ESPN
Page 4
I remember, I remember where I came from.
The only player ever to win both an NCAA basketball championship and a World Series is Tim Stoddard, who was a member of the 1974 North Carolina State Wolfpack and the 1979 Baltimore Orioles.
SUB TITLES
FROM BAMBI TO THUMPER—A NICKNAME QUIZ
When did the practice of giving athletes nicknames start? Well, actually it dates back to ancient Greece and a wrestler named Sostratus of Sicyon. Because he could defeat opponents simply by bending back their fingers until they gave up, he became known as Acrochersites, or “Fingerer.”
Since then, we’ve had the Toe (Lou Groza), Crazylegs (Elroy Hirsch), and Cabeza (Tony Fernandez). In fact, we’ve had athletes named after animals (Hippo Vaughn), vegetables (Spinach Melillo), and minerals (Clint “Scrap Iron” Courtney).
The list is endless and mind-boggling. To encapsulate the richness and creativity of nicknames, we’ve created this quiz, in which we ask you to match 26 nicknames with their owners. If you get all 26, call yourself the Professor (Jim Brosnan):
Ted Williams, 1957.
1. Bambi A. DeWayne Scales
2. Thumper B. Fanny Blankers-Koen
3. Mongoose C. Leo Lewis
4. Snake D. Red Rocha
5. Little Poison E. Paul Lehner
6. Big Dipper F. Waite Hoyt
7. Moon G.James Donaldson
8. Eclipse H. Ted Williams
9. Astronaut I. Kurt Rambis
10. Poet J. Harry Simpson
11. Gulliver K. Lance Alworth
12. Chaucer L. Kenny Stabler
13. Flying Housewife M. Philip Powers
14. Grandmother N. Wilt Chamberlain
15. Godfather O. Eddie Lukon
16. Hitman P. Anthony Hallahan
17. Thin Man Q. Lloyd Waner
18. Spider-Man R. Benny Ayala
19. Batman S. Fred Apostoli
20. Clark Kent T. Tommy Lasorda
21. Lincoln Locomotive U. Andre Rison
22. Pullman V. Ed Charles
23. Suitcase W. Edwin Elliot
24. American Tourister X. Thomas Hearns
25. Boxing Bellhop Y. Andrew Porter
26. Pitchin’ Mortician Z. Richard Wood
Key: 1-K, 2-H, 3-O, 4-L, 5-Q, 6-N, 7-P, 8-R, 9-A, 10-V, 11-E, 12-W, 13-B, 14-M, 15-T, 16-X, 17-D, 18-U, 19-Z, 20-I, 21-C, 22-Y, 23-J, 24-G, 25-S, 26-F
Lance Alworth, 1970.
SIGN LANGUAGE
RICH DONNELLY ON
HOW TO GIVE SIGNS
Have you ever marveled at the communications technique of a third base coach, ever wondered why he has to touch so many different parts of his body and uniform to send the batter the right message? Rich Donnelly, a third base coach for five teams during his long career, unlocks the mystery:
You have a bunt sign, a take sign, a steal sign, and a hit-and-run sign—to name a few—and each one of those signs is a touch. There are basically 12 areas you can touch without going to jail. What I try to do is touch all those spots at least once, giving the sign in the middle. You don’t want to go too fast or too slow.
Let’s say that the bunt sign is the right hand off the hat. I tell the players to just look at my hat. Don’t look at my ears, nose, or face; don’t try to follow my hands, just concentrate on the hat. I try to keep it simple: If I spit, the hit-and-run is on. If I take my foot and tap it on the ground, maybe something else is on. I also use claps—give all my signs and clap once, which means the bunt is on.
You don’t want the other team stealing your signs, so different players have different sets of signs, and you have to change them up when a player gets traded. The number one mistake coaches make is bad tempo, changing speeds if something is on. You can tell. You can also sometimes see a coach’s eyes light up when something is on. The other team is always watching your signs and may even be filming you.
When I was in Pittsburgh, Jim Leyland had the trainer give the steal sign by folding his arms across his chest. One night, we had a very slow guy on first, but it was so cold that the trainer crossed his arms to stay warm. The runner was out by a mile.
I love the job. It’s like a chess game. I practice my signs at a red light— I’m putting on the squeeze and the guy in the car next to me is like, “What the heck are you doing?” I practice them in the mirror at home. I have eight kids, and I used to tell them and my wife, “See if you can pick up my sign,” then go really fast.
In church, people think I’m blessing myself. I’m not, I’m giving the sign for a hit-and-run.
