The Local Boys. Joe HeffronЧитать онлайн книгу.
agency after the next season.
At the age of 34, most players would read the writing on the wall and begin thinking about another vocation, but Barnes signed on with Detroit. And there, playing for manager Sparky Anderson, he found his place at last. Of course, he still played a lot of positions—primarily the infield and outfield corners—and he was a valued bat off the bench. He enjoyed three good years with the Tigers, finally retiring in 1994 after being released.
Detroit fans loved the garrulous, affable Barnes, who combined gifts for hard work and perseverance with good humor. At every stop in his career, he was seen as a throwback, in part because of his colorful sayings in the dugout or at the batting cage, such as “It’s called catch, not fetch” and “Ya hittin’ today or ya hopin’?” and “Is that Good’s brother out there, No Good?”
After retiring, Barnes worked as a coach in several organizations. Since 2007, he has been a roving instructor in the Tampa Bay Rays’ system.
BOB BARTON
JULY 30, 1941–
Major League Career
1965–1974
Time as a Red
1973
Position
CATCHER
WHEN BOB BARTON FOUND OUT he’d been traded from the San Diego Padres to his hometown Reds during the 1972 season, he wasn’t happy about it. In fact, he was angry. In fact, he refused to report. “When I found out, I said, ‘I’ve had enough,’” he says. He believes the trade was made because he was the Padres’ union representative during the two-week players’ strike in April of that year. “Of the 24 reps, only three or four survived with their teams,” he recalls. The others, he says, were traded or released or sent to the minor leagues. He believes that Padres’ general manager Buzzie Bavasi traded him to the Reds knowing that, as a catcher, he would see little action behind 1972 Most Valuable Player Johnny Bench. “That was the worst thing he could do to me,” Barton says.
He was born in Norwood, the family having recently moved from Madison, Indiana, so his dad could take a job as a printer with the Cincinnati Enquirer. Soon after, the Bartons moved to Latonia, Kentucky, where he grew up. His father died suddenly of a heart attack when Barton was 12, leaving his mother to raise three kids. “We didn’t have much money,” he recalls. A three-sport star at Holmes High School, he particularly excelled in basketball. A number of universities offered scholarships, including the University of Kentucky, where he’d always dreamed of playing. He accepted the offer, but then the San Francisco Giants came calling with a $25,000 signing bonus that he couldn’t refuse.
“One minute I have a scholarship to Kentucky and two days later I was in Nebraska,” he says. He spent the next six years in the minors, but after a strong season at AAA in 1965, he was called up in September, seeing little action. For the next few seasons, he fought for playing time behind All-Star Tom Haller. He recalls earning starts mostly against teams with great base-stealers. He credits his ability to gun down runners to his basketball experience, which taught him how to catch and release a ball quickly and accurately, a skill he worked on throughout his career. But sitting on the bench for days and even weeks between starts made it tough to hit well.
After the 1969 season, he was traded to the Padres, where he finally nabbed a starting job in 1971 and enjoyed his best MLB season. When the next season began, following the players’ strike, he found himself back on the bench. He contends that the reduced playing time was due to his role as the union rep.
By that time, he had begun building a financial services business and, at 30, was preparing for life after baseball. When he learned of the trade to the Reds, he retired rather than report to AAA Indianapolis. “I said, ‘You tell those boys I’m not coming,’” he says. And he didn’t. He sat out the remainder of the season. Then, around Christmas, Reds manager Sparky Anderson called, explaining that a spot had been found on Johnny Bench’s lung and the team was unsure about their catcher’s future.
Skeptical of the game’s business side, Barton insisted on a guaranteed contract. He says he was happy to be coming home, but wanted to protect himself in case Bench proved to be okay. Bench played in 152 games that season, Barton in just three. He had no hits in two plate appearances, walking once. With a healthy Bench and a strong backup in Bill Plummer, the Reds released Barton on June 17. The following spring, the Padres signed him to back up young Fred Kendall and then released him at the end of the season.
Barton has worked ever since at his financial services business, settling just north of San Diego, where he still lives with his wife, Connie. Always a talkative, happy-go-lucky guy, he maintains a reputation as a great storyteller, which keeps sports journalists coming to him, even though his playing days are long past.
JIM BECKMAN
MARCH 1, 1905–DECEMBER 5, 1974
Major League Career
1927–1928
Time as a Red
1927–1928
Position
PITCHER
THE QUESTION “WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE REDS?” was heard frequently in the first half of the 1927 season, according to historian Lee Allen in his 1948 book The Cincinnati Reds. The year before they’d nearly won the pennant, finishing just two games behind the Cardinals after a hard-fought race. They’d put together five straight winning seasons, finishing in second place three of the previous five years. But after a wretched start, they remained in last place in mid-July.
Before the season they’d traded away their biggest star, centerfielder Edd Roush, but the surprisingly slow start was the result of surprisingly poor pitching. Throughout the 1920s, the Reds had boasted one of the best staffs in the game, but heavy workloads on the big three starters—Eppa Rixey, Dolf Luque, and Pete Donohue—had taken a toll. In casting about for help they signed a local boy who had never even pitched in the minors.
Reinhardt Boeckman grew up in a big family in Norwood, the youngest child of Frank and Clara Boeckman. His father was a streetcar conductor, his mother a German immigrant. At some point he Anglicized his name, going by Jim Beckman. A 5′10″ right-hander, he gained local attention as the ace of Comello’s Clothiers, a strong amateur team that won the NABF (National Amateur Baseball Federation) championship in 1926, beating Detroit Checker Cab 6–5. He likely began the next year with Comello’s, but the Reds signed him in late July to provide bullpen help. At the age of 22, he made his Major League debut on July 27, 1927, pitching two shutout innings against the Boston Braves in the first game of a doubleheader at Redland Field, surrendering two hits and a walk.
He settled into the role of mop-up reliever, but the Reds didn’t give him a whole lot to do, as by August they had turned the season around and were moving up the standings—too late for a pennant run, but safely above the cellar. Beckman gave up more than his share of walks and hits, but not until August 21 did he give up a run, when Edd Roush, now with the Giants, clubbed a two-run homer.
On September 25, with the team entrenched in fifth place, Beckman finally made a start. His former teammates on the Comello’s showed up before the game at Redland Field to give him a “traveling bag” and wish him well. Facing the last place Phillies, who lost 103 games that year, he probably felt confident, but not for long. “They hammered Jimmy Beckman hard enough to drive him out of the box,” the Enquirer reported. The Phillies scored four in the second inning, though not all the runs were earned. Beckman, however, made the error that caused them. He also made a low throw to second on a sacrifice bunt in hopes of getting a double play. He settled down and cruised into