Let’s be honest, 2011 was a lousy year in sports. Just look at all the stories which happened in that twelve-month span which completely took away the usual uplifting nature of sports. So, as part of moving forward, I thought it was time to take a look back to a year which for me was the opposite of this one most recently and thankfully past.
That year was 1987.
Ironically, as 2011 brought the low point in the history of Penn State football, 1987 brought one of the highs. The Nittany Lions came into the Fiesta Bowl in 1987 as a prohibitive underdog against the brash, trash-talking Miami Hurricanes. Joe Paterno’s traditional style of football served as the classic antithesis to the wide-open style of Jiimmy Johnson, but the Hurricanes flat-out got beat. If you were watching college football in 1987, there is no way you can forget Pete Giftopoulous’ game-sealing interception in the 4th quarter; the one that cemented Penn State’s second National Championship.
Later that year came the culmination of the 1986–87 season in NCAA men’s ice hockey. To most people, that isn’t such a big deal, but when your alma mater prints its diplomas on hockey pucks, North Dakota’s defeat of Michigan State to capture it’s 6th National Championship was a big deal on that campus.
The end of March means spring is most places, but Grand Forks, North Dakota is not one of them. The average temperature in Grand Forks in March is about 20 degrees Fahrenheit; average of course meaning a great deal of the time it is significantly colder than that. In short, living in Grand Forks in March means nearing the end of a winter where you’ve been trapped indoors, left to three main forms of entertainment: eating, drinking, and fornicating. Naturally, after a while, you become a fat, drunken hump-meister that needs no reason to party.
The Fighting Sioux were such fun to watch that winter; their dominance of the indoor ice was an antidote to the ever-present outdoor variety; in January in Grand Forks, even the air freezes. But thanks to a complement of talent such as Ed Belfour, Tony Hrkac, Bob Joyce, and Ian Kidd, the atmosphere around North Dakota Fighting Sioux games on Friday and Saturday nights warmed to a simply sub-arctic Bacchanalian orgy filled with the aforementioned three surrounding activities. That is why to this day, there is a hockey puck on my desk to remind me of the the hockey season in which I drank more beer, ate more pizza and after-bar food (for those of you who know…who else misses The Red Pepper?), and had more sex than in any other six-month period in my life.
As long as we are on the subject of things that forever combined the concepts of ice rinks and sex, when is there a better time to mention East German figure skating gold medalist Katarina Witt?
After all, when’s the last time you remembered a figure skater for her serious upper-body pride rather than her triple axle?
If a figure skater who doesn’t look like a hockey stick wearing toe-pick blades is rare, then the phenomenon known as Mike Tyson must have been the sporting world’s version of Haley’s Comet.
The boxing world hadn’t seen anything quite like Mike Tyson before, and it certainly hasn’t seen anything quite like him since. The year before, Tyson became the youngest heavyweight champion at just 19 years old. In March 1987, Tyson nearly (and ironically) crushes several James “Bonecrusher” Smith’s internal organs; a victory which unified the WBA and WBC heavyweight titles. Already the the year before, Tyson became the youngest undisputed heavyweight champion in boxing history.
Over the course of the next year, Tyson left a trail of corpses formerly known as challengers (four in all) to retain his title. Early in 1988, he added the last of the great “old-school” heavyweight champs to his body-count when he separated Larry Holmes from his consciousness; the only time Holmes ended up looking up during a ten-count in 76 career bouts.
1987 marks the apogee in the meteoric orbit of Tyson’s career; this the last year before the tumult takes over. The following years will bring his divorce from actress Robin Givens, after being accused of domestic violence, the firing and subsequent suing of his manager, breaking his hand in an early morning street brawl, two car accidents (one of which was reportedly a suicide attempt), a rape conviction and related prison sentence, a drug conviction with another stint behind bars, and the Evander Holyfield “ear biting” incident.” Somewhere in that freight train of fouls, Tyson lost the title to a club fighter named Buster Douglas, never to regain it.
Now, let’s go from the rare to the unbelievable. Those of you under 30 may never swallow this, but there was a time in this country when people were all jacked up over yachting, specifically the America’s Cup. Remember that in the 1980’s, thanks to the “Miracle On Ice” and two Olympic boycotts in that same decade, international competitions became more of an issue of national pride than they had ever been previously. This was magnified when it came to the America’s Cup, which not only is the pinnacle of the yachting world, but had never been outside the possession of the Americans in it’s entire history, which dates back to just after the Civil War.