At the end of the 1953 season, Major League Baseball banned the players’ common practice of leaving their gloves on the field while their team batted. Among the complainants was Yankee manager Casey Stengel, who said, “We are trying every which way to speed up games. Now we have a rule that makes for delays.”
FOR PETE’S SAKE
THE DAY A CLUBHOUSE GUY
SCORED A TOUCHDOWN
The life of a locker-room attendant is not easy. Sure, there’s the reflected glory of working with famous players for a famous team, but mostly it’s drudgery: doing laundry, shining shoes, cleaning up messes, packing and unpacking…
Pete Sheehy did it for 58 years at Yankee Stadium for the New York Yankees and the New York football Giants. One day, though, he actually got credit for a victory. The day was November 12, 1961, and the credit came from Allie Sherman, the Giants’ head coach:
I’m sitting at my desk in Yankee Stadium, drawing up my game plan for the Eagles game that week, and Pete is pushing a broom. I say to no one in particular, “I wish we had some speed.” Pete goes on sweeping and pipes up, “You do.” I say, “I do?” He says, “Yeah—on defense.” So I draw up these plays designed to take advantage of Erich Barnes and Jimmy Patton, defensive backs, but our two fastest guys.
Because of a shortage of players due to World War II, the Philadelphia Eagles and Pittsburgh Steelers put together a combined team in 1943 called the “Steagles” that finished the season 5-4-1.
Sure enough, in the second quarter, Sherman sent in Barnes and Patton. And Y. A. Tittle threw a 62-yard touchdown pass to Barnes that put the Giants ahead 24–7 and propelled them to a 38–21 victory. After the game, Sherman told the reporters whom he had gotten the idea from.
“Now it’s Monday morning,” said Sherman, “and I’m back in the office. But my coffee isn’t there. Pete always brought me my coffee. Never missed a day. So I ask around, a little worried about Pete. And they tell me he couldn’t come in that morning. Turns out he was on the Today show, talking about how he won the game against the Eagles.”
JUST FOR KICKS
LANDON DONOVAN ON
HOW TO SCORE ON A PK
Apenalty kick in soccer seems fairly easy: The shooter steps up to a ball placed 12 yards from a goal that’s 24 feet wide and 8 feet high, with only a goalie in between. As difficult as it is to score a goal in soccer, the success rate for potting penalties is roughly 80 percent. According to Landon Donovan, the U.S. national team’s all-time leading scorer, “The ideal approach is to focus on the corner you want to put the ball in and hit it hard. If you hit it properly, the goalie’s not going to save it—most of the time.”
Ah, while Donovan is a perfect 8-for-8 on PKs in international play, there are other stars—namely, Roberto Baggio and David Beckham—who have missed penalty kicks that would have given their teams important victories. A poorly taken spot kick can actually send an entire nation into mourning, not to mention your local rec team.
Donovan has some advice for penalty kickers everywhere: “As you get better at it, you figure out how to keep the goalie from knowing what side you’re going to. You don’t ever want to look where you are hitting it or make it too obvious by standing on one side of the ball. The more hidden you are with your body language, the harder it is to predict where the ball will go. You want to keep the goalie guessing.”
Donovan also notes that you don’t necessarily have to shoot for the corners.
“In a big game, a lot of times it’s best to shoot right down the middle. The keeper is probably going to anticipate hard and dive in one direction or the other. It’s risky, but when it goes in, you’re the hero.”
MIGHTIEST FIGHT (BOXING)
THE FIRST ALI-FRAZIER BOUT
For all the the great boxing matches in history, there is one that stands above the rest, at least for the people who saw Muhammad Ali fight Joe Frazier in Madison Square Garden on March 8, 1971. The setup itself promised remembrance: boxer versus puncher, brash versus taciturn, counterculture versus establishment, undefeated versus undefeated. And there was this: It was Ali’s first big fight since being stripped of the heavyweight title in 1967 for refusing to accept induction into the U.S. Army on religious grounds.
As usual, Ali heralded the fight with a poem: “Joe’s gonna come out smokin’ But I ain’t gonna be jokin’ I’ll be pickin’ and pokin’ Pouring water on his smokin’ This might shock and amaze ya / But I’m gonna destroy Joe Frazier.”
Covering the fight for Ali’s hometown Louisville Courier-Journal was Dave Kindred, who wrote, “I don’t remember breathing all night long. Even with Frazier pounding on him early in the fight, Ali leaned back against the ring ropes and made eye contact with us at ringside, calling out, ‘No contest, nooooo contest.’”
