1946: Chaos in Elysium

[Buccaneer]

You're not going to get rid of Ruth from the league, are you?

[SirFozzie]

Hopefully the baserunner plowed him over, and Ruth seeing someone with drive for the game, hires the player

[Buccaneer]

Nah, he's going to get hit in the face with the ball and Buck will have to take over. Plus this being 1946, he may have had a heart attack.

[SelzShoes]

Mrs. Ruth?” The doctor entered the lounge. As a courtesy to the wife of an American hero the St. Elizabeth Hospital had cordoned off the waiting area for the Babe’s wife exclusively. With the press, photographers and assorted well-wishers filling the parking lot and Emergency Department a place she could get away from the crowd was need.

"Is George going to be alright?” There was a hint of panic in her voice. For years she had nagged at Ruth to wear his glasses. She feared his stubbornness had seriously injured her husband.

“Broken nose, slight fracture of the cheekbone, a couple black eyes, he should be up and about in a couple days,” something was off in the doctor’s voice. Disjointed, almost metallic. There was little comfort in his words. There was an uncomfortable moment as his voice trailed away into nothingness.

"What is the problem Doctor?”

A pause. “We found some growths in his nasal cavity when we were treating Babe.”

Mrs. Ruth lowered her head, almost ashamed to say the words, “Yes, he has throat cancer.”

"Then he needs to get treatment right away. It’s spreading. I’m sure his doctor in New York . . .”

“I know and his doctor knows.”

“Knows?”

“It’s in his blood. It’s in his lungs. It’s everywhere.” Mrs. Ruth began to tremble. “At this point, we’re just waiting.”

The doctor staggered back in shock, slumping into a chair. Mrs. Ruth raised her head, cheeks and chin stained with tears. “Please, don’t tell George you know. He desperately wants to keep this out of the papers. The Yankees will never hire him if . . .” Her voice broke again. This time the crying did not stop.

[SelzShoes]

[Newsreel]Battered and Bruised—but a clean bill of health otherwise. Babe Ruth gave his fans a scare by taking a throw ball in his face, but will be back leading his A’s in no time. “I’d like to thank the staff here at St. Elizabeth’s for their care of me and my wife. And I’ve learned my lesson, I need to wear these glasses more often [laughs from the assembled press]” Here is a group of third graders presenting the hero of their fathers with a giant hand made card. Yes Babe, a whole nation is glad to hear you’ll be in the pink in no time![/newsreel]

[SelzShoes]

[NOTE]Please check out the roster thread--that is were I'm doing as close to team by team previews as I plan on doing.[/NOTE]

Announcer: Hello everyone and welcome to the Red Barber Baseball Show, sponsored by Winston Cigarettes. Winston tastes good, like a cigarette should. The Red Barber Baseball Show can be heard every week at this time on the NBC Blue Network. The famous broadcaster Red Barber will share his opinions, thoughts and stories from the world of baseball. I’m your announcer, Paddy Paulsen, and here is Red Barber.

RB: Hello everyone, this is Red Barber, coming to you from NBC tower in New York City. Well, isn’t it great to be talking baseball again, Paddy?

PP: It sure is Red. You know, baseball is a lot like Winston Cigarettes.

RB: How’s that Paddy?

PP: Well, baseball is the great American game which everyone loves. And Winstons are the best tasting American cigarette, and who doesn’t love a great tasting smoke? Why, Winstons and Baseball go together like bread and butter. The seventh inning stretch is perfect time for a Winston break—or how about a Winston to calm your nerves during those late inning rallies. Yes, baseball and Winston—a perfect double play.

RB: You’ve got that right. Now, the fans know a lot of things have changed in baseball since we last took the field; but that is true every year whether you have to wait a winter or four.

PP: So true, Red.

RB: Now while it is understandable that all the changes may have the average fan throwing his hands in the air saying “too much has changed, there is no hope of following everything that has gone on.” Well, I’m here to tell you, despite the changes in leagues and teams, it is still the same game. We, as fans, may have to learn some new names—or get used to old ones in new places. But baseball did this renewal on a yearly basis; we unfortunately have several years of changes to put into one winter. By mid-season, a team in Columbus or a Yankee/Dodger pennant fight will seem as normal as the old setup used to be.

PP: Wow, Dodgers and Yankees fighting for a pennant. That could be a lot of fun, right Red?

RB: Indeed. That is just one of the many new things for the fan to pay attention too this coming year.

PP: New leagues, new teams and new players. So, Red, how do you think the upcoming season is going to play out?

RB: Well the Continental League could be a barn burner. The Yankees, adding Greenberg and Feller, should be one of the top teams—despite losing Joe DiMaggio. The only real weakness I can see in the Yankees, assuming they play up to form, would be third base. Red Rolfe will probably start the year there, but like all of us, is 4 years older than when he last took the field. Players of his tenure do not seem to age gracefully.

The Brooklyn Dodgers, the club I broadcast for, also has a very fine team. It is a veteran club, and is the most complete team they have had in my tenure with the team. I would be very surprised if one of these teams did not win the title.

After those teams, it gets a little cloudier.

PP: Not as easy to pick the best of the rest.

RB: Most people have picked Kansas City, the former Browns, as a team that could challenge the Yankees and Dodgers. True they have added several of the top Negro players, but we still do not know if these are major league ballplayers. If they are as good as we have been lead to believe, then yes, the Blues will contend all season long. However, looking back to the days of the Federal League, the stars of that loop did not shine as brightly when they joined the American and National Leagues. I would peg Kansas City as the third best team, if and only if, the Negroes do turn out to be quality ballplayers.

Quietly though, I think the A's have the makings of a fine club. Babe Ruth may not have experience managing, but I can't imagine a player not taking the lessons Ruth can teach to heart. The new owners, not constrained by the budget as Mr. Mack was, should also be able to add quality ballplayers during the dog days of the season.

PP: Well, that's the first division Red. I suppose it gets harder to pick as you go further down the line.

RB: This year I think it does. Columbus, Minneapolis and Buffalo--all fine minor league towns--now get the chance to show the world how much baseball means to them. Buffalo and Minneapolis have both gotten considerable coverage for their spring results. I don't think we can put too much stock into those wins and losses, but it indicates these teams may be closer to contending than one would suppose. But for now, these teams, along with the Cincinnati Reds, should stay at the bottom of the league. Anyone of the four could be the last place team.

