The Legend of Steve Dalkowski

[Austin]

In looking back I realized I didn't really answer Frobby's question about what Palmer was like in the early days. During one winter ball game in '68 George Bamberger (he was our minor league pitching coach) and I were watching Palmer pitch and he was bringing heat. After each inning, Jim would walk off the mound grimacing and rotating his shoulder. George offered this to me. "When you have a bad arm you can't wipe your butt or comb your hair." He went on to offer a theory that Jim had attained success way too early for his somewhat fragile ego to take and always needed a crutch to fall back on if he failed. I came to the park early one day and only Jim was in the clubhouse. "Hey Slim, did you ever pull a muscle in your butt?" When I didn't answer right away he continued. "You know when you roll your leg over getting out of bed. I think I pulled a butt muscle." Baltimore had hired a trainer for winter ball that no one knew. He was single, never talked about girls and had a few questionable mannerisms. When I suggested Jim go have the trainer rub his butt for awhile, Jim suddenly healed. The real star on the team that you knew was destined for greatness was Don Baylor. He hit .376 in 125 at bats. My 1.16 ERA was what got me invited to the big camp along with the possibility of the first ever attempt at a players strike.

These posts are really great, thanks for your contributions to the board.

[oldpro56]

I'll continue to post as long as there is interest. Here is a partial segment from my book "Beating About the Bushes". As I have posted before, my goal was never to make a lot of money from the book, but to let baseball fans (O's in particular) share in my experiences. And, just maybe, sell a few books along the way. Additionally, anyone who buys a book directly from me gets a 3 page letter I wrote to Palmer before the publication.

ME AND REGGIE

Every year players are signed for bonus money and the “can’t miss” label. Which pan out achieving this expectation is impossible to identify. If you were betting, odds would be better in Vegas. Many of the highly touted phenoms become what are known as, five o’clock hitters. Batting practice is spectacular, but come game time, they can’t perform.

We had the opportunity to play against Reggie Jackson in his first professional games at his home park of Modesto, California. He had signed for $125,000 of Charley Finley’s money coming out of Arizona State. There always is curiosity about big bonus babies and everyone watches these players carefully during batting and infield practice. Reggie didn’t look much different than anyone else. He was tall, ran well, made contact with the ball and had a very strong arm from the outfield. There was nothing to separate him from the majority of players on both sides.

Jackson’s first game against us proved to be an indicator of great things to come. He hit a home run off our pitching setting up what would be one of the funniest incidents in my eight year career. The following day I was the starting pitcher and minutes before the game our manager, Harry Malmberg called a private meeting with me and my catcher, Cliff Matthew. This was surprising as I couldn’t recall Harry ever calling a meeting for any reason. He was quiet, mild mannered and always seemed as if he wanted to be doing something else with his life. Maybe it was because our team was so bad and nothing he attempted seemed to work.

“I don’t know who this character Jackson is, but he isn’t going to hit a home run against us tonight.” Malmberg was agitated and followed with, “If he gets up with no one on, you’re to drill him. That’ll show him we do things differently here and he can’t get away with the kind of **** he did in college.”

I was shocked because this directive went against the code of ethics in professional baseball. Whatever happened yesterday was history and today was a new ball game. If retaliation was to be made, it should have been ordered the night before. This was my fourth season and considering myself to be a veteran, what was being ordered went against all I had been taught. I offered, “Harry, I don’t think that’s right. He hit the homer off our pitching last night. I didn’t have anything to do with that.” If anything, I never was one to back off an opinion without a believable explanation.

“I don’t give a ****. If you don’t hit him it’s going to cost you $100 out of your paycheck”! This was alarming because this year I was making $800 a month and only for the months we actually played. I quickly had to figure a way out of this without Harry knowing. I grabbed Matthew aside and we had a meeting of our own. Cliff was one of the nicest guys I ever met and he would do just about anything for you. Minutes before the start of the game we came up with a plan.

[weams]

I'll continue to post as long as there is interest. Here is a partial segment from my book "Beating About the Bushes". As I have posted before, my goal was never to make a lot of money from the book, but to let baseball fans (O's in particular) share in my experiences. And, just maybe, sell a few books along the way. Additionally, anyone who buys a book directly from me gets a 3 page letter I wrote to Palmer before the publication.