That all changed in 1983 when Kookaburra III, a tub from the Royal Perth Yacht Club wrested the Cup from the Newport Yacht Club. Seriously, people went crazy over this loss. Stories came out about how there was talk replacing the Cup’s place in the club’s trophy case with the head of the skipper who lost it. ESPN got the rights to broadcast the races when the American challenger went to Australia. People stopped in their tracks to watch two hours of boats. Water cooler sports-talk included terms like “jibs” and “tacking.” It was like the Olympics with flat-soled shoes, life jackets, and that white sun-block stuff on your nose.
When skipper Dennis Conner led challenger Stars & Stripes ’87 of the San Diego Yacht Club to a four races to none Cup win over the Australian defender, he literally became a national hero.
Believe it or not, for two weeks in 1987, America went boat-shit crazy.
As far as more conventional sports are concerned, 1987 offered two of the great championship series in sports.
First, there was the NBA Finals. It would be easy to simply say the “Showtime” Los Angeles Lakers which I grew up on (my dad had season tickets) beat the hated Boston Celtics 4 games to 2. While I loved the outcome, just focusing on that would ignore so many great points of this series.
For example, this series was such a perfect contrast in styles. There is no better word to describe the Lakers than “dominant.” They were a beautiful blend of speed and power, of flash and fundamentals that when they were firing on all cylinders it mattered little who they faced.
Despite that, the Celtics offered the effective foil; not only were they the defending champs, they did it in a way that was a complete opposite of Los Angeles. The Celtics played high-school half-court basketball, but they played it better than anybody ever did.
Even though they were already a championship caliber club, The Lakers were a team on the way up. Michael Cooper emerged as a guard who offered match-up problems of anybody else in the league, A.C. Green, James Worthy, Mychal Thompson, and Kurt Rambis offered a mix-and-match option for a front-court that could beat you ant any game you wanted to play. This was augmented guy named Magic Johnson who was a point guard in a power forward’s body, and was better than anybody at either position. Even the grand old man, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar still brought his unstoppable “Skyhook” to the mix.
Meanwhile, even though they were the defending champions, the Celtics were a ship taking on water. The fact they made it to the finals was a major accomplishment, considering the death of Len Bias, the ongoing infirmity of an aging Bill Walton, and nagging injuries to Kevin McHale and Robert Parish. Boiled down to basics, this meant the Celtics did not the horses to run with the Lakers.
This is why the Lakers were such a prohibitive favorite. It’s also why just zipping ahead to a Laker 4-2 win is a mistake. Had this series gone seven games, it would be regarded as one of the great NBA Finals of all time.
The Celtics were, for all practical purposes, playing with five players. The Celtics had to play perfectly to win; they did it twice and nearly pulled it off a third time, which is really the only reason this series only went six. It all started in Game 1, when at one point Larry Bird hit 11 shots in a row. This showed the younger, faster Lakers that the Celtics were so resilient that if they lapsed even the smallest bit, Boston could capitalize on that slip.
Secondly amongst the “big” sports came the “boys of summer.” In a year packed with basketball, boxing, and bimbos, baseball belted the prize-winning punch.
For openers, there were so many guys who had great “pre-steroid” seasons. A look at the league leaders in the “Triple Crown Categories” will lead you to that conclusion.
- American League: Wade Boggs, Boston, .363
- National League: Tony Gwynn, San Diego, .370
- American League: George Bell, 134
- National League: Andre Dawson, 137
- American League: Mark McGwire, Oakland, 47
- National League: Andre Dawson, Chicago, 49.
1987 also had a story one might think impossible; a player being traded for himself. Granted, it wasn’t the first time it happened. Thanks to he provision in baseball trades known as the “Player to be named later” (PTBNL), there have been two times when a player has been named on both sides of a trade.
In April 1962, the expansion New York Mets traded catcher Harry Chiti to the Cleveland Indians for the aforementioned PTBNL. By June, the Indians discovered why Chiti was on the trading block to begin with; the Indians gave Chiti back to the Mets as the PTBNL.
The same situation arose in 1987 with career bullpen jockey Dickie Noles. Noles had been ping-ponging around the league as a “have fastball, will travel” type, but in 1987 the last place Cubs offered Noles to the first-place Tigers as one of those trade deadline “bolster the playoff run” moves to which we’ve become so accustomed. The trouble is that Noles sucked so bad the Tigers didn’t want him either, so he was shipped back to the Windy City as…you guessed it…the dreaded PTBNL was also traded for himself in 1987, in a deal between the Cubs and Tigers.
