OF all sports, baseball lends itself the most to remembrances of things past. Phillips’ death
brings back memoriesIts leisurely pace gives you a lot of time for thought. Like fine merlot wine, it's to be sipped and savored. Some might say baseball's too dull. But only to those with dull minds, Red Smith once said.
No wonder there are so many great books on baseball, more than any sport with the possible exception of golf.
"Baseball is almost the only orderly thing in a very unorderly world," said Bill Veeck. "Ninety feet between bases is the nearest thing to perfection that man has yet achieved," added Smith.
It's hard to tinker with the game, though owners have tried. The designated-hitter folly for one. But they've come to their senses. They want to do away with it.
Notice, too, that it's the only major sport without a commissioner. And doing quite well, thank you.
Anyway, opening day always brings back memories. Sadly, so did the death of former Hawaii Islanders player and manager, Dick Phillips, who died last Sunday at the age of 66.
I have to share two reminiscences involving Phillips, known as "Pup" in his younger days and "Dog" as he grew older.
The first occurred during spring training in 1965, Phillips' first year with the Islanders. They were then the Pacific Coast League Triple-A farm club of the Washington Senators. That's how long ago it was.
THE Senators trained in Miami, where I had the opportunity to meet their manager, Gil Hodges, the former Brooklyn Dodgers great. The Islanders trained at Lake Wales. If you haven't been there, be glad.
Anyway, Phillips, pitcher Dick Lines and I were playing golf. On the first hole, I toed my drive and nearly hit an elderly couple watching us tee off. Phillips had to go over and apologize.
Several holes later one of my stray shots bounced into a deep grassy hazard. Thinking I was back in Hawaii, I calmly started looking for my ball, poking around with my club.
"Get outta there," Phillips yelled.
"Why?"
"Snakes!"
Later, Phillips would say, "I didn't know you could jump that high."
After his playing days, Phillips returned to Hawaii to manage the Islanders (1977-79). But he first had to learn the managerial ropes. In 1974, our paths crossed again in Florida, where he was managing the Double-A Orlando Twins of the Southern League.
I was there to cover the World Football League debut of the Hawaiians against the Florida Sun. It happened that Phillips' team was playing at home that week, so I thought he'd be happy to see a familiar face from the islands. He was.
I don't remember if his team won. But I'll never forget the pregame promotion. You know, the kind you see at minor league parks everywhere to draw a few extra fans.
Bob Feller, the Hall of Fame pitcher of the Cleveland Indians but even then an aging ghost of himself, was on the mound. It was Hit-Against-Bob-Feller Night and all sorts of local personalities were there, taking their cuts at the plate.
"Come on, Bill. Get up there. You can tell people that you batted against Bob Feller," Phillips told me as we stood in the dugout.
I passed.
Not because I feared I would embarrass myself.
It was because I didn't want to embarrass Bob Feller.
I wanted to remember Feller for what he once was -- a great pitcher with a blazing fastball. Not someone reduced to a sideshow freak for local yokels to yuk at.
After all these years, I'm still glad I didn't.
Baseball is too good a game to make light of.