ME AND REGGIE

Every year players are signed for bonus money and the “can’t miss” label. Which pan out achieving this expectation is impossible to identify. If you were betting, odds would be better in Vegas. Many of the highly touted phenoms become what are known as, five o’clock hitters. Batting practice is spectacular, but come game time, they can’t perform.

We had the opportunity to play against Reggie Jackson in his first professional games at his home park of Modesto, California. He had signed for $125,000 of Charley Finley’s money coming out of Arizona State. There always is curiosity about big bonus babies and everyone watches these players carefully during batting and infield practice. Reggie didn’t look much different than anyone else. He was tall, ran well, made contact with the ball and had a very strong arm from the outfield. There was nothing to separate him from the majority of players on both sides.

Jackson’s first game against us proved to be an indicator of great things to come. He hit a home run off our pitching setting up what would be one of the funniest incidents in my eight year career. The following day I was the starting pitcher and minutes before the game our manager, Harry Malmberg called a private meeting with me and my catcher, Cliff Matthew. This was surprising as I couldn’t recall Harry ever calling a meeting for any reason. He was quiet, mild mannered and always seemed as if he wanted to be doing something else with his life. Maybe it was because our team was so bad and nothing he attempted seemed to work.

“I don’t know who this character Jackson is, but he isn’t going to hit a home run against us tonight.” Malmberg was agitated and followed with, “If he gets up with no one on, you’re to drill him. That’ll show him we do things differently here and he can’t get away with the kind of **** he did in college.”

I was shocked because this directive went against the code of ethics in professional baseball. Whatever happened yesterday was history and today was a new ball game. If retaliation was to be made, it should have been ordered the night before. This was my fourth season and considering myself to be a veteran, what was being ordered went against all I had been taught. I offered, “Harry, I don’t think that’s right. He hit the homer off our pitching last night. I didn’t have anything to do with that.” If anything, I never was one to back off an opinion without a believable explanation.

“I don’t give a ****. If you don’t hit him it’s going to cost you $100 out of your paycheck”! This was alarming because this year I was making $800 a month and only for the months we actually played. I quickly had to figure a way out of this without Harry knowing. I grabbed Matthew aside and we had a meeting of our own. Cliff was one of the nicest guys I ever met and he would do just about anything for you. Minutes before the start of the game we came up with a plan.

http://robertedwardauctions.com/auction/2006/579.html

[Tony-OH]

I'll continue to post as long as there is interest.....Minutes before the start of the game we came up with a plan.

There is definitely interest here. You are getting rep points out the ying yang and these cliff hangars are great...

[oldpro56]

Here is the finish to the segment REGGIE AND ME. I don't want anyone falling off a cliff.

“When this guy Jackson gets up and I’ve got to do what Harry wants, let him know what the deal is. I don’t know if he’ll go along with this but we have to give it a try because I can’t afford to waste $100 on something this stupid.” Matthew nodded his head but secretly I knew he was hoping there would be runners on and everything would be nullified. Of course, this was the viewpoint of a catcher caught in the middle. From my perspective, I didn’t want to see any base runners for the entire game.

As it would happen, I retired the side the first inning setting up the exact scenario Malmberg wanted. I slowly walked to the mound to start the second wondering if our plan would work I was going to attempt hitting Jackson with a mediocre fastball somewhere where it would hurt the least, his butt. In a short period of time there had to be a lot of coordination to pull this off. I took my warm ups and Reggie stepped in.

Cliff wasn’t giving any signals but I could see his lips moving behind his mask. He was talking to Jackson and Reggie was listening. The more he talked I could see the umpire was now getting in on this and had bent over almost like he was about to call a pitch. As time dragged on, it appeared to fans in the stands that a strategic battle was taking place. A power hitter was facing a cowardly pitcher seemingly afraid to take any signal from his catcher.

Finally, Cliff nodded his head. No signal, just a nod. The plan was in place and Reggie had agreed to take the dive. I went into my windup and everything looked good. But, as I got close to my release point, he panicked and started to bailout. The only thing I could do was adjust to his movement trying to throw the ball to a point where he might end up. Reggie kept bailing and when I finally did hit him in the butt with a medium speed fastball, he was fully three feet out of the box and the fun began.

Jackson jumped to his feet and charged the mound. Hot on his heels was Matthew followed closely by our umpire. What the people in the stands, and most importantly Malmberg, couldn’t see was everyone was laughing. I immediately knew I was safe and decided to make this a moment to remember. Normally in a situation like this, I would be in reverse heading for the outfield and looking for help from any corner. But this time I was the bravest guy on the field.

