I am a huge fan of historical markers! As a history teacher, I thought it was my duty. Statues, too. I know little about Milwaukee history, but I’m old enough to remember the move of the Seattle Pilots. Cool story.
Recently caught myself in a rabbit hole of Milwaukee history. Stumbled on Borchert Field. My Favorite thing about old ballparks like this is the Dimensions. They’re always so funky. Dimensions aren’t fully known but estimated to be about 270ft down each foul line, outfield gaps 435ft and centerfield 392ft. Apparently it resembled the polo grounds. Anyway this was a good read to get me through this slow Friday workday.
Interesting history, Henny. Back in the early 1960’s, the Bears played games at Wrigley Field. Clips from that era show Gale Sayers scoring touchdowns and immediately encountering a brick wall - not really a multi use stadium.
They’ve played some college games there recently too. A couple of years ago they had to play the entire game going in the same direction because they layed out the field incorrectly and there wasn’t enough room in one of the end zones.
Your mention of the Seattle Pilots caused a random memory to pop up.
To set that story up, I first have to explain a few things. I lived in Anchorage, AK when I was 7 and 8 years old (this all takes place in 1981 or 1982) and I played little league (minor league?) baseball for the 5-11 year old Dr. Pepper Team. I’m not sure if that was our actual name or if we were just sponsored by Dr. Pepper bottling, but I do know that I wore that maroon and white jersey with pride… and a pair of cowboy cut blue jeans. All the way up to today, Dr. Pepper remains a favorite drink of mine. Ah, memories.
Anyway, I have to give credit to my little league coach (whose name eludes me) for discovering that I throw left-handed. On day one, when he was testing the skill level of his new players, he told me to throw him the ball. I wound up and wet noodle-armed a throw that almost made it to him. He grimaced a little, then smiled and said, “Let’s try something. Take your mitt off and throw the ball to me with your left hand.”
I was nervous and this seemed crazy, but he was in charge so I did as he asked. Embarrassed by my obviously bad first attempt, I cocked my left arm back and gave this throw everything I had.
This one didn’t get anywhere close to the coach, either. Instead, it flew about 50 feet over his head before landing amongst a group of kids who were comically trying and failing to catch pop ups.
“Guess what? You’re left-handed and have quite an arm, too!” he told me.
Confused, I looked at my brand new, apparently wrong-handed mitt, then at him and said, “But I can’t throw with that hand. That’s the hand my mitt goes on.”
He smiled and said, “Don’t worry. My daughter is left-handed, too. You can have her old mitt.”
I didn’t know what to say. Not only could I not use my beautiful brand new mitt, but the mitt I he was getting was old AND had belonged to a girl. Even at 7 or 8, I had always loved girls (if there was a “girls are icky” phase for me, I sure don’t remember it), but using female sports equipment was going too far.
He spotted the look on my face and said, “Don’t worry about the mitt. It’s actually a boy’s mitt that she used when she was younger and it’s not old so much as it’s well broken in. That’s what you want in a good mitt. New mitts are always too stiff. Wait here a second- I think it’s in my truck.”
He located it and trotted back over to me. “Oh yeah, this is in great shape! Try it on and tell me how it feels.”
He handed me the well-worn mitt. It was still warm from being in his truck. I looked it over. It was a Rawlings and seemed to be in good shape. I tried it on and it fit just right. It was way softer than my new mitt and had a strong pleasant leather smell.
I flexed my hand in it and he had me catch a few throws. I was able to do that pretty well. “So what do you think?” he said.
As I started to answer, I flipped my hand over and saw the words “Carrie Belden” (Coach Belden! That was his name!) written in marker on the back side of the mitt. It WAS a girl’s mitt!
Coach Belden must’ve seen my face because he said, “Don’t worry that her name is still on there. I’ve got some stuff that will take that right off. Then you can write your name on it or whatever you want.”
That worked for me and I stopped worrying about the mitt. After a game or two, I stopped asking him if he’d brought the stuff to clean the mitt. The last time I saw it in the garage of our old house, many many years ago, it still had “Carrie Belden” written in marker on the back side.
Wow, that was quite the digression! The set-up is much longer than the memory itself.
So, finally to the memory, the local college summer league team the Anchorage Glacier Pilots (Seattle Pilots/Glacier Pilots, am I right?) came by our practice one day to give us some playing tips.
I remember being in awe of these enormous REAL baseball players. They teased us a little, but were overall cool to us. They straightened out our funky batting stances, tweaked our swings, demonstrated the proper way to field grounders, and showed us how to keep up the “pepper” from the outfield when opposing players were at the plate (we loved having an excuse to yell at people).
