Genuine. Quirky. Rootsy.
LYRICS
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1. THE BALLAD OF EDDIE KLEPP
2. GONE TO HEAVEN
3. LEFTY
4. DOCK ELLIS' NO-NO
5. LETTERS IN THE DIRT
6. BONEHEAD MERKLE
7. TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALLGAME
8. MOE BERG: THE SONG
9. THE UNNATURAL SHOOTING OF EDDIE WAITKUS
10. WHITEY & HARRY
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1. The Ballad Of Eddie Klep
The war had finally ended and America had changed
It had beaten back the nazis but the Jim Crow laws remained
There was talk of staging marches & talk of civil rights
There was talk about a Negro playing baseball with the Whites
He walked into the clubhouse and the card players quit playing
Everybody stopped in the middle of whatever they were saying
It was just like when the sheriff walks into the saloon
He said, “My name is Eddie,” as he looked around the room
“This man’s here to play baseball,” the manager said to the team
“We’re all gonna have to live with this...aw, that’s not what I mean...
You know what I mean” - and they all did...it went without saying
The card players looked at their hands and they went on with their playing
They ran him off the field before a game in Birmingham one night
Made him sit up in the grandstand in the section marked “For Whites”
In his Cleveland Buckeyes uniform, it was a new twist on the law
The marshals kept their eyes on him and the hecklers ate him raw
Eddie Klep, he should’ve run the bases in reverse
A White man in the Negro Leagues, that had to be a first
He could not ride the same busses, or stay in the same motels
He could not eat in the same restaurants, you couldn’t have mixed clientele
So while Jackie played for Brooklyn and wore the Dodger Blue
Eddie crossed the color line, the one without a queue
A White man in the Negro Leagues, might as well have been a Jew
Now you mention the name of Eddie Klep and most everyone says, “Who?”
2. Gone To Heaven
His uniform was baggy
He had gigantic feet
His hat was always cock-eye
And he had but a few teeth
And a schnozz as big as Baltimore
And a heart as big as Devon
Max Patkin made the children laugh
And for that he’s gone to Heaven
Max Patkin, he was Vaudeville
Last of the old time clowns
Funniest looking fellow
That ever went from town to town
With the kind of face that he himself said
Only a mother could love
With his loosey-goosey limbs
And his floppy leather glove
Max Patkin worked 3 innings
They let him coach first base
He’d call a meeting with the batter
And then kiss him on the face
Then he’d do his chicken walk
And then his geyser bit
Where he’d take a sip of soda
Tilt his head back and spit
Max would leave ‘em howling
Then be slumped upon his stool
With his back against a locker
Filling the whirlpool
Dirtied up and sweaty
Down to his stockinged feet
He’d give the clubhouse boy 5 dollars
To scrape the mud off of his cleats
The Clown Prince of Baseball
Did 5,000 gigs
For 50 years he shared the bill
With circus dogs & talking pigs
And by the 9th inning
He’d be back at the motel
With an early morning wake-up call
And the next night he’d be someplace else
The towels in every motel room
They all smell like chlorine
From the Rookie Leagues to Triple A
And all points in between
And all those hotshot prospects
Who ever were Big League bound
He saw ‘em on the way up
And some on the way back down
Oh, to be a clown these days
You’ve got to have thick skin
A flask in your back pocket
Or a bottle of aspirin
The drunks sometimes’ll getcha
Or the team that did not win
It’s tough to be a clown these days
You’ve got to have thick skin
Max Patkin loved the children
And the children, they loved him
His body would fall apart sometimes
But he’d patch it up for them
He never, ever, not even one time
Sold an autograph
A funny man, Max Patkin
He made people laugh
The times changed on Max Patkin
Along came Rock & Roll
They blare it from the speakers now
If ever there’s a lull
And some guy in a chicken suit
Is circling the bases
With a corporate logo on his back
And in 1 or 2 other places
If there’s a St. Peter
Sitting at the gate
He probably saw Max play sometime
And wiped clean Max’s slate
That corny old routine
Dated back to 1947
Max Patkin made the children laugh
And for that he’s gone to Heaven
3. Lefty
Lefty’s in the minors
Got his shoulder packed in ice
He’s trying to hang on there
Against all that good advice
Used to throw that sinker
But that sinkerball went south
And then they started calling him
For going to his mouth
Lefty holds the record for
Most strike-outs in a game
Once upon a time
He really threw a ball of flame
Some wish he’d gone gracefully
When his time finally came
They put Lefty on waivers
But nobody laid a claim
It’s a Godalmighty shame
He got too old to play the game
Where he made himself a name
And they call him Lefty
Lefty wore the pinstripes
For a good number of years
The bleacher bums all loved him
They were tanked up with their beer
He used to throw that heater
But the radar does not lie
And now when Lefty lays one up there
You can kiss that thing goodbye
It’s a Godalmighty shame
He got too old to play the game
Where he made himself a name
And they call him Lefty
Now they’re calling him from Cooperstown
Out on the bullpen phone
Some little field in Bumfolk
Where the grass is overgrown
It’s the bottom of the 7th
And a runner just got on
And they’re calling for a lefty
But Lefty’s not the one
There’s a capital “L” in Lefty
So say it with respect
He’s Senor Lefty down in Mexic
And he’s Lefty in Quebec
He could smoke you, he could fool you,
Throw a curve around your neck
He could paint one on the corners
He could fill the upper deck
It’s a Godalmighty shame
He got too old to play the game
Where he made himself a name
And they call him Lefty
4. Dock Ellis’s No-No
It was a lovely summer’s morning
An off-day in LA
So thought one Dock Ellis
As he would later say
His girlfriend read the paper
She said, “Dock, this can’t be right...