PP: So an established club like the Reds could end up behind the three new clubs, eh?

RB: I think it could be so. Now, a trade or some youngster coming up could spark them

PP: The Reds?

RB: Yes, the Reds, to higher in the standings. But the best the Reds can do this year would be breaking into the first division.

PP: Well Red, hearing all of this baseball talk is giving me a reason to reach for a Winston . . .

[SelzShoes]

“Phil, c’mer. I didn’t want you to hear this from Larry—but you’re going to start the year at Newark. He—We, feel that Crow and the Brown boys are ready. Those years off; you just need a little more time to get the swing going. I’m sure it won’t be for long.”

[SelzShoes]

As my family and I make the trip back from the easy chaos of spring training, I am struck by a lack of feeling for the Senators. It puzzled me from the Florida-Georgia border to the outskirts of the District of Columbia. As I thought about what type of joy or worry this edition of the Senators should bring, the reasons unfolded before me over my radio.

An advert for the Baltimore Athletics, a phrasing that will take much getting used to, encouraging the listener to turn their passions northward came over the radio. In the twenty years I have logged with the Senators—from Walter Johnson and Bucky Harris’s World Series clubs to the more recent struggles—my resolve and dedication to the Senators was unfailing.

But as the spring dragged on through meaningless games and meaningful conversations, I found myself paying more and more attention to the goings on in Arizona.

At first I could tell myself it was the allure of Babe Ruth’s first managing job dragging my attention westward. But as spring labored on I paid less and less attention to the teams the Senators would actually play and more and more on the Continental League. It took some days to realize why my allegiance has shifted northward.

Almost ten years ago, I wrote a piece in large part about a catcher, Josh Gibson, of tremendous talent; kept from the top level of baseball solely for the color of his skin. While the Senators and the rest of their league mates decided that in a world where traditions and practices were being overturned and challenged; they decided one tradition—a tradition of exclusion—was worth keeping. In essence, they kept the worst they had to offer the baseball public.

I do not delude myself into thinking Branch Rickey and the other general managers signed Negroes as proof of the goodness of their souls. The Continental is comprised of some of the weaker pre-war franchises; these signings were to produce a better product on the field. Personally, I am fine with that. Some of the best things to come into our lives are through a realization of the inability of the old ways to function.

On occasion I may still find myself at Griffith Stadium. As a reporter, I am expected to chronicle the doings of the city’s baseball team. If you want to find me as a fan; then you will need to travel to Baltimore.

Shirley Povich
Washington Post

[SelzShoes]

[NOTE: To this point I’ve tried to make my interpretations of the characters to have SOME grounding in reality. This storyline, to my knowledge, has no basis in any reality.]

He hated Florida.

The heat. The humidity.

The flesh.

Day or night; everywhere he looked flesh. Glistening, radiating, and pulsing with life and temptations. Sweaty, musky temptation. A casual bump and a woman’s scent would trail him all day long. Destroying his concentration with her willful temptation.

The worst were the sluts who stripped down to bathing suits and then covered themselves by day. Taunting him with the knowledge of their curves.

They say they called him “Creepy” because of his look. But he knew better. They saw the way he looked at their women and could tell who had cast lots with Jezebel. They knew he could cleanse them all, but no man who chose to be with dirty women could truly be clean.

So he came to the beach every night, doing the job none of them had the courage to do. He prayed—not to be relieved of his burden—but for GOD to deliver the harlots and whores to him.

The weak flaccid men had closed other beaches where GOD’s work had been done. But no matter where he was, GOD always led the flesh to where he waited.

He knew to act quickly. In the past the whores would try to weaken him with cries and lies. Better to not give the devil a chance. When Satan’s vessels were found, the families and men would continue the lies. But it was the only way to save them—the only way to save him.

As always, GOD provided. A whore walking a path to salvation. No struggle. No trouble. Another soul to save.

[SelzShoes]

Whaddya mean you won't trade Denton? We're the New York Yankees; you're just the Portland Whatevers. We get what we want . . . . Yeah, well up yours too! *SLAM*

[SelzShoes]

Slick.

Tailor-made suit and hair fixed just right, Durocher prepared to head to LA for one last night of West Coast carousing. The restaurants and bars would not comp him like New York places did; but unlike New York however, the LA crowd just liked to party. Too much baseball talk when he tried to relax in the city.

Halfway to the car, his suit was already moist. Hopefully a dessert breeze would dry him on the drive. Leo was so worried about the forming sweat stains; he did not notice the fast approaching Dixie Walker.

“Leo, Leo—I need to talk to ya,” the only thing Durocher liked about Dixie Walker was he could hit. The accent, manners, class and general personality was akin to an armful of beestings. The Peoples Cherce was never Leo’s choice.

“I got a lot of ground to cover Dixie, can’t this wait,” Leo hopped into his car to try and get away. He knew what Walker wanted to talk about, and frankly, in Leo’s eyes, there was nothing to discuss.

“There is a mistake in my assignment,” Walker shoved the papers over the door of the convertible. Waiving them in front of Durocher’s face as if Dixie could will him to care.

After feigning a cursory glance, Leo was quick to the point. “No mistakes Dixie, I’ll talk to you in a couple days.”

“Coupla days? I’ll be in Montreal in a coupla days.” The Southerner was almost hyperventilating at the thought of being farmed out. Walker leaned against the car door, still holding the assignment papers high. “Why—haven’t I done everything this club needed?”

“Yeah, but you said you didn’t want to play with blacks. We’re accommodating you.” Durocher pushed the outfielders hand out of his way and started to turn the key.

“You’d rather have that N----r Min-O-so than me?”

Leo blew a laugh through his nose. “Hell yes I’d rather have Minoso than you. He’s a better f-----g player than you ever were.” With that Leo slammed the accelerator causing Walker to jump back startled. Durocher, fairly certain Dixie was no longer any danger of scratching his car, sped away into the Arizona night.

[SelzShoes]

The dowdy grey woman took the stairs briskly; weaving around the turns and rails with the footwork of a boxer. Feint, feint, push, feint, feint, and push. She glided with an ease unsuggested by her stature. Mrs. Fallon moves with such grace her sudden stop caught him off-guard.