But the real story of baseball in 1987 is the Minnesota Twins. The magic started in June, when the Twins went 18-9 to capture first place in the American League West. They would never be worse than tied for the lead again that season. But it was August when the stars really seem to align for the nine of the North Star state
August 3 – In a moment that brings this team to national attention, Twins pitcher Joe Niekro is suspended for 10 days for possessing a nail file on the pitcher’s mound against the defending division champion California Angels. Niekro claimed he had been filing his nails in the dugout and put the file in his back pocket when the inning started. He later makes an appearance on the David Letterman show in which he makes light of the incident by showing Letterman exactly how to “doctor” a ball.
August 6 – Later in the same West Coast road trip comes the moment where the Twins never look back. The Twins are opening a four-game set with another contender, the Oakland A’s. In Bottom of the 4th inning, the Twins have a 3-1 lead and a one-out, bases-loaded chance to blow the game open thanks to an error by A’s shortstop Alfredo Griffin. The Twins do just that when Kirby Puckett ropes a bases-clearing double off 20-game winner Dave Stewart to put Minnesota ahead for good. The Twins win the game 9-4 to capture sole possession of first place, a lead they would retain until Friday, August 28th…or as I will always call it “The Weekend in Milwaukee.”
August 20 – Even though they’ve just been swept by the Tigers, it dawns on me that the Twins can’t win on the road, but can’t lose at home. This becomes CRUCIAL as this is in the days when the home-field advantage for playoff series were scheduled in advance; in 1987 the American League West Champion would have home field in the championship series, and the American League would enjoy that same advantage in the World Series. This is when I become a firm believer that all the Twins needed to do in win the AL West, and a World Series title would be coming to Minnesota for the first time.
August 29 – The Saturday of “The Weekend in Milwaukee. ” The Twins had lost to the Brewers the night before to find themselves again tied for the AL West lead. The Twins have Bert Blyleven pitching, and the feel in the air is this game is a “must-win” for the Twins playoff hopes.
In the top of the first, Gary Gaetti belts a two-run shot to put the Twins ahead early. Puckett adds a solo shot in the top of the third. By the top of the fifth, the Brewers crept back to 3-2, until Puckett added his second home run of the day. Puckett’s bomb opened the flood gates to a Twin 7-2 lead as it was followed by an RBI single by Tom Brunansky and a 2-RBI single my Steve Lombardozzi. Later, Kent Hrbek blasted a three-run dinger to seal the deal. The Twins capture sole possession of first place and never relinquish it.
August 30 – The Sunday of “The Weekend in Milwaukee,” otherwise known as the day I accepted Kirby Puckett as my Lord and personal Savior. Puckett leads the Twins to a 10-6 victory by going 6-for-6, including two more homers, two doubles, and 6 RBIs. This made for a two-day total in a critical series of 10 hits in 11 at-bats, 4 home runs, 8 runs batted in, 7 runs scored, and 24 total bases. Oh, and somewhere amongst that offense-gasm, Puckett also robbed future Hall-of-Famer Robin Yount of a home run.
There were so many more moments along the way to the Twins World Series Title…the game against the Royals when the Twins rode three first-inning home runs to clinch the division title, or Game 4 of the ALCS where the Tigers’ Darrell Evans became the goat to end all goat, or hometown hero Kent Hrbek’s game-sealing grand slam in Game 6 of the World Series.
There were also many firsts. The Twins were the first team with only 85 regular-season wins. Game 1 of the 1987 World Series was the first World Series game played indoors. It was also the first World Series in which the home team won every game. Most importantly, it was the Twins first Championship since the franchise moved to Minnesota.
In today’s installment of why fat guys can still be world-class athletes, what better example than baseball? After all, not only are we on the cusp of the World Series, but the greatest baseball player in the history of ever was decidedly a fat guy. For your perusal, here is the full roster for a team composed of all fat guys that were it possible to assemble all their poundage in their prime would squash just about any other team you put before it.
Manager: Bobby Cox
Years of bench duty combined with a penchant for Jack Daniel’s will put a paunch on anybody, let alone a future Hall-of-Famer. Apparently, you just don’t burn that many calories punching your wife.
First Base – Kent Hrbek
Hrbek had an off-season regimen of chili dogs and beer, then spent the summer hitting screaming line drives. Not to mention Hrbek was a tremendous fielder for a big dude.
First Base/Designated Hitter – Cecil Fielder
One of the proudest moments in my career as a baseball fan was being in the crowd when Fielder stole the sole base of career. Watching him slide into second was like watching that test plane crash footage.