It says here that you’re pitching
In San Diego tonight”
“Got to get you to the airport”
And so off Dock Ellis flew
His legs were a little bit wobbly
And the rest of him was too
Took a taxi to the ballpark
An hour before the game
Gave some half-assed explanation
Found the locker with his name
The organ in the upper deck
Played all the schmaltzy hits
You could hear it in the club house
Where Dock was getting dressed
His sunglasses he reached for
From his locker, in a case
Dock Ellis pulled his jersey on
Then he put them on his face
Time came to go on out there
Down the corridor
The walls were a little bit wavy
There were ripples in the floor
He went out to the bullpen
To do a bunch of stretches
Loosen up a little
Throw his warm-up pitches
All rose for the national anthem
People took off their hats
Fireworks were exploding
The cokes were already going flat
Dock was back there in the dugout
So many things to watch
Some players spit tobacco juice
Others grabbed their crotch
The umpire hollered, “Play Ball!”
And so it came to be
Dock’s Pirates batted first
And when they went down 1-2-3
Dock’s catcher put his mask on
And he handed Dock the ball
It was 327 feet
To the right & left field walls
The Pirates took the field then
And Dock stood on the rubber
He bounced a couple of pitches
And then he bounced a couple others
You might say about that day
He looked a little wild
The lead-off batter trembled
Nobody knew why Dock Ellis smiled
You walk 8 and you hit a guy
The things that people shout...
Especially your manager
But he didn’t take Dock out
Dock found himself a rhythm
And a crazy little spin
Amazing things would happen
When Dock Ellis zeroed in
Sometimes he saw the catcher
Sometimes he did not
Sometimes he held a beach ball
Other times it was a dot
Dock was tossing comets
That were leaving trails of glitter
At the 7th inning stretch
He still had a no-hitter
So he turned to Cash, his buddy
Said, “I got a no-no going”
Speaking the unspeakable
He went back out there throwing
Bottom of the ninth
& He stood high upon the mound
3 more outs to go
He’d have his name in Cooperstown
First up was Cannizzaro
Who flied out to Alou
Kelly grounded out for Dean
The shortstop yelled, “That’s two”
It must’ve been a mad house
The fans upon their feet
The littler ones among them
Standing on their seats
Next up would’ve been Herbel
But Spezio pinch-hit
He took a 3rd strike looking
And officially, that was it
It was a lovely summer’s morning
An off-day in LA
So thought one Dock Ellis
As he would later say
5. Letters In The Dirt
Me & you, we never booed Richie Allen
I never understood why people did
He hit a homer every time he stepped up to the plate
That’s what I remember as a kid
Richie in the field out there by first base
The target of some mighty foul words
With his shoes he’d scrawl between the pitched
“B-O-O” in great big letters in the dirt
Philly fans, they’ve been known to get nasty
When Joe must go, they’ll run him out of town
I saw Santa get hit by a snowball
And then get hit again when he was down
Me & you, we never booed Richie Allen
Even if he did sometimes strike out
I was too young to read the papers
To know what all that booing was about
That big collapse of ‘64 was ugly
They blew a lead of 6 and one-half games with 12 to play
Some might say their fans were justifiably angry
World Series tickets printed up in vain
Philly fans, they’ve been known to get nasty
When Joe must go, they’ll run him out of town
I saw Santa get hit by a snowball
And then get hit again when he was down
Going back to old Connie Mack Stadium
You teaching me the rules of the game
We root-root-rooted for the home team
Those other people should’ve been ashamed
This was before the days of the million dollar contracts
Before the days of the artificial grass
He stood a bit outside the lines which made him fair game for those times
Richie Allen never kissed a white man’s ass
Me & you, we never booed Richie Allen
No, we’d pound our mitts & we’d yell, “We want a hit”
How could they call a guy a bum after he’d just hit a home run?