Her hands flipped through the keys like a sharp with a new deck. It appeared she could find the right set by touch alone. The door swung open and stale air filled the hall.

“Smallest room I got; not much to look at.” A dress, bare bed and table crowded what little space there was.

“I’ll be on the road a lot.” He sat the cardboard suitcase down. The landlady did not know it, but she was looking at all of his worldly possessions.

“What’s your line again?” Mrs. Gertrude Fallon had little use for the salesmen who would come for rooms. They would always end up trying to sell their widgets and goo-gahs to the other tenants and her. Bothering everyone with the latest thing. An unlike the relief cases who made up her long timers; the salesmen would always end up skipping out on a day or two of rent.

“I’m a ballplayer. I’ll be traveling a lot.”

Gertrude’s face disapproved. “Had some ballplayers years ago. Left with two weeks unpaid. Drinking men too.” Dishonest and drunk was no way to present yourself to a Latter Day Saint.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty. Manger Paul Waner had enough heart to forward a loan so he would not have to sleep in the clubhouse. “I’ll pay two weeks now, if you don’t mind.”

The landlady turned from grey to green at the sight of the cash. “I don’t mind a bit!” Bills were exchanged as she started to enumerate the house rules. “Now, I don’t do laundry. I do clean each room once a week—provided you don’t live like a pig. I’ll take care of yours when you are gone,” her voice sing-songed over her list. But he had stopped listening once the money was in her hands.

For the first time in years he had a home.

[SelzShoes]

A poll has been posted in the poll forum to pick what NAL club I will manage. Vote early, vote often.

[SelzShoes]

Another poll has been posted to pick which CL team I will manage. Vote in both polls if you haven't yet.

[SelzShoes]

Lunch time updates. Go to the poll forum to vote.

Tiger fans push thier choice into a tie with the Seals. Lancers and Pirates coming on strong.

6 Votes---Tigers, Seals
4 Votes---Lancers
3 Votes---Pirates
1 Vote----Red Sox,Indians, Braves, Giants, Phillies
0 Votes---Cubs, Cardinals, Senators

An early lead for the A's

5 Votes---Athletics
1 Vote----Bison, Millers
0 Votes---Dodgers, Reds, Clippers, Yankees, Blues

[SelzShoes]

Loyal Readers,

Sorry that we are in a patch where the story is a little thin. On the plus side, we are very close to having actual factual games being played. When I finish posting the PCL rosters I will run a couple more test season just to be sure and then OPENING DAY!

To this point, stories have been all over the place, with no particular connection to time. With the start of the season the post will be more ‘real time;’ meaning if I just played March 3, 1946 and post a storyline post—that post happened on March 3, 1946. There will be at least one storyline post for every CIE week of play.

Regular created player updates will be posted every Sunday of CIE play. If a created player is hurt, traded, sent down, called up, etc, then there will be an update for those events. There will be a post for each player’s debut as well.

Just as a point of reference, here is the editing I did with our LahmanDB import that makes up the league (aside from correcting the “Mcc” things and such):

All on the 1-100 scale.

Ernie Lombardi’s speed is set to 1.

Pete Gray’s arm (C/INF/OF) is set to 1.

Since the league set up requires me to rely on a lot of ‘cup of coffee’ players I did make a universal adjustment to talent ratings. The minimum talent at any of the 5 hitting or 3 pitching categories is 35. Why 35? Well, if I recall correctly, that’s what FPS used as ‘replacement level’ ratings on its 100 point scale. So a player may not develop into an all-star or hall of famer, but they do have a chance to at least contribute something more than a 17-1-11 contact/power/eye imported talent could do. My reasoning—probably wrong--is that a guy would not be on a major league roster if he did not have the potential to be a ‘replacement level’ player. Actual ratings were not touched, only the talent.

Frankie Kelleher has his Power talent increase by 25 points—as long as he is the property of the Hollywood Stars. In one of those cosmic intersections, Frankie was assigned to the Stars—the team which he was the fan favorite for his home run hitting in the late 40’s and early 50’s. I’m giving him a chance to be that fan fav in Hollywood—otherwise his talent will be knocked down to his more human levels if he moves on.

(on a related note, here is a link about a huge fight Frankie was involved in with the Stars

That is all I can think I’ve done. If you’ve got any ‘technical’ questions, as well as comments about the story, the league, anything, don’t hesitate to post.

Thanks for reading!

[SelzShoes]

Polls close on this one in a couple hours--looks like I'll be Lefty O'Doul when playing NAL games.

8 Votes---Seals
6 Votes---Tigerss
4 Votes---Lancers
3 Votes---Pirates
1 Vote----Red Sox,Indians, Braves, Giants, Phillies
0 Votes---Cubs, Cardinals, Senators

[Buccaneer]

I very much look forward to see how this plays out. Each of your narratives definitely drew me in and found them so mesmerizing. Keep the brilliant work.

[Buccaneer]

Oh, sorry I didn't vote. I let it slipped my mind.

[SelzShoes]

Originally Posted by Buccaneer

I very much look forward to see how this plays out. Each of your narratives definitely drew me in and found them so mesmerizing. Keep the brilliant work.

Thank you for the kind words.

It gets a little dicier when you actually start playing games--you can lose control of a story. Hopefully pre-planning helps me in that regard.

As for the vote--The CL poll is still open and a PCL one will come too, so you have chances to pick a team for me to run.

[SelzShoes]

“Powell is very upset with your last broadcast. How embarrass do you think he is, carrying your show over WLW, with you telling the world the Reds are a last place club? How are they supposed to fill their stadium if the fans think they’re just going to lose?”

Barber closed his eyes to reflect a moment. “Mr. Shotton, if Powell Crosley does not want people to criticize the Reds; I suggest his daddy field a better team.”

[SelzShoes]

“Relax! Relax? Larry, the season hasn’t opened yet and we’re already $300,000 in the hole?”

MacPhail seethed at his partner. Topping and Webb had brought money but no baseball sense to the matter. Now, sooner than expected, one of the money boys was trying to run the club too. “Everyone had restarting costs; ours are just a bit higher. We’ll be in the black by seasons end.”

