by Hap Rocketto
Those who are familiar with Yankee Stadium know about Monument Park, a collection of monuments, plaques, and retired numbers honoring distinguished members of the New York Yankees. It was built during a renovation of “The House That Ruth Built” to contain the monuments, plaques, and flag pole which were originally in fair territory on the playing field.
It may the come as a surprise that there are plaques in that sacred Yankee Valhalla that honor three former Cardinals. The mystery deepens because the Yankees are in the American League and the Cardinals are in the National. Is it because the teams have met five times in World Series competition? As an off topic historical side light my uncle Harold, for who I am named, was the navigator of a B-17 bomber that buzzed Yankee Stadium during the 1943 series, flying so low that it was said the ‘Slats’ Marion, the Cards shortstop, could have reached up and caught it.
It is a trick question as the plaques memorialize the Masses celebrated at Yankee Stadium by Pope Paul VI, Pope John Paul II, and Pope Benedict XVI. All three men were Cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church before being elevated to the Papacy.
This little bit of baseball arcanum, I dare not use the term trivia for, as George Will once wrote, “Nothing about baseball is trivial”, came to me over the airwaves as I listened to my favorite radio program, Car Talk, while driving to the Connecticut State NRA Three Position Championship. This little tidbit, mixed with the events of the day, got me to thinking about one of the great pitchers and characters in baseball’s vast cast of players.
As I sat filling out my registration card Kent Lacey was perusing the National Record list. He mentioned to me that I had a reasonable shot at the 20 shot senior category anysight standing and kneeling records, as well as the aggregate. I also signed up for the two man team match where I was partnered with Jeff Doerschler who was riding a hot streak. With that boost to my ego I went about preparing for the match.
All went well as I sighted in prone and went for record. I opened with a center ten and then shot a nine at five o’clock. Telling myself I had better concentrate I continued to dibble away points left and right. Where I am usually good for a 198-200 in prone I only managed to card a 187.
Mortified at my poor performance prone I tried my best to put it behind me and get back on track in standing. After all, I still had a shot at the geezer record. Again I was plagued by a good shot or series of good shot followed by something so wide that I didn’t even think they printed rings on the target that far out. Where I had been used to seeing 190s next to my name there was a 166.
Oh, well there is always kneeling and another shot for a record there. I am usually good for a low to mid 190 but, unfortunately, I manage a score that was almost as good as my prone. Under normal circumstance that would have thrilled me except for the fact that my prone was so poor.
While I packed my gear I was trying to figure out what may have caused my downfall for my hold seemed solid. Was it hubris, for I have picked up four senior records since I turned sixty? Was it thinking about a record and not each shot as I should have? I was not shooting my best ammunition. Had this caused the problem? Was I just not mentally there?
All these thoughts passed through my mind, as well as the disappointment of letting Jeff down. He was shooting a later relay and would walk in and see my dismal performance upon the scoreboard and have to try to make up the huge deficit I had created. That bitter thought was going through my mind as I took out my torque wrench to loosen my bedding screws before putting my rifle in its case. I really didn’t need the wrench, for when I went to loosen them I found that I had neglected to tighten them before the match. With my mind occupied with National Records and socializing I had committed a rookie’s error and paid for it accordingly. I regretted that Jeff would have to cash the check I wrote with my carelessness as our team hopes were dashed by my lack of attention to detail.
With the Yankee/Cardinal question still in my mind my stupidity reminded me of an incident that involved Hall of Fame Cardinal pitcher ‘Dizzy’ Dean, a member of the famous ’Gas House Gang’ that so dominated baseball in the mid 1930s. After being struck in the head by a ball he was taken to the hospital for examination. As he left reporters asked him about his health and he famously replied, “The doctors x-rayed my head and found nothing.” The same might have been said about me that day.
Jeff was still on fire and managed to do what I had been pursuing all day, a National Record performance. He parlayed a 200 prone with a 195 standing and a 199 kneeling for a 594X600 for a new civilian record and with it we won the team match.
Again Dizzy Dean popped into my mind for he had a brother, Paul, who was also a Cardinal pitcher at the same time. One day, in the first game of a doubleheader against the Brooklyn Dodgers, Dizzy pitched no-hit ball for eight innings but gave up three-hits in the ninth for a shutout. Paul then proceeded to throw a no-hitter in the second game. “Gee, Paul,” Diz was heard to say in the locker room afterward, “if I’d a-known you was gonna throw a no-hitter, I’d a-thrown one too!”
The same might have been said about Jeff and me and National Records.