That didn’t make any sense to a kid
Now I’ve since found out all these days later
Now I know a lot more than I did
And if back then you knew, Daddy, why all those other people booed...
Thanks for letting me have my heroes as a kid
6. Bonehead Merkle
September 23rd
19 Hundred & Eight
Cubs against the Giants
Giants at the plate
Bridwell came to bat
There were two outs & two on
It was the bottom of the 9th
The infield it was drawn
Two weeks left in the season
It was a classic pennant race
The Giants had a one game lead
And the Cubs were giving chase
Polo Grounds were rocking
Score was tied at one
Moose McCormick was on 3rd base
He was the winning run
Which brings us to Fred Merkle
Whose name would soon be cursed
He was the other runner
He took his lead off first
Bridwell drilled a line-drive
Out into right-center
McCormick could’ve walked home
And the Giants were the winners
The Polo Grounds erupted
Thousands rushed the field
The players all ran for their lives
Fans right on their heels
& Merkle was halfway to second
By the time McCormick scored
But then Merkle made a bee-line
Straight for the clubhouse door
Now the door to the clubhouse
Was in the outfield wall
Merkle never did touch 2nd
And the Cubs retrieved the ball
The throw back to the infield
Reached the wrong couple of hands
& Giants coach McGinnity
Threw the ball up in the stands
And after a long deliberation
The Ump ruled Merkle “out”
It would take too long to clear the field
Of the unruly crowd
And since night games were unheard of then
And it would soon be dark
He called the game a 1 - 1 tie
And would have to sneak away from the park
Giants manager McGraw argued
That this Rule 59
Never was enforced
And so why should it be this time?
But only two weeks earlier
It ran on all the wires
The same play happened to the Cubs
And to the very same umpire
But none of the New York papers
Deemed the story fit to print
And so it was that thanks to them
Their team was ignorant
But all throughout the Baseball world
And elsewhere people knew it
A runner has to touch his base
And Merkle didn’t do it
So the matter was turned over
To the Baseball powers-that-be
Who upheld the Ump’s decision
& they ruled prophetically
That if the season were to end
With the Cubs & Giants tied
They’d have to replay “The Merkle Game”
So First Place could be decided
Well, they replayed “The Merkle Game”
And fee-fi-fo-fum...
The Giants lost the pennant
And Merkle was the bum
The papers let him have it
They gave it to him good
They ran the kind of headlines
That only New York papers could
They dubbed him “Bonehead” Merkle
They made up Merkle words
One might “pull a Merkle”
And “to Merkle” became a verb
Some would yell “touch 2nd, Bonehead”
When he stood on first
Little kids yelled “moron”
And the older kids much worse
It haunted him his whole life
Until 42 years later
In front of 35,000
Former Merkle haters
Back there at the Polo Grounds
For an old-timers game
There was a long standing ovation
When they announced Fred Merkle’s name
8. Moe Berg: The Song
Moe Berg the catcher
Good field and no hit
Somehow he lasted 19 years
‘till his knees made him quit
He never really played much
Ahe never really cared
He was happy just to hang around
With a uniform to wear
Moe Berg the Princeton graduate
Went on to study law
Got his degree from Columbia
All the while playing ball
He caught the eye of the Dodgers
Who were trying to sign a Jew
Who might help ‘em sell some tickets
In The Bronx & Yonkers too
Moe Berg the professor of the bullpen
Joked with pitchers
Reading them the newspapers
He used to have delivered
He spoke to ‘em in Russian, Japanese & French
He was the greatest scholar that ever rode the bench
Moe Berg & The Babe
They went over to Japan
With a team of touring all-stars
Giving clinics for the fans
This was back in the 30’s
As the world prepared for war
Moe took a lot of pictures
Nobody knew what for
Moe Berg the secret agent
Never even told his mom
Of his mission to determine
If the Germans had the bomb
He learned to speak good physics
Without hardly a lisp
He infiltrated lectures
With the German scientists
Moe Berg the walking riddle
Would put his fingers to his lips
If you recognized him on the street
He’d nod & whisper “shhhh”
He kept a lot of secrets
No one will ever know
He knew a lot of people
But nobody ever knew Moe
Moe Berg the beloved
He had the gift of gab
The moocher, the celebrity
He never paid the tab
He could get in at the ballpark
With his lifetime player’s pass
He could eat up in the press box
Someone always filled his glass
Moe Berg son of an immigrant
Brought his father shame
All that education
Then to play a child’s game
Moe made it to the Majors
But his dad would never go see him
Moe’s baseball card is on display
At the CIA museum.
