New Year’s Ode to Billy Loes
By Michael Kaufman
I gave up writing an annual list of New Year wishes around 40 years ago after I killed Johnny Murphy. Murphy was the general manager of the New York Mets at the time and I had wished him “hives” because of the way he had treated Ed Charles, the team’s veteran third baseman following the glorious championship season of 1969.
Charles, known as “the Glider” for his graceful style, had played an important role in the team’s turnaround from laughingstock to success. But he was also its oldest player and soon after the Mets won the World Series, Murphy announced that Charles would not be back in 1970. He would not even be invited to spring training to compete for a job with the team.
For the better part of the next decade the Mets employed a succession of mostly terrible players at third base, including Wayne Garrett, Joe Foy (for whom they traded Amos Otis, a future American League All-Star), and the over-the-hill Jim Fregosi (for whom they traded the still-great Nolan Ryan). I like to think of it as the “Curse of the Glider.”
Of course Johnny Murphy wasn’t around to see any of this. Although I had only wished him hives, he died a couple of days later. So forget about the wishes for others. I’ve been sticking to New Year’s resolutions for myself ever since. The trouble with New Year’s resolutions is that they are often so lofty they are impossible to keep. My resolve is usually shot by the end of January. But the other day I heard an expert psychologist on the radio say that the trick is to keep the resolutions simple and attainable. And I thought of Billy Loes.
Loes was a young starting pitcher for the Brooklyn Dodgers when they won National League pennants in 1952 and 1953 and the World Series in 1955. A sore arm shortened his ensuing career although he went 12-7 for the Baltimore Orioles in 1957 and was named to the American League All-Star team. His career high in wins came in 1953, when he was 14-8 for the Dodgers. He said he would rather win 14 games than be a 20-game winner “because then I’d be expected to do it every year.”
Loes was known both for being outspoken and for his sense of humor. Before the 1952 World Series, Dodgers’ manager Charlie Dressen confronted him: “I see in the paper where you picked the Yankees to beat us in seven games. What’s wrong with you?” “I was misquoted,” Loes protested. “I picked them in six games.”
Loes would later be a thorn in the side of Orioles’ manager Paul Richards, who fined him $100 and suspended him for six days for shoving umpire Larry Napp during an argument over a call on a tag play at home plate. In response, Loes said he would never pitch for Richards again and expressed a desire to be traded. After meeting with Loes at the end of the suspension, Richards said, “As far as I’m concerned, it’s a closed incident. We’ll redeal the cards and wipe the slate clean.” But Loes saw it another way. “I’ll pitch because that’s the way I make my living, not because I think Richards is the greatest man in the world,” he declared. “I don’t have anything against him. I hope he makes a million dollars. But I thought he should have come out on the field in my defense when I was fighting to win a ballgame and I still feel that way.”
Examples of his sense of humor abound. Once, after booting a ground ball in a key situation, a reporter asked him the obvious question of what had happened. Loes replied, “I lost it in the sun!” His explanation after being called for a balk when the ball slipped out of his hand as he was winding up to pitch: “Too much spit on it.” Loes won only three games for the Orioles in 1958. When he showed up for spring training someone asked his goal for 1959. He said, “Win four games.” He finished the 1959 season with a 4-7 record and was promptly traded to the Giants. After being selected by the New York Mets in the 1961 expansion draft, he said, “The Mets is a good thing. They give everybody a job just like the WPA.” Sadly, he never actually pitched a game for the Mets, his final game being with the Giants in 1961.
In the spirit of Billy Loes I hereby make my New Years resolution for 2010: I will lose one pound. Happy New Year to all!
Michael can be reached at michael@zestoforange.com
Tags: Michael Kaufman
December 30th, 2009 at 3:39 pm
I loved this piece! I can’t remember the last time I thought about “Never Hang A Slider to the Glider” Ed Charles. You possess potent vodoo my friend, from hives to dead is quite a leap.
I think Chad Ochocinco has been challening Billy Loes for most of his career. Truly a sportswriter’s dream. I appreciate your taking the “Loes Road” on the weight loss prediction and will join you by setting my Nutrasystems goal as one pound as well.
It is always a pleasure to read your work.
December 30th, 2009 at 4:06 pm
Just settling in to watch Billy Loes pitch game 6 of the 1952 World Series on the MLB cable channel.
January 1st, 2010 at 1:21 pm
Thanks, guys. Here are some comments by Peter Knobler, who was my editor at Crawdaddy in the 1970s:
“Great column. Worthy of Crawdaddy. I have a couple of Billy Loes cards that my mom didn’t throw out. But he just turned 80, aren’t you worried about being the Black Spot of Baseball again?
Happy New Year.
Peter”
I have to admit that did worry me a bit. Meanwhile, fellow Zester Jeffrey Page suggests that an interview with Billy might make a nice article…I agree.
January 14th, 2010 at 2:51 pm
Good article …. I just watched a broadcast of game 6 of the 1952 series. Couple of observations – Loes threw a great game against a fearsome NY Yankee line up, in a small tight ballpark. He definitely pitches well enough to win. Also very interesting that the Dodgers, down 2-1 in the 7th, sent Loes up to hit rather than pinch hit for him which speaks volumes about their regard for him as a big game pitcher. On top of that, Loes responded by hitting a single AND stealing 2nd.
Also from what I know Loes was a funny guy, and he answered questions frankly and honestly – but it was the media that twisted most of his quotes to make them sound kookier. For instance the “ground ball lost in the sun” – there WAS a terrible glare that came through glass the glass windows at eye level at Ebbetts field – I noticed Loes pitched most of the game with his cap pulled down low. His explanation was perfectly legit – but the media felt the need to make a joke out of it. The media took his reputation, exagerated it and ran with it.
I too think and interview with Billy would make a good article, and I’d be interested in what he has to say.
January 14th, 2010 at 11:30 pm
Great observations, Jim, thanks. There may have been some exaggeration on the part of the media but I’m told even his teammates regarded him as a special character. (Carl Erskine mentions some examples in his book.) He was gone from the scene when I started covering baseball but he was there for Jackie Robinson’s funeral, which tells you something. I’ll try to set up an interview when I get time.