Greatest Mystery in All of Sports

Over the course of the summer, we’ve explored the deep unknowns of the baseball world. We’ve gone through a crash course of the national pastime’s peculiar lexicon and baffling rituals. We’ve uncovered the truths about Mendoza lines, cans of corn, golden sombreros, ducks on ponds, Texas Leaguers, Uncle Charlies, Sweet Carolines and Sweet Neil Diamonds, Big Pumas, Big Papis, Bob Barkers, trade deadlines, Turk Wendell’s unusual teeth-brushing habits, and everything in between.

And just think about all the other knowledge that was pushed out of your brain in order to house the limitless information this blog introduced to you. I can’t even think about that... because I just blew my own mind.

But with all of those myths revealed, there is still one great mystery of sport that boggles the mind. One head-scratching, mind-numbing practice that goes beyond comprehension. One single, greatest mystery in all of sports.

Why do teammates celebrate by slapping each other on the butt?

Seriously, this is the most confusing spectacle in all of sports. What about making a great play or winning a game makes one person want to violently thrust their hand into the butt of another person? And can you imagine what the first, ever recipient of the butt-slap felt when he got the pat? And how did it catch on after that to become a common, everyday happenstance in sports?

In the interest of full disclosure, I, too, am guilty of the infamous butt-slap. Being that I played high school basketball and soccer, I received my fair share. I also gave out my fair share. In fact, let me share an awkward story with you about me and the butt-slap:

Around the age of 14 (the age at which the butt-slap becomes acceptable), I played for a traveling AAU basketball team. Earlier on the season, I was on the receiving end of my first butt-slap, and it quickly became a phenomenon amongst the team. All of the sudden it was okay to start whacking people on the rear end as hard as you could in order to show that you approved of their play. It took me a while to ease into the new fad, as I was a bit of a late bloomer, but by season’s end, I was giving the swift pat just like the rest of the guys.

And then one day it happened.

I made the error of giving the “slap” to a teammate who was bending over to tie his shoe.

Now, I can’t really explain why that’s not a cool thing to do, but if you picture it in your head, I think it will make more sense. Something’s just not right about it. So, Zach, my teammate, turned to me and tried to laugh off the unacceptable act by saying, “getting a little carried away with those butt-slaps, huh, Jonathan?” His words stung like an incredibly hurtful bee. Obviously, I have never really recovered.

But back to the point: why do we do it?

To answer this question, I asked a few of the Nashville Sounds players about their feelings on the subject, and after a few crazy looks, I got some insight.

Chris Narveson went with the logistical answer. “You can’t give a high-five to somebody if they’re not looking,” Narveson says. “So, the butt slap works in those situations.”

I asked Sam Narron if my bent-over-butt-slap violated the rules. “Well, there’s a line you can cross,” Narron says. “The bent-over slap is used more for humor. It’s firm and funny. I’d say it’s more of a ‘hurtful’ slap.” After I finished laughing out loud, Narron continued: “You can’t do the slap-and-squeeze. And there’s definitely no slaps in the shower,” Narron says.

It seems as though most of the players didn’t see any problem with the butt-slap and were totally comfortable with it. Then, after a tireless search, I finally found a player who shared my confusion. And his name is Chris Woodward.

“Slapping a guy on the back or the head, that’s fine,” Woodward says. “But slapping a guy on the butt, (pause), that’s just awkward.”

But I think Erasmo Ramirez said it best when he pondered the question and then came back at me with this response: “I can’t think of a single reason why we do that,” Ramirez said.

Thank you, Erasmo.

But since this is the greatest mystery in all of sports, I can’t just give up without finding an answer. So, after racking my brain, questioning Sounds players, and doing some deep soul-searching, I’ve finally come up with one. That’s right, I’ve finally reached a conclusion about why this all got started and why it continues today. I have finally solved this unsolvable mystery.

Logistically, Narveson is right. Sometimes a teammate isn’t looking and you can’t give a high-five, so you hit them somewhere else. But why the butt? Well, the closeness of teammates can be explained by how low their congratulatory pats go on the body. If two teammates don’t share a very close bond, they probably slap each other on the back or head. As teammates become closer, the pat goes lower. When a teammate is completely comfortable with the other, they slap each other on the butt, much like a father would do with his son or a cowboy with his horse.

