Two Days Left: The 1950 Season Nears its End

With two days left in the 1950 baseball season in the APBA replay I'm doing, three teams still have a chance to win the National League pennant. There's no chance for a three-way tie; I've done the math and figured out all the possibilities. But, still, there are a lot of ways this plays out.

Regardless who wins, they will play the New York Yankees in the 1950 replay World Series. The Yankees wrapped the American League title up long ago and with two games remaining against Boston, they lead the Red Sox by 11 games.

So, the focus is on the National League and the two days remaining — Sept. 30 and Oct. 1.

Here are the upper tier standings for the N.L. as of Sept. 29:

Brooklyn    86 66   -

New York   85 67  1

Boston        84 68  2

St. Louis     83 69  3

The Cardinals would have been in the mix as well, but losing three of their last four games put them out of the race.

Here are the remaining games with the contenders: and a breakdown of them.

Sept. 30

Boston (Spahn 19-9) at New York Giants (Maglie 19-7)

Philadelphia (Miller 14-13) at Brooklyn (Roe 13-14)

Oct. 1

Boston (Bickford 16-12) at New York Giants (S. Jones 8-15 or Hearn 11-4)

Philadelphia (Church 8-10) at Brooklyn (Palica 12-12)

The first game between the Braves and Giants features two pitchers vying for their 20^th wins. In a season where walks seem extremely high, Spahn has done well with the strikeouts. Maglie, nicknamed the “Barber” because of his penchant for throwing 'close shaves' at batters, has had his share of the Ks this season, too.

In the second game, I've not decided who to put on the mound for the Giants. I guess it depends on how the games go the day before. If Brooklyn wins and New York loses on Sept. 30. the Dodgers will win the pennant. If Brooklyn loses that first game, I'll probably use Hearn for the Giants since he's a better rated pitcher.

Philadelphia, which has had a very disappointing season at 75-77, could be the spoiler. In the real baseball season, the Phillies won the pennant and faced the Yankees in the Series. In the APBA replay, despite having Del Ennis and his 34 home runs and Jim Konstanty's 26 saves, the Phillies seemed destined to lose close games. They've lost 21 one-run games in the replay and 35 two-run or less games. And check this out. The Phillies have scored 771 runs in the replay. They gave up 773 runs. They are 11 games out of first place, but had they scored, say, two dozen more runs, they may have been challenging Brooklyn now.

Obviously, Brooklyn is the favorite. Duke Snider has 37 home runs this year, and after starting out slowly, Gil Hodges has stepped up with 24 home runs. The downside to them is a weak bullpen. Their relievers, which include John Banta, Ralph Branca, Dan Bankhead, Bud Podbielan and Carl Erskine, are all “D-rated” pitchers, which is the lowest rating APBA gives pitchers in the basic game.

If Brooklyn builds up a big lead, they don't seem to be in much trouble. But rely on that bullpen to hold a one- or two-run lead late in the game and it's a whole different ballgame, as they say.

All that to say this is one of many reasons we play APBA. I've been rolling the dice for this 1950 replay since March 7, 2014. Now, 17 months and 1,217 games later, it comes down to four games. And a neat thing about those of us who play APBA — We know the games are not real, but we revel in them as if they are. I keep one of my Facebook friends advised of the games' outcomes. Scott Schihl of near Toronto asks via the chat option on the social media how the teams are doing and offers his take on the proceedings. We act like the games are real, two guys just talkin' about sports. But, since he plays the game like I, he gets it and sees how these games are addictive and fun to ponder over.

Again, the recap: If Brooklyn wins on Sept. 30 and New York loses to Boston, it's over. We'll have a Subway Series. If Brooklyn loses both games against Philadelphia and New York beats Boston twice, the Giants are National League champs. If the Dodgers lose two and Boston sweeps the Giants, Brooklyn and the Braves will be tied for first at the end of the season.

It's time to roll the dice and see what happens.

The Stairway Package

When you're an obsessive APBA player like I, you tend to begin worrying about the next replay as the current one nears its end. Do you go with a different era than the one you're doing now? One you're familiar with? One that brings back memories of watching the actual season as a youngster or a season that becomes a backdrop in a memorable time of life?

