by Bruce Nash
DAVID CONE
Pitcher · New York, NL · April 30, 1990
New York Mets hurler David Cone was so caught up in a squabble with an umpire that he didn’t hear his own teammates’ warning shouts that runners were scoring at will behind his back.
Cone, too caught up in pleading his caseAssociated Press
Cone’s fury erupted in the bottom of the fourth inning in a game against the host Atlanta Braves, who were winning 2–1. The Braves had runners Dale Murphy on second and Ernie Whitt on first with two out. Mark Lemke hit a grounder that first baseman Mike Marshall went for but couldn’t reach. Second baseman Gregg Jefferies fielded the ball and tossed it to Cone who had raced over to cover first. Although it was a close play, the pitcher thought the runner was out and the inning was over.
However, umpire Charlie Williams called Lemke safe, claiming Cone hadn’t touched the base. Cone exploded and launched into a lengthy tirade.
Murphy, who had reached third, noticed that Cone’s back was to him and began sneaking down the line and then broke for home. Other Mets hollered at Cone to no avail.
Whitt, meanwhile, had gone to second and then on to third. Seeing Cone still pitching a fit with Williams, Whitt bolted for home.
Jefferies, whose shouts went unheeded, ran over to Cone, yelled at him (see photo), then grabbed him and tried to turn him around.
But the angry hurler was oblivious to everyone but Williams—until the ump mockingly told him, “While you’re arguing, another run just scored.”
Cone finally regained control of himself, but it was much too late. The Mets never recovered from his two-run outburst and lost 7–4.
“I just snapped,” Cone admitted after the game.
Said miffed Mets manager Davey Johnson, “I’ve seen some strange things in my life in baseball, but this is up there on top of the list.”
CHARLIE MOORE
Catcher · Milwaukee, AL
September 30, 1973, and July 19, 1978
Twice Milwaukee Brewers catcher Charlie Moore let his temper get the best of him . . . and twice his team came out the worst for it.
On the final day of the 1973 season, his rookie year, the visiting Brewers led the Boston Red Sox 2–1 in the bottom of the eighth inning at Fenway Park. But Boston had runners Tommy Harper on third and Danny Cater on first with one out. Ben Oglivie then lofted a fly to center fielder Bob Coluccio, who caught the ball and threw it home. Moore snared the ball and tagged the sliding Harper, but plate umpire Bill Kunkel called the runner safe.
Moore leaped to his feet and slammed the ball down in a fit of rage. Then he laid into Kunkel with a string of invectives. Unfortunately, Moore never bothered to call time-out and was oblivious to the ball, which was now rolling aimlessly toward the Brewers dugout.
Meanwhile, Cater had tagged up from first after the catch and scrambled to second, then to third, and kept on motoring to the plate. Cater crossed home with the winning run before Moore realized that he had forgotten to call time. The Brewers lost 3–2.
Apparently, Moore didn’t learn his lesson. Five years later he committed a similar boiling-mad blunder in another game with the Red Sox, this time in Milwaukee.
In the top of the seventh inning of a 2–2 deadlock, Boston had runners George Scott on second and Butch Hobson on first with two out. Batter Frank Duffy singled to left fielder Ben Oglivie (who was now with the Brewers) as Scott raced for home. Oglivie fired the ball to Moore, who thought he had the plate blocked, but umpire Rich Garcia called Scott safe.
Moore jumped up and charged Garcia, vigorously protesting the call. But once again, Moore forgot to call time-out. In the heat of the debate, he wasn’t aware that the ball squirted out of his glove. Hobson, who had scooted to third on the hit, kept right on running, and crossed the plate unchallenged with the fourth run of the inning. Boston went on to win 8–2.
Moore faced the music with the press after the game. “I thought I still had the ball in my glove,” he said. “The ball must have fallen out when I jumped up to argue with the ump. It was different than the time in 1973. Then, I actually threw the ball down. This time I thought I had the ball.” Both his meltdowns led to the same finish—a maddening defeat.
GEORGE BRETT
Third Baseman · Kansas City, AL · July 24, 1983
Most umpires would agree that Kansas City Royals superstar George Brett was an incredibly nice player who treated them with dignity and respect . . . except for the time he tried to maul one.
