I’m gonna write a poem about this guy, entitled “Don’t Call Me Bunte.”
And here’s the first and only stanza:
Filled in for Chappie When he died, Oh, Harry Lunte Had quite a ride. Three weeks later Poor ol’ guy Pulled a muscle In his thigh.
Yup, that pretty much sums up his career. Another reason why I love Harry: we have the same birthday, give or take 80-something years. We shall celebrate together henceforth.
In honor of the Boston Red Sox and the Washington Nationals series – the first time the Sox have played in DC since 1971 – and per request [hi Dad!] here’s my comic about the Washington Senators’ final game. What does this have to do with the Red Sox, you might ask? The Senators’ manager at the time was a gentleman named Ted Williams, as you’ll see below. Enjoy!
Another day, another randomly selected stud from the 1920 Cleveland Indians team picture. Today, George Cycowksi, pitcher. I call him “Cyk” — catchy, huh? I did this drawing….
…but a funny thing happened while I was looking into Cyk’s career: I discovered that he kinda didn’t have one.
He never played in the major leagues at all.
He was 13-8 in one season in the minors — in 1922. Not too shabby. But, you might ask, what was he doing hanging around in the 1920 Indians’ team pic? No idea. Poor ol’ Cyk. What happened to him?
I was just pointed to this article about a new Chicago Cubs documentary which mentions the Billy Goat curse (as well as some other not-so-great moments in Cubs history). Whenever this comes up I’m newly amazed that whatever curse/string of bad luck that has led to the Cubbies remaining World Series-free since 1908 doesn’t begin and end with Johnny Evers. And I say this as a borderline Johnny Evers obsessive– I find him completely fascinating. But he stole the pennant from the Giants in 1908 with that (admittedly brilliant) jujitsu he pulled on poor Fred Merkle. “Merkle’s Boner” wasn’t a boner at all — and I’m convinced the bad karma around it has been hanging around the Cubs ever since.
And while I’m kicking around in the archives, how about some more Johnny Evers fun?
I have a three-foot wide panorama of the 1920 Cleveland Indians team photo (printed from the internet and taped together) hanging over my drawing table, because I am a Master Decorator. OK, it’s actually reference/inspiration for this Ray Chapman-Carl Mays book I’m slogging through.
When I come up for air, I end up spacing out on one player or another so I’ve started doodling them. Today, I present the venerable Otis Lambeth. So much of this project has turned into research detours on these guys who as basically forgotten. Otis, for example, played for three years, served in some capacity in World War I, and went back to Kansas and became a postal carrier after his not-terribly illustrious baseball career.
The weird thing about old Otis is, his final game for the Indians was April 24, 1918. Which begs the question, what’s he doing in the 1920 team picture? What a scamp. It’s possible he was just working out with the team in the preseason before getting knocked back down to the minors and ended up in the photo. Who knows…
Back to work. God, it’s a wonder I get anything done. Thanks for the diversion, Otis.
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