First Base/Designated Hitter – Prince Fielder
Like father, like son…except Cecil never tried to sell us that “I’m a vegetarian” bull. I guess even broccoli will fatten you up if you drown it in enough Wisconsin cheddar.
First Base/Third Base – Miguel Cabrera
Cabrera didn’t start his career on this list, but once he made Major League money and didn’t need to subsist on a third-world diet of chicken heads and road gravel, it wasn’t just his batting average that ballooned.
Second Base – Ronnie Belliard
Normally, middle infielders are the epitome of speed and quickness, qualities usually found in smaller bodies. However, looking at this roster, one must remember “smaller” is a relative term.
Shortstop – Juan Uribe
Uribe could make lots of teams besides this one, such as the “All Weirdest Throwing Motion Team” or for a while this year the “All Frosted Tips on His Goatee” team.
Third Base – Bob Horner
Horner is one the only players in Major League history to hit four home runs in a single game and eat four large pizzas afterward.
Infield – Jhonny Peralta
Dyslexia is a terrible thing, being a fat fcuk doesn’t help.
Infield – Miguel Tejada
You must to have a compulsive need to be planet-sized if you are fat and take steroids.
Infield – Terry Pendleton
This team just wouldn’t have a complete roster without some switch-hitting, MVP-type fat.
Infield/Outfield – John Kruk
Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t, but when you are sponsored by Denny’s, you are undeniably “All-time Fat Team” worthy.
Infield/Outfield – Dmitri Young
How can this team not include a 300-pounder with the nickname “Da Meathook?”
Outfield – Tony Gwynn
How do you win seven batting titles? always challenge yourself to hit better than your weight. This is why Gwynn kept it on the safe side having five seasons in which he batted over .350.
Outfield – Kirby Puckett
Not only is Puckett one of the 100 Greatest Players of All-Time, he was the fastest all-time to reach 2,500 pounds hits.
Outfield – Babe Ruth
Simply the greatest baseball player in the history of ever. How do you not love a guy who has a breakfast comprised of 10 ball park hot dogs and a quart of scotch, then smacks three homers?
Outfield – Adam Dunn
To find a guy with more consecutive 40-homer seasons, you have to look above to Babe Ruth. Besides, Dunn knew that if you hit the ball over the fence, you don’t have to run.
Utility – Pablo Sandoval
Sandoval began his professional career as a catcher, and has since moved to third base, but can also play first or a corner outfield position. At his current rate of weight gain, he is projected to end his career as a stadium.
Catcher – Ernie Lombardi
Known as “The Schnozz,” Lombardi was known for his ability to catch anybody’s fastball bare-handed and the fact that his nose weighed 18 pounds.
Catcher – Mike LaValliere
Catcher – Hector Villanueva
A mexican Mike LaValliere.
Starting Pitcher – C.C. Sabathia
If there were ever a poster child for a “round moundsman,” who better than C.C. Sa-fatt-ia?
Starting Pitcher – David Wells
When a fat guy pitches a perfect game, he gets to lie about his weight, and the Yankees trying to get me to believe the 6’4″ Wells tipped the scales at 240 pounds would most certainly qualify as that lie.
Starting Pitcher – Sir Sidney Ponson
Judging by the first two entries on this list, you really have to do something special to stand out as a fat Yankee pitcher. I guess getting knighted in Aruba, then punching a judge and being kicked out of the country has to fill that bill.
Starting Pitcher – Fernando Valenzuela
As the song says, Fernando started as a sensation, and ended up outweighing a Brahma bull.
Starting Pitcher – Sid Fernandez
“El Sid” was a dominating pitcher for the first five innings of a ball game, at which point he became worried about getting to the buffet before it closed.
Relief Pitcher – Aurielio Lopez
Forget about Jennifer. Aurielio was where you needed to go to see a Lopez with a giant butt.
Relief Pitcher – Charlie Kerfeld
It shouldn’t be a surprise that Houston was home to a few big, big relievers. After all, NASA was close by to help with tracking planet-sized objects.
Relief Pitcher – Rich Garces
Relief Pitcher – Mike Fetters
The reverse of the relationship between Mike LaValliere and Hector Villanueva. Fetters is simply an Anglo version of “El Guapo.”
Relief Pitcher – Bobby Jenks
There’s a rumor that the soft-spoken, quiet Ozzie Guillen once signaled to the bullpen for the “wide” guy. Given his thick accent, he probably just said “right.” Either way, Jenks is righteous fat.
