The APBA Bond

We come from different cultures and upbringings, different careers and educations, those of us who play the APBA replay games.

We live across the country, alone or with families. We earn varying wages, root for different teams, have opposing political beliefs. We even alter in how we play the APBA game — basic version or a more complex master game for those who use the dice and cards to replay baseball (and other sports) seasons, or computer programs.

Yet there is one thing that bonds this eclectic group together and it's something that became very evident to me in the past few weeks of a trying time.

Each one who plays the game, who meticulously records contests either in tournaments or replays of complete past seasons, has heart. It's the common ground, and, as corny as it sounds, no matter who the APBA player is, those hearts beat in unison when it comes to kindness.

I noticed this a few weeks ago when I received an email from the APBA game company. David Yamada, an APBA player from Jamaica Plain, Mass., sent me an electronic gift certificate for a set of cards. I met David through the APBA Facebook page and we later connected as Facebook friends of our own. David is the director of the New Workplace Institute at Suffolk University Law School in Boston. He may be the most intelligent Facebook friend I have. (Sorry to all my other friends who send me funny fart jokes and whacky animal videos). He's a professor, I'm a reporter. Remember what I said about varying careers and education?

He sent it because of the common bond we have for the game. I used it to buy the 1961 baseball season — something I've wanted to get for years.

Then, two weekends ago, David Moss, the owner and optometrist at Eyecare Center of Memphis, messaged me and said he had an extra ticket to a Memphis Grizzlies basketball game if I wanted to go.

I had never met a fellow APBA player before. I live only an hour from Memphis, so I headed to the game. I met David for the first time in the Club 3 section, row E, of the FedEx Forum. And, as the Grizzlies built a double-digit lead over the Portland Trail Blazers that night, we talked APBA. I'm replaying the 1950 season now; David played it before. While Marc Gasol hit hook shots and Zac Randolph grabbed rebounds, we compared notes of that season six decades ago.

At one point, I mentioned that I had played a Yankees game earlier that day and Joe DiMaggio had hit two home runs in the contest. “Single or double-column card?” he asked, referring to the game card Joltin' Joe had for that season.

Others around us may have listened in, but they had no idea what we were talking about. We talked about our APBA history and gaming obsessions. For me, despite only having met David for a few minutes, I felt like I knew him for years. I had found a new friend.

Then, last week, I posted a note about my beloved APBA cat May. I had the cat for nearly 8 years, but she began suffering seizures and things were pretty bleak for a few weeks. I suffered with her; it was constant on my mind. I couldn't help May and it kept bringing me back to when my wife was in kidney failure some 10 years ago. I was helpless and frightened I'd lose yet another family member.

 On Saturday, after May was wracked with multiple, violent seizures I took her to the veterinarian where they had to put her to sleep. It was heart-breaking; I wept in the clinic, dealing with death again. I posted a note on the ABPA Facebook page about my loss later that night. It was probably somewhat narcissistic in doing so, but these were the friends I turned to.

(A friend invited me to his home Saturday night for dinner with his girlfriend and said they had a movie to watch that would help me through this. It was a Nicholas Sparks film. A freakin' Nicholas Sparks film! Why not just put on Ol' Yeller for someone who was grieving the loss of a pet?)

Within minutes of my post, the APBA community responded. Several gave condolences. They offered prayers. And they were not patronizing; they were serious.

And then a funny, touching thing happened. Some began posting pictures of their own APBA cats. Pictures of the cats on the APBA playing field, laying among the game cards and in boxes.

They understood. The bond.

A few weeks ago, one of the APBA guys posted a notice that his mother had passed away. Again, within in minutes, heartfelt comments poured in. We didn't know the guy personally, but we each felt his sorrow and pain.

We come from all over and from different demographics that have made us individuals. Those outside the APBA community may see us as “geeks” playing a kid's game with dice and cards. But these past few weeks, I found a strong likeness among all of us. A bond, I feel, that's stronger than many I have with people I've known for years.

Game No. 725. Why We Play Each and Every Game

It was just one game. An unimportant contest late in the season between two American League cellar-dwellers in my 1950 APBA baseball replay. But it turned out to be a compelling game and it's an example of why us replayers do each and every single game in a season.

It was Game No. 725 for me. The Chicago White Sox visited the Philadelphia As on July 21, 1950, for a game that had little draw. In the real contest that was played that year, 1,512 showed up at Shibe Park. I can understand why.