Dan Topping placed his hands on MacPhail’s desk, as if trying to intimidate the General Manager, “Not everyone has close to a million dollar payroll! And you’re trying to trade for Dixie Walker? Another $17,000 in salary?”

“Actually he makes $16,600. We need a centerfielder and those chumps in Portland won’t trade their guy to us.” MacPhail loved to catch people on details, made it seem like he was the only on paying attention to the conversation. In reality it just made the other person angrier.

“Del and I agree you have been far too casual with the payroll.”

MacPhail said nothing.

“We have decided that until this club is showing a profit, you are forbidden to add payroll.” Topping and Webb entered into this partnership with MacPhail because of the allure of owning, and profiting from, the most popular ball team in the world. Leland MacPhail seemed only concerned with winning.

The smug started rising from MacPhail, “the Yankees do not cut payroll.”

The money man shook his head, “This isn’t a church—there is nothing sacred about a f-----g baseball team.”

In one swoop MacPhail swung his arm and cleared his desk onto the feet of Topping. Glass, paper and metal hit the floor in a symphony of chaos. Topping jumped back startled. His aggressive stance had evaporated. MacPhail’s reputation for moments of insanity pushed with tremendous force.

“How many pennants are you responsible for Dan?” The words dripped with acid. “I built the Reds that won in 39 and 40. I won in Brooklyn in 1941. How many pennants can you take credit for?”

Topping tried to speak.

MacPhail was too quick, “That’s right zero. Z-E-R-O. Now when we lose because you refuse to open the purse strings, don’t blame me. I know I’ll get no credit when we win.” Topping was so focused on MacPhail’s eyes and words; he did not see Leland grab the lamp.

The lamp shattered against the wall producing a flurry of glass. Dan fought his instinct to run. “You are to make no more moves without the approval of Webb and I.” Topping eased out towards the door, careful not to completely turn his back on MacPhail.

“Slink on out like the girl you are Topping. When I line your pockets with wads of cash, remember who made it possible.”

[SelzShoes]

Continuing the trend of managing as a left handed pitcher who became a slugger; I will take

7 Votes---Athletics
3 Votes---Bison
2 Votes---Clippers, Blues, Dodgers
1 Vote----Millers
0 Votes---Reds, Yankees

Hope to have the PCL voting start this weekend--and I could be playing opening day within a week. That is if my mircomanaging self can stop thinking of tweeks to make my experience better

[SelzShoes]

Has been posted in the polls forum. This is a quick poll, only open through lunch on Tuesday. Get your votes in.

[SelzShoes]

University of Notre Dame
South Bend, Indiana

May 30, 1946

Mr. MacPhail

While we appreciate the interest of the New York Yankees in forming a partnership with the University of Notre Dame for a broadcast network; the trustees do not feel such an alliance is in the long term best interest of Notre Dame.

We take great care in assuring our radio network services the spiritual and educational goals of the university. The “Network of Champions” you have proposed would limit our ability to achieve the primary mission of Notre Dame via our sports broadcast.

The University of Notre Dame wishes another great American institution well in their future endeavors.

{signature} Rev. Fr. John J. Cavanaugh {/signature}

Leland MacPhail
Yankee Stadium
The Bronx, New York

[SelzShoes]

A bit over halfway in the voting and it is too close to call:

3 Votes---Salons
2 Votes---Beavers, Cowboys, Saints
1 Vote----Stars, Padres, Oaks
0 Votes---Rainiers

[SelzShoes]

A Tie!

3 Votes---Stars, Salons
2 Votes---Beavers. Cowboys, Saints
1 Vote----Padres, Rainiers, Oaks

But I have an easy tie-breaker. I have a created player on the Salons, so I will pilot them.

Good range by the voters. I have one horrid team (Seals), one middle of the road team (A's) and one pennant contender (Salons/Stars). Good job people.

[SelzShoes]

The legend stood on the top step leading into the dugout; pausing to digest the moment. Buck O'Neill approached the Babe cautiously. "Nervous?"

Ruth looked down, "God dammed right I am." One more step and he would finally be 'Babe Ruth, manager'. Ruth spat on the floor as he prepared to step up into the dugout. "It would have to be the Dodgers."

"Why's that skip?" Buck asked.

"That S.O.B. Durocher. Caught the little bastard stealing from me when he was with the Yankees." Decades after the incident you could how much the Babe still hated the Lip. "Beat the s-t out of then. Hope to hell we do the same today."

With that Ruth crossed the threshold and entered the dugout.

O'Neill piped up again, "Still nervous?"

The Babe turned slowly with a huge grin covering his moon face. "Not anymore; this is the best I've felt in years."

[SelzShoes]

April 3, 1946-The Worst Place in the World

"Mr. Bogart, I'm so glad you could make it," William Cox was all over his famous guest. He had hoped the actor would respond to the usher sent note (tip that kid!) but here he was at the visiting owner's box with Cox and his entourage.

Bogey flicked a cigarette and winked, "Well, I may want to see a game in Philly someday." The two men shook and sat down, talking about baseball.

"Normally, I'd be over at Gilmore, but I can't pass up a chance to see Joe's first game in LA."

"Real coup for the league to get him."

"Don't know how much better they are with him, but love to watch him play."

"Bah-Lancers don't have nothing on my Phills!"

Humphrey stopped for a moment, as an usher brought hot dogs and beers to the box. "You really think the Phillies are better than the Lancers?" Cox nodded, to which Bogart responded with a dismissive tsk.

Cox felt insulted. He had seen this club all spring and they won most of their games. Didn't that mean the Phillies were pennant contenders? He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his wallet. Cox quickly thumbed through his cash before throwing a wad onto the arm of Bogart's chair.

"$5,000 that the Phillies beat your Lancers."

Bogart drew back, "Can you do that?"

"I'm betting on my team to win, it's ok."

The guest drew in on his cigarette, something didn't feel quite right. But it was a chance to make a quick 5 G's, so why not. "I don't have that much on me; I assume you'll want cash for that."

"Your word is good enough for me," Cox replied. Hell, win, lose or draw-he was talking with Humphrey Bogart!