A pat of encouragement from a close friend in an area that shows the tight bond between the two.

...yeah, alright, that’s just stupid. The butt-slap doesn’t make any sense, and I think it should be outlawed on the grounds that no one even knows why we do it or how it got started. And I was not getting carried away with my butt-slaps, Zach! I was just trying to tell you that you played a good game! You ruined my life!

Superstitions

Saddle up, partners. It’s time for another Hardball Mystery.

We’ve heard them all before: Don’t talk to a pitcher when he’s got a no-hitter going. Don’t step on the foul line. Grow a ‘70s mustache and wear a golden thong underneath your uniform to snap out of a slump.

(I’ll pause now and let you shutter in disgust at that mental image.)

Baseball is full of superstitions, ranging from the slightly ridiculous to the downright absurd. With most of our mysteries, we ask “why is that?” But with these superstitions, we already know the player’s non-sensical answer: “because it helps.”

So, instead of trying to figure out why baseball players perform these ludicrous routines, let’s just sit back and enjoy some of the more entertaining, player-specific superstitions that have graced the ball field over the years.


Frank Viola: During the 1987 season, Minnesota Twins starting pitcher Frank Viola noticed a large banner hanging in the Metrodome that read “Frankie Sweet Music Viola.” It just so happens that whenever that sign was up when Viola pitched, he never lost. That season, he went 15-0 with four no decisions (all Twins victories) in games with the banner. The creator of the banner, Mark Dornfield, introduced himself to Viola during the season, and the two got along quite well. When the Twins made the World Series, Viola found out that Dornfield did not have tickets, so Viola’s wife called the fan and offered him tickets to Games 1 and 7.

Viola won both games and was named World Series MVP.


Mike Hargrove: Before he became a manager, Mike Hargrove was known for his batter’s box quirks as a player. Before each at-bat, Hargrove would walk up the first base line and take three practice swings before stepping into the box. After each pitch, he would perform a painfully-long routine that involved re-strapping his batting gloves, fixing his pants and his sleeves, wiping his mouth, and pushing down the top of his batting helmet before stepping back in.

Because of this, Hargrove was dubbed “The Human Rain Delay.”

Roger Clemens: Forget the steroids, this guy has other problems. Besides wiping the Babe’s plaque in Monument Park at Yankee Stadium before starting a game, Roger also decided to name his children after his favorite baseball stat: the strikeout. I’m sure Koby, Kory, Kacy, and Kody are thrilled. (Editor’s Note: Together, they personify a “golden sombrero.”

But how about this for foreshadowing: Clemens struck out his 4,000th batter on the same day that he won his 300th game. What was the date? June 13, 2003. Friday the 13th. I think we can scientifically say that’s where everything started to go downhill.

Larry Walker: Former Expos/Rockies/Cardinals outfielder Larry Walker was known for being a five-tool player. But if it were up to him, he would probably rather be known as a three-tool player. That’s because Walker has a serious obsession with the number three. He sets his alarm for 33 minutes past the hour, takes practice swings in multiples of three, wears No. 33, was married on November 3 at 3:33 p.m., and bought tickets for 33 disadvantaged kids when he played in Montreal (to be seated in Section 333 at Olympic Stadium.)

"For some people, it might be a superstition," Walker told the Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel in 1997. "For me, it's an obsession."

Wade Boggs: Boggs always ate chicken before a game. He always took 150 grounders during infield drills. He always took batting practice at 5:17. He always drew the Hebrew word “chai” (meaning “life”) in the batter’s box with his bat before stepping up to the plate (even though he’s not Jewish). He always stepped on first, second, then third base before taking exactly two steps in the coach’s box then four steps to get to the dugout before a game.

Then there’s the legend that Boggs drank 64 beers on a cross-country flight while playing for the Red Sox…but that’s another blog entirely.

