The Sincerest Form of Flattery

Few mlb promotions interest me much, but actober.com, which asks fans to recreate famous baseball moments in a self produced video, may be a keeper. It sounds like a fun way for fans to get away from the computer and physically engage the game's history while creatively using both sides of their brains.

Imitating great players and feats got me reminiscing about how we did just that when I was a boy. If you grew up in the sixties or seventies, you were playing ball constantly; at least one - sometimes two - leagues of organized baseball, school recess and picnic softball, backyard and neighborhood whiffleball. We even played some stickball when I lived in Brooklyn. Back then, a parent or enterprising older sibling might have an 8mm camera, but most likely not. It didnt matter, because these were not one time creations to be captured on celluloid, but rote performances imprinted on memory.

Doug Haller, from the Arizona Republic, wrote a related article today, about how he recreated Joe Morgan's arm flap and Willie Stargell's windmill practice swings when he was growing up in Indiana . Unfortunately, I couldnt find a link, but Doug's memory struck a chord, because me and my friends imitated stances and idiosynchrasies of the very same players - from the fields of Connecticut.

The key to Stargell's windmill, for example, was that he didnt just rotate the bat in one circular direction, but interrupted each revolution with a little hitch near the top - in the opposite direction. And when the pitcher wound up, Willie would dramatically speed up the revolutions to ready his stick.

Morgan's "chicken wing" arm flaps and Rod Carew's open stance were popular, as were Reggie Jackson's home run rips. The key to Reggie, was you had to discard the bat in one violent but seamless swing reversal, while rising from your coiled crouch to admire your tape job, straight up.

On the mound, there were really two guys. Juan Marichal and Boston's Luis Tiant. I was a Yankee fan then, but Luis Tiant was just who you did. His jerky theatrics transcended club affiliation, at least on the whiffleball fields of America, where we were all childhood actors first. Eventually, I developed a dead on Jim Kaat quick pitch, but was almost thirty at the time, and in need of psychological counseling.

In the field, all the kids were Willie. Say Hey to the basket catch, preceded by a few fist pounds into the empty glove.

Growing up in the New York area, we also dabbled in more subtle, regional  specialities. Way back, the pigeon toed Roy White, batting left handed of course, with his bat held almost horizontal to the ground was a signature recreation. Bobby Murcer, bent almost 90' at the waist, leaning over the plate, with deliberate, rotational practice swings, measuring the pitcher.

I was the only kid on the block who dared mimic Chris Chambliss, the least showy of that Yankee era. Imitating Chris was a death trap, like a stand up comic trying to ape some obscure B-list actor. But I had Chambliss down, from his stiff shouldered, rigid practice swings to his ungainly, lumbering egress from the left handed box. If you did Chris in front of 100 people, only half would even know who he was and the other forty seven would have no idea what you were doing, but two or three like, blessed souls would appreciate your peculiar genius.

Maybe the  most fun Yankee to imitate, though, was Mickey Rivers. For younger folks who never saw him, Mickey was the spittin' image of Juan Pierre - with a hefty dollop of mustard on top. He'd waddle to the box from the on deck circle as if his shoes were too tight. On missed balls, his backswing would terminate with a signature, slight of hand 360' bat flip, that looked like he was twirling a baton. Then he'd emphatically jut his neck forward, which was unusually long for his body, as if to shake off the whole unpleasant experience.

The field's a stage, be it green or gray,

And all of us, players upon it.    

(photos from obits.eons.com, billdaniels.com, hickoksports.com )