But it was a contest, 15 rounds of brains and brawn, heart and soul. Ali was behind on most cards, but he never seemed more noble. He had been pummeled mercilessly by Frazier, but he handed out his own punishment. When the bell rang for the 15th and final round, out staggered Ali in his red trunks, exhausted but proud, and Frazier in his green trunks, eyes swollen shut but determined. Here’s the ringside call by legendary announcer Don Dunphy:
Referee Arthur Mercante has them touch gloves, something they’ve been doing all night.… Muhammad Ali’s going to go boxing again…and Frazier goes back to the attack.… Step back, says the referee,… time is important here.… [Crowd roars with 2:42 left in the round as a Frazier left hook puts Ali on the canvas, sending the tassels on his sneakers flying.]… He takes the mandatory eight count, the only knockdown of the fight.… Muhammad Ali was flat on his back, but he’s a well-conditioned athlete,… however, he’s real tired.… Frazier smartly goes for the body and Muhammad Ali covers up,… two minutes to go in the fight, two minutes,… the crowd, needless to say, is in a bedlam.… Oh! What a shot! If Joe had followed that up, he would’ve finished him.… Muhammad Ali has never taken such a battering.… Frazier is just touch-shadowing him now,… one minute, one minute left, look for a last-minute flurry from Muhammad Ali,… less than a minute to go.… Muhammad Ali gamely fights back…and Ali again makes the clinch.… Remember, the scoring is on a rounds basis, Frazier is tired and his eyes are closing,… half a minute, half a minute to go, Frazier won the big rounds, the 11th and the 15th, at least up to now.… Frazier has the man in the corner,… 10 seconds…5 seconds.… We’ll have an interview with the winner, and maybe with the loser.
Ali and Frazier square off at Madison Square Garden on March 8, 1971.
The winner was Frazier, on all three cards. But Ali emerged as a more heroic figure. Said his ringside doctor, Ferdie Pacheco, “That night he was the most courageous fighter I’d ever seen. He was going to get up if he was dead.” Somehow that night, the Greatest became even greater.
BRAZIL NUTS
YOU, TOO, CAN HAVE A
BRAZILIAN SOCCER NAME
His name is actually Edson Arantes do Nascimento, but the world knows him as Pelé. Millions wear the jersey of Ricardo Izecson dos Santos Leite, aka Kaká. Part of the allure of Brazilian soccer is the poetic kick of its nicknames. Indeed, 21 of the 30 Brazilians on the roster for the 2010 World Cup are known by just one name.
Why is that? As a consequence of its history of slavery and poverty, Brazil still has one of the lowest literacy rates in the world, so simple, short childhood names are the norm. (Even the president, Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, answers to Lula.) The mellifluous Portuguese language also helps: Because Ronaldo Luis Nazário de Lima came on the world soccer stage first, he gets to be called Ronaldo. When Ronaldo de Assis Moreira came along, he became Ronaldinho, or “Little Ronaldo.”
So what if you’re not Brazilian but you want a Brazilian soccer name? You could go traditional and simply use your first name or a childhood nickname. Or you could go online, to a website called minimalsworld.net, click on the Brazilian soccer-name generator (“BrazilName”) and enter your first and last names, as well as your favorite jersey number. In seconds, you’ll see your name emblazoned on a gold and green jersey. Say your name is Landon Donovan and your number is 10. Presto, you’re Donovisco.
BY THE NUMBERS
HOWIE SCHWAB COUNTS UP
THE UNIFORMS
If you’ve ever seen the game show Stump the Schwab, on ESPN, you know that the network’s chief researcher, Howie Schwab, has an encyclopedic grasp of sports. You also know that he has an endless supply of jerseys. So we asked Howie to give us his favorite uniform numbers from 1 to 100. Naturally, he didn’t stop there:
0 George Plimpton: His number in Paper Lion. Sorry, Al Oliver and Gilbert Arenas.
00 Robert Parrish: Played a record 21 years in the NBA. (Jim Otto, Jack Clark.)
09 Benito Santiago: He caught for 10 different major league teams.
⅛ Eddie Gaedel: The midget who batted for Bill Veeck’s St. Louis Browns.
1 Oscar Robertson: Big O also wore 14, but he’s the one. (Warren Moon, Ozzie Smith.)
1A Secretariat: That’s what he wore in the Kentucky Derby.
1½ Robert Merrill: The number given by the Yankees to their favorite baritone.