Turk Wendell: This guy trumps them all. The sheer volume of ridiculous eccentricities that Wendell had makes it impossible to detail them all. Here’s just a few of his more famous ones:

-Brushing his teeth between innings
-Chewing four pieces of black licorice while pitching
-Tipping his hat to the centerfielder and waiting for the centerfielder to tip his hat back to him before pitching (one of his college games was delayed almost 10 minutes because the center fielder forgot to tip his cap to Wendell)
-Wearing a necklace at all times that consisted of teeth from animals he had hunted
-Sprinted off the field between innings and leapt (or kangaroo hopped) over the foul line
-Standing while the catcher was squatting, and squatting while the catcher was standing

Congratulations, Turk Wendell. You win.

But if you ask me, when you believe in things that you don't understand and you suffer...superstition ain't the way.

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What are some of the wacky superstitions you’ve heard about or seen in your day? Click over to the “Comments” section and let us know.

Trade Deadline

From Rule 5 Draft selections to waiver claims, transactions in Major League Baseball can be more confusing than 7th-grade Algebra (I will always hate the quadratic equation), and the most famous time for transactions in baseball are the weeks leading up to the trading deadline, which concluded last Thursday, July 31 at 4:00 p.m.

But did you know that teams can still make trades after the trade deadline?

So, for this week’s Hardball Mystery, we’re going to figure out what exactly teams can and can’t do after the deadline.

July 31st is the trade deadline for teams to openly exchange players without having to pass them through waivers. But Jonathan, what are waivers? Good question, you.

Teams place players on the waiver wire for two reasons: 1.) To gauge interest for a trade for the player placed on the wire or 2.) To try to get another team to claim the player so that they can dump his salary.

After the July 31st trade deadline, teams must put a player on waivers before they can trade him. Meaning, they can’t trade a player to any team they want. They have to put him on the waiver wire and allow all teams the opportunity to make a claim on the player. For instance, if the Cardinals wanted to trade Albert Pujols to the Chicago Cubs, they would have to place him on waivers and allow other teams the chance to claim him. Of course, hell isn’t currently freezing over, so the odds of that trade aren’t great.

That all makes sense, right? But what if more than one team puts a claim on the player?

Waiver priority starts with the team in the same league that has the lowest record. So, if the Cardinals put Pujols on waivers tomorrow, the San Diego Padres will have first dibs on him since they have the lowest record in the National League. From there, priority goes up to the team with the best record in the National League, then worst to first in the American League, which means the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim would have the lowest priority because they have the best record in the American League. And they have two cities in their name. Yay for them!

But that’s where the strategy comes in for general managers. Let’s say your team is three games behind the division leader, and a player is placed on the waiver wire that they want. Since your record is worse, you can have waiver priority over the player and block the trade to the division-leading team. Only problem is, now you have to claim the player, even if you don’t want him. So, if the Giants put Barry Zito on the waiver wire, and the Cubs really want him on their team, you decide to claim him in order to keep the Cubs from getting him. The only problem is, you now have to take Barry Zito and his fat contract on your team. Congratulations! No offense, Barry.

Despite the fact that there are dozens of trades each year, only a few are remembered as big deadline deals. Lou Brock to the Cardinals from the Cubs in exchange for Ernie Broglio. Tom Seaver to Cincinnati for four minor leaguers. Randy Johnson to Houston at midnight. Albert Pujols to the Cubs. Wait, no, that never happened.

There have also been a number of big-name, post-deadline deals have taken place over the years. Not all of them have worked out so well, though. The most famous was when the Padres wanted to block Blue Jays reliever Randy Myers from going to a contending team. So, they claimed him off waivers, worked out a deal with the Blue Jays, and rode Myers and his 6.28 ERA all the way out of the playoffs. Myers pitched awful in the postseason and never pitched again after that season, but guess who got stuck paying the rest of his contract? If you guessed the Padres, you win the prize of mental satisfaction and self-pride.

Will any of the big trades this season be remembered in baseball history as blockbuster deals that got their teams over the hump? Will Bay for Manny be another Brock for Broglio? More importantly, will Manny Ramirez (pictured above selling his grill on eBay) cut his ridiculous hair?