Captured on videotape for all to see for generations, Brett went postal in the infamous Pine Tar Bat Incident. And he wasn’t the only one who was furious. Before the epic dispute was finally resolved 25 days later, players, managers, owners, umpires, fans, and even a judge were, at one point or another, all royally ticked off.
Trying to protect a 4–3 lead, New York Yankees relief specialist Rich Gossage was brought in to pitch to Brett in the top of the ninth inning with one on and two out. Fans at Yankee Stadium gasped when Brett smashed a breathtaking two-run blast to put Kansas City up 5–4. Then the fun began.
Yankees manager Billy Martin sprinted from the dugout, rule book righteously in hand. He pointed out to the umpires that the pine tar on Brett’s bat exceeded the 18-inch-long limit. So they measured the bat. In the Royals dugout, Brett’s teammate Frank White told him the umps would probably call Brett out and negate the home run.
Recalled Brett, “I told Frank, ‘If they call me out for using too much pine tar, I’ll run out there and kill one of those SOBs.’ As soon as I said that, [plate umpire] Tim McClelland, who stands 6'6" and weighs 250, looks for me in the dugout and says ‘You’re out.’”
Brett burst out of the dugout like an enraged bull bent on mangling McClelland. Never before had Brett been so stark raving mad. Umpiring crew chief Joe Brinkman intercepted Brett and held him around the neck to keep him from attacking McClelland. Brett broke free from Brinkman’s chokehold only to be tackled by the other umpires. Back on his feet and restrained by umps and his manager Dick Howser, Brett blistered McClelland with every epithet he knew. (The video has become a favorite for lip readers.)
“I’m a very competitive person and I don’t like to lose,” Brett said years later. “To do something that I considered extraordinary—hitting a home run against Goose Gossage—in an extraordinary place like Yankee Stadium just kind of magnified my emotions, and as a result I went a little ballistic.”
Because the home run was disallowed and Brett was called out, the game was over and the Yankees won 4–3. Or so it seemed.
The Royals were incredulous that Brett had hit an apparent game-losing homer. “Broadway wouldn’t buy that script,” groused Howser, who protested the game. “It wouldn’t last past opening night, it’s so unbelievable.”
Four days later, American League president Lee MacPhail upheld the protest, declaring that although the pine tar was technically illegal, it didn’t violate “the spirit of the rules” nor did it help Brett’s home run. Because the homer counted after all, the game had to be continued with two out in the ninth inning and the Royals ahead 5–4.
Brett going postal© Bettmann/CORBIS
Now it was the Yankees’ turn to howl. Snarled owner George Steinbrenner, “It sure tests our faith in our leadership.” And in a typical veiled threat, Steinbrenner added, “I wouldn’t want to be Lee MacPhail living in New York.”
Martin griped that he had never heard about the rules being “spiritual” and suggested that the rulebook “is only good for when you go deer hunting and run out of toilet paper.”
The completion of the suspended game was set for August 18. The Yankees then crassly announced they would charge regular admission for the game—and that brought an angry group of fans steaming into court. Two suits were filed claiming that the extra charge was illegal. A judge issued an inj
unction prohibiting the mini-game. Or so it seemed.
The fiasco made it all the way up to the Appellate Division of the New York Supreme Court where Justice Joseph P. Sullivan called a screeching halt to all the foolishness with perhaps the shortest ruling in legal history: Play ball!
The Yankees came sulking into the stadium still complaining. But few fans knew the players were there. The team didn’t bother announcing that management had reconsidered, and fans with ticket stubs to the first game would be admitted without charge. Everyone else would have to pay $2.50 for the grandstand seats or $1 for the bleachers. Consequently, only about 1,200 fans showed up.
The completion required only nine minutes and 41 seconds. The Royals’ Hal McRae struck out to end the top of the ninth and the Yankees went down in order in the bottom half. New York’s Don Baylor said afterward that he was disgusted, adding, “If I had wanted to watch a soap opera, I’d have stayed home.”