2 Derek Jeter: My wife would kill me if I didn’t pick him. (Moses Malone, Brad Park.)
3 Babe Ruth: No argument here. (Allen Iverson, Dales Earnhardt and Murphy.)
4 Lou Gehrig: The first number to be retired. (Bobby Orr, Brett Favre.)
5 Joe DiMaggio: The best of a lot of great fins. (Johnny Bench, George Brett.)
6 Bill Russell: Personified winning. (Dr. J, Stan the Man.)
7 Mickey Mantle: Last of the Yankees for a while. (John Elway, Phil Esposito.)
8 Cal Ripken Jr.: Actually, the number is 2,632. (Yogi, Yaz, Steve Young.)
9 Ted Williams: The greatest hitter ever. (Gordie Howe, Maurice Richard, Mia Hamm.)
10 Pelé: A bow to the world’s most popular sport. (Walt Frazier, Fran Tarkenton.)
11 Mark Messier: The Rangers’ cup belongs to him. (Phil Simms, Carl Hubbell.)
12 Terry Bradshaw: A passer’s number, worn by Joe Namath, Tom Brady, and John Stockton.
13 Wilt Chamberlain: Still casts a long shadow. (A-Rod, Dan Marino, Steve Nash.)
14 Pete Rose: Hey, this isn’t Cooperstown. (Bob Cousy, Otto Graham, Ernie Banks.)
15 Bart Starr: The original Super Bowl winner. (Thurman Munson, Earl Monroe.)
16 Joe Montana: As classy as they come. (Bobby Clarke, Whitey Ford, Bob Lanier.)
17 John Havlicek: He stole the ball, and the number from Dizzy Dean.
18 Peyton Manning: The first of two Colt QB greats. (Darryl Strawberry.)
19 Johnny Unitas: The second. (Bob Feller, Willis Reed, Steve Yzerman.)
20 Barry Sanders: Little Big Man. (Mike Schmidt, Lou Brock, Frank Robinson.)
21 Roberto Clemente: MLB should retire his number, too. (KG, Rocket, Warren Spahn.)
22 Emmitt Smith: Nobody could catch 22. (Elgin Baylor, Jim Palmer, Mike Bossy.)
23 Michael Jordan: As much a lock as Ruth. (LeBron James, Don Mattingly.)
24 Willie Mays: Hey, who else? (Bill Bradley, Ken Griffey Jr., Kobe Bryant.)
25 Barry Bonds: Ironically, his main competition is Mark McGwire.
26 Wade Boggs: Led the league in hitting five times. (Billy Williams, Herb Adderley.)
27 Carlton Fisk: Pudge’s Red Sox number. (Juan Marichal, Catfish Hunter.)
28 Marshall Faulk: His versatility was unmatched. (Darrell Green, Willie Gallimore.)
29 Ken Dryden: Montreal’s great net minder. (Eric Dickerson, Satchel Paige.)
30 Nolan Ryan: Spell his name with 5,714 Ks. (Ken Griffey Jr., Martin Brodeur.)
31 Dave Winfield: An NBA and NFL draftee as well. (Reggie Miller, Greg Maddux.)
32 Jim Brown: Over some other amazing 32s: Magic, Koufax, Carlton, Walton.
Which 32 would you choose?
33 Kareem Abdul-Jabbar: Another tough call. (Larry Bird, Sammy Baugh.)
34 Walter Payton: Left us all too soon. (Charles Barkley, Bo Jackson.)
35 Frank Thomas: A surefire Hall of Famer. (Phil Niekro, Alan Ameche.)
36 Gaylord Perry: Cy Young winner in both leagues. (Marion Motley, Robin Roberts.)
37 Doak Walker: Hey, he has his own award. (Casey Stengel, Lester Hayes.)
38 George Rogers: Heisman winner and NFL workhorse. (Curt Schilling.)
39 Roy Campanella: 142 RBIs for the ’53 Dodgers. (Larry Csonka, Dominik Hasek.)
Eddie Gaedel, the 3-foot-7 pinch hitter whom Bill Veeck sent up to bat for the St. Louis Browns in 1951, made another appearance for Veeck, in 1959—as one of the “Martians” who captured the White Sox’ diminutive double-play combination, Luis Aparicio and Nellie Fox.
40 Gale Sayers: More than a character in Brian’s Song. (Pat Tillman, Bill Laimbeer.)
41 Tom Seaver: A number that symbolized determination. (Wes Unseld, Brian Piccolo.)