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Last week's contest recap: After several outstanding entries, "Anonymous" has been selected as the winner for choosing the "Batman" theme music as his at-bat music. That is fantastic stuff. For anonymous's efforts, they will be rewarded with either two tickets to a Sounds home game or an autographed headshot of yours truly. Choose wisely!

Keep sending in those e-mail suggestions for more Mysteries, and together we will solve the enigma wrapped inside a conundrum that is baseball culture.

At-Bat Music

The home team is down 3-2 in the bottom of the eighth inning. The mood is tense. With no outs and the bases loaded, the batter grounds into a double-play ball that doesn’t even score a run. Frustration looms. That’s when it hits.

“Brass monkey -- that funky monkey!”

As the Beastie Boys blast over the loud speaker at Greer Stadium, Chris Woodward steps to the plate and single-handedly changes the mood of the stadium.

“I get up to the plate, and I almost just start to laugh,” Woodward says.

In the press box during a recent home game, Woodward’s intro music started to play and a chorus line of singers chimed in with the "interesting" lyrics to the 1987 hit. That’s when Mark Photivihok, the Sounds human resources assistant, offered his suggestion for the next “Hardball Mystery:”

What exactly is a player thinking when selecting his at-bat music?

Woodward is past the days of pumping himself up with hard rock or rap music. For him, it’s pretty simple. “I’ve always been a Beastie Boys fan,” Woodward says. “It just keeps me loose.”

Believe it or not, Woodward is not the first to use “Brass Monkey” as his at-bat song. Third baseman David Wright rocked Mets fans at home games with the song before holding a fan poll to choose his at-bat music the next year.

For others though, deep thought and painstaking detail go into their selections. Take Tony Gwynn, Jr. for instance, who routinely changes his music on a weekly, if not daily, basis.

“I choose my music because of the kind of mood it puts me in when I step out there,” Gwynn says. “I also try to look for stuff that’s representative of where I’m from in California.”

But while some players might switch their songs because of a slump, Gwynn would still change his music even if he was in the middle of a 55-game hitting streak.

“I’m not a superstitious guy,” Gwynn said. “For me, it’s all about staying current with the music.”

Then, there’s the relief pitcher. Many of baseball's most memorable intro songs come from the bullpen.

At one point, there was even an uproar over New York Mets closer Billy Wagner using “Enter Sandman” by Metallica as his intro when a famous closer for another New York team already used the haunting tune as his message to hitters in the ninth inning. Then, there’s Ricky Vaughn, who made being “Wild Thing” a good thing as the heat-throwing ace for the Cleveland Indians in the movie Major League.

But if you ask the players around the Sounds clubhouse, one man stands alone with the perfect theme music blasting behind him: San Diego Padres closer Trevor Hoffman, who makes his walk from the bullpen accompanied by AC/DC's "Hells Bells."

“Hoffman stands out because it just fits him perfectly,” Gwynn says. “With him coming in the game in the ninth, closing it out, it just fits. I feel like he’s got the perfect song.”

Sounds reliever Tim Dillard agrees with Gwynn about Hoffman but added another name to the mix. “When Chipper (Jones) was re-habbing a couple years ago in Double-A, he came out to 'Crazy Train,' and that was pretty cool,” Dillard says. “Now, if another hitter comes out to that song, it’s like, ‘who do you think you are, Chipper Jones?”

Dillard understands the importance of the song choice for a reliever, especially the subtleties of the song’s lyrics. “One time I heard this ‘80s song, “You Spin Me Round,” and I thought, oh, that music would be cool,” Dillard says. “But then you don’t want to be getting ready to pitch and hear 'you spin me right round, baby.'

"I mean, you can’t come in to 'We Will Rock You,' if you’re a pitcher, even though it may sound cool, because the lyrics are about getting rocked," Dillard explains. "Most pitchers don’t want to get rocked, so it doesn’t really work.”

For the most part, it seems that the music being able to pump a player up is the most important factor in the song-choice decision, with lyrics taking a backseat. But for me, I would pick a song with lyrics that particularly reflect what I’m feeling as I walk to the plate.

That’s why I would choose, “Why Can’t We Be Friends” by War (with the added bonus of the irony created by the band name and their hit song…just think about it for a second). Or “Open Arms” by Journey, so that I could completely baffle the opposing pitcher with Steve Perry’s yearning vocals.

