For first-time readers (I am the hopeful sort), here’s what this is: Every few days or so, I’ll pick a random baseball card from 1973 and share a story. Basically, these stories are a version of show and tell. I’ll show you a picture of the card and tell you about the player on the card.
It’s a simple process most of the time. I’ll open the shoebox and pluck out a card from the 1973 row, take a picture of it (front and back), and get to work on a story. But this time, I messed up. I picked a card, considered the player, and thought, “oh, cool.” Then, like an idiot, I put the card back in the box without taking a picture.
So, when it came time to crank out another one of these stories (like, right now), I wanted to stick with my self-imposed rules and pick a random card, rather than seek out the card I’d pulled out days earlier. Besides, I’d forgotten the player’s name and his general vicinity in the row of cards. so …
This time, I wanted to include my son Joe in the process. I plucked two cards from the box and, without looking at them, held them in front of Joe, asking him to pick one. He kindly obliged.
What’s insane is, Joe picked the same card that I selected days earlier, the one that I’d clumsily stuck back into the box, the player whose memorable name I’d idiotically forgotten.
There are 300-plus cards in that batch. But the Force is strong in my son, and the second I saw Joe’s choice, a lightning bolt of memory knocked me on my ass – Luke (Sky) Walker, Pittsburgh Pirates lefty!
I should not have been surprised that once again, my non-verbal son and I connected on a cosmic level that transcends typical communication.
My own memory of Luke Walker is from the 1971 World Series, when he was blown out by the Baltimore Orioles and gave way to baby-faced Bruce Kison, who pitched brilliantly, giving up just one hit in relief as the Pirates came back to win the game. But looking at the back of Luke’s card, and checking out his page at baseballreference.com gave me a deeper appreciation of his career (beyond the fact that I am in awe of anyone who can play ball for a living).
His best year was 1970, when he won 15 games, lost only six, and finished third in the National League in earned run average, winning percentage, and hits per nine innings.
He even had a great outing in the National League Championship Series that year against the Reds, giving up one earned run and five hits in seven innings, but taking the loss.
In 1971 he took a no-hitter against the Dodgers into the ninth inning before it was broken up by a Joe Ferguson home run (the first of Ferguson’s career).
But my favorite Luke Walker moment came on May 29, 1973, when the Braves were visiting Pittsburgh’s Three Rivers Stadium. Luke earned the win, holding the hard-hitting Braves to five hits and one run and striking out seven batters in seven innings of work.
All of that is fine, but what made the game truly special was Luke’s fourth-inning RBI single in the fourth inning. A .059 lifetime hitter, Walker bounced a slow ball to shortstop, then beat the throw to first, where Henry Aaron made a fine play. But Luke was safe, and a run had scored. Making the rare moment sweeter for Walker: Aaron, a favorite visitor in the hearts of charitable Pirates fans, thought the cheers were for him, so he doffed his cap. Without missing a beat, Luke said to the great slugger, “Put your hat on, Hank, they’re cheering for me.”
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Johnny Mize P.S.: The Big Cat was related by marriage to Babe Ruth — Johnny’s cousin Claire was Babe’s second wife. The only time Mize and Ruth met in a ballgame was during spring training in 1935, Babe’s last year in baseball — Ruth was with the Boston Braves and Johnny was with the Cincinnati Reds on a trial basis (they sent him back to the Cardinals). You can read more about it next year in “Big Cat: The Life of Baseball Hall of Famer Johnny Mize,” coming from University of Nebraska Press.
JerryGrilloWriter.com 