As my replay has progressed into the early dog days of the 1950 summer, I've seen a few things. The St. Louis Browns are lucky, having compiled a better record than they should; the Philadelphia Phillies are a very frustrating team to play with; the Cardinals are over achievers; and the American League Philadelphia team is pretty awful. They find creative ways to lose quite often.

Chicago came into the game with a less then stellar 35-56 record. They went 1-9 since the All-Star break, winning only once at Washington. The As were nearly as bad, going 2-7 since the break and losing once to Cleveland, 23-0, a week earlier.

So the table was set. This was bound to be a humdrum game, one to knock down quickly so I could get to the next game. Game 726 featured the Boston Braves, a team that has played well so far. And Game 728 was a clash between the AL-leading New York Yankees and the Detroit Tigers, who were 5.5 games behind.

Joe Coleman, a D-rated pitcher started for the As, and Ken Holcombe, another pitcher with a “D,” took the mound for the White Sox. Already, the game looked bleak with those two starters.

Chicago scored one run in the first and then blasted seven runs across in the second inning, including six after a double play. Coleman threw four walks in a row at one point. So, the White Sox led 8-0 going into the bottom of the second.

Philadelphia responded with four runs of its own, mainly on a three-run homer by pitcher Coleman. I guess he thought he'd have to help himself out, what with the poor play of his As.

Philly scored three more in the fifth and took the lead in the sixth on a home run by pinch hitter Robert Wellman. But, because it was Philadelphia, the As gave up three runs in the top of the eighth on four singles and a walk, and trailed 11-9.

Then, in the bottom of the eighth, Elmer Valo, a meek 5-10 outfielder from Ribnik, Czechoslovakia, smashed one over the Shibe Park wall and the As took the lead yet again. All Bob Hooper, a C-rated reliever, had to do was get three outs for the victory.

Didn't happen. Second baseman Billy Hitchcock threw wild and White Sox catcher Philip Masi scored, tying the game at 12. Luis Aloma shut down the As in the bottom of the ninth and the game headed to extra innings.

Again, a reminder: This game had little meaning in the standings. If NBC was doing the Game of the Week back then, this would be on the bottom of their schedule. But it was entertaining.

After Carl Sheib shut down the White Sox in the 10^th, Ferris “Burr” Fain led with a double for the As off of Chicago pitcher Randy Gumpert. Sam Chapman then squeezed a single past Sox second baseman Nellie Fox and Fain sped home, giving the As the win.

Philadelphia “improved” to 32-60, still in last place three games behind the 35-57 White Sox. 

It had the making of a simple game, one to be generally overlooked as I am heading into the pennant drive and watching for the headliner teams like the Yankees, the Cardinals and the Brooklyn Dodgers.

Instead, this game, No. 725, turned out to be a fun and entertaining tilt. Two teams mired in last place with virtually no chance of evening making it to the upper tier of the standings played a great game. It featured four lead changes, extra innings, home runs by a little-used pinch hitter and a pitcher and 30 hits in all.

It's why we play each and every game of our replays.

I Need Space ... Heaters

I'm realizing something now that I'm getting older.

No, not that I spend a lot of time yelling at kids to get off my yard, or I'm closely reading obituaries in the local paper, or finding that the things my parents said to me way back when they were my age now actually made sense.

I am realizing that I'm cold a lot.

And that's a wimpy thing for a former Minnesotan who currently lives in Arkansas to say.

But this year, I've noticed the chill more and I've taken steps to deal with it.

I now have a space heater in the room where I write things and play the APBA baseball replay. I keep it on the lower setting so it won't ever shut off, and I place it right next to me. I may catch on fire, but at least I won't be a-shiverin'.

This week, our temperatures in the balmy south will drop into the single digits and when factoring in the wind chill — the mathematical formula that allows people to complain even more about the frigid temps by considering the wind speeds and what would happen if you stood outside buck-ass naked — it'll dip below zero.

Crank up that space heater!

I've also got one at work. I am a bureau reporter for a newspaper and have a small office downtown near the courthouse. The windows in the archaic building where I'm in face north and west — the directions where the colder winds come from. So, I'm chilly there as well.

