Vintage Fridays: Lee May, 1978 Topps #640

Lee May brought a lot more to the Orioles than his on-field performance during his six years in Baltimore. Here's a quote from Eddie Murray, excerpted from John Eisenberg's oral history of the team, From 33rd Street to Camden Yards:

"Lee May had some good qualities, and he tried to show me the right way to do things-and not to do things. Some were off the field. Like, always listen. If someone tells you five things, you might use two-but that's two more than you had. And he said, 'If you sit down and break bread with someone, you should be able to pick up a check.' So not just baseball things, but being a major leaguer. It was a learning thing. And then the way when Earl would scream at someone, and Lee would come along behind and pat the guy and say, 'Way to go.' Keeping his head up. They were almost a team that way. Earl was making his point, and Lee was, too."

Lee May, 1977 Hostess #55

This will be my last new entry on the blog for a short while. But turn that frown upside down, Lee May! I'm taking a bit of a summer breather, and I'll be back and (maybe) better than ever by mid-August. It's my sincere hope that I will find the Orioles right where I left them...on top of the American League East. So long for now!

Vintage Fridays: Lee May, 1977 Topps #3

As I mentioned earlier this week, my 330-some 1977 Topps cards are now living in their very own binder, which means that I can officially get down to the Serious Business of completing the set. Now that it's all laid out pretty-like in nine-pocket pages, I see that this card is the first from the set that I happen to have. The fact that these two bad mamma-jammas were on the top of their games as leading run-producers tells you all you need to know about why this set is worth collecting. In the United States' Bicentennial year, George Foster led the major leagues with 121 RBI, a nice enough number but not quite up to Chris Davis' current league-leading total of 138. Lee May topped the American League with only 109 ribbies, a number that Adam Jones will reach if he can drive in a single run tomorrow. The 2013 O's top run producers have also outhomered 1976's chief RBI men; Davis hit his league-best number 53 tonight, and Jones got his 33rd for a personal best. May had 25 longballs, tied for fourth and trailing Graig Nettles' A.L.-high 32. Foster, a year before he would crank out 52 home runs, was fourth in the N.L. with 29 (Mike Schmidt led all of baseball with 38). The Orioles may not have made the playoffs this year, but at least they put up some gaudy numbers.

Vintage Fridays: Lee May, 1979 O-Pee-Chee #1

I am just in a phenomenal mood. It's Friday, the weather is sunny and warm and mild here in Baltimore, I ordered sushi from one of my favorite local restaurants for dinner, and tomorrow I'm following up my sister's celebratory birthday lunch with a boys' night (ahem, make that a mens' night) with my three best friends from college. Oh, and today is Lee May's 69th birthday.

Okay, so Lee's birthday doesn't really have anything to do with my high spirits, but it doesn't hurt them, either. The "Big Bopper" spent the decline phase of his career in Charm City, playing first base and DHing from 1975 through 1980, his age 32-37 seasons. But on the whole, he still put up a slightly above-average 105 OPS+ as an Oriole and clubbed 123 home runs, 14th-most in team history. (Slightly ahead of him are Jim Gentile with 124 HR and Paul Blair with 126.) His best season in orange and black was 1976, when he hit .258 but posted a 127 OPS+ thanks in large part to his 25 home runs. In a low-offense American League, he led all hitters with 109 RBI, and finished ninth in MVP voting. However, veteran O's like Mike Cuellar, Paul Blair, and Brooks Robinson bottomed out, and Reggie Jackson's April holdout left the Birds wondering "what if". They finished 88-74, a distant second behind the 97-win Yankees.

Lee May finished his career with two seasons as a bench bat in Kansas City. He retired with 354 career home runs, which currently ties him with Luis Gonzalez for 79th all-time. Of course, the offensive explosion of the 1990s and 2000s took its toll on his rank; when he retired in 1982, Lee was #32 in lifetime home runs. But then, time waits for no man. There's not much for the Big Bopper to do but sit back and enjoy a big piece of cake, because he's earned it.

Vintage Fridays: Lee May, 1980 Topps #490

During the 1965 season, Lee May was a 22-year-old first baseman at AAA San Diego, the Pacific Coast League affiliate of the Reds. He did everything he could to get noticed by the big league club, swatting 34 home runs and driving in 103 while batting .321. He also had 32 doubles, amassing a lofty .586 slugging percentage. These feats did earn him a five-game cup of coffee at the end of the year, but he received only seven at-bats (all as a pinch hitter) in the first month of the following season. He failed to get a hit in his limited opportunities and was sent back to the minors, this time to the less exotic locale of Buffalo. Lee was brought back in September and caught fire, hitting safely 25 times in 68 at-bats for the remainder of the season (.368). With that he was in the big leagues for good, hanging around until 1982 - long enough to hit 354 home runs. He topped 20 longballs in all 11 of the seasons in which he received at least 500 at-bats.

