Uncommon commons: In more than 30 years in
sportscards publishing I have thrown hundreds of notes into files about the
players – usually non-star players – who made up the majority of the baseball
and football cards I collected as a kid. Today, I keep adding to those files as
I peruse microfilms of The Sporting News from the 1880s through the
1960s. I found these tidbits brought some life to the player pictures on those
cards. I figure that if I enjoyed them, you might too.
Have you seen the new Liam Neeson movie The Gray yet -- plane crash survivors, Alaska wilderness, computer-generated wolves, etc.?
I haven’t, and I won’t until it debuts on one of the DirecTV premium movie
channels. (You can read my rant about movies in theaters at the end of this
post.)
A feature I found in the April 9, 1952, issue of The
Sporting News brought the movie to mind.
Written by Art Morrow, who covered the Philadelphia Athletics
for TSN, the piece was about the “charmed life” of A’s pitcher Morrie Martin.
Martin had been the A’s leading pitcher in winning
percentage in 1951, with an 11-4 record. He beat every American League team at
least once during the season and had done no worse than break even in the W-L
column with each of them.
During the off-season, Martin picked up a little pin money
by shooting wolves near his home at Washington ,
Mo.
As he told the story, Martin said he had shot the wolf.
Thinking him dead, he bent down to roll it over when the animal snarled and
lashed out. “He’d been playing possum,” Martin said. “Well, I guess I could
have placed in the Olympic high jump,” the A’s pitcher quipped, “but the wolf
was quicker I was. He got me.”
Morris backpedaled three steps then shot the wolf again.
Morrow said, “his rapacious adversary could play only permanent possum.”
The wolf’s claws had raked Morris, leaving a jagged wound
from ankle to thigh. Writing in late March, Morrow said, “Morrie still has to
douse the scab with antiseptic two-three times a week, and the scar may last a
long time.”
The wolf scar wasn’t the only disfigurement Martin carried
with him into spring training. He was sporting a shin bruise that was still
black and blue, the result of an October auto accident that nearly killed him
and his family.
Martin had been behind the wheel of the family car,
“cruising along at 60-65 miles per hour,” when he crested a blind hill and his
left front tire hit a pile of cinders in the road. The car careened out of
control, Martin was thrown sideways and knocked unconscious. His wife and two
children were relatively unscathed. The concussion that Martin sustained
bothered him for several weeks.
“It would take more than a wolf or an auto to kill Morris
Martin,” the reporter continued. “The Nazis had numerous tries at it without
success when he served in the Combat Engineers. They shot him three times in
three invasions—Africa, Sicily , France
“They even bayoneted him in Germany ,”
Morrow continued, “But the best they could do was a bullet-hole through the
thigh in the Battle
Despite the wolf attack and auto wreck, Martin allowed he’d
had “a good winter . . . Got 305 quail and once I went up into Nebraska
Martin's good luck didn't hold far into the 1952 season, however. In a May 10 game against the Senators, Martin broke the index finger on his throwing hand trying to field a hot smash off the bat of Mickey Vernon. He was sidelined for the remainder of the season.
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