Cleat Chasers and Other Random Baseball Stories

I’m writing this piece in response to Readers’ requests for baseball stories involving certain subjects. There’s no rhyme or reason to these stories, so pour yourself a stiff drink or roll a fat one and enjoy the ride.

Cleat Chasers

I’m always amused when I hear a woman brag about sleeping with a famous baseball player. I would be more impressed had she got his autograph than hearing about how she spread her legs. We typically referred to these women as “Groupies” or “Baseball Annies” or, my favorite, “Cleat Chasers.” You gotta understand, some ball players would fuck any woman that would spread her legs. 

Like Ja Rule said, “Money and good pussy’s a fatal attraction for men.”

In baseball lingo, an ugly fat woman was referred to as a “Mullion,” and a guy that fucked a Mullion was referred to as a “Mullion Killer.” Nobody wanted to be known as a Mullion Killer. However, after a few post-game beers, some guys became firm DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) converts and would shag a Mullion.

I played winter baseball in Venezuela with a serial Mullion Killer. He was a good-looking Italian guy who ended up having a long career in the Big Leagues and later as a sports announcer, but when it came to women, he was more interested in quantity than quality. The crazy thing was that Venezuela was full of beautiful women, so you would think that the odds would be in his favor to occasionally shag a beautiful woman. But, No! He was a serial Mullion Killer!

He went back to the States to visit his family and his girlfriend(!) for the Christmas holiday. When he returned, he shared his New Year’s resolution with the locker-room, “I’m not going to fuck any more Mullions!” Of course, we all laughed. He might as well have said that he was going to stop breathing! When the laughter subsided, he raised his hands in surrender and qualified his resolution, “Okay, I’m not going to fuck any more Mullions, but I might let them give me a blow job!” Once a Mullion Killer – Always a Mullion Killer!

Send ‘Em West

Umpires must have thick skin, or they won’t survive. Nobody likes umpires – the fans love to hate them, and the ball players only remember their bad calls. It’s a job for masochists!

Prior to instant reply, once the umpire made a call it was final. Even if the umpire realized he had made a bad call, it would’ve been fatal to admit it. In 1972, Bernice Gera was the first female umpire in professional baseball. She umpired in the New York-Penn League at the same time I played my rookie-ball season in that league. However, I never got to witness this historic moment for the feminist movement, because Ms. Gera committed a fatal error in her first professional game. During the first game of a double-header, she ruled the runner safe at second on a double-play, then reversed her call – calling the runner out. The irate manager ran on the field, got in her face, and told her that her first mistake was putting on an umpire’s uniform and her second mistake was blowing the call. She ejected the manager from the game. She resigned after the first game, leaving only one umpire for the second game. Since then, there have been several female umpires in the minor leagues, and Major League Spring Training games, but there have been no female umpires in the Major Leagues.

One of my favorite umpires to hate was Joe West. He was an arrogant SOB, but when I was pitching, there was no one I would rather have behind the plate. He didn’t take any bullshit either. If you showed any sign of disrespecting Joe, he’d send your ass for an early shower. That’s how he became known as “Send ‘em West!” 

We were playing the first game of a three-game series against the Orioles AA team in Charlotte, and Joe West and his partner were the umpires. During the game, there was a close play at home plate and Joe called our player safe. Before the dust could settle, the Charlotte manager was out of the dugout and in Joe’s face. Joe sent the manager “west” to take an early shower. Then the organ player started playing “Three Blind Mice” over the loudspeaker, and Joe sent the organ player “west” to take an early shower! Don’t fuck with Joe West!

Joe West umpired in the Major Leagues from 1976 to 2021, umpiring an MLB record 5,460 games in 43 seasons!

Obnoxious Fans

Most fans come to the ballpark to be entertained, but there’s always a few knuckleheads that want to be the entertainment. When we played the White Sox AA team in Knoxville, there was this one guy that would always sit about six rows behind the visitor’s dugout and rag on us during the entire ballgame. He especially liked to yell at our pitchers between innings. The truth was that we didn’t give a shit about the fans, except the good-looking females in short skirts. But occasionally, the village idiot would be noticed, and we noticed the Knoxville idiot.

It was about an hour before game time, and we had just finished taking batting practice. There were a few groups of young couples sitting behind our dugout enjoying a pre-game beer, and the Knoxville idiot was perched right in the middle of them. Several of us were standing outside our dugout checking out the scenery, when the Idiot yelled at one of our pitchers, “Hey Joey, you pitched a good game last night.” Joey acknowledged him with a nod, even though the Idiot trashed him last night while he was pitching. Then the Idiot tried to let the young couples sitting nearby think he was “one of the guys” when he asked Joey, “Where’s the Braves AAA team at?” Joey looked him in the eye and said, “They’re at your house with your wife!” The young couples laughed, and the Idiot shut up.

In 1998, I took my son to his first Spring Training game in Peoria, AZ to see the As vs Padres. There’s nothing sweeter than the smell of fresh mown grass at the ballpark during Spring Training. Although the players are competing for jobs, the atmosphere for the fans is relaxed. The starting players typically play three or four innings before the substitutes come into the game. My son and I had great seats behind the third-base dugout. Ken Caminiti started at third base for the Padres. In 1996, Caminiti was unanimously voted the National League MVP. He was a big guy, and it was well known that he was on the steroid “juice.”

There was an Idiot sitting five rows behind us that would yell at Caminiti every time he walked on the field. Nobody would’ve noticed this guy in a Major League stadium, but in a Spring Training ballpark everyone noticed him – including Caminiti. At the end of the fourth inning, Caminiti looked up in the stands while the Idiot was yelling at him, stared at him for a second, then walked back to the dugout. A couple of innings later there was a commotion in the stands behind us. I thought a fight had broken out. I looked back, and there was Caminiti wearing a white “wife-beater” shirt and a pair of cut-off jean shorts walking down the aisle toward the Idiot. The Idiot was quiet. There was nowhere to run. Caminiti sat down in the chair next to him, waited for a few seconds, then pulled a baseball out of his back pocket, autographed it, handed the ball to the Idiot, smiled, got up and left. I’m sure the Idiot probably shit his pants. 

Everybody is brave when the lion is caged – not so much when its standing next to you.

Postscript

Don’t ask me where the term “Mullion” came from, but you must admit that nobody would want to be known as a “Mullion Killer.” I would guess that the term originated during a philosophical discussion in the bullpen about a teammate’s girlfriend – but I could be wrong.

I sincerely apologize if I offended any past, present or future Cleat Chasers, I totally appreciate the skills required to shag a baseball player.

Your comments, critiques, and questions are welcome, as always. Hit the Comment button below or email me at roger.beachbum@gmail.com

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