[SelzShoes]

The chilly Buffalo night turned absolutely frigid. Rickey could not bring himself to say anything to Veeck. It was because of Veeck this night was going horribly wrong.

Late in spring training Satchel Paige, the best known if not the best Negro pitcher, had come down with a tender elbow. Paige, notorious for his durability insisted he had pitched through worse. Rickey, on advice from the training staff, shut Satch down. Clyde Sukeforth, despite the daily pleas from the most veteran of rookies, agreed and refused to put Paige in.

Bill Veeck, the primary moneyman in the organization, had been feeling pressure from the League to start Paige in Buffalo. The opening day had been lackluster, although it was an all-time record for a ball game in Buffalo, and attendance had dipped each day. The cold was keeping the people away. While Rickey wanted to hold Paige back for the opening day at Yankee Stadium Veeck was swayed to the league's point of view. "Normally, I can be a pain in the ass," Veeck told Earle Mack, still working for his father, but now as the President's liaison, "But your dad could have stood in the way of what we wanted to do with the blacks. I owe you this much."

In the middle was poor Clyde Sukeforth. His loyalty lay with Rickey, but the chain of command started with Veeck. "Awful cold tonight Satch, sure you're ready?"

"Get me in today, and I can go again Sunday against the Yankees!"

Now it was the third inning, and Paige was coming out. It was hard to tell what happened. The pitch was fluid, the follow through textbook-yet there was Paige. Bent over, holding his right elbow.

Rickey left the box, with Veeck slowly in tow.

"I thought we agreed I was to make the baseball decisions around here," Rickey's voice quivered with rage. Of all the men who deserved this moment, none had waited as long a Satchel. It was a waste of God's gift.

Veeck lit a cigarette looking for words. "This is as much my team as it is yours Branch." Too much power had been surrendered without thought. Now that Veeck understood what type of relationship Rickey wanted from an owner, he didn't like it. "I'm team President. I have the last word on everything."

[SelzShoes]

"What the hell are you doing, trying to get on this train," MacPhail's slurred words and discolored eyes told all one needed to know about his condition.

Joe McCarthy stood on the steps, just waiting to get back to New York. Extra innings on getaway day was rough on everyone. MacPhail was making it impossible. "Larry, just let me on, we'll talk about it when we get back with Topping and Webb. . ."

"Going behind my back are you!" The mood flashed from intransient to violent at the mention of his co-owners' names. MacPhail reached for Joe's shirt in an attempt to intimidate the manager. His swipe missed, and the already teetering drunk fell to the platform in a soft pile of a man.

McCarthy walked up the stairs of the train, "We need a couple husky porters down here."

After recovering from the initial shock of the fall, Leland had risen to his hands and knees. "You fired McCarthy. That's what you deserve for losing to that s---hole team. You're fired."

The Yankee manager slipped the porters a five each, instructing them to take Leland to his berth. "We'll talk about it with Webb and Topping in New York Larry."

[SelzShoes]

Sorry it has been so long with the updates. I've been ill and haven't had much interest in writing/playing with this universe. But I'm feeling better and we should have some updates very soon.

[fantastic flying froggies]

Hurray, SelzShoes is back!

Nice to know that you're feeling better, which is afterall, the most important part of your post...

[SelzShoes]

He muscled up and slugged the fat pitch deep. One of the deepest shots longtime Indian fans could ever remember being hit. For a moment the word "Ruthian" was whispered among the observers. Joe himself could never remember hitting one harder. By the time the Tribe recovered from the shock, the Lancers had plated another run. "Will to win," more than one fan said about Joe, "he just has a will to win."

Despite the early season success of the team, Joe was finding the going away from the Yanks rough. The average, while rising, was well below what a player like Joe expected from himself. Yes the team was winning now; any long-term success depended on him.

"What the h-l is he doing?" DiMaggio said to Guy Curtright as they jogged to the outfield. Ted Lyons, manager, starting pitcher was strolling out to the mound to start the 8th. Lyons had walked 8 to that point, weaving in and out of trouble all day. It was clear from centerfield the manager was out of gas, why could Lyons not feel it.

Ted Lyons, at 45 years old, was one of the oldest active players in baseball. The sudden expansion of major league teams allowed a handful of plus 40 players to have a vital role. Joe had been lead to believe his manager would be an emergency hurler. An extra arm for the Lancers to burn in extra inning games. No way DiMaggio ever would have left the Yankees if he thought Lyons would put his ego before the team's chance to win.

Two pitches later, the game was tied. Some scrub named Jim Carlin took one just inside the foul pole. It would be five more batters before an out was recorded.

As Joe trotted back into the dugout, Lyons shouted, "Gotta make that throw, Joe." DiMaggio had made a grab in deep center, with no chance to get the runner it had been returned to the infield. "Cost us a run, you know."

Joe burned inside. This was no Joe McCarthy or Miller Huggins telling him what he needed to improve on. This guy could not tell when his own arm was past it, now he was going to give the great DiMaggio advice. Joe kept walking back into League Park's clubhouse. The end was inevitable as 1-2-3.

The Tribe was the first good team the Lancers had faced, and Joe did not like what he saw. He would have the normal replies for the radio guys. "Yeah, the 200th felt good, but the team lost." A first place team never felt so empty.

[SelzShoes]

On time as usual, Leland MacPhail arrived at the Stadium's office. The Dodgers, the team he left, the team he built, had just finished sweeping the Yankees. In a flash, the most expensive team in the history of baseball was under .500.

As MacPhail strode through the office the clusters of worker bees broke quickly towards their individuals desk. Work started the moment MacPhail entered the office and woe unto the desk jockey who was caught tardy to his desk. Nothing infuriated the General Manager more than the lack of effort.

He stopped at the entrance to his office, door already open, lights turned on. Whip fast his body snapped to face the sea of desk. Purple with rage, Leland's teeth clinched so tightly no one understood the question he asked. The puzzled looks in response to his gurgling only angered him more.

"Larry, get in here," the voice of co-owner Dan Topping came from his office. For no reason, MacPhail wagged his finger accusingly at the office, as if warning of hell to come.

"Dan. Mel. How lovely to see you this morning," MacPhail's voice had the sickly sweet aroma of bourbon. "Let me guess, that p---y McCarthy cried to you again to save his job."