All arrived at a spot in front of the pitcher’s mound with the umpire standing ten feet away laughing so hard there were tears. I decided to add realism to our brawl and took a fake punch at Reggie who had me in a bear hug. Jackson stood up and shook me like a rag doll, all the time laughing. We were now surrounded by players from both teams but everyone had frozen because nothing they saw made sense. How could there be a baseball fight with everyone having a good time?

The final act took place in the dugout when everyone heard Malmberg yell, “Take that you son of a *****, this is what pro ball is all about”! We had done it. Harry was happy, I saved $100 while developing a short lived reputation as a scrapper and Reggie wasn’t hurt. The next batter hit into a double play. No harm, no foul.

[oldpro56]

Part of a segment from my book, "Beating About the Bushes"

MY PROFESSIONAL VALIDATION

In some ways it was hard to imagine the day had come when I realized my dream to play professional baseball and signed a contract. It wasn’t earth shattering news, but to me, this was the equivalent of being elected President. The only people present were my parents, Ken Meyers, a reporter and photographer from the Sandusky Register. Ken was the Baltimore scout who had enough belief in me to push Baltimore into the signing.

Our local paper, the Norwalk Reflector Herald, didn’t deem this to be much of a story and sent nobody to cover the event. It wasn’t until the Register ran a large feature story did anyone from our paper want to know details as to the signing. In a way, this was fitting, because everyone in Norwalk had looked at me as a dreamer having zero chance of ever being a professional baseball player or being successful in life.

The only Norwalkian to reach the major leagues was Hank Edwards. He started his career with Mansfield in the Ohio State League in 1939 and finished playing for Austin in the Texas League in 1956. In between, he played for five major league teams including the pennant winning team of the Cleveland Indians in 1948. He led the American League in triples in 1946 and actually received two votes in the Hall of Fame balloting in 1960.

An irony surfaced a couple of years ago when Don Hohler tracked me down in Arizona and collaborated on a story for a magazine published in Ohio. Don was the resident reporter for the Reflector when I signed and given the chance to be there in my home that day, didn’t show up. His article was good and sparked an interest in our small community resulting in phone calls, letters and postcards from all parts of the country.

There was some humor as the photographer jockeyed everyone around the dining table. He eventually had me hold the pen in my right hand rather than my natural left hand. This was the only way he could get everyone in the picture making sense to the lead paragraph which would say, “The right hander from Norwalk”. There was concern readers would assume an error had been made by the paper and the negative had been reversed. Once everything was over, I walked out of the house without saying a word and went on to do something planned from the minute I became a professional.

Lefty Grove, a Hall of Fame pitcher, lived close by, on Parson Street, with his son, Robert Jr. I don’t know exactly when he moved there but I was aware of his presence and importance. Walking down the street I was in a fog and had no conscious plan of what to do or say when I arrived at his doorstep. I was now on the same professional level as this famous person and for all anyone knew, my career could equal or exceed his credentials in due time.

Now I was standing on the front steps of a small, well kept, ranch house and my objective was straight ahead. I pushed the doorbell and almost turned and ran until the realization sank in, there was no turning back. Maybe Lefty wasn’t home or, he was hard of hearing in his latter years and had become a recluse.

The door opened slowly and I was looking upward at someone who appeared to be approaching seven feet tall. I hadn’t done any research about the person and didn’t know Lefty was six feet four. Adding the extra inches from the doorsill to his height made him appear to be a giant. I had to say something and it came out in one long sentence in a high pitched voice that didn’t seem to be coming from me. “Hello Mr. Grove, my name is Tim Sommer and I just signed a contract with the Baltimore Orioles and I wanted to come say hello to you”. I took a step backward and waited.

“Hello son. Would you like to come in for some cookies and tea and we’ll talk about our careers?” This was like walking into the Hall of Fame at Cooperstown and having a guided tour from one of the most famous members there. I can’t remember how I responded, but shortly I was sitting on a living room couch awaiting the offerings and wondering what to do next.

I didn’t have to wait long nor worry about what to say as the next hour was all Lefty’s. It was like he had waited a long time for my visit just to tell his stories over again. I listened to tales of playing against greats like Ty Cobb, Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, and others. They were names that had made up my dreams ever since I was able to understand the pull and drive within me to play this fantastic game. Most of the time his gaze was focused elsewhere and I knew he could see the people and events as he described them to an audience of one.

