By Larry Backus / dfbackus@aol.com
February 08, 2007 02:22 pm
—
Members of the Boys Club have heard this yarn, directly from the subject of this story, Jim Frey. Jim is married to my cousin Joan, a vivacious and classy lady. I met Jim when I was 12. He had married Joan, his high school sweetheart, and my job was to babysit their first son, Jim Jr., while they played cards with my and Joan's parents. Joan and her parents loved cards and baseball as much as my parents. Me, I loved the stories Jim told as a minor league player for baseball's Milwaukee Braves about his experiences in winter ball; revolutions and baseball, what a mix.
Fast forward nearly 50 years to recent occasions when my wife and I had opportunities to visit with Jim and Joan. Through that time Jim had retired from a 40-year career in baseball during which he had been batting coach of the great Baltimore Oriole teams of Earl Weaver, won a pennant in his first year as manager for the Kansas City Royals and the Chicago Cubs, prior to becoming general manager and EVP of the Cubs. When we got together at Jim's winter home in Florida, Jim regaled us with stories about the humor and the icons of major league baseball. The Freys visited with us in Fairfield Glade the next summer when Jim was 74 and demonstrated that he was no slouch on a golf course. Hall of Fame Chicago Cub second baseman Ryne Sandberg credits Jim with making him the all-time leader in home runs at his position. Jim is one of the premier storytellers of baseball lore along with such peers as Joe Garagiola, Tommy Lasorda and Bob Uecker. I learned that, during rain delays with the Orioles, Jim led a group that played pinochle and compiled a world class list of baseball clichés. It was no surprise to hear that Jim, as a NY Mets coach, asked a slumping pitcher why he wasn't doing better. When the player replied that it was God's will, Jim suggested he ask God if it's OK to throw strikes.
My wife and I are graduates of Western Hills High School in Cincinnati, the same school that Jim and Joan attended. I first heard this tale at a West High sports banquet where Jim and his good friend and boyhood compatriot, Don Zimmer, were featured speakers. When Jim was growing up in a western suburb of Cincinnati he spent many hours at Ernst's Pool Hall on Harrison Ave. in Cheviot, a small town suburb of Cincinnati, where I also spent my formative years and sold newspapers at Hader's Hardware across the street from Ernst's. Jim had a part-time job there to make spending money while in high school. Like Don Zimmer and later Pete Rose, also West High grads, he learned a bit about wagering, but he also became an excellent billiards player. When he managed the Chicago Cubs to the National League Pennant in 1984 he was the toast of Chicago. He received a call from a friend who asked him to appear at an exhibition that Willie Mosconi would give that evening in Chicago. As a pretty-fair billiard player Jim would never turn down a chance to meet the dapper Willie Mosconi, the greatest billiard player who ever lived. That evening Jim was summoned from the huge audience to a rousing ovation. Willie, taking note of Jim's popularity, asked if he would like to play a game of billiards. Jim replied in the affirmative. Willie gave Jim the break and Jim claims he sank a fair number of balls in rotation before a miss. It was Willie's turn and he promptly dispatched a run of balls but atypically missed before clearing the table. Jim claims he will never know if Willie missed on purpose or not, but it was Jim's turn and he took full advantage. He cleared the table and won the game. Willie turned to the audience and asked if they would like to see he and Jim play another game. The audience roared their approval. When Willie turned to Jim he was shaking his head. "No way am I playing you again, Willie. I'm going to my grave as one of the few men who ever beat Willie Mosconi in a game of billiards."
Kudos, gripes, suggestions? E-mail dfbackus@aol.com.
Copyright © 1999-2008 cnhi, inc.