George Brett shits himself.
“I’m good uh, twice a year for that…when was the last time you shit your pants?” - George Brett
Casey Stengel was always good for a story.
In his Mets days he was once asked about a couple of 20 year old prospects. Pointing at one he said “In ten years that kid’s got a chance to be a star.” Pointing at the other he continued “And in ten years, that kid’s got a chance to be thirty.”
Billy included a similar story in his autobiography “Number One,” ghost-written by Peter Golenbock.
Problem is, it was an ancient joke that Martin pretended really happened to him and Mickey Mantle.
The old joke goes like this:
"Two Aggies (Texas A & M grads) named Mac and Bubba wanted to go deer hunting. Mac said, “My friend Billy Bob owns a ranch. I bet he’d let us hunt on his property.” So they drove to Billy Bob’s ranch. Mac went to the door while Bubba stayed in the truck.
Mac asked if he and his friend could go deer hunting on the ranch. Billy Bob, said, “Sure you can. But Mac, could you do me a little favor? Out in the back field, I have an old horse. I’ve had him for 25 years and I love that horse to death… but he’s old and sick and blind and it’s time to put him out of his misery. But I don’t have the heart to shoot him. Could you do it for me?” Mac said, “No problem.”
Mac decided to toy with Bubba,so he went to the truck and snarled, “That son of a bitch won’t let us go hunting on his land. Well, I’m gonna teach him a lesson. I’m going around the back and shooting his dang horse!” Mac went around back and shot the horse. Then, as he came back around, he heard a number of gunshots.
Mac raced to the front of the house, where a grinning Bubba said, “I taught him a lesson, too. I just shot 6 of his cows!”
For years, Martin told that story, inserting Mantle’s name for Mac’s and his own name for Buba’s.
Another classic, possibly apocryphal story (ALL the best stories are of dubious validity!) is that decades ago, a rookie pitcher was facing the great Red Sox slugger Ted WIlliams.
The pitcher threw a fastball that was right on the edge of the strike zone, and the umpire called “Ball One.”
The pitcher threw a curveball that was right at the edge of the strike zone, and the umpire called, “Ball Two!”
The pitcher threw a change-up, once again, right at the edge of the strike zone, and the ump called “Ball three.”
The exasperated pitcher, “Come on! Those were strikes!”
The umpire walked out and said, “Son, when you throw a strike, Mr. Williams will let you know.”
I’m going to move this over to the Game Room.
One that Bob Uecker tells. Uecker caught for the Braves when Hoyt Wilhelm pitched for them. A reporter asked Ueck how he handled one of Wilhelm’s knuckle pitches and he said, “I wait for it to roll to the backstop, then I go over and pick it up.”
Yogi Berra, of course, is famous for his malapropisms and non-sequiters. My favorite one was related by Whitey Ford. He and Yogi were sitting together at Yankee Stadium one Old Timers’ Day when the scoreboard flashed the names of deceased Yankees greats. Whitey swears that Yogi turned to him and said, “Whitey, I hope I never live long enough to see my name up there.”
Heard this on the radio, but I don’t remember which Yankee told it: While he was in spring training, he wasn’t wearing a watch during a practice, and he asked Yogi Berra, “What time is it?”
Yogi answered, “You mean now?”
When I was a kid (40+ years ago), Pat Kelly was a pretty good outfielder for the Chicago White Sox.
I forget where it happened, but there was a stadium at which the announcer’s voice boomed, “Now batting… Patrick Kelly.” In response, the organist started playing “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling.”
The snag is, Pat Kelly was black (his brother Leroy was an All-Pro running back for the Cleveland Browns).
Yeah, that’s pretty much the story I heard on The Tonight Show.
Every baseball fan needs to read Uecker’s book, Catcher in the Wry.
My story - when I was 11 there was a kid on our team who was just terrible. He couldn’t hit, couldn’t hardly throw, couldn’t catch anything. But he insisted he could pitch. Said he practiced pitching everyday at home. Of course he was never allowed to. He asked the coach every game and every game coach says, “no Alex.” Until the last game of the season about the 4th inning when the coach says, “ok, Alex next inning you can pitch.” The kid was elated. He runs out to the mound, picks up the ball, throws the first warm up pitch and of course it’s in the dirt. The catcher throws the ball back to Alex and BAM! it smacked him right in the nose. Broke it. He was bleeding all over and bawling for his mom. She comes out on the field, takes him away to the hospital or who knows where. Coach says, “and that’s why I never let him pitch.”