set opened in Memorial Stadium. The O's were coming off a couple of losses and their division lead was down to 2 1/2 games.
In the first game of a twilight twin bill, Dobson bested Catfish Hunter, 1-0. The A's led throughout the second game and a split looked assured when Fingers arrived on the mound in the ninth. But with two outs, the score tied and a runner at first, Rollie pitched to B. Robby and he hammered it over the fence.
Now Oakland had to win the next night and it certainly looked that way when the A's led after eight innings, 2-0. Tom Dukes, the Birds starter that evening, remembers it well: "We were down, 2-0, and I'm in the clubhouse having a cigarette. Suddenly, Frank [Robinson] hits one out of sight and I'm a winner for the first time in a year. I'll never forget, it was 'Holy Name Night' and The Big Guy was looking out for me."
Yep, the mustachioed one came ambling out of the bullpen to serve up that one, too. In fact it was the only pitch he threw to Frank, meaning he had given up game-losing home runs to the Robinson Boys on back-to-back pitches 24 hours apart in the home half of the ninth inning. Rollie stood there after both games and muttered several times, "I just don't know what to say."
Yes, the autographed picture is worth it at twice the price. Hopefully, similar occurrences will present themselves come warm summer evenings.
* As I was saying Monday before being so rudely interrupted by the bottom of the page, college teams in both basketball and football are flitting hither and yon so rapidly these days it's difficult keeping up with who belongs to what conference, and in what sport.
It's all driven by money, naturally, most of it television (and tournament) money, and the down-the-road drawbacks are obvious. These makeshift consortiums slapped together now to make a few bucks in the postseason are trivializing regular-season play and conference standings, not to mention the time-honored rivalries built on common ideals, sustained interest and competition.
Wait until the inevitable shift in the cycle comes and a liberal arts school in the Northeast tries to interest someone in a basketball game against a football factory from two time zones away on a frigid Tuesday night in January. What do you mean, long-term?