"You can't fire a manager for losing a game or a series Leland," Mel Webb, usually the quiet of the two went on the attack. "Joe McCarthy is one of the finest managers in baseball, he needs time with this club."

"I am the General Manager, I need the authority to fire the manager whenever I want." MacPhail made his way to his sidebar and started to pour a drink. "First you take my budget and now you take my authority." Topping and Webb, since the start of Spring Training had tried to be more involved in the day-to-day operation than their original intentions indicated. If they wanted a war for the soul of the team; then war they would have.

[SelzShoes]

If patience really is a virtue, Dixie Walker felt he must be one of the sainted. Not the damn Catholic kind; but real ones that walked with Our Lord Jesus. After almost two weeks with the Royals the burden of minor league lifestyle was beginning to wear. All because of Durocher and those two damned n-----s.

Aside from the cold Montreal nights, Dixie understood the situation could be worse. Manager Clay Hopper was a fellow son of the South, and could see the grave injustice being laid at the feet of such a great hitter. Every night Clay would ask, “you want to go tonight,” and, depending on how he felt (and what teams’ scouts were said to be in attendance) Dixie would make his choice. Shotton and the other Dodgers’ brass were pressuring Hopper to play Walker every day to justify his major league salary while in the International League. Hopper had too much respect for Walker as a player—as a man—to do such a thing.

Not like Durocher, that cocksure bastard. Durocher had, in Dixie’s opinion, overplayed his hand—a bluff had been called. The checks from the Dodgers were the same no matter where in their organization they tried to bury him. All those threats about Salt Lake City evaporated when it was clear the Saints did not have the players or the money to trade for a hitter of Dixie’s caliber. Word through the grapevine was the Reds and the Columbus team was trying to move all their n-----s just to add his bat.

It is just a matter of waiting for the Dodgers to make their move before the tedium of all these IL trips wore him down.

[Buccaneer]

Cool. An update!!!!!!!!

[SelzShoes]

"Man, d'ja hear about the day DiMag had today? Three homers! Glad he's here in LA."

"Pshaw! He ain't that good."

"C'mon, 3 home run 8 RBI, that's a great double play."

"Yeah, but what does he do when it counts. The home run in the first game-the Lancers had that in the bag. And yeah, he hit 2 home runs in the second, but if he had come through after the 2nd, the Lancers might have swept. And don't forget that error he made."

"Hey, a guy can only do so much."

"When the Lancers need a hit, he's nothing. All that money, and he can't do it when they need it."

[Buccaneer]

It's been a while but how are AI roster changes being tracked or controlled?

[SelzShoes]

Originally Posted by Buccaneer

It's been a while but how are AI roster changes being tracked or controlled?

Good Question. Here is the an answer about a OOTP5 League I ran a couple years ago; I now use the

Let me just say this: I know there is probably a better way. The fact that this is essentially 15 years old and I’m still tweaking and tuning it up tells me that. And I know the things I rely on from the game for information and standards are not perfect. The features of this game are discussed through out this forum with complaints, apologies and explanations. And while imperfect, I feel it is doing what I want it to do. Is it right for anyone else? Probably not, at least in the format I have. Unless you have the DC Heroes RPG and the exact same philosophies and beliefs I do, someone isn’t going to develop the same thing. If this at least gives you some ideas for running your own GM’s, that’s great. And seeing how the players in the forum find ways of looking at OOTP that I never thought of, extra eyes on my system can only help me.

So, the basics of my league: Still using OOTP5 (it works for me—with this dynasty I don’t feel the extended financials or revised game engine are worth changing for, yet), financials on, no salary cap, minors enabled, coaches & scouts on, all teams set to human, reduced ratings. Store that information for a while or refer back to it later.

Now the DC Heroes RPG came with quick reference cards for some of the more important heroes and villains. If I remember my RPG’s correctly, this isn’t too different than what most games have—though the labels could be different. Here is how they look:

BATMAN
DEX: 10 STR: 5 BODY: 6
INT: 12 WILL: 12 MIND: 12
INFL: 10 AURA: 8 SPIRIT: 10
INITIATIVE: 36 HERO POINTS: 150
Skills:
Advantages:
Drawbacks:
Equipment:
Alter Ego: Bruce Wayne
Motivation: Seeking Justice
Wealth: 20

It became a question of how to link those ratings and skills to the game.

Now, here is where you may find your self-saying, “that seems a little random.” I just want you to know that you’re not that far off at times. I tried to make linkages that made some sense, but some had to be forced because there wasn’t any other rating left.

I decided, for me, the most important rating was INITIATIVE. This to me made sense, since it was used to determine turn order in the RPG. Everything from who is looking to trade, demotions, promotions and everything else I use the GMS to determine has this at the base. Since I wanted to keep everything resolved with only rolling 2d10, I halved the INITIATIVE, renamed it Aggressiveness and began the linkage. If we can think of the card altered for OOTP it would look like the following.

BRUCE WAYNE
Pitching: 10 Hitting: 5 Defense: 6
Response: 10 Scouts: 10 AA: 10
Propose: 10 AAA: 8 A: 5
Aggressiveness: 18
Skills, advantages, drawbacks: If any of these seemed applicable (charisma for example) to negotiations or thought process of a GM—I assigned it a value in terms of column shifts either positively or negatively.
Motivation: Balanced prospects/FA, spends smartly
Willingness to spend: 10

Since I am using a 10-point rating system for my players in OOTP, I felt reducing the ceiling for every rating, except Aggressiveness, to 10 made sense.

I also used these numbers to develop a “profile” for each GM for an “ideal” hitter and pitcher. I tried to set this “rating” based on 15 points (5 contact/stuff-5 power/movement-5 eye/control being average). Bruce Wayne’s ideals would be 8-3-4 for hitters with C range or speed; 5-5-5 his ideal pitcher. Now Wayne isn’t looking for those exact combos, but players who match or exceed his base in each category.

From these ratings, the following profile emerges for Wayne: He prefers contact hitters, but doesn’t have a favorite talent with pitchers. He’ll spend money, but smartly. Has a lot of faith in his scouts and his upper minors. Very aggressive, hard to convince to accept a trade, but able to convince others. He even has an additional advantage over GM’s because of his charisma. Values pitching over hitters. Bottom line—good GM who can fleece a bad one.