Brett says that although he’s in the Hall of Fame, he’ll always be known as the Pine Tar Guy. “I look back at it and laugh,” he said. “I think it’s the funniest thing that happened in my career. My son Jackson, every once in a while, will say, ‘Dad, put in the movie where you hit the home run and you run out and you’re real mad.’”
CHUCK KNOBLAUCH
Second Baseman · New York, AL · October 7, 1998
On a controversial play, New York Yankees second baseman Chuck Knoblauch blew his cool . . . and as a result, blew his team’s chances for a postseason victory.
The host New York Yankees were tied 1–1 with the Cleveland Indians in the top of the 12th inning of Game 2 of the 1998 American League Championship Series at Yankee Stadium. With one out and Cleveland’s Enrique Wilson on first base, Travis Fryman laid down a bunt toward first baseman Tino Martinez, who charged the ball. Knoblauch raced over to cover first but Martinez’s throw hit Fryman in the back and the ball rolled behind Knoblauch.
Convinced that Fryman should have been called out for interference because he ran outside the baseline on the bunt attempt, Knoblauch ignored the live ball and lit into first base umpire John Shulock. Knoblauch pointed at the basepath and argued while Wilson rounded second. Knoblauch pointed at the basepath and argued while Wilson reached third. And Knoblauch pointed at the basepath and argued as Wilson sprinted for home.
The second baseman was so intent on debating the call that he failed to pick up the ball until it was too late. Wilson scored the go-ahead run and the Indians tacked on two more runs to win 4–1 and even the ALCS at a game apiece.
New Yorkers let Knoblauch know that a temper tantrum during a playoff game is a no-no. He was booed loudly by the hometown crowd when he came to bat in the bottom of the 12th inning. (He reached first on an error.) The New York papers slammed him with headlines calling him “Blauch Head” and “Chuck Brainlauch.”
The next day, he faced the press and admitted, “I screwed up the play, and I feel terrible about that. I should have got the ball, regardless of what the outcome of the umpire’s call was. I need to apologize to my teammates and my manager and the Yankees and all the Yankee fans. Bottom line, I screwed up the play.”
Fortunately for Knoblauch, the Yankees went on to win the ALCS in six games—and nothing brings forgiveness faster than victories. But no one forgets. “He was yelling at the umpire, and you can’t do that,” said Yankees manager Joe Torre. “You have got to make the play and then go back and argue with the umpire.”
OUT OF LEFT FIELD
For the Most Far-fetched Excuses of All Time
for Missing a Game or Blowing a Play,
The Baseball Hall of Shame™ Inducts:
JOSE CARDENAL
Outfielder · Chicago, NL · 1972–1976
Even if Jose Cardenal hadn’t been a good outfielder and hitter, he’d have been worth keeping on the roster just for his wonderfully imaginative excuses for not wanting to play.
Cardenal played for eight teams during his lengthy career. He was the kind of player who, if he couldn’t give 100 percent effort on the field, thought it best not to give any. So he often drove his managers crazy with his reasons why he belonged in the comfort of the dugout rather than out in the hot sun. He was especially exasperating during his stint with the Chicago Cubs.
When the team was training in Scottsdale, Arizona, in 1974, Cardenal asked to be scratched from the lineup of an exhibition game because of a cricket. “There was only one cricket in my room, but all night long it was driving me crazy,” Cardenal recalled years later. “He was jumping all over the place and every time I tried to catch him, he would hop to another corner. I couldn’t sleep at all and the next day I went to the ballpark and saw my name in the lineup. I went to [Cubs manager] Jim Marshall and said, ‘Jim, last night, I had a bad night.’ When he asked me what I meant, I said, ‘There was a cricket in my room and I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t even get an hour of sleep, so I don’t think I can play today.’ Jim made a big deal about it with the media and I can laugh about it now, but in those years, people really gave me a hard time about it.”
Cardenal took himself out of the lineup of another game because his left eye was stuck shut. Claiming he had a small infection, he told Marshall that his eyelid and eyelashes were stuck to his left eyeball. “My eyelashes were stuck together,” Cardenal told a reporter at the time. “I couldn’t see, so I couldn’t play.”