It's on my mind as I am nearing the final games of the 1950 baseball season I've been rolling since March 2014. I am still debating about doing 1972 or 1991. Both are important seasons for me. I watched 1972 as a kid in Minnesota; it was one of the first seasons I really watched closely as the Twins finished third that year behind Oakland. I am also debating going to my home town in Minnesota next month on my first vacation since my wife passed away nine years ago. I found a place to stay only 10 blocks from my home, and it'd be neat to roll games in that 1972 season while there, so close to the home where I watched the games as an 11 year old.

But 1991 was a great season, as well. I've written about that year here before, so stop me if you've heard this: I was in Lubbock, Texas, enrolled in a PhD program in English at Texas Tech and in the midst of a horrible, failing relationship. I bailed, dropping out of school and love between Games 2 and 3 of the Series that featured Minnesota and Atlanta. The Twins' winning the World Series that year was the salve to the heartbreak I experienced.

So, I obsess over which season to do next.

And, as a newspaper writer who's stuff is read by nearly 200,000 people daily, I at times worry if I'm doing a rotten job. We don't hear compliments on a story, but make one mistake and the phones light up. I once wrote in a story about an Arkansas house where he once lived, that Ernest Hemingway killed himself in an old hotel in Ketchum, Idaho. Ye-gads, the calls! It wasn't a hotel, the astute readers barked. It was an apartment building converted from an old hotel.

That doubt transfers over to any writing I do, and even to this blog. I run out of ideas at times. And I wonder if anyone even really cares about this. It's the thoughts of the low self-esteem we writer-types get.

But both my dilemmas — which season to play next and if the blog is worth the time — were answered with a package left in the stairway of my workplace this week.

I was leaving the office, heading to an assignment in a town about 50 miles away when I saw the large box. I opened it and, to my stunned surprise, I found a large framed picture of the 1991 Minnesota Twins logo on white material and red pinstripes, like their uniforms. There was also the 1987 World Series patch, the “TC” logo and a 25-year anniversary patch.

A simple note read: “A couple of guys from Michigan enjoy reading Love, Life and APBA Baseball.”

It was signed “Jerry and David” from St. Clair Shores, Mich.

I don't know Jerry and David from St. Clair Shores, Mich., but I am shocked, and pleased, by the offering. The picture will hang up on the wall above the table I roll these replay games. Above the table where I'll play the 1991 season next.

Yes, both of my dilemmas were solved in a single kind gesture. I will play 1991 next and I get feedback on this blog. A package from Jerry and David in St. Clair Shores, Mich., solved everything.

Thank you.

Back on Pace

The first step of my latest journey almost sent me backwards and into a pile of embarrassed stupidity.

But I held on, set the pace and took off.

I have joined a gym and took that first ventured step on a treadmill — something I don't think I've ever done with any regularity before. The forced walking, the undeterred pace of the thing, was a bit different. I had no choice but to step along, pacing more out of fear of appearing on some Stupid, Funny Video show than losing weight.

A couple of years ago, I swept the Doritos off my prone self, struggled up from the couch and began walking around a city park with a friend to lose weight. I had gotten so fat that I beeped whenever I backed up. Whenever I got on a scale, it'd holler out, “Hey, one person at a time.” My doctor began suggesting diets. One, I think, since I was in pretty bad shape, was to eat a stick in the morning, lick an apple for lunch and drink a glass of air for dinner.

Part of all that came with the depression of losing my wife in 2006. I kind of gave up and did that destructive thing survivors often do. I ate junk food and sat in a chair all day, rolling games in whatever APBA baseball replay I was doing. The most exercise I was getting then involved hiking to the refrigerator for another Pepsi. It's easy for people to suggest healthier diets and exercise, but there's so much more needed to break that cycle. I finally realized that and thought if I didn't do something, I'd turn into one of those people you see leaving his house only after paramedics remove a wall.

So my friend and I hit the park and I lost about 100 pounds in two years. I wrote about all that here back in August 2013.

But, much as the crack addict returns to the pipe, I returned last winter to the potato chip aisle and the ice cream aisle and the candy aisle. I was, alas, stranded on Fat Ass Isle. I gained quite a bit weight. Christmas and Thanksgiving? Why, thank you, I think I will have another slab o' pie

It got out of hand. No, really it did. Whatever was in my hand got out of it and into my mouth. Offer me a burger and pie and I looked like an industrial wood chipper.