I also use these ratings, in a simple formula, to determine salary offers to Free Agents, coaches, scouts and minor league managers. Wayne, with the exceptions of hitting coaches and A managers, is going to be tough to outbid—if his club has the money.

Now, before I get into the How it works, I want to anticipate some criticism. I use the advice of scouts and the listed “team weaknesses” in the trade/FA scenes probably more than most of the veteran gamers do. I understand the limitations and flaws in these parts of the game engines. However, those flaws I think are fairly realistic. Something may be listed as a “team weakness” when there is a player at that position posting All-Star numbers. Well, I’d argue while the player may be having a great season, he could be viewed by the club as not a long-term solution. Hey, Scott Cooper was an all-star—clearly outperforming his ratings—and the Red Sox cut their ties with him before he fell of the face of the earth. I think this could be more of an issue if I was trying to do a historical league; for a fictional league (which, despite historical players, is what this league is) I don’t think it is a much of a problem.

There are different statistical peaks and valleys that trigger actions. Off-days is where alot of the action happens. There are date triggers. Players are all compared based on salary, defense rating, character, and several "as played" stat catagories. If you want to know more, I can post the rest of the 'series'; I've tweeked it since I moved to 6.5, but the fundamentals are the same.

[fantastic flying froggies]

Wow, I had no idea it was so complex...

And glad to see you 're back btw!

[SelzShoes]

"Frank, he won't go to a club with Negroes; you have two of them."

"Then take Dihigo and Bankhead. Dihigo is done, but Bankhead is a great young hurler."

Shotton tried to get the phone to rest on his neck as he reached for scouting reports on the Clippers' system. At this point of the season, Shotton was sure he had a better feel for the Clipper minor leaguers than Lane would. "I'll take Dihigo if you take care of a problem I have." With Durocher ready to make Minoso the full-time third basemen, Lew Riggs would become a useless roster piece.

"To get Walker I'll agree to most anything," Riggs did not fit into the Clippers' plans but it was worth it to acquire Dixie.

Shotton found the profile he had been looking for. As a former scout it did not take long to scan the report. "Is Own Hunter hurt?" There was a scrambling of papers on the other end of the line.

"I don't think so, why do you ask?"

"Well, he hasn't thrown yet this season for Providence and was hardly used in training."

"Oh, Hunter, that guy," Lane sheepishly said as recognition of the player set in. "Harold doesn't think he'll be much of a ballplayer. Too stubborn or stupid to quit I guess."

"If I throw in Branca, will you part with him," Shotton's assumption about the internal scouting was proving to be correct.

More shuffling of papers; Shotton had a good feeling.

"Ok, we got a deal."

[SelzShoes]

From "Sid Says by Sid Sayes" column in the Milwaukee Journal
While it was awfully nice of the National American League to declare our fair city a 'Major League City' they forgot the courtesy of giving us a Major League team. While the word 'Milwaukee' is sewn onto the uniforms of the men who stumble around Borchert Field their true identity lays to the east. These are still the Braves or Bees or whatever name was given to that disaster. The team we were given to cheer is a fraud, which cannot replace the real joy our Brewers used to deliver.

Now, two weeks into this Championship season, club management has decided near one-fifth of the roster at their top farm club is better than the Major League roster. Sid says he might not know a bunch about running a baseball team, but he knows how to tell a good one from a bad. The group of jokers running this organization had a whole spring season to separate the wheat from the chaff and apparently could not do that right.

One of these new Braves who are to turn them into winners is a 29-year old rookie named Tommy Holmes. He was 25 when the war started and still in the bushes. Sid says normally when it takes a guy that long to get somewhere, he should not be taking the trip. Life long bushers are not going to help this team.

[SelzShoes]

" . . . Dickey leads off first as Raschi delivers. Rolfe squares to bunt and drops it; Riddle has a handle and fires towards second. . . Geary takes it and Dickey is out at second! The Reds cut off the lead runner, and now, it is runner on first with one out!"

The dugout phone rang. McCarthy felt the bile and acid fill his stomach as he reached for the receiver. Ever since Topping and Webb barred MacPhail from contacting McCarthy outside of Yankee Stadium every detail of the game was now under intense scrutiny from the General Manger. MacPhail's voice was hissing as Marse Joe lifted the phone to his ear.

"ofabitch is our hitting instructor? He can't lay a g-d d----d bunt down and he's the hitting instructor? I want him relieved of his duties immediately, I want."

"F-k you, Larry," Joe slammed the phone down.

"Rolfe with a small lead, Monk pushes it towards third-Hatton makes the grab throws to second? They do it again! The Yankees fail to bunt along the runner on two consecutive batters. Man, I don't think I've ever seen that. How about that!"

The dugout phone started ringing. McCarthy started walking towards the end of the dugout. The dugout phone rang. McCarthy kept walking towards the steps of the dugout. He caught Rosar out of the corner of his eye going to the phone. Marse Joe's neck whipped around violently, "$500 fine to anyone who answers that phone." Rosar's hand hung in the air. The phone kept ringing.

Rosar placed his hand on the receiver.

"$1000 fine to anyone who answers that phone!"

Rosar let go.

The phone kept ringing.

[SelzShoes]

"Worst ones are the ones you've never seen," Klem imparted to his rookie comrade. "But you know that better than most would," the dean of umpires chuckled. Nearly blind in one eye Bill Klem was lacing up the blues again. The expansion of the majors had resulted in a call for more major league umpires. Connie Mack had appointed him head of Contential umpires; too many men without the proper experience were on the diamonds. Klem was teaching on the field the nuances of the craft.

Butch Henline knew more than most. For all or parts of 11 seasons he had been a catcher in the majors. During the depression and war he'd made a decent supplement umpping in minor and industrial leagues. Now he was trying to make his mark all over again.

"Take this Negro Day, they say he throws as hard as Feller," Klem continued. "Being a National League Man, I didn't see much of Feller or Johnson, so that means nothing to me."

Klem took his spot at first, the only position he had the mobility to adequately man. Henline pulled down the mask and barked, "Play ball." Butch always felt best behind the plate.