Or if I was a reliever, I’d want to come out to the “Price is Right” theme music, with the PA announcer telling me to “come on down!” Man, that would be awesome.

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I know you’ve thought about it. You know you’ve thought about it. Here’s your chance to tell everybody what your at-bat music would be. It can be serious. It can be funny. It can be just plain weird. Just bring you’re A-game, because the winner gets a prize.

Head on over to the comment section (directly below this post) and give us your answer, and we’ll announce the winner in the next post.


“Jonathan Gantt, come on down! You’re the next pitcher for the ninth inning!” ("Price is Right" theme plays while strobe lights flash and Jonathan runs onto the field with a shocked look on his face, giving high fives to the outfielders and infielders as he finds his way to the mound)

All-Star Nicknames

Welcome to the special All-Star Edition of Hardball Mysteries. To celebrate this year’s All-Star game (as if 15 innings wasn’t enough), we’re going to investigate some of the more clever nicknames for a few of this year’s All-Star selections. Because nicknames are fun names.

Lance Berkman – "The Big Puma" – I always find it satisfying to know that a major league baseball player doesn’t take himself too seriously. That’s why when I heard that Lance Berkman gave himself the nickname “The Big Puma,” he immediately earned my respect. Berkman, who stands 6’1 and weighs in at more than 220 pounds, is certainly not the most graceful player on the field. In fact, in an ESPN the Magazine interview with Dan Patrick, Berkman explained how his mother thought he looked like Elvis, and when Patrick asked whether he resembled the “fat one or the skinny one,” Berkman responded, “the fat one.” That led to his nickname being “Fat Elvis” for two years.

After eating a Twinkie that a Cubs fan threw at him during a game in 2006, Lance thought it was time for a change. No longer would he be viewed as the older, chubbier version of Elvis clubbing home runs and snatching low grounders to first base in between bites of a fried banana and peanut butter sandwich. In a 2006 radio interview, Berkman stated that he was unhappy with the “Fat Elvis” nickname because he was a sleek, graceful athlete. “I’m more like a puma, so I’m not sure why people call me ‘Fat Elvis,” Berkman said. Laughter erupted from the radio show hosts, and he was consequently re-named “The Big Puma.”

David Ortiz -- Big Papi -- At this point, more people probably know David Ortiz as “Big Papi” than by his own name. In fact, he could probably just do what rappers do and drop his birth name altogether. Ortiz was born in the Dominican Republic, where it is common for males to use the term “papi” the way they use the words “dude” or “buddy” in the United States. (Although I don’t recommend walking around the office calling other guys “papi.” People gave me strange stares.) When he first arrived in Boston in 2003 after being released by the Minnesota Twins, Ortiz had trouble remembering people’s names and just called his teammates by the generic term “papi.” Eventually, his teammates began calling him papi, which of course led to “Big Papi,” because quite frankly, David Ortiz is… big.

Derek Jeter -- Mr. November -- Thirty years from now when MLB is producing another video montage of Hall of Fame players and honoring them in another sappy ceremony, Derek Jeter will be the most revered player from the current generation of players. He doesn’t have the gaudy statistics of Alex Rodriguez or strike fear in opposing pitchers like Barry Bonds, but he has racked up a number of memorable postseason moments, including one that led to his nickname, “Mr. November.”

Baseball’s regular season ends in September. That means that the playoffs take place in October. Reggie Jackson, a Hall of Fame outfielder, was dubbed “Mr. October” because of his outstanding performance in postseason play, particularly the 1977 World Series in which he belted five home runs in six games.

Flash forward to the 2001 World Series, which was delayed because of the terrorist attacks on 9/11 and carried over into the month of November. Shortly after midnight on October 31 during Game Four of the World Series, Jeter knocks a game-winning home run off Diamondbacks reliever Byung-Hyun Kim, and a fan in the stands hold up a sign that reads “Mr. November.” Yankee broadcaster Michael Kay uses the term for Jeter, and the nickname sticks, despite the fact that he only batted 3-for-12 in November games that season.