Is there a sport richer with tradition than baseball? Think about it…from the ceremonial first pitch to the parade for the winners of the World Series, baseball oozes tradition. But not all traditions are good. With spring training underway, it is time to look at the Minnesota Twins, and three traditions that franchise really needs to end.
1) Haggling with the superstar talent, or failing that, sticking them on a bus.
The current contract wrangling involving uber-catcher Joe Mauer is just the latest in a long line of Twins’ decisions with “star” players. Twice in the past 20 years, the Twins have somehow managed to sign one of their stars for less than the market would have borne for them. Kent Hrbek passed on a big deal from the Red Sox to stay in Minnesota, and Kirby Puckett kept his address in the Land of 10,000 Lakes when the Twins made him baseball’s first $3 million per year player.
At least in those cases, and hopefully in Mauer’s as well, the Twins managed to get the deal done. This is crucial as when deals don’t get done, or if the Twins even think the price is going to be too high, they have no problem shipping a guy out of town. In fact, one could make a respectable Major League team were it possible to field in their primes all the guys the Twins let go via trade or free agency.
The Twins All-Time “Let ‘em Go” Team
- 1B/DH – David Ortiz
- 2B – Chuck Knoblauch
- SS – Zoilo Versalles
- 3B – Gary Gaetti
- C – Butch Wynegar
- OF – Lyman Bostock
- OF – Torii Hunter
- OF – Tom Brunansky
- SP – Bert Blyleven (twice)
- SP – Dave Goltz
- SP – Jim Kaat
- SP – Johan Santana
- SP – Frank Viola
- RP – Dave LaRoche
The master of this practice was old-school owner and professional cheapskate Calvin Griffith. Griffith never met a penny he didn’t pinch so hard that Abe Lincoln farted.
It was rumored that Griffith sported flexor pollicus longus muscles rivaling those of Mark McGwire and Magilla Gorilla, muscles so powerful that he could crush a cinder block simply by clenching it in his massive thumbs.
He used those titanic opposing digits to point out the road to Orange County, California, as many Twins were shipped down that road to the Angels. The list is long, and ranges from hall of famer Rod Carew to utility infielder Rob Wilfong, with solid major league talent sandwiched in between like Lyman Bostock, “Disco” Danny Ford, Geoff Zahn; and after Griffith’s reign Bert Blyleven and Gary Gaetti.
2) The “Value” Free-Agent
While it is too late to stop this madness for this season, Twins fans must unite and demand an end to this madness now. Saving a few dollars on a guy who is past his prime never works.
Granted, Shannon Stewart and Chili Davis had flashes of productivity, but you have to admit the rest of the list over the past 20 years can be a bit frightening.
- 1990 – Jim Dwyer and John Candelaria
- 1991 – Steve Bedrosian
- 1992 – Chili Davis
- 1993 – Dave Winfield
- 1994 – Jim Deshaies
- 1995 – Kevin Maas
- 1996 – Dave Hollins
- 1997 – Terry Steinbach
- 1998 – Otis Nixon
- 1999 – Midre Cummings
- 2000 – Butch Huskey
- 2001 – Todd Jones
- 2002 – Mike Jackson
- 2003 – Shannon Stewart
- 2004 – Jose Offerman
- 2005 – Brett Boone
- 2006 – Tony Batista, Phil Nevin, and Ruben Sierra
- 2007 – Sidney Ponson and Rondell White
- 2008 – Mike Lamb and Craig Monroe
- 2009 – Joe Crede
- 2010 – Jim Thome
3) The Rookie of the Year Curse
Thank God Joe Mauer didn’t win this award, because it would doom him to a shortened career, being traded, or an early death.
- 1959 – Bob Allison (as a Washington Senator) – Died of ataxia
- 1964 – Tony Oliva – Retired in 1976 after knee injuries had reduced him to designated hitter duties for the last four years of his career
- 1967 – Rod Carew – Traded to the California Angels for Ken Landreaux
- 1979 – John Castino – Retired in 1985 due to a fused disc in his back
- 1991 – Chuck Knoblauch – After demanding a trade in 1998, Knoblauch made an ingracious exit from Minnesota by bad-mouthing Twins fans. Naturally when he returned to the Metrodome as a New York Yankees, he was pelted with debris
- 1995 – Marty Cordova – Chronic back and foot injuries hampered his career, and that time he fell asleep in the tanning bed didn’t help either
As Twins fans move forward into an era with a new ballpark, let see if the franchise can make a similar stride past these not-so-good traditions. After all, Minnesota already has the Vikings, and that should be more than enough futility for one state.