I used to handle the cold well. I never wear long-sleeved shirts and I sport a thinner jacket during the winters. The locals claim cold here is worse than, say, the North Dakota plains during an Arctic blast because it's a “wetter cold.” Yeah, and those people who freeze to death while walking to their mailbox in Fargo are apparently blocks of “dry” ice, I suppose.

When I was a kid in Bemidji, Minn., we'd go outside and play when it was 20 below. That's 20 marks below the zero and it doesn't include any wind chill. I remember walking to school on days when the chill factor dipped to 50 or 60 below, so this near zero stuff ain't much in comparison.

But, I'm still cold. I just turned on the space heater and dragged it over while I typed this because thinking of the cold makes me cold.

Maybe it is because I'm older. Something about slower circulation? Less tolerance? More opportunity to gripe? A good friend of mine gave me a fleece blanket to wrap up in while watching television for Christmas this year. Years ago I would have scoffed at such a gift. This year, I greatly appreciate it. I won't resort to that weird Snuggy thing, the cross between a marketing guru's joke and a cult leader's robe, because I'll never get that cold. But I do wrap in the blanket when watching ESPN. If I start knitting or constantly thinking that things were so much better in the days of yore while enwrapped in that thing, I may be in trouble.

I could blame this on my weight loss, too. This past year, I've lost 100 or so pounds. Strip off that much insulation on a house and the rooms get cold, I say.

Whatever the reason is, I've given the cold shoulder to the impending cool in the air as I reach for that on switch for the space heater. Low setting, of course, so it won't ever go off.

Three Years of Love, Life and APBA

It's hard for me to believe that three years ago tonight I began the Love, Life and APBA Baseball blog. But now, 58,411 reader visits, 255 comments and many new friends I've gained later, I'm still hacking out things about sports, my quirky observations, my less-than-stellar dealings with my bombed relationships and, of course, the replays in which I'm currently engaged.

I've often thought I'd run out of ideas to write, but they still come, sometimes tumbling out of my head in a jumble. The main concept here is the game. Most of us roll the APBA games daily, or at least we try to each day. Whether we're doing tournaments, what-if series or replays, we find time to get in a game or two .. or three or four. And that gives me the material, the impetus, to come up with more things to write about.

So, I'll keep going on, rolling the games in the 1950 baseball replay which I began in March and writing about the season, the players, the updated standings and including other things I think of that come from the recesses of my brain while I play these games.

There are so many more games to play. I've slowed the pace of my 1950 replay a few times this year; on occasion I played instead the APBA hockey game or a basketball game by another company (Not Strat-o-Matic, mind you), so that took away time from the baseball replay. But I also came back recharged to play the baseball again. It'll soon be a year into this replay and I'll have only reached about 70 percent completion. It's time to pick up the pace because, like I said, there are so many more games to play. I've got the 1991 season waiting in the wings and then the 1972 season after. Those will take a few years. I'd like to tackle 1919 at some point and I just ordered the 1961 season. I have to stay alive for a while to complete all these replays.

So, as is the manner for the day, I hope to fulfill one of my New Year's resolutions to play more games. I think I had that as one of last year's APBA resolutions as well. But this time, I really mean it! Just like I do for losing more weight, making more money and being a better person in the upcoming year. Really. No. Really. I mean it.

That said, more games equal more material to write about. And that I will do. I've already got new ideas for 2015. Some obscure and weird, some about the 1950 season and the pennant race that's developing. It ought to be a good fall run in this replay the way things are shaping up.

It's been a long ride, these past three years. Thank you, readers, for taking the trip along with me.

APBA Christmas, 2

Most of us who love the APBA contests we play were introduced to the sports replay game during a Christmas of our youth. At least I assume that.

I bet the game became a turning point from child to young adult when the packages were opened beneath the tree. The large box that the game came in was probably held back as one of the last gifts to be doled out and when it came, we knew we were setting off on a new adventure.

I've written about this before, my indoctrination to APBA on Christmas Day 1977 when my parents handed me the 1976 football season. It was a detailed game, far more complex than the simple card games I had played before. Like I said, it was a step into being more than just a child. We graduated to a more adult game to play.

We probably saw the advertisements for the game in a sports magazine. A majority of those who play the APBA games first played baseball, and probably saw an ad in an old Street and Smith's baseball preview magazine. I did it backwards, not getting into that sport until 1998 when, in December of that year, as 38-year-old, I opted to buy myself a Christmas gift.