Sporting one of the game’s biggest afros back then, Cardenal looked like he was sprouting Mickey Mouse ears under his batting helmet. He also liked to wear skin-tight uniform pants during an era when most players preferred the baggier look. And that led to one of Cardenal’s craziest excuses for not playing. According to Fred Talbot, who pitched for five American League teams from 1963 to 1970, Cardenal once sat out three straight winter league games because he couldn’t find pants that were tight enough around his legs.
LOU “THE MAD RUSSIAN” NOVIKOFF
Outfielder · Chicago, NL · 1941–1944
Chicago Cubs outfielder Lou “The Mad Russian” Novikoff had a problem. Anytime a ball was hit over his head during home games, he would back up only so far and go no farther. More often than not, the ball bounced off the wall and shot past him back toward the infield.
Why did he constantly give up on those catchable long drives? Because, as Novikoff explained to perplexed Chicago Cubs manager Charlie Grimm, he had an incredible fear of vines. That was a real problem considering he was playing in the outfield in the ivy-covered confines of Wrigley Field.
Novikoff, all wet over his fear of vinesChicago Tribune Staff Photo
by Cy Wolf
Grimm tried everything he could think of to cure Novikoff of his phobia. The skipper brought in poisonous goldenrod to show the outfielder that the vines were not goldenrod. Grimm even rubbed the Wrigley vines all over his own face and hands and then chewed a few to prove they weren’t poison ivy. But Novikoff never did get over his aversion to the vines. Consequently, a lot of balls sailed over his outstretched glove.
And if that excuse got a little weak, he had another cooked up to explain away his poor fielding (which a Chicago sportswriter described as “wrestling the ball to the ground”). Novikoff complained to Grimm, “I can’t play in Wrigley because the left field line isn’t straight like it is in other parks. It’s crooked.”
FLINT RHEM
Pitcher · St. Louis, NL · September 19, 1930
The St. Louis Cardinals were in Brooklyn for a crucial three-game series with the Dodgers (then known as the Robins) during a battle for the 1930 pennant. Because the teams were in a virtual tie for first place, the Cards were depending on their strong pitching staff, including hard-throwing—and hard-drinking—right-hander Flint Rhem.
Rhem, who was 10-8 at the time, was scheduled to start the second game, but he disappeared without a word of explanation. He was missing for two days, and the
St. Louis management was beginning to fear the worst about their big hurler.
Then, just as suddenly as he vanished, Rhem showed up. There was a simple explanation for his disappearance, he reported. Gangsters had kidnapped him! Yes, gangsters from Brooklyn had snatched him right off the street in front of the Alamac Hotel. And not only that but they held him prisoner at gunpoint in a log cabin and forced him, totally against his will, to consume massive amounts of liquor! “They told me, ‘We’re going to get you drunk so you can’t pitch against our Robins,’” Rhem claimed.
Of course there weren’t any kidnappers and the log cabin was really a gin joint down the street from the team hotel. By the time Rhem had sobered up, the Cardinals had swept the series and were on their way to winning the pennant.
As for Rhem’s excuse for his absence, St. Louis general manager Branch Rickey told reporters, “You couldn’t disprove his story by the way he smelled.”
BILLY LOES
Pitcher · Brooklyn, NL · October 6, 1952
Brooklyn Dodgers hurler Billy Loes was pitching more excuses than fastballs during the 1952 World Series.
He gave his best alibis concerning two plays that he botched in Game 6 against the New York Yankees. The Dodgers, who had a 3-games-to-2 lead, were up 1–0 entering the top of the seventh inning at Ebbets Field. Loes had pitched six shutout innings, but in the seventh, he gave up a leadoff homer to Yogi Berra followed by a single to Gene Woodling. When Loes went into his stretch, he accidentally dropped the ball, and the umps called a balk. Later, Loes claimed the ball squirted out of his hands because there was “too much spit on it.”
He gave an even more outrageous excuse about the play that followed a strikeout and a pop-out in the seventh. With Woodling in scoring position at second, weak-hitting pitcher Vic Raschi hit an easy grounder back to the mound. Loes didn’t get his glove down in time and the ball bounced off his knee for an RBI single. The Dodgers ended up losing 3–2. After the game, Loes gave this confounding excuse for missing the grounder: “I lost it in the sun.”