It was a fantastic day!
Many years later, I found out that the Glacier Pilots first baseman in 1982 was none other than Mark McGwire. Not sure if the timelines match up exactly, but it’s cool to think that a young, pre-steroids (probably) Mark McGwire might have helped me with my batting stance and swing.
If he did (I like to think he did), it definitely helped (I have to give credit to Coach Belden too, of course). I was a very skinny kid but I turned out to be a good hitter. There wasn’t enough beef in my haunches to hit a HR yet, but I clearly remember getting lots of singles, several doubles, and at least one legit triple.
Plus, I was a terror on the bases. Steals, smart base-running, and dodging tags were all in my repertoire. That didn’t come from Coach Belden or Mark McGwire, though. That was 100% natural ability, baby!
My fielding started ok and gradually improved to solid. Not perfect, but I could hold my own. I remember getting the last out on a very high fly-ball in a big game once. My dad’s buddy Mike was going bananas in the stands.
As for the powerful but wild left-handed throwing, I started my little league career in right field (where the dandelions grow). When a hit came my way, my throw in was all but guaranteed to overshoot the cutoff man and often the backstop. A couple of times, the ball ended up in the field that was next to ours. The teams that were playing there thought it was funny. I did not.
As the season went on, my throws got better and I could usually get them to second or the catcher. By the last third of the season, I was confidently manning centerfield and the control on my throws had improved considerably.
I was finally a REAL baseball player and I owed it all to Coach and Carrie Belden, Dr. Pepper, and (maybe) Mark McGwire.
We lost our championship game, but Coach Belden took us to Pizza Hut anyway.
Not a surprise at all--I also can't pass up historical markers. They are simply awesome, almost always under appreciated, could be more numerous (IMO), and really make me feel like a Cliff Clavin when I get to bust out some obscure-ish fact about whatever I read on the marker. Be the Clavin you want to see in the world (is the motto that no one asked for). I also loved your tour through these places. Historic sport sites are truly tremendous and really important to preserve. All jokes about insufferable Masshole sports fans aside, I am really grateful that Fenway has held out so far and remains true to its historic roots. Ditto on Wrigley. Thanks for a fab read!
HAAAAA! That is some deep Cheers lore and I am here for it! I was lucky enough to see Springsteen at Fenway--the first concert they ever did there. The entire stadium almost imploded from the sheer Americana of it all. The only thing missing was Rocky fighting Communism near the Green Monster :)
Loved this post, all the history around the Braves and Camp Randall— I didn’t know any of that about the latter.
The historical marker bit cracked me up. My stepdad was like a moth to those flames. When I was a kid (pre-Internet) I remember being bored trying to read them- so many dates, and they all look the same! I used to imagine getting a hold of one of those placards and carving in a funny message to see if anyone actually read them until the end. I enjoy reading them now, ofc. History is the story. But whenever I see one of those signs I flash back to dreams being a smartass. The dream is still alive but I’m good reading those things as they are now.
Funny story, I just finished a book this morning and on the very last page guess what there was? That’s right, a picture of the historical marker from a crucial part of the book.
I felt like the universe was patting me on the head.
I love how your quick stroll turned into a historical deep-dive into the Civil War. History is all around us. (I write this from an 18th Century inn in Germany, after visiting a medieval castle earlier in the day.)
There was a plaque at the site of Sick’s Stadium in Seattle where the Pilots used to play, and some minor league teams and I think the Negro League Steelheads, but they got rid of the plaque and put up a huge mural honoring the whole history of the area. Pretty cool. You can see the mural riding the light rail from SeaTac to downtown.
Wellesley (in MA). Got cut from the soccer team 😆, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I did crew instead since it required no prior skill. Exhausting but wonderful!
I am a huge fan of historical markers! As a history teacher, I thought it was my duty. Statues, too. I know little about Milwaukee history, but I’m old enough to remember the move of the Seattle Pilots. Cool story.
Thanks! I love defunct sports franchises as well, and oddly enough, it is very hard to find a Seattle Pilots tshirt.
Recently caught myself in a rabbit hole of Milwaukee history. Stumbled on Borchert Field. My Favorite thing about old ballparks like this is the Dimensions. They’re always so funky. Dimensions aren’t fully known but estimated to be about 270ft down each foul line, outfield gaps 435ft and centerfield 392ft. Apparently it resembled the polo grounds. Anyway this was a good read to get me through this slow Friday workday.
Cody my man! 435 to the gaps? Better be a dead pull hitter I suppose. Great to hear from you, go Crew!
