Back in a former life, I worked for a major league baseball team and after I left that job, I would get called to serve as a statistician for NBC Sports when the Game of the Week came to town.
So it would be Bob Costas, Tony Kubek, the sound guy and I in the booth. And I would chart whatever I thought was interesting unless Bob and Tony wanted me to keep an eye out for something specific. This was back in the days before anyone outside of the dugout was counting pitches, so it was easy to impress the viewing audience with inane graphics.
Usually about a four- or five-hour commitment, it paid well and I loved doing it. And I had one particularly memorable moment that resulted in Kubek and I laughing our asses off for an entire half inning as Costas -- who unknowingly had made an on-air faux pas -- looked at us like we were insane.
The reason I write this is because yesterday Kubek was rightfully named the 2009 recipient of the Ford C. Frick Award by the National Baseball Hall of Fame. It is the greatest honor bestowed upon broadcasters. Of course, when Richard Sandomir of the New York Times called him at his home in Appleton, Wis., Kubek "went on to credit his on-air partners, his producers, directors and cameramen."
I always thought of him as an unbelievably gracious guy.
Back to the story. The Dodgers were in town for a weekend game and both NBC Sports and CBS Radio were broadcasting. Well before first pitch, I was in the booth getting instruction from Costas and Kubek when in walked the CBS announcers, Brent Musberger and Johnny Bench. Vin Scully, the Dodgers' announcer, then ambled in and I remember thinking, "Jesus. Who the hell doesn't belong here?"
Costas asked Scully what was wrong with Mariano Duncan, who had shown promise as a 22-year-old rookie, but was struggling terribly, hitting well below the Mendoza Line.
Scully told Costas that Duncan was enraging his coaches as he was trying to develop a more powerful swing. As a result he had introduced a hitch in his swing, a dip of his right elbow that was contributing to a substantial decline in his performance.
Costas got on the headset and asked the guys in the truck to show some side-by-side footage of Duncan's swing from the previous season against his current swing. That proved Scully right.
So when Duncan came to the plate in the third inning or so, Costas was ready to spring Scully's insight on the nation. Queue the side-by-side image. Slow motion of the previous season. Followed by his current swing. Costas was loving his incredible analysis.
Then he told the nation, "As you can see, Duncan has this little cock."
At that moment, Kubek turned to me as I snickered. Kubek laughed. I laughed. The sound guy laughed. Kubek took off his headset and soon we were beet-red, crying in laughter as Costas continued to call the game, wondering what had happened to us.
If I remember correctly, Kubek didn't pull himself together until the third out. As NBC went to break Costas yanked off his headset and said, "What the fuck is wrong with you guys?"
Kubek started laughing again and a puzzled Costas turned to me. "Bob," I said. "Mariano Duncan is gonna be pissed at you 'cause you just told the world that he is struggling with his little cock."
Kubek roared as Costas turned whiter than usual. "I didn't say that," he said hopefully. We both nodded affirmatively, backed up by the sound guy.
So when I read about Tony Kubek receiving the honor, I had that memory of him, red-faced and in tears, head-butting my shoulder during a live national broadcast.
Not only was he great broadcaster, unafraid to tell it like it was, he was a great guy who refused to compromise his beliefs. In 1976 he was asked to come to South Carolina to campaign for his former Yankee teammate Bobby Richardson in his run for Congress.
Richardson, an ultra-conservative Republican, was supported by guys like Joe DiMaggio, Ted Williams and Bob Feller, but Kubek -- a lifelong Democrat -- refused to help his old friend with his GOP endeavors. Hurt by Jimmy Carter's successful campaign in the state, Richardson lost a close battle to Democrat Kenneth Holland.
Disgusted with baseball with its 1994 strike, Kubek stopped announcing and hasn't seen much baseball since. Sandomir reporter that Kubek and his wife spend time teaching "English as a second language to Hmong immigrants and Latinos, mostly Mexicans."
"Most have big families," Kubek said. "They want to be upwardly mobile. It’s difficult to teach English, but they’re so grateful for any kind of help. It’s not time consuming, but it’s time intensive ... I really don’t have much time for baseball. There are just so many things out there to learn, and as long as we’re healthy, we'll do it. It’s a completely new life."
And it is good to see him getting credit for his old one.