Albert Pujols -- El Hombre – St. Louis Cardinals fans love Stan Musial. In fact, he’s arguably the most beloved player in Cardinals history. He even has his own statue outside Busch Stadium.

During his playing days, Musial earned the nickname “Stan the Man,” and he’s still known that way today. That’s why when Albert Pujols arrived in the major leagues in 2001 and proceeded to win every baseball award possible while leading his team to two World Series, it was hard to describe him as anything but “the Man.” Since that title was already taken by Musial, St. Louis reporter Bernie Miklasz dubbed him “El Hombre,” which means “the Man” in Spanish. “El Hombre” adds to the long list of nicknames for Pujols which include “Phat Albert,” “Prince Albert,” “The Machine,” and “Winnie the Pujols.”

Kevin Youkilis -- Greek God of Walks -- In Michael Lewis’s landmark book about Oakland’s stat-crazy GM Billy Beane, Moneyball, Youkilis is referred to as “Euclis: The Greek God of Walks.” Youkilis was the perfect example of a “moneyball” player who posts a high on-base percentage by way of collecting a large number of bases-on-balls (walks). Combine his ability to work pitch counts to the extreme with the fact that his last name sounds like it comes from The Iliad, and you’ve got yourself a nickname. But Red Sox manager Terry Francona begged to differ in a 2004 Boston Globe article: “I’ve seen Youkilis in the shower,” Francona said. “I wouldn’t call him the Greek God of anything.”

Five O'Clock Hitter, Around the Horn, and "Sweet Caroline"

After a brief hiatus, it’s time to open up the mailbag and answer a few more mysteries:

Joseph in Nashville: What does the term five o’clock hitter mean?

As the great philosopher James Buffet once said, “it’s five o’clock somewhere.” Unfortunately for some hitters, that’s just not comforting enough. When a player is dubbed a “five o’clock hitter,” it means he absolutely crushes pitches all over the field…during batting practice. When game time rolls around and he steps up to the plate, the results are far less appealing.

Several variations of the term are used including 10 o’clock hitter, four o’clock hitter, and a few others, depending on the start time of the game. Most games start around seven o’clock, so five o’clock is the usual time for batting practice.

Becca in Orlando: Where does the term “Around the Horn” come from?

Great question, Becca. Two scenarios can be described as throwing the ball “around the horn.” The first is when a double play is turned starting with the third baseman to second base to first base. The second comes after a pitcher records a strikeout with no runners on base, and the ball is thrown around the infield and eventually back to the pitcher in order to keep the infielders’ arms warm.

The term originally came from sailing, much like many old-fashioned baseball idioms. Before the Panama Canal was built, the fastest way to sail from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean was to go around Cape Horn, the southernmost tip of South America. So, when a baseball is thrown “around the horn,” it travels in a similar pattern to a ship traveling around Cape Horn. In addition, the shape of the baseball diamond could be viewed as an animal’s horn, but I prefer the sailing reference.

Danielle in St. Louis: Why do they play “Sweet Caroline” by Neil Diamond during the eighth inning at Fenway Park?

It looks like Special Investigative Assistant Steve found a pretty good answer to this one in the Hardball Mysteries “Comments” section. He points us to this site for our answer: http://www.redsoxconnection.com/sweetcaroline.html. Thanks, Steve.

It turns out it was just a random song choice one night by the music director at Fenway Park that turned into a good luck charm after a few wins. When a new ownership group (apparently all members of the Neil Diamond fan club) took over in 2002, they asked for it to be played after the eighth inning during every game.

Not that this answer was boring, but was I the only one hoping for a bizarre story about Neil Diamond giving the Red Sox a song-filled pep talk while wearing one of his patented sequined shirts which led to the song being played every game after that? Hmm, maybe I was the only one. Ironically, the “Jewish Elvis” has publicly stated that he’s actually a lifelong Yankees fan.

But with the help of the movie "Fever Pitch" and the success of the Red Sox in the past few years, the song has become a staple of Boston baseball culture and has spread to other ballparks and sportings events, even our very own Greer Stadium during Sounds games. In fact, after his cell phone went off during a press conference in 2007, it was discovered that Detroit Tigers’ manager Jim Leyland’s ringtone is “Sweet Caroline.”

