Baseball: Whammy with a Weenie

It was a typical enough week for the National League. The Los Angeles Dodgers started out in first place and wound up in third. The San Francisco Giants played king for a day when Gaylord Perry, who pitches the way Casey Stengel talks, baffled the New York Mets with his slider (meaning spitball) and won

It was a typical enough week for the National League. The Los Angeles Dodgers started out in first place and wound up in third. The San Francisco Giants played king for a day when Gaylord Perry, who pitches the way Casey Stengel talks, baffled the New York Mets with his “slider” (meaning spitball) and won his 16th victory against only two losses. Next day they became mere pretenders again when Juan Marichal (record: 17-4) retired the first 17 Mets he faced, then inexplicably blew a five-run lead. The Philadelphia Phillies won seven games in a row, and Philly fans traded FIRE MANAGER MAUCH signs for new ones that read WE LOVE MAUCH.

By week’s end only 4½ games separated the top four pennant contenders, the league lead had changed hands twice, and it seemed only natural when it finally fell into the possession of the Pittsburgh Pirates—the zaniest team in baseball.

Black Maxes. “We haven’t got a sane guy on this ball club,” Pirate Catcher Jim Pagliaroni announced proudly—and it was not an insane thing to say. Pagliaroni’s off-duty attire includes a leather World War I aviator’s helmet and goggles. El Roy Face, the Pirates’ No. 1 relief pitcher, struts around in a buccaneer’s hat, complete with skull and crossbones. Starting Pitcher Steve Blass sometimes forgets he has a glove; last week he fielded two hot grounders barehanded and broke a bone. Outfielder Willie Stargell has trouble ordering in restaurants, because he speaks a language all his own: “Gospel bird” is fried chicken, and “jungle plum” is watermelon. All four Pirates are charter members of an “in” group that calls itself the Black Maxes, awards clichés—that’s right, clichés—to deserving teammates. Blass, for example, is the team leader in “can’t-do-it-every-days” with 21: he has started 22 games, finished only one. First Baseman Donn Clendenon, who has struck out 97 times, is way ahead in “get-’em-next-times.”

The wackiest pirate of them all isn’t even a ballplayer. Bob Prince, 49, the team’s radio-TV announcer, is a skinny character who is famous for his loud sport coat and once leaped from a third-floor window into a swimming pool to win a bet. Two weeks ago, when the Pirates changed planes in Dallas, Prince refused to let a stewardess take his tape recorder, explaining: “It’s as sensitive as a bomb.” He had barely settled into his seat before FBI agents arrived.

Announcer Prince is also something of a mad scientist. Together with Pirate Trainer Danny Whelan, he is co-inventor of Pittsburgh’s secret weapon: the Green Weenie. Practically everybody who patronizes ballpark concession stands has seen green hot dogs, but the Pirates’ are plastic imitations supposedly endowed with magic powers that put the whammy on opposing players. The players point them from the dugout; fans wave them from the stands. Sometimes they even work. When the Pirates played the Giants two weeks ago, Prince pointed a Weenie at Juan Marichal. Marichal won the game, 2-1, but next day he caught the third finger of his pitching hand in a car door and missed two scheduled turns on the mound. In Pittsburgh, the Pirates were trailing the Philadelphia Phillies 3-1 in the seventh inning when Prince’s fellow announcer Don Hoak begged Bob to use the Weenie. “Not yet,” said Prince. In the eighth inning, with Pittsburgh still behind by two runs, Prince finally waved the Weenie. The Pirates scored four runs and won the game 5-3. “Remember,” said Prince to Hoak. “Never waste the power of the Green Weenie.”

When it comes to wasting power, the Pirates are a prime example of conspicuous consumption. Their team batting average is .281—18 points higher than any other club in the majors, and their regular line-up includes three batters with averages over .320. The only reason it isn’t four is that Manny Mota (.357) or Matty Alou (.344) can’t both play centerfield at the same time. So far this season, the Pirates have scored an average of almost five runs per game—a good thing, considering that Pittsburgh’s starting pitchers have managed to finish only 27 out of 109 games. When Bob Veale went nine innings to beat the Los Angeles Dodgers 3-1 last week, the whole bullpen staff lined up to anoint him with beer as he entered the clubhouse.

ncG1vNJzZmismaKyb6%2FOpmaaqpOdtrexjm9vcXFjZYZwrsCsnJuZnKF6uLTApqSyZaeewal5wGaunp2enrJw

 Share!