Day was fast. Fast and on target. Reiser led off the game with a fluky triple. An overpowering strikeout and weak ground ball out later Day was on the verge of getting out of the inning down 1-0. The big Italian first baseman Dolph Camilli stepped in. Day fell behind in the count and Dolph raked a line shot into the right field seats.

Rookie outfielder Cal Abrams stepped into the box, "Watch your head," the catcher said.

Faster than a man could blink horsehide met the in turned shoulder of the kid batter. The ball bouncing back to the mound; the warning had prevented tragedy.

Abrams pointed his bat towards the mound, "I'm gonna beat your n----r a-down." Day dropped his glove and formed fist.

"You're outta here, Abrams," Henline found himself yelling. Cal snapped around, as Dodgers and Blues filled the field. "Outta here now." Durocher grabbed his outfielder and pulled him off the path of harm. As they walked off, Henline ejected Day as well.

A noticeable roar overcame the Stadium, nearly half the crowd was Negro, there to see the former Monarchs, Eagles and Elite Giants play together. Day stood for a moment as his teammates, black and white, surrounded him. Jeering at the visiting Dodgers. Peanuts and soda bottles flew at the Dodgers as they escorted the explosive Abrams to the dugouts.

Henline pointed at both managers, "Get your bench men off the field NOW!" Sukeforth and Durocher did not hesitate, calling the non-playing players in with authority. In moments, Bob Muncrief was pitching to Don Padgett as if nothing had happened.

[SelzShoes]

Taking a break, we're in the process of moving and such. Don't look for anything from this dynasty until at least November.

Catch up with you later.

[fantastic flying froggies]

Thanks for letting us know.

Looking forward to hearing from you again in November, or even later.

[SelzShoes]

bump

[Buccaneer]

Ah, a refreshing beacon light of hope in a sea of darkness.

[SelzShoes]

National American League West Standings the morning of April 21, 1946

Saint Louis	9- 7 -
Chicago		9- 7 -
Detroit		9- 8   ½
San Francisco	9- 8   ½
Los Angeles	9- 9 1
Milwaukee	4-13 5 ½

The crowd at Sportsman's Park had dwindled to a few dozen drunken fans; too stunned or fermented to make way to the trolleys. Musial was one of a handful of Redbirds still on the bench trying to sort through what went so wrong.

The afternoon had begun with so much energy and joy; the thought of defeat the furthest from anyone's mind. The early evening edition of the Globe sang the good news: the Cubs and Tigers had both lost, "assuring the Redbirds a 2 game lead after the sweep of the twi-night doubleheader." The buzz among dirty-faced kids and East Saint Louis gentry alike was today was the beginning of the runaway to the title. All they had to do was beat some ex-PCL club.

Stan started the game in right field, the third position manager Sewell started the young slugger at this season. During the spring, Sewell had become enamored with the play of Coaker Triplett and Johnny Hopp. Coaker, a journeyman outfielder, and Hopp, a sometime player with the 1941 runners up had hit very well in Florida. Sewell, in an effort to keep their bats in the line up, moved Musial around the field. First base, center field, left and now right. Entering his first full season of play, the young Musial felt his talent and performance had shown enough to warrant an everyday job at some position. Especially in light that Coaker was not living up to his spring performance once the games started to count. Sewell raved about Triplett's .300 average, Musial could see what an empty .300 it was. Hopp at least was slap hitting .400 to be of some use to the club

The crowd had a roar going in the bottom of the first. The ace of the Seals, Johnny Sain, had walked the bases full. The sense in the Park was now was the beginning of the end for the west coast upstarts. They stood as one when Marty Marion pushed the ball towards the space between first and second, but Ralph LaPointe was able to make the pick up and nip Slats at the last moment. A missed opportunity.

One that grew larger and larger as the innings ticked by. Despite pushing across a single run in the fourth, Musial could tell Sain was more than manger Sewell had lead them to expect. Down down into the ground the Redbirds kept pushing the ball to the infielders. Routine plays all, nothing the Cards could do. Sain was clearly one of those players who had slipped through the fingers of the established clubs. The parade of 4-3 and 6-3 putouts drained the crowd of its enthusiasm.

It was the 6th when Sewell's attachment to Triplett cost the Redbirds. Two weak singles started the inning, but Max Lanier got the next two in short order. Malloy, a right-handed hitter walked into the box. Musial swung into right center, while Triplett stayed put in straight away left. "Move over, guard the line," Musial could hear veteran Terry Moore urging Coaker from center.

Musial and Moore broke with the pitch; from the corner of his eye he could see Coaker wait until the ball hit bat to move. It was a routine shot down the line, but out of position and slow to react Triplett could not make the play. In a blink the Seals lead, and breath of 30,000 people was stolen. The Seals three-run rally in the 7th only confirmed the fan's worst feeling.

It was unsettling between games. What was supposed to be a coronation was becoming a nightmare. The upstarts had seized first place by the slimmest of margins going into the nightcap. Just a positive buzz was beginning to return, the announced starter quickly killed the mood. Howie Pollet, the other late season phemon of the 1941 title challenge, held a ten-plus ERA as the erstwhile relief ace. Even more galling to Musial, he was to sit as Triplett was allowed to start again. It was almost appropriate that Coaker misplayed another shot by Malloy into a run scoring double.

Meanwhile Seals' starter Paul "Daffy" Dean, welcomed with respectful applause from the Sportsman faithful, produced curses in the Cardinal dugout. From where Musial sat Dean just kept throwing slower and slower each passing inning. By the 7th, Dean had the appearance of a shot putter-pushing the ball rather than throwing. Weak ground ball after ground ball, just like the early game.

A late rally against the pen stirred the crowd some; but it ended the way Musial thought it would with Triplett rolling a weak one to first. Saint Louis had gone from a half game in the lead to a tie for fourth in one day. "Sewell's going to cost us the pennant," Stan said under his breath. He stood slowly. If a title was in the Cardinals' future, it would be on him and him alone to assure victory.

National American League West Standings the evening of April 21, 1946
San Francisco	11- 6 -
Chicago		 9- 8 1
Los Angeles	10- 9 1
Detroit		 9- 9 1 ½
Saint Louis	 9- 9 1 ½
Milwaukee	 5-13 5 ½