Interesting history, Henny. Back in the early 1960’s, the Bears played games at Wrigley Field. Clips from that era show Gale Sayers scoring touchdowns and immediately encountering a brick wall - not really a multi use stadium.
They’ve played some college games there recently too. A couple of years ago they had to play the entire game going in the same direction because they layed out the field incorrectly and there wasn’t enough room in one of the end zones.
Amazing Read 👏🏻
Thanks, and thanks for subscribing! What’s your name?
Ahh 🫂 - keep the connection and subscribe back 🫂
Your mention of the Seattle Pilots caused a random memory to pop up.
To set that story up, I first have to explain a few things. I lived in Anchorage, AK when I was 7 and 8 years old (this all takes place in 1981 or 1982) and I played little league (minor league?) baseball for the 5-11 year old Dr. Pepper Team. I’m not sure if that was our actual name or if we were just sponsored by Dr. Pepper bottling, but I do know that I wore that maroon and white jersey with pride… and a pair of cowboy cut blue jeans. All the way up to today, Dr. Pepper remains a favorite drink of mine. Ah, memories.
Anyway, I have to give credit to my little league coach (whose name eludes me) for discovering that I throw left-handed. On day one, when he was testing the skill level of his new players, he told me to throw him the ball. I wound up and wet noodle-armed a throw that almost made it to him. He grimaced a little, then smiled and said, “Let’s try something. Take your mitt off and throw the ball to me with your left hand.”
I was nervous and this seemed crazy, but he was in charge so I did as he asked. Embarrassed by my obviously bad first attempt, I cocked my left arm back and gave this throw everything I had.
This one didn’t get anywhere close to the coach, either. Instead, it flew about 50 feet over his head before landing amongst a group of kids who were comically trying and failing to catch pop ups.
“Guess what? You’re left-handed and have quite an arm, too!” he told me.
Confused, I looked at my brand new, apparently wrong-handed mitt, then at him and said, “But I can’t throw with that hand. That’s the hand my mitt goes on.”
He smiled and said, “Don’t worry. My daughter is left-handed, too. You can have her old mitt.”
I didn’t know what to say. Not only could I not use my beautiful brand new mitt, but the mitt I he was getting was old AND had belonged to a girl. Even at 7 or 8, I had always loved girls (if there was a “girls are icky” phase for me, I sure don’t remember it), but using female sports equipment was going too far.
He spotted the look on my face and said, “Don’t worry about the mitt. It’s actually a boy’s mitt that she used when she was younger and it’s not old so much as it’s well broken in. That’s what you want in a good mitt. New mitts are always too stiff. Wait here a second- I think it’s in my truck.”
He located it and trotted back over to me. “Oh yeah, this is in great shape! Try it on and tell me how it feels.”
He handed me the well-worn mitt. It was still warm from being in his truck. I looked it over. It was a Rawlings and seemed to be in good shape. I tried it on and it fit just right. It was way softer than my new mitt and had a strong pleasant leather smell.
I flexed my hand in it and he had me catch a few throws. I was able to do that pretty well. “So what do you think?” he said.
As I started to answer, I flipped my hand over and saw the words “Carrie Belden” (Coach Belden! That was his name!) written in marker on the back side of the mitt. It WAS a girl’s mitt!
Coach Belden must’ve seen my face because he said, “Don’t worry that her name is still on there. I’ve got some stuff that will take that right off. Then you can write your name on it or whatever you want.”
That worked for me and I stopped worrying about the mitt. After a game or two, I stopped asking him if he’d brought the stuff to clean the mitt. The last time I saw it in the garage of our old house, many many years ago, it still had “Carrie Belden” written in marker on the back side.
Wow, that was quite the digression! The set-up is much longer than the memory itself.
So, finally to the memory, the local college summer league team the Anchorage Glacier Pilots (Seattle Pilots/Glacier Pilots, am I right?) came by our practice one day to give us some playing tips.
I remember being in awe of these enormous REAL baseball players. They teased us a little, but were overall cool to us. They straightened out our funky batting stances, tweaked our swings, demonstrated the proper way to field grounders, and showed us how to keep up the “pepper” from the outfield when opposing players were at the plate (we loved having an excuse to yell at people).
It was a fantastic day!
Many years later, I found out that the Glacier Pilots first baseman in 1982 was none other than Mark McGwire. Not sure if the timelines match up exactly, but it’s cool to think that a young, pre-steroids (probably) Mark McGwire might have helped me with my batting stance and swing.
If he did (I like to think he did), it definitely helped (I have to give credit to Coach Belden too, of course). I was a very skinny kid but I turned out to be a good hitter. There wasn’t enough beef in my haunches to hit a HR yet, but I clearly remember getting lots of singles, several doubles, and at least one legit triple.
Plus, I was a terror on the bases. Steals, smart base-running, and dodging tags were all in my repertoire. That didn’t come from Coach Belden or Mark McGwire, though. That was 100% natural ability, baby!
My fielding started ok and gradually improved to solid. Not perfect, but I could hold my own. I remember getting the last out on a very high fly-ball in a big game once. My dad’s buddy Mike was going bananas in the stands.
As for the powerful but wild left-handed throwing, I started my little league career in right field (where the dandelions grow). When a hit came my way, my throw in was all but guaranteed to overshoot the cutoff man and often the backstop. A couple of times, the ball ended up in the field that was next to ours. The teams that were playing there thought it was funny. I did not.
As the season went on, my throws got better and I could usually get them to second or the catcher. By the last third of the season, I was confidently manning centerfield and the control on my throws had improved considerably.
I was finally a REAL baseball player and I owed it all to Coach and Carrie Belden, Dr. Pepper, and (maybe) Mark McGwire.
We lost our championship game, but Coach Belden took us to Pizza Hut anyway.
The End😂
I think you need to write this story up Gary 👍🏼
Also, I don’t think I ever got to go to Pizza Hut after a game…but the times I did go I felt like the luckiest boy on the planet!!!
Not a surprise at all--I also can't pass up historical markers. They are simply awesome, almost always under appreciated, could be more numerous (IMO), and really make me feel like a Cliff Clavin when I get to bust out some obscure-ish fact about whatever I read on the marker. Be the Clavin you want to see in the world (is the motto that no one asked for). I also loved your tour through these places. Historic sport sites are truly tremendous and really important to preserve. All jokes about insufferable Masshole sports fans aside, I am really grateful that Fenway has held out so far and remains true to its historic roots. Ditto on Wrigley. Thanks for a fab read!
Thanks She! I agree on Fenway and Wrigley (been to them both and imo Fenway is way better….not even sucking up 🤣!)
I always figured I’d end up more of a Norm as a grown up, now I’m definitely drifting into Clavinland.
At least I’m not Paul!
HAAAAA! That is some deep Cheers lore and I am here for it! I was lucky enough to see Springsteen at Fenway--the first concert they ever did there. The entire stadium almost imploded from the sheer Americana of it all. The only thing missing was Rocky fighting Communism near the Green Monster :)
Wow that’s friggin awesome!!!
I was crazy lucky. The show was a religious experience, which you probably know if you’ve seen El Boss. 😉
Loved this post, all the history around the Braves and Camp Randall— I didn’t know any of that about the latter.
The historical marker bit cracked me up. My stepdad was like a moth to those flames. When I was a kid (pre-Internet) I remember being bored trying to read them- so many dates, and they all look the same! I used to imagine getting a hold of one of those placards and carving in a funny message to see if anyone actually read them until the end. I enjoy reading them now, ofc. History is the story. But whenever I see one of those signs I flash back to dreams being a smartass. The dream is still alive but I’m good reading those things as they are now.
Keep those smartass dreams alive!!
Funny story, I just finished a book this morning and on the very last page guess what there was? That’s right, a picture of the historical marker from a crucial part of the book.
I felt like the universe was patting me on the head.
Haha, yes! Validation and a reward!!
I love how your quick stroll turned into a historical deep-dive into the Civil War. History is all around us. (I write this from an 18th Century inn in Germany, after visiting a medieval castle earlier in the day.)
Well that’s amazing. Hope you post pictures!
There was a plaque at the site of Sick’s Stadium in Seattle where the Pilots used to play, and some minor league teams and I think the Negro League Steelheads, but they got rid of the plaque and put up a huge mural honoring the whole history of the area. Pretty cool. You can see the mural riding the light rail from SeaTac to downtown.
Oh man I wish I knew about this earlier this year. We went and saw a game in Seattle, I definitely woulda checked that out!
Did you go to Cornell? Ithaca College?
IC. Our big rival was/is Cortland State. They are red and white like UW 🤮 🤣
Cool, my aunt went to IC. She played soccer for them, I think.
I figured your distaste for red had an origin story something like that. 😆🤣 My college's color was blue, and I have a similar distaste for red. 😂😁
Crew is no joke! My niece did that one year in college for the same reason (no experience required)
Very cool. Where’d you go to school?
Wellesley (in MA). Got cut from the soccer team 😆, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I did crew instead since it required no prior skill. Exhausting but wonderful!