Ozzie Stories

You have to understand, Ozzie was my favorite.  I adopted the Sox in 1984, the year after they won the West.  I had moved to Chicago in 1983 and was sort of generally aware of 1983's triumph, but the city was only mildly excited.  Then the Cubs won the NL East in 1984 and the city went nuts.  My contrary nature took over and I became a Sox fan our of sheer cussed determination not to associated with all the annoying cretins in Cubbie blue.  

So then Hemmond trades La Marr Hoyt for Guillen in 1985.  The folk who were really invested in the 1983 team were outraged but I loved Guillen from the start.  He was so obviously having fun playing the game and it was a pleasure to watch him do his thing.  He was never the best player on the Sox, not even in the bad years, but he was fun and smart and I enjoyed the hell out of it.

So, years later, my wife and I adopt a dog from the shelter.  I've always figured the dog lets you know what his name should be, so we're playing around with on the first day, just getting to know one another.  He's completely wired, constantly in motion, racing around the yard, barking and having a good time.  I turn to my wife and say "He's Ozzie."  She says "You sure?"  I say "Oh yeah.  He's hyperactive, loves chasing balls and has great range to his left."  She says "You're right" and he's been Ozzie from that day to this.

Now Ozzie is an old dog curled up in the chair next to my desk.  He's been through many Sox seasons, barking when I jumped off the couch to yell after home runs, licking my face when I cursed the TV and always, always willing to go for long walks to shake off the tough losses.  He doesn't have the same speed or range he used to (who of us does?) but he still loves to chase balls and keep me company during the Sox games.  For his sake, as well as mine, I hope we win four more.

One of my favorite Ozzie stories, and one of my girls' favorites, involved the great Rickey Henderson.  Henderson was playing for Oakland at the old Comiskey Park.  With two outs, he doubled to left center (which he must have done approximately 500 times against us).  Guillen got the ball from the outfielder and tried to pull this lame hidden ball trick with a fake throw to the pitcher and then making a big show about how they needed to get the game going.  Rickey just stood on the base staring at him, looking like "C'mon, I'm a Hall of Famer.  Don't try to play me."  When its painfully obvious that the trick isn't working, Ozzie cracks this big grin, waves to Rickey and tosses the ball to the mound.  Of course, the whole time, he's chattering away, telling Rickey how he almost got him and how smart he is and how that trick would have worked on someone else.  Henderson is staring into the plate, taking a big lead and trying to ignore Ozzie.

Then, all of a sudden, Ozzie breaks hard behind Henderson to the bag.  The pitcher whirls and throws low and to the third base side.  Rickey realizes what's happening but he's an instant late and has to dive back in head first.  Ozzie beats him to the base and sets up to take the throw, straddling the base with his right leg lying almost flat against the bag.  Henderson beats the throw (of course) but he slides with his hand into Ozzie's calf.  Ozzie catches the ball and snaps the tag down before Henderson can get his fingers to the bag and the umpire rings him up.  Henderson goes nuts, slamming his helmet to the dirt and screaming while Ozzie sprints off the field, dropping the ball as he passes the mound and cackling like a fiend all the way.

Makes me smile every time I think of it.

Another of my favorite Ozzie moments was time he showed up Julio Franco (before Julio had been annointed as the ageless saint of middle age ball-players).  This was around 1993 when Franco was on those really gross Kevin Kennedy Texas teams, with guys like Jose Canseco, Kevin Brown and Juan Gonzalez.  The whole team was full of guys with smug, crappy attitudes and I just loved beating them.  So with nobody on, Franco comes up and hits a routine grounder straight to Guillen.  True to form, Franco doesn't run it out.  In fact, he barely gets out the box, drops his bat and starts to slow down.  

So Ozzie held the ball.  He holds the ball at short and stares across the diamond at Franco.  He shames Franco into running.  So finally, Julio starts to run down the line.  Then Ozzie threw him out.  Seemed like justice to me.

I always wondered if the two of them ever talked about that incident when Franco joined the Sox in 1994.

and I think it's a great anecdote about how Ozzie has kept this team loose all year long... "Guillen shared another mound story from spring training. The game was being played in Peoria, Ariz., and it was hot. It was the first inning, and the Sox starter was getting pounded. Ozzie ran to the mound, called in all the infielders, and proceeded to spray them all down with sunscreen. "It looks like we might be out here awhile today," he said. Everyone, including the pitcher, burst out laughing."