I remember then having the same feeling, the same excitement of embarking on a new thing, that I did as a child.

And that's the draw of this game. What makes us stick with it for so many decades? Most of the people I've seen who roll the dice and do replays began as children and then continued on. Oh, sure, they may have put away the game while in college or when they got married, or had kids. But they always came back to it eventually.

So how does APBA do it? Does it have the magical formula to recapture our youth? When we roll the dice and play the games, the difficulties of every day life go away for a while. Although the difficulties were different back then, the same thing happened when I played the football and later the basketball game. Problems at school in 1978? Roll a game. Fear of finances and mortgage interest rates in 2014? Roll a game.

We've all gotten other games for Christmas, but I venture not many have made the trip with us into adulthood. Somewhere along the way, they are put aside; we out grow them; other aspects of life interest us more.

But not the APBA game. It is our constant companion, our wingman in the journey of life. And that's what makes this so interesting. I can't really figure it out, as we near Christmas this year. I first came to the game as a kid, only worrying about grades, a budding romance with a high school girlfriend and the vagueness of college years looming ahead. Now, nearly 40 years later, after graduating college with bachelor's and master's degrees, after losing both my parents, after being married and then losing my wife to kidney failure, after changing jobs a few times and after establishing a news career I've had for three decades, I still play the very same game.

Life changes, but the game remains the same.

Maybe we do the replays to hold just a little longer to that past life, that time when we were kids and we were excited by the heavy package that our parents slid out from under the Christmas tree.

I won't have a package beneath the tree this year, but I did recently buy the 1972 set of baseball cards to play sometime. Like a kid, I felt the anticipation as I waited for them to arrive in the mail and then the excitement of opening them and poring through the cards, just as I did when I was a young lad and that first Christmas present came to me.

May the APBA Cat

Sometimes the more important things in life come in the smallest sizes.

In my case, it's a 5.6-pound cat that I've had for seven and a half years and, now that her mortality is in question, I have discovered the magnitude of smallness. My cat, named May by those at the shelter where I found her in 2007, has some ailment that is now causing her to have mini seizures at times. It's alarming to see; she's always been a quiet, innocent animal. But when these hit, she falls, curls up and lies still for a moment. Within 5 second or so, she awakens and, albeit a bit confused, returns to her routine.

I took her to a veterinarian two weeks ago and he prescribed May medication, saying she may have an enlarged heart that causes these spells. An enlarged heart. That's kind of appropriate, what with all the love the cat has provided me these past seven years.

May the APBA cat with a 1974
Milt May APBA card

She greets me at the door when I come home from work each night, she sits on the arm of the couch while I watch sports on television. When I roll the replay games I do, she often sits in the same room watching me toss dice. Yes, she is an APBA cat. When she was younger, she would jump on the table where I played thegame and scattered the baseball game cards to gain attention. She'd also paw at the dice, knocking them to the floor. I don't know if she rolled any 66s (the universal dice roll for home runs in our APBA game).

After my wife passed away in 2006, a grief counselor suggested I get an animal to care for. She assumed I needed to replicate the care I gave my wife and thought an animal would be a good continuation. So, I opted for a dog and I almost got one. I found a blind shepherd in Memphis and actually headed over to meet him when the weather turned rough and I forewent the visit.

A few months later, a friend told me of a cat at a Hot Springs, Ark., shelter and on St. Patricks Day, 2007, I adopted May. She's been here since.

I never thought I'd be a cat person. My parents owned cats when I was young, but I never had one when I was on my own. It became a contest of who could train who. I thought I had the edge, training May to not scratch furniture, to use the litter box properly and chase string. But she won out, knowing I'd feed her whenever she wanted, play with her and let her sit on me when I watched television.

We bonded in 2009, I think, when a massive ice storm struck. I was without power for four days. Others lost electrical service for weeks, so I was lucky. I covered the event for our newspaper and the paper offered to put me in a hotel while I waited for my power to be restored. The hotel wouldn't take pets, so I opted to stay home instead, stoking my fireplace with wood and wrapping myself with blankets to stay from freezing. May stayed by my side during that time, probably because I was warm, but we both survived.

This is the first time she's been sick since I've had her. And while the replication of care probably helped me in the long run, I've discovered I am reliving some of the trauma I did when my wife was fading with the kidney disease that eventually claimed her. Lately when I come home, like I did before with my wife, I wonder if I will find May passed away.

Maybe I'm being too melodramatic. The medication seems to be working. She had one spell last night, but she'd been free from them (that I've seen) for a couple of days prior. And maybe getting all worked up over a cat is silly. An APBA cat at that. But when you deal with loss like I have, you cling to what you can and it takes on more of an importance. A 5.6-pound importance.

UPDATE: Jan. 25, 2015.
I lost May yesterday. Her seizures increased and, after trying different medications to avail, she had to be put to sleep. It was heartbreaking having to do that. The veterinarian clinic was very supportive, but it's hard. I miss my friend.

1950 Update: Halfway Point, July 6, 1950

I've reached the halfway point of my 1950 APBA baseball replay, slowly rolling 616 games so far. I know it's the exact point because I follow my APBA mantra: There's no rainouts in APBA. Each of the 16 teams will play 154 games, hence the full 1232 slate of games.

The season has been a good one, although I am missing tossing the dice for the Minnesota Twins, my favorite team. I realize Washington's American League team is the precursor for the Twins, but it's not all the same. After playing the 1981 season, and compiling the horrible season for the Twins, I embarked upon 1942 and now 1950. It'll be a good long while since I've rolled a Twins game before I tackle 1991 next.

That said, 1950 has some drama and it keeps me returning to the boards, cards and dice.

Here's the standings at the split, which coincided with all games finished on July 5, 1950:

AMERICAN LEAGUE

                      W    L    GB

New York      51 25  -

Boston           49 30  3.5

Detroit           45 31  6

Cleveland      46 33  6.5

Washington   31 46  20.5

Chicago         31 47  21

St. Louis        31 47  21

Philadelphia   26 51 25.5

New York is trying to pull away, but Boston hangs close. Earlier, the top four teams jockeyed for the lead, but the Yankees won seven of their last 10 games to edge into first. The pack is close, too. Chicago and St. Louis, while mired in the cellar, exchange places daily, it seems.

As for stats, well, I quit keeping them closely. I have less time and, sadly, I am lazy about that. I logged them in the computer, but there's something about doing them by hand that always appealed to me before. So, I keep the bare necessities of stats still: Home runs, pitching wins, loses and saves and occasional things like a player hitting three home runs in a game, or hitting for the cycle. I keep all the game box scores, so someday, someday, I may compile better stats.

However, I did run all the at bats for Joe DiMaggio just to see how he stood. He's batting .325 with 20 home runs and 70 RBIs. In the real season, the Yankee Clipper had 17 home runs by July 5, 1950.

Ted Williams leads the American League in batting with a .385 average (I did his season by hand, too). He's also got 20 home runs and 66 RBIs.

I'm also tracking George Kell's doubles. So far, he's hit 21 of them. In the real season, he has 22 at this point.

The National League is a dogfight. Here are the standings

NATIONAL LEAGUE

                      W   L   GB

New York     45 34  -

St. Louis       43 33  .5

Brooklyn      43 34  1

Pittsburgh     41 34  2

Boston          41 35  2.5

Philadelphia  36 44 9.5

Chicago        33 41  9.5

Cincinnati     24 51  19

Stan Musial leads the Cardinals with his .383 batting average, along with 16 home runs and 66 RBIs.

New York doesn't seem to have any real statistical standouts. Bobby Thomson leads the Giants with 15 home runs and Sal Maglie is 10-3 on the mound. They just finds ways to win.

On the inverse, Philadelphia, which won the real 1950 National League pennant, can't seem to get it together. Delmer Ennis has 21 home runs and two Phillies' pitchers have won nine games each. But they've lost close contests by a run or two and their bullpen has blown some games. Their relievers are 5-12 so far.

Brooklyn really looks like the team to win this. Don Newcombe is 13-2 at the break and has tossed a no-hitter against Pittsburgh. Duke Snider has 19 home runs and Roy Campenella has belted 17 dingers. Ralph Branca, who served up that fateful home run to Bobby Thomson a year after this replay, has five home runs.

As I turn the corner of the replay and continue rolling on, the pace has picked up some. The games are interesting and the pennant race in the National League keeps me glued to the replay. Will it be an all-New York Series at the end? Will the Whiz Kids of Philadelphia finally put it together and play to their real potential? Will I survive more than two years without rolling a game for the Twins?