Two weeks ago, when I neared my birthday, I joined a local gym that had all the equipment necessary to turn flab to ab, girth to worth, chunk to hunk and all that. The same friend who trudged weekly with me on the trail the past two years had already become a member and she extolled the virtues of walking and exercising indoors and at night.

So I went.

I put an old pair of sweat pants on and a tee shirt and, looking like some dorky extra in Olivia Newton John's circa 1980s “Let's Get Physical” video, I stepped on the treadmill and cranked it up to 3.7 miles per hour since I had no concept of speed. I might should have considered starting off slower. Me at that speed was like driving a Volkswagen minibus 95 mph at Daytona International Speedway.

I flailed and stumbled and staggered. I tried to get a drink from a bottle of water and promptly missed my mouth and poured it on my face and the tread below. Meanwhile, some fit asshat on the machine next to me jogged rapidly in place without sweating and without mussing his hair. I was wondering if I was bleeding from several orifices; he was trotting along oblivious to my demise.

But I stayed on the treadmill and, after losing feeling in my lower extremities, I looked at the odometer on the machine and saw I hit 3 miles. Nary a long stretch for most, but for me it was akin to a journey of 1,000 miles.

Later, I got on a stationary bicycle and peddled away. The bike has a little stand on it to allow for reading. I paged through my Sports Illustrated as I churned about 5 miles.

After two weeks, it's getting better. Last night, we tried a stair machine. It felt like my kneecap was going to shoot off and ricochet through the gym so I quit. But I rode 7 miles on the bike. I go three times a week now.

Each journey begins, like they always say, with a single step. My first step was a bit stumbled, but I kept at it.  

The Week: Sept 12-18, 1950

Last week was quite the week! There's been excitement, surprises, cheers, anger and flag waving. There's been second-guessing, arguments, close calls and tension.

Oh. Did you think I was referring to the Supreme Court's decision of last Friday? Of course not! This is APBA. We've got more important things to worry about.

And in this case, it was the previous week in the National League in my 1950 baseball replay. I'm nearing completion; there's only about 90 games remaining to play in the season and it's a dogfight to the end. In the American League, it's pretty much decided that the Yankees will head to the World Series and represent their league. As of Sept. 18, 1950, they are 9.5 games ahead of Boston with only 10 games remaining.

But, oh, that National League.

Here's a look at the week:

Sept. 12, 1950

New York 79 58 -

Brooklyn 76 60 2.5

St. Louis 76 61 3

St. Louis 10 Philadelphia 7

The Cardinals score all 10 runs in the first inning on a plethora of singles and walks. In fact, St. Louis only had one double and no other larger base hits the entire game.

New York 15 Pittsburgh 5

Sal Maglie goes the distance for the Giants, winning his 19^th, and Hank Thompson drives in 5 runs.

Cincinnati 3 Brooklyn 1

The anemic Dodgers scored only once on a home run by Jim Russell in the 8^th. Preacher Roe drops his record to 12-12.

Sept. 13, 1950

New York 80 58 -

Brooklyn 77 60 2.5

St. Louis 77 61 3

St. Louis 9 Philadelphia 4

New York 7 Pittsburgh 2

Brooklyn 12 Cincinnati 2

Jim Russell hits his second home run in two days for the Dodgers and Duke Snider adds one as Brooklyn gets back on the winning track.

Sept. 14, 1950

New York 81 58 -

Brooklyn 78 60 2.5

St. Louis 77 61 3.5

New York 13 Pittsburgh 2

Hank Thompson hits three home runs in the game and drives in seven runs.

Brooklyn 6 Cincinnati 1

Sept. 15, 1950

New York 81 59 -

Brooklyn 78 61 2.5

St. Louis 78 61 2.5

St. Louis 4 Brooklyn 0

Chicago 4 New York 0

Sept. 16, 1950

New York 81 60 -

Brooklyn 79 61 1.5

St. Louis 78 62 2.5

Brooklyn 8 St. Louis 5

Chicago 8 New York 6

Andy Pafko hits a three-run home run off Giants reliever Dave Koslo in the ninth to win the game.

