The Gashouse Gang. Goose Goslin. Joe Medwick. Dizzy Dean. School Boy Rowe. Pepper Martin. Charlie Gehringer. Hank Greenberg.
Bob Gibson. Al Kaline. Denny McClain. Micky Lolich. Lou Brock.
Tradition, or what’s left of it in baseball, prevails this October as ancient rivals Detroit and St. Louis meet in the World Series for the third time in history and the first since 1968. A lot of storied names played in those previous series and while the current rosters would seem to boast fewer memorable players, their meeting does stir memories of the dramatic seven game set that took place nearly forty years ago.
It warms my heart to know this year’s participants will not include such questionable ownership to say nothing of baseball towns as Miami and Phoenix. What it does include are two veteran managers, one admirable (Leyland) and the other not, two players who were traded for each other (Scott Rolen and Placido Polanco), a few aging veterans for whom this may be the last go-round (Jim Edmonds, Kenny Rogers), a passel of young pitching studs (virtually half of the Detroit staff), and the best hitter in all of baseball (Albert Pujols).
It should be a good series. Baseball could use one.