There reached a point when Lefty looked at his watch and declared, “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to leave now. I have to get supper ready for my son, he’ll be home soon. Come back after your first year and tell me all about it. I’m very interested in how you do.” I never made it back because like all young people, I became too involved with myself knowing there would always be time in the future to go visit this wonderful old man and spin my tales. I still feel the need to share my stories with this legendary person.

When I returned home I found my mother to be upset since I hadn’t shared where I was going. When I explained I had gone to see Lefty Gove, she reacted as if I had gone to play in a mid afternoon poker game with a shifty guy by the name of Lefty. Once again, my dad had a smile on his face but offered no help in my defense. Typical parental reactions, but there was no way anyone would rain on my parade this day.

[Tony-OH]

Here is the finish to the segment REGGIE AND ME. I don't want anyone falling off a cliff.

“When this guy Jackson gets up and I’ve got to do what Harry wants, let him know what the deal is. I don’t know if he’ll go along with this but we have to give it a try because I can’t afford to waste $100 on something this stupid.” Matthew nodded his head but secretly I knew he was hoping there would be runners on and everything would be nullified. Of course, this was the viewpoint of a catcher caught in the middle. From my perspective, I didn’t want to see any base runners for the entire game.

As it would happen, I retired the side the first inning setting up the exact scenario Malmberg wanted. I slowly walked to the mound to start the second wondering if our plan would work I was going to attempt hitting Jackson with a mediocre fastball somewhere where it would hurt the least, his butt. In a short period of time there had to be a lot of coordination to pull this off. I took my warm ups and Reggie stepped in.

Cliff wasn’t giving any signals but I could see his lips moving behind his mask. He was talking to Jackson and Reggie was listening. The more he talked I could see the umpire was now getting in on this and had bent over almost like he was about to call a pitch. As time dragged on, it appeared to fans in the stands that a strategic battle was taking place. A power hitter was facing a cowardly pitcher seemingly afraid to take any signal from his catcher.

Finally, Cliff nodded his head. No signal, just a nod. The plan was in place and Reggie had agreed to take the dive. I went into my windup and everything looked good. But, as I got close to my release point, he panicked and started to bailout. The only thing I could do was adjust to his movement trying to throw the ball to a point where he might end up. Reggie kept bailing and when I finally did hit him in the butt with a medium speed fastball, he was fully three feet out of the box and the fun began.

Jackson jumped to his feet and charged the mound. Hot on his heels was Matthew followed closely by our umpire. What the people in the stands, and most importantly Malmberg, couldn’t see was everyone was laughing. I immediately knew I was safe and decided to make this a moment to remember. Normally in a situation like this, I would be in reverse heading for the outfield and looking for help from any corner. But this time I was the bravest guy on the field.

All arrived at a spot in front of the pitcher’s mound with the umpire standing ten feet away laughing so hard there were tears. I decided to add realism to our brawl and took a fake punch at Reggie who had me in a bear hug. Jackson stood up and shook me like a rag doll, all the time laughing. We were now surrounded by players from both teams but everyone had frozen because nothing they saw made sense. How could there be a baseball fight with everyone having a good time?

The final act took place in the dugout when everyone heard Malmberg yell, “Take that you son of a *****, this is what pro ball is all about”! We had done it. Harry was happy, I saved $100 while developing a short lived reputation as a scrapper and Reggie wasn’t hurt. The next batter hit into a double play. No harm, no foul.

Great story..

[oldpro56]

I'm not sure how many in this forum are familiar with the term, "Dalton's gang". This is a reference to Harry Dalton and the followers who believed in Harry and his skills in the front office. When Harry left Baltimore he had skilled people ranging from front office to scouts follow him wherever he went. Lou Gorman and John Scheurholz are two of the most prominent. John's first year in spring training was '66 and his most important duties were conducting bed checks and arranging flights home after cuts in Fernandina Beach, Fl. Many postings are about Ray Pointevant. Ray was a scout for the Orioles who also followed Dalton and was someone positive toward me while I was playing. Over the years I have learned to understand how fortunate I was to be part of the process known as, "the Oriole way". This was something that started with the lowest "bird dog scout" and continued upward. Cal Ripken put together the most comprehensive corporate manual ever produced on how to play the game and I believe this is being used by Jr and Billy at their camps. I plan on sending a copy of my book to Vi Ripken soon as I came to realize how many stories there are of Rip.