Sept. 17, 1950

New York 81 61 -

Brooklyn 80 61 .5

St. Louis 79 62 1.5

St. Louis 5 New York 1

Sal Maglie gives up only three hits to the Cardinals, but an error, three walks and two hits in the sixth gave the Redbirds all their runs. Howie Pollet wins, improving his record to 16-7.

Brooklyn 7 Chicago 6

After trailing 6-2 in the seventh inning, Brooklyn scores five runs, including a bases loaded-clearing triple by Carl Furillo. Don Newcombe gets the win and leads the National League with 22 wins.

Sept. 18, 1950

New York 82 61 -

Brooklyn 80 62 1.5

St. Louis 79 63 2.5

New York 3 St. Louis 1

Bobby Thomson hits a two-run home run in the second inning, and the Giants hang on.

Chicago 3 Brooklyn 2

Hank Sauer's two-run homer, his 41^st of the season, is enough to defeat the Dodgers. Preacher Roe takes yet another heartbreaking loss.

Each team still has 11 or 12 games remaining to play in the season. The Boston Braves are lurking in fourth, 4.5 games behind. Pittsburgh, which led the National League early in the season, has fallen apart and, after winning only two of their last 11 games, is now 9.5 games out of first.

The Cardinals appear to have the easiest remaining schedule. They travel to Boston for three games and then to Chicago for three before returning home for three games against both Cincinnati and the Cubs.

The Giants host Cincinnati and then head to Boston for a two-game set before going to Ebbets Field for two against the Dodgers. They end the season at home, hosting Philadelphia and Boston.

The Dodgers host Pittsburgh for three games and then go to Philadelphia for two before the Giants head in for what could be a pivotal series. The Bums wrap the season up at home with three against the Braves and two against Philadelphia.

It looks like a close race to the end, and it has kept me far more interested than Supreme Court rulings, Confederate flag controversies and other mayhem the country seems to always manifest.

Happy Father's Day

On this Father's Day I realize my father, who passed away in March 1987, has been gone for more than half my life. But despite not having seen him for more than 28 years, I also realize his influence is on me every time I write a story for the newspaper where I work or when I roll the dice in the APBA replays I am constantly engaging.

I came late in my dad's life; he was born in 1916 and my parents didn't have me until he was 44 years old. He was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease at 54 — the same age I am for another week. I was 10 at the time, so, my formative years were dealing more with health issues than normal dad things. Most kids played catch with their dads, but because of the disease, I never really got to experience that.

But I wasn't disappointed. Most fathers teach their kids how to throw a ball. My dad thought me how to think. He had me reading Jules Verne and H.G. Wells and Walt Whitman early in my life. He encouraged me to write. He taught me to play chess, and after beating me five or six games in a row, when I began lacking interest, he threw a game to keep me playing.

The only time he really got mad at me was when he and my mother bought a new bureau dresser. I was about 4 or 5 at the time and we were living near the zoo in Madison, Wisc. Each night in the summer, they'd leave the windows open so I could hear the lion roaring in his cage. Somehow, one evening, I got one of my mom's pins and engraved my name (in print) in that new bureau. Even then, I guess, I was trying to write. He should have sent me to a juvenile prison camp in Russia for that offense. Instead, and I vividly remember this, he was really disappointed as he spanked me. The hurt I experienced that day was not physical. It was emotional. I had let my father down. The lion's roar that night was more mournful than prideful.

I grew up as an only child in a home that was more influenced by my father's failing health. He couldn't go outside and play sports, but he taught me to watch them on television. We suffered with the Minnesota Vikings' four Super Bowl loses and the Twins' woes of the 1970s when we lived in Minnesota. He planted the sports obsession in me that remains today, and fuels the drive I do when I replay the APBA seasons.

When he was diagnosed with the bastard disease that took his life on July 24, 1970, we were at a university medical complex in Fargo, N.D. Pres. Nixon was at the same hotel we stayed to speak to a governor's counsel and we caught a glimpse of the president then. My dad, like all I'm sure, was impressed seeing a president live. But he made a point to ensure I saw Nixon as well. The day my father's world crashed with the Parkinson's diagnosis, he sheltered me from the sorrow by teaching me to draw cartoons on chalkboards in the hospital's lecture rooms. He thought it would be funny if students came to class the following day to see the chalkboards covered in my scrawlings of cats and dogs and other animals.