After keeping the inspiration for the song under wraps for more than 35 years, Diamond finally revealed that Caroline Kennedy, the daughter of John F. Kennedy, was the “sweet Caroline” that he was singing about in 2007. She was only 11 years old at the time the song was written in 1969.

I’m not gonna lie Neil, that’s kind of weird. But you’re still totally awesome in my book.

Just look at you.

Uncle Charlie (The Curveball)

Pedro Cerrano: I cannot hit curveball. Straightball I hit it very much. Curveball, bats are afraid. I ask Jobu to come, take fear from bats. I offer him cigar, rum. He will come.

Eddie Harris: You know you might think about taking Jesus Christ as your savior instead of fooling around with all this stuff.

Pedro Cerrano: Jesus, I like him very much, but he no help with curveball.

Eddie Harris: You trying to say Jesus Christ can't hit a curveball?

This week’s entry comes from Matt in Nashville, who wants to know the origin of the term "Uncle Charlie.” I’ll do you one better, Matt. We will not only delve into the mysterious past of Uncle Charlie, we’ll also take a look at the origins of the curveball itself, and the dozens of monikers that are used to describe the famous pitch.

The curveball might just be the greatest invention in the history of baseball (although some players may argue that distinction belongs to the cup). It’s even a widely accepted theory that hitting a curveball is the hardest thing to do in sports.

Imagine standing at the plate with Nolan Ryan pitching and taking a 100 mph fastball down the middle. You step out of the box, pee your pants a little, then step back in prepared to swing for the fences. Except this time, you see the ball traveling up in the zone and possibly directly into your face, and you hit the dirt…only to find out that it was an 85 mph curveball that broke right back into the heart of the plate.

The curveball is why most of our childhood dreams of playing in the major leagues are squashed around the time middle school hits. As Pedro Cerrano famously said in the movie Major League, "I cannot hit curveball. Straightball I hit it very much. Curveball, bats are afraid."

So, who threw the first curveball? That distinction belongs to Arthur “Candy” Cummings. He first got the idea in 1863 while throwing clamshells with some friends when he was fourteen years old at a Brooklyn beach. As Candy and his friends threw the shells, they would fly with a wide, curving arc before landing in the ocean. “All of a sudden, it came to me that it would be a good joke on the boys if I could make a baseball curve the same way,” Cummings said. Despite standing only 5’9 and weighing in at a whopping 120 pounds, Candy became the most dominant pitcher of his era because of his mastery of the pitch. Still others point to Jim Creighton or Fred Goldsmith as the inventors of the pitch, but Cummings is widely accepted as the true inventor and was even voted into the Hall of Fame because of it.

Now that we know a little history behind the curveball, let’s check out some of the funnier nicknames for the pitch and where they came from:

Uncle Charlie – The term was commonly used in citizens band (C.B.) radio in the early 1970s to describe the Federal Communications Commission (FCC). Unfortunately, there’s no real reasoning behind the term being used for a curveball besides the sounds of “Uncle” and “Charlie” suggesting a curve. Disappointing, I know. Different spin-offs of the term popped up periodically including Sir Charles and Lord Charles, which was used to describe Dwight Gooden’s superior curveball in the 1980s.

Yakker – Comes from “yawker,” which is a nickname for a flicker, a yellow-shafted bird that flies in a manner similar to a sweeping curveball.

The Deuce – Describes the number of fingers a catcher will usually put down to signal for a curveball.

Bugs Bunny Curveball – A reference to the Warner Brothers cartoons when a character would swing three times before the ball even got to the plate.

Public Enemy No.1 – The nickname that Dodgers’ broadcaster Vin Scully used to describe top prospect Clayton Kershaw’s curveball during a 2008 spring training game.

From Sandy Koufax to Bert Blyleven to Dwight Gooden, there’s nothing quite like watching a master of the curveball freeze a hitter in utter confusion. Still, some say that the curveball is just an optical illusion. Dizzy Dean had an answer for that.

“Go stand behind a tree 60 feet away and I’ll whomp you with an optical illusion!”