You Want Nice? Try ’27 Yankees

It’s a good thing I’m not the old Jim Murray. You know, the Hollywood wise guy, as they used to call me here. The desperado. The one they wanted to run out of town. That Jim Murray.

It’s a good thing I’m a mature responsible human being now, a kinder gentler Jim Murray. Otherwise, I’d be apt to write something about this World Series like, the World Series opened here today in--God help us!--Cincinnati between the Athletics and the Reds. There will be a short pause now while 20 million people ask Why? and another 20 million say, Who cares?

That’s the kind of insensitive cad I used to be. You know how I was. I’d be apt to call it the So-What World Series, the Tanktown Tournament. I’d be even money to say something snippy like, I don’t see how either one of them can win it. I’d get cranky and say, How come we can’t get the New York Yankees in these things? How can you possibly call this thing a World Series? Can’t we at least have the Red Sox? I’d be apt to say Cincinnati only wins these things when the other team tanks. I’d get everybody mad by demanding to know what’s a Barry Larkin and who does he play for? I might say, Where’s Pete Rose? You know how I used to get.

I was always terrified the World Series would get to Toronto and I’d get cross and set Canadian-American relations back two centuries by asking plaintively why we couldn’t get a World Series in a major league city like it used to be.

This film used to come over my eyes like one of those guys who turns into a wolf in a London fog. I could almost feel hair grow out of my forehead and my teeth getting pointy. I couldn’t stop myself. I’d turn into Mr. Hyde before my eyes. I mean, my position would be clear: If the World Series ain’t in New York, it’s just a complicated cook-out. Straw-hat theater.

Thank heaven I’m above that sort of thing now. If a guy makes a great leaping catch at the wall, I won’t sneer and say “DiMaggio would have been waiting for it” or “Willie Mays would have got two.” I’ll keep my opinions to myself. I won’t write things like “A Cincinnati outfielder made a circus catch today of a ball Joe DiMaggio would have been waiting under,” or “Cincinnati’s center fielder managed to hang onto a line drive that Willie Mays could have caught with his teeth.” I’d have to resist saying “Jose Canseco looked good striking out with the bases loaded, but why wouldn’t he? He’s had a lot of practice at it.”

No more of that negativism. I’m going to find something nice to say. I mean, Look! We’re stuck with Oakland and Cincinnati. Why not make the best of it? It ain’t exactly the Mets and the Red Sox or the Yankees and the Dodgers, but it does everybody some good to go slumming once in a while.

I’m not even going to get morally outraged at all these people who are comparing the Oakland Athletics to the 1927 Yankees. I’m not even going to point out that Oakland has maybe one, tops, two, guys who could even make the 1927 Yankees traveling squad.

I’m not going to point out the ’27 Yankees had seven guys batting over .300, these guys have one. I’m not going to wallow in nostalgia and point out the ’27 Yankees had Babe Ruth who hit 60 home runs, batted .364 and drove in 164 runs, and Lou Gehrig who hit .373, 49 home runs and drove in 173 runs.

What I’ll concentrate on is that the Oakland A’s platoon the guy who won the National League batting championship this year. Match that around New York.

How’s that for positive thinking? Norman Vincent Peale would be proud of me.

Instead of saying, why in the world do we get a team in the World Series without any starting pitchers, I’m going to say, What a tremendous feat Cincinnati pulled getting in the World Series with a rotation of batting-practice pitchers. I’ll stress the upbeat. I’ll note with some awe that they have no catching at all. Any team can get in the World Series that’s strong in the middle. How about a team that has no middle? Awesome.

I’m not even going to say of the Oakland uniforms “Very nice--but, tell me, did they come with the pointed curled shoes and gold turbans?” or “Why don’t their noses light up to match that outfit?” I’m going to say, “I’m glad they’re playing this World Series at night. I’d hate to look at those uniforms in bright sunlight.” Upbeat. I’m not even going to say “Whatever happened to pinstripes?”

In the old days, I’d be sure to say this looks to me like an agony World Series, a seven-game gavotte, a fight between two drunks.

But, all that’s behind me. I’m going to find something nice to say about this World Series if it takes all the imagination I have.

And it looks like it might.

I don’t want to say Game 1 was a bore. I don’t want to say it, but it was. (Old habits are hard to break.)

I mean, the umpire didn’t throw any star pitchers out. Nobody called his shot a la Babe Ruth. It wasn’t a game for the ages.

The theme of the game should be, What’s so great about the Oakland Athletics? The team that’s supposed to remind everyone of the 1927 Yankees looked more like the 1990 Yankees. First of all, it got shut out. The old Ruth Yankees used to go entire seasons without getting shut out. Look it up. They never got shut out in a World Series--unless you count Game 3 back in 1922. In fact, Yankee teams of any decade, in 33 World Series and 135 games, got shut out only six times.

The question is not whether the Oakland A’s could beat the 1927 Yankees but whether they can beat the 1990 Cincinnati Reds.

The Reds beat them 7-0. Unfortunately for them, this tournament is medal play, not match play as Cincinnati’s Game 1 hero, Eric Davis, pointed out. “You can’t take those seven runs with you,” he advised. The Reds are, so to speak, the leaders in the clubhouse. But there are three rounds left to play.

One thing is settled: They can put away those brooms up in Oakland. You can’t sweep a World Series unless you first score some runs. The Yankees that they’re supposed to remind you of used to win World Series games 18-4. Look it up.

There, I told you I was going to be nicer.