He did have an intellectual sense of humor. But he also laughed at fart jokes and enjoyed the bizarre, conceptual stuff. He was also a genius when it came to music; he could pick up any instrument, figure it out in a few moments and begin playing it. He also sang professionally in New York and New Jersey when he was young. Sadly, only the fart humor gene was passed along to me. I chew gum at church so it looks like I'm singing. If I belted out a tune during services, we'd lose half our congregation who'd run out and convert to atheism out of fear.

But, then I equate his talent of music for mine of the word. He could sing and play music and create. I can write. Later, when the disease really took hold, he'd not be able to go anywhere. Instead, he'd come into my room and sit, watching me play the APBA football and basketball games I had at the time. He'd ask about the games, not really caring about the results, but instead just wanting to let me know he was there and was interested in what I was doing.

I guess the best thing I can say on this Father's Day is “Thank you” to my dad. He spent his time as a father, despite being older and, when I was not even a teenager, having to deal with what eventually killed him. I can only hope to continue my life as he had, with the dignity and intelligence he showed. I hope he'd be proud.

1950 Season Update - Sept. 14, 1950

With just a little more than two weeks remaining in my 1950 APBA baseball replay, it appears the New York Yankees have all but wrapped up the American League. The National League, though, is an entirely different story and as the season winds down, it'll be a dogfight between the New York Giants, Brooklyn Dodgers and St. Louis Cardinals to see who faces the Yanks in postseason play.

I've reached Sept. 14 in the replay. It's taken quite a while to arrive at this point. I began the replay on March 7, 2014, and now, 14 and a half months later, I'm still slowly rolling the games. I used to average four or five games a day. For some reason I've yet to figure out, I'm only tossing about two a game now.

But the National League race has sparked my interest and the games have returned to the forefront of my consciousness. Maybe I had a life outside of this dice game that briefly took me away — I've been busier at my newspaper job writing daily dispatches about flooding for the past two months, I've watched the NHL playoffs closely and the NBA games with a passing interest and I've been reading more stuff lately.

Anyway, despite the slow pace, the games continue on and, like all the previous replays I've done, this one has its own personality.

First, the standings:

AMERICAN LEAGUE

                    W     L    GB

New York    98   42      -

Boston         89   51      9

Cleveland    83   60    13.5

Detroit         80   59    17.5

Washington  59  81    39

St. Louis      53   86    44.5

Philadelphia 53  89     46

Chicago       47   94     51.5

Joe DiMaggio leads the AL with 38 home runs now and Boston Red Sox shortstop Vern Stephens is second with 35. Apparently the long ball is the deciding factor in the league. Six of the seven AL home run leaders are from New York, Boston or Cleveland — the top three teams in the league. Johnny Mize has 34 for the Yanks, Red Sox outfield Ted Williams has 33 and Indian teammates Al Rosen and Luke Easter each have 30 homers.

Early Wynn is an amazing 22-2 for the Indians on the mound and Allie Reynolds is 22-3 for the Yankees.

The Red Sox have won 10 of their last 12 games; their two loses have come to the Yankees. And Boston has scored in double digits in each of its last five games. Granted, those games were against cellar dwellers Philadelphia, Chicago and St. Louis.

The Yankees and Boston tangle four more times, including twice in Boston on Sept. 30 and Oct. 1. With 14 games remaining and a nine-game lead, it appears the Yankees are a good lock to win the division.

NATIONAL LEAGUE

                    W     L   GB

New York    81    58    -

Brooklyn     78    61    3

St. Louis      78    61    3

Boston         74    64    6.5

Pittsburgh    72    66    8.5

Philadelphia 66   75    16

Chicago        58    81   23

Cincinnati    48    89    32

Pittsburgh has been an interesting team to play. The Pirates began the season hot, going 10-2 in April and leading the league through much of June. They've faltered since then. They've won only two games of their last nine and six of their last 14. They did club Chicago, 24-2, scoring the highest amount of runs any NL team has accumulated this year. Ralph Kiner leads the majors with his 41 home runs. Hank Sauer of the Chicago Cubs is next with 38 homers and Duke Snider leads the Dodgers with his 36 dingers.