The story of Lee May seems like the kind of cautionary tale that Orioles fans should keep in mind during this flaming hellscape of a season. Many of us are panicking because the young players who were supposed to improve and flourish this season took a step backwards instead. Brian Matusz has been winless for two months now (not entirely his own fault), Brad Bergesen and Chris Tillman have been dropped from the rotation for the time being, Matt Wieters is short on power and average, and Nolan Reimold is struggling to hit his weight at AAA Norfolk. Sure it's distressing that all of this has happened at once, and it underscores the point that there are many more Alex Ochoas in baseball's history than there are Lee Mays, but it's still early in the careers of these young men. It's getting later all the time, but there's nothing you or I can do. Let the chips fall where they will.

Lee May, 1994 Upper Deck All Time Heroes #193

Let's celebrate May Day with the best of the three Mays who have suited up with the Birds. (The others are father and son duo Dave and Derrick May.) Of course, coming from Washington College, May 1st has a loaded meaning to me.

Back in 1968, when Lee was clouting 22 home runs in his second full season in the bigs with Cincinnati, former Washington College English professor Bennett Lamond decided to revive the British tradition of May Day by holding class on the campus green. He and his students read poetry and drank wine. Apparently, he struck a chord with those undergrads, because they returned to the green that evening, and I would wager a guess that more wine was involved. I'm not sure if there was more poetry. The event became something of a ritual, and it soon morphed into a two-night gathering at the flagpole. As the clock neared midnight and April 30 turned to May 1 - and again the following evening - college students anticipated the approach of summer and the end of classes by partaking liberally in alcoholic beverages and removing all of their clothes.

I've been surprised over the years by the sheer number of people that ask about May Day when they find out that I went to college in Chestertown. It turns out that other than being founded by George Washington, being located on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, and being home to the largest undergraduate literary prize in the nation, my little college is notorious for its annual nudity-fest. So let me try to answer the questions you and others might have about May Day.

First of all, it's not all that it's cracked up to be. The unfortunate thing about nudism is that for every person you can think of that you might like to see in the buff, there are probably ten others that you'd rather not get an eyeful of. Let me tell you; it's the latter that you remember. Excuse me while I shudder violently.

Meanwhile, the student body might have numbered 1,100 or so, but there weren't a whole lot of them who were free-wheeling (and soused) enough to eschew their mentionables and unmentionables. As the years went by, there was a larger contingent who contented themselves with standing on the periphery, fully clothed and ogling the romping nude masses. That's fairly creepy, but those that decided to take pictures really crossed the line.

However, one thing that helped keep the outlandish and playful aspect of May Day alive was the creative ways that some folks found to celebrate throughout the day. Naturally, clothes were required in classrooms, dining halls, and so forth. I can recall guys and girls wearing kimonos, bathrobes, and even yellow police tape to push the boundaries.

As for me, I did my best to avoid the eye of the desnudo hurricane until my senior year. The first of May was a Saturday, and as the evening wore on, I was in my suite sharing drinks with friends. The clock drew close to midnight, and the combination of liquid courage and the knowledge that it was now or never spurred me on. But I wasn't about to go it alone. One close friend (whose identity I will do my best to protect) agreed to be my partner in crime. We still had some modicum of modesty, so we decided to streak down to the flagpole incognito. My friend wore a gorilla mask, and I of course donned my Rey Mysterio, Jr. lucha mask. I can recall walking over to the campus green, still clothed, before quickly slipping out of my sandals, shorts, and shirt and handing them to my bemused girlfriend. I recall charging down "The Hill" behind my friend, who promptly lost his balance halfway down and rolled to the bottom. There was a certain rush of adrenaline that I felt, standing in the midst of several dozen people, no one wearing anything other than a smile. Someone I didn't even know playfully accused me of trying to hide, so I pulled up the wrestling mask and gave her a glimpse of my face. But really, there wasn't much to the whole thing. Shocking, I know. We milled about for a few minutes, had our fill, and climbed back up The Hill. I gathered my garments from my better half, put them on, and went home.

When I look back on that night of semi-reckless abandon, one thought crosses my mind:

I'm glad that I graduated before Facebook became popular.