Long after he’d retired
There was still Moe Berg the myth
He rode into the sunset
Hanging sadly onto it
Appearing on a game show
As the mystery guest
Some say disappearing
Might be what Moe did best
9. The Unnatural Shooting of Eddie Waitkus
Ruth Ann Steinhagen, who was an office typist
Went to a baseball game at Wrigley Field
With a couple of her girlfriends, it was innocent enough
Ruth Ann’s future though that day would be revealed
Some girls she didn’t know were yelling,
“Hey you, funny face”
To a player who was within shouting distance
And there stood her Adonis in the form of Eddie Waitkus
Who was blissfully unaware of her existence
It was April 27th of 1947
Ruth Ann blew a circuit in her brain
The 27th of every month would be the anniversary
Of the time she first saw Eddie Waitkus play
Every Saturday & Sunday she would ride the El to Wrigley
Sit halfway up the line behind first base
Cause that was his position and those were the closest seats
Where she could have the best view of his face
Ruth Ann collected articles & photographs of Eddie She slept with pictures of him in her head
She learned some Lithuanian, to better understand his roots
Made a shrine to him beside her bed
Ruth Ann’s world was shattered the day Eddie was traded
To Philadelphia & for many days she cried
She wrote him letters often and she phoned & left him messages
But never once did she get a reply
On the north side of Chicago, the Edgewater Beach Hotel
When the Phillies came to town that’s where they stayed
Ruth Ann made her reservation a month ahead of time
On her calendar she ticked off every day
A room service daiquiri & a couple of whiskey sours
All three of which she nervously consumed
While waiting up for Eddie who was out late having dinner
After starring in the game that afternoon
Ruth Ann bribed a bell hop to leave a note for Eddie
Urging him to come up to her room
1297-A, Ruth Ann wrote on hotel stationary
That had the faintest trace of her perfume
“It’s extremely important I see you as soon as possible...
It would be to your advantage to let me explain”
It was very nearly midnight and the Phillies had a curfew
Eddie just kept staring at the name
Ruth Ann was the same name of the woman Eddie dated
But what on earth would she be doing in town?
She surely would’ve phoned first before coming to Chicago
Eddie rang the elevator down
A tall girl answered the door,
Said Ruth Ann stepped out for a minute
Eddie sat down by the window in a chair
Ruth Ann said, “I’ve got a surprise for you”
It was a pawn shop rifle
Eddie stood up & said “Baby, what have you got there?”
“Baby, why’d you do it?” asked a bleeding Eddie Waitkus
Over him a lifeless Ruth Ann stood
“You’ve been bothering me for two years,”
Ruth Ann said to Eddie
“And if I couldn’t have you then nobody could”
Ruth Ann phoned the desk clerk to say she had shot Eddie
That’s probably why he didn’t bleed to death
“Baby, why’d you do it?” he kept asking from the stretcher
Struggling for every precious breath
Ruth Ann told the detectives
How she’d planned on stabbing Eddie
And how then she would’ve taken her own life
But when Eddie sat down in the chair
A stabbing was impossible
So she used the rifle instead of the knife
Ruth Ann did three years in a mental institution
They set her free when they said she was cured
And after four operations Eddie Waitkus did recover
At least you see his name in all the old boxscores
But Eddie took to drinking...
He turned into an angry man
People often wondered, and there were a bunch of rumors
Just how well he knew that crazy star-struck fan
10. Whitey and Harry
Moonlight on the mountains
North Carolina two-lane
Trying to find a ballgame
No matter how bad the reception
Whitey, man, I miss you
When I listen to the Phillies
And there’s Harry going on without you
Harry...good old Harry
Radio under my pillow
Kept me up on school nights
The ballgames from the west coast
Wouldn’t start until eleven
Whitey, man, I miss you
When I listen to the Phillies
And there’s Harry going on without you
For the first time since I was seven
We wore red, the thousands of us
Who’d come to say goodbye & pay their last respects
This tough town really loved you
I saw grown men who wept
Bats & spikes & flowers
Made a shrine around your casket
And I signed in in the guestbook
As the line filed past it
Whitey, man, I miss you
When I listen to the Phillies
And there’s Harry going on without you
Harry...good old Harry