Brooklyn has hung close to New York with Don Newcombe on the mound. He is the league's only 20-game winner. Actually, he's 21-6. Sal Maglie is pacing the Giants with his 19-5 record.

Philadelphia has been the biggest disappointment. The Phillies won the 1950 season in the real baseball life, but has consistently come up short in the replay games. Phillies reliever Jim Konstantly is the lone success, saving 24 of Philadelphia's 66 wins. Del Ennis has 31 home runs for the hapless Phillies.

The National League schedule promises to have key games ahead. St. Louis is in Brooklyn next for a two-game series and then heads to New York for another two games. They may have the easiest final week, playing in Chicago before closing out the season with games agains Cincinnati and then the Cubs again.

The Giants face the Cardinals and the Dodgers each only two more times. They also have four games against Boston.

Brooklyn may have the most difficult task of any team to unseat the Giants in the lead. After their two game set with the Cardinals, they host Chicago and Pittsburgh, then travel to Philadelphia for two games against the upset minded Phillies. They close their season with home games against the Giants, Braves and Phillies.

There are still over 100 games remaining to replay in this season and at the rate I'm going, I may end this about time for football season to begin. But the excitement of seeing how this comes out brings me back to the game.

More of That Smell

A few weeks ago I wrote about a smell in the APBA room that kept games at bay for a while as I tried to discover the source. I equated the stench to a skunk during stressful times or, when I lit a cinnamon Christmas candle, to Martha Stewart after a rushed dinner at an all-you-can-eat bean and burrito buffet.

It was overpowering and, frankly, a bit unnerving. I thought maybe an extra of The Walking Dead — that never-ending show about decaying zombies and the mayhem they produce — had taken to residing in a closet in the room. Maybe the city's sewer line opted to blow out in my front yard or a turd factory opened shop next door.

I found the source a day or so later. A long worm somehow inched its way through the house and into the APBA room only to die. We had a lot of rain back then, and worms were all over the place in my driveway and back patio. I guess they, like many people during flooding, were seeking higher ground. Higher ground in this case constituted my back room behind a desk where I seldom voyage.

I discarded said stinker and resumed APBA game play.

But then the smell came back.

And I freaked.

I searched for more worms. But this time the stink seemed centered on one small area about head-high near the entrance to the room. It would come and then fade away. I would come home, wondering if the smell was there. Rather than first unload the day's fare from my pockets on the kitchen countertops, I'd beeline for the back room to see if the smell remained. Sometimes it was gone, other times it lingered.

It drove me freakin' nuts. Friends offered condolences. One caring soul asked if the smell seemed to follow me around wherever I went. Another thought I had dead animals in the wall.

I was losing my mind because I couldn't find the source. I don't believe in ghosts, but if they were real it'd be my luck it would be a flatulent one. GASper the Friendly Ghost?

I thought of calling one of those ghost hunters or séance people you see on the upper channels of cable, but I figured the hunter, bedecked in infrared cameras and recorders, would only capture clouds of red vapor. A real smellavison event. Had I called that Long Island Medium who has the show on The Learning Channel, I envisioned she'd ponder and feel the spirit and say, in that Jersey accent, “I'm sensing some kind of abdominal issues.” And I'd nod vigorously and break into tears, like all those people on her show do.

I even climbed into the attic to see if some animal with an irritable bowel moved overhead.

But there was nothing there.

So, was I losing my mind? I've read about migraine-sufferers smelling odd things when their olfactory system when awry. But other than the continual C5 disc issue I have, there were no other headaches indicating my health was, to continue the metaphor here, sliding down the drainpipe.

Then, the other day as I was leaving, I noticed movement in the APBA room. It was another worm! He was inching slowly to the middle of the room, maybe heading for the same spot his buddy croaked a few weeks earlier. He was covered in worm slime and smelled like someone was boiling cabbage in a municipal wastewater treatment plant that the EPA had deemed in violation of 32 regulations; you know, like a high school cafeteria.

I donned a hazmat suit, got the paper towels and bundled him up.

The smell hasn't returned. But I am still leery of saying all is well. I won't go to any all-you-can-eat Mexican places now because I won't know if that's me or some nasty stench-worm again.