[MarylandAaron]

Can't believe I had never heard of Steve Dalkowsi before finding this thread... Dalkowski had an unbelievable career. Some of the quotes from the THT article are staggering, for instance guys like Ted Williams, Cal Sr., Earl Weaver, and others saying that he is the hardest throwing pitcher they ever saw. And I'll have to get into reading more of oldpro's posts later; from what i've read so far it's fascinating.

[olehippi]

I purchased a copy of "Beating About The Bushes" from Tim and it is a great read. Lots of good stuff. The stories are funny, and the insight into life in the minor leagues is fantastic.

Hey Tim, don't give it all away here. Make 'em pay for it. I'm curious.....did you ever get a response from the letter you sent to Palmer?

[oldpro56]

Many thanks for the kind words about my book. You have helped me achieve a goal on this thread. I wanted to post enough of the publication to spur interest. A few days ago I almost posted, "Wow, if I keep on going with the postings, everyone will have a copy. The difficulty will be putting it all together like a jig saw puzzle!" What I would hope to see on this thread is an expansion of thoughts and questions about the O's from the past and maybe I can share thoughts and experiences. In writing the book, I had more than 300 stories and the majority just couldn't be weaved into the fabric of "Beating About the Bushes". I am very concerned about the future of the OH given recent postings. After having read all the postings on that thread, I will commit to being a little less proud of my status as a former O's alum. To me, it appears to be more of an ego trip from the director of communications standpoint to showcase his thinking "outside the box" in ways to save money the next fiscal year. From the "old pro's" experience, Jerry Hoffberger would never have entertained such a ridiculous suggestion. The answer to the Palmer question is, no Jim never replied to the letter.

[weams]

Many thanks for the kind words about my book. You have helped me achieve a goal on this thread. I wanted to post enough of the publication to spur interest. A few days ago I almost posted, "Wow, if I keep on going with the postings, everyone will have a copy. The difficulty will be putting it all together like a jig saw puzzle!" What I would hope to see on this thread is an expansion of thoughts and questions about the O's from the past and maybe I can share thoughts and experiences. In writing the book, I had more than 300 stories and the majority just couldn't be weaved into the fabric of "Beating About the Bushes". I am very concerned about the future of the OH given recent postings. After having read all the postings on that thread, I will commit to being a little less proud of my status as a former O's alum. To me, it appears to be more of an ego trip from the director of communications standpoint to showcase his thinking "outside the box" in ways to save money the next fiscal year. From the "old pro's" experience, Jerry Hoffberger would never have entertained such a ridiculous suggestion. The answer to the Palmer question is, no Jim never replied to the letter.

You go ahead and be as proud as you wish. The guys you came up with played well enough to make me bulletproof from the slings and arrows of outrageous accountants.

Thanks for posting here. You make this place more fun.

[Tony-OH]

You go ahead and be as proud as you wish. The guys you came up with played well enough to make me bulletproof from the slings and arrows of outrageous accountants.

Thanks for posting here. You make this place more fun.

I second this. No one should ever feel shame for being an Oriole back in the 60's and 70's. You guys were Orioles when they were the classiest organization in the game.

[oldpro56]

This is from the back cover of my book, "Beating About the Bushes"

The '60's were the beginning and end of the age of innocence in many facets of life. Professional baseball players still played for the love of the game and not money. Today's average major league player makes more in one game than the average yearly wage in 1960. No one had an agent since there was no free agency and no bargaining power. BEATING ABOUT THE BUSHES contains amusing, informative and controversial elements providing the reader an understanding for what every player faced. The Club was the plantation owner, you were the slave, and there was no hope for escape.

[Snutchy]

This is from the back cover of my book, "Beating About the Bushes"

The '60's were the beginning and end of the age of innocence in many facets of life. Professional baseball players still played for the love of the game and not money. Today's average major league player makes more in one game than the average yearly wage in 1960. No one had an agent since there was no free agency and no bargaining power. BEATING ABOUT THE BUSHES contains amusing, informative and controversial elements providing the reader an understanding for what every player faced. The Club was the plantation owner, you were the slave, and there was no hope for escape.

Hello, I sent you an email to tims123@aol.com

I would really like to get an autographed copy of your book. Thanks!

EDIT: And I just saw that you replied within the last 10 minutes.