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Warren Spahn! Happy birthday, Warren Spahn, who was born on April 23, 1921 and passed away in 2003 and who went on to become one of the greatest pitchers in the annals of great pitchers despite this possibly apocryphal indignity early in his career (courtesy of most wondrous SABR) ...
According to one legend, the old Hall of Fame catcher Ernie Lombardi warmed Spahn up in spring training of 1942. When he threw one of his best fastballs, Lombardi reportedly caught it barehanded, spat tobacco juice on it, and threw it back harder. Turning his back to rub off the juice, Spahn thought, “I’m not sure I belong here.”
As it turned out, Mr. Spahn absolutely belonged here. If not for the fact that he lost three seasons to military service during World War II (unlike some ballplayers, Spahn actually served at great personal hazard -- he was grazed by bullets in the Battle of the Bulge and took heavy fire from the Germans while maintaining a critical bridge at the France-Belgium border, for instance), then he might have won 400 games. Instead, he tallied a "mere" 363 wins at the major-league level and pitched until the age of 44.
Anyhow, one night in 1979, Mr. Spahn returned to Milwaukee for a ... something of sorts in his honor. Don't take that the descriptor to be in any way dismissive because by "something of sorts" I mean "something that challenged the boundaries of awesome, chiefly because of a New Wave musical composition about Warren Spahn."
Before we roll tape of said event, a brief walking tour of what you're about to see ...
0:02 -- Spied in the background is something we'll refer to henceforth as, "The Exuberance of the Rooster-Man."
0:52 -- First sighting of Mark Shurilla and the Black Holes, Mr. Spahn's co-stars for the balance of this action-news footage.
1:05 -- First sighting of "Dancing Horn Girl." She shall dance with a horn, and we shall be the richer for having glimpsed it.
1:20 -- Quite possibly the first utterance of Warren Spahn's name in musical form, certainly the first time in New Wave/Post-Punk form. And may we point out that this song is quite good!
1:58 -- I'm not positive the umpire is wearing a cream-colored velour tracksuit, but I'm not not positive the umpire is wearing a cream-colored velour tracksuit.
2:38 -- The swing that killed hope.
2:49 -- The bearded keyboardist in the Sal Bando jersey who revived hope.
3:13 -- Mr. Spahn emerges from what might be a sweet-ass Chrysler.
3:34 -- Mr. Shurilla -- the late, great Mr. Shurilla -- speaks!
3:50 -- Long live New Wave Punk Rock! And speaking of which, here's the July 27, 1979, edition of the Milwaukee Sentinel briefly introducing the aria in question ...
And without further throat-clearing ... Excelsior!
Where have baseball's golden heroes gone? To Milwaukee, Wisconsin U.S.A. in 1979, it would seem.
Happy birthday, Warren Spahn.
