Vintage Fridays: Rick Dempsey, 1977 Topps #189

Good news, everybody! This is the last Friday without real, live Major League Baseball games for the next six months. I have my tickets for Opening Day, and I've gone ahead and taken a long weekend for myself. So on Monday afternoon, I'll be back in Section 340 in Oriole Park at Camden Yards for the first time in 2016, watching Rick Dempsey throw out the ceremonial first pitch. Then, hopefully I'll see Chris Tillman shut down the Twins.

Vintage Fridays: Rick Dempsey, 1979 Topps #593

Yeah, it's only been two weeks and I'm already going through some serious Orioles withdrawal. During the 2015 season, the team added a highlights video to the pregame ritual. As the song "Magic To Do" from Pippin played over the PA system at Camden Yards, clips of O's players and fans both past and present flashed on the center field video board. The first couple of times I saw it live, I rolled my eyes a bit at the schmaltziness of the tune, but ultimately I'm not made of stone. Throughout the video, images of the Birds of the 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s were juxtaposed with the current team. I'm a sucker for that kind of thing. You have to know your roots. By the end of the season, I found myself looking forward to watching that two and a half minute video prior to each game. That brings us to this Friday night in mid-October, as I'm vacillating between packing and piddling around on my phone. "Magic To Do" got stuck in my head, completely unbidden, and I had no choice but to see if I could find the video online. I did, and even though it was recorded on somebody else's phone and the sound was somewhat compromised by the chatter of nearby fans, I may have watched it two or three times. And now I'm sharing it with you. No need to thank me.

Rick Dempsey, 1982 Donruss #77

Rick Dempsey turned 65 today, and I'm grateful that he finally stopped dying his hair and mustache so dark.

Rick Dempsey, 1986 Topps #726

Rick Dempsey is adrift in a hazy field of white, much like all of us here in Baltimore. It's been an unusually snowy winter in the Mid-Atlantic region, but even so we haven't had any truly heavy snowfalls yet. The storm that just started an hour or so ago promises to be the heaviest of the year, with my neighborhood projected in the four-to-ten inches range. At any rate, I've already got the day off tomorrow and I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a five-day weekend. If nothing else, it would make Friday's drive down to North Carolina to visit the in-laws a little more of a relaxing proposition. Anyhow, if you're anywhere in the path of this frosty precipitation, hunker down if you can and be careful if you must take to the roads. I'll be housebound on Thursday, and I prefer it that way.

Rick Dempsey, 1987 Fleer #567

Your quote of the day, from a Roch Kubatko interview with Rick Dempsey:

"I go back to 1986 when at the end of the season with the Orioles, I had to get an elbow operation," Dempsey said. "The Orioles weren't going to pick up the option on my contract, and I was so freaking hurt. They were bringing in Mickey Tettleton to play every day, a big home run hitting catcher. I got in a big contract dispute with (general manager) Hank Peters. I was so upset they didn't call me in to talk about this transaction that I said I'd sign with the worst team at the minimum salary rather than come back to the Orioles, and God was listening. I went to the Cleveland Indians."

The bit about the Indians is worth a laugh, but Dempsey's been holding that grudge for so long he doesn't even remember the details about his departure. Tettleton wasn't signed until 1988; it was Terry Kennedy that the Orioles acquired after the 1986 season. Let it go, Rick. If you read the rest of his quotes, he also seems to be in denial about his ability to play regularly in the early 1990s, when the Brewers and Orioles both put him at arms' length in short order. It must be tough to be an aging professional athlete; I've heard before that guys like Dempsey are often the last to know when they're finished.

Rick Dempsey, 1983 Fleer #58

Something magic happens, everytime you go
You make the magic happen, the magic of Orioles’ Baseball!

When the game is close, and the O’s are hot
There’s a thundering roar from 34 to give it all they’ve got 

And you never know who’s gonna hear the call
Every game there’s a different star
That’s the magic of Orioles’ Baseball! 

Orioles Magic! Feel it happen!
Orioles Magic! Feel it happen! 

O - R - I - O - L - E - S ! 

Magic! Magic! Magic! Magic! 

Something magic happens, everytime you go
You make the magic happen, the magic of Orioles’ Baseball! 

When Weaver moves and we score the runs
Nothing could be more exciting
Nothing could be more fun! 

There’s a love affair between you and the team
You’re the reason we win when we win
And you know what the magic means! 

Orioles Magic! Feel it happen!
Orioles Magic! Feel it happen!
Orioles Magic! Feel it happen!
Orioles Magic! Feel it happen!

O - R - I - O - L - E - S ! 

Magic! Magic! Magic! Magic! 

Orioles Magic! Feel it happen!

Magic! Magic! Magic! Magic! 

Something magic happens….

Rick Dempsey, 2004 Fleer Greats #77

My first thought about this card was that it was encouraging to see Fleer put out a "greats" set while looking outside of the done-do-death limits of Cal, Eddie, Brooks, Frank, and Jim. My second thought was that the photo looked mighty familiar. If you pay attention to the faded, sepia-toned background image, you can see an Angels batter with a prominent mustache. Sure enough, this is the exact picture of Rick Dempsey and Bobby Grich from the Dipper's 1984 Fleer card. What can you say? It's a good photo.

Vintage Fridays: Rick Dempsey, 1978 Topps #367

Let's do a little This Date In Orioles History, mmmhmmm. On September 9, 1979, the O's continued plowing through the American League en route to their first World Series since 1971. Rick Dempsey had only one hit in five trips to the plate, but he made it count. The Dipper's grand slam capped a 6-run sixth inning, helping fuel a 16-4 rout of the third-place Red Sox at Fenway Park. Through the fourth inning, it was actually a tightly-contested game. Baltimore's Steve Stone and Boston's Mike Torrez had each allowed a home run, with Gary Roenicke's two-run shot giving the Birds a one-run advantage. Jim Rice went deep for the Sox with the bases empty.

But in the fifth inning, the first four Orioles hit safely to chase Torrez, with Rich Dauer singling in a pair of runs. Allen Ripley offered little relief for the home team, allowing three more runners to score before buckling down and retiring the side. Terry Crowley's two-run double put the O's up 7-1, but they were just getting started. Al Bumbry led off the sixth with a home run, and a Dauer single and a two-out double by Doug DeCinces prompted Ripley's exit. Boston manager Don Zimmer ordered new pitcher Joel Finch to intentionally walk Crowley to load the bases, but the move backfired as Roenicke followed with an unintentional free pass to push across the ninth Baltimore run. That brought Dempsey to the plate, he of the low-.240s batting average and 5 home runs. When Rick reached the seats, it was the first grand slam of his career; he would hit only one more, and that would have to wait until 1986. 13-1, Orioles.

The BoSox tried to make it respectable in the bottom of the seventh, loading the bases to bring about Stone's exit. Big Tim Stoddard did some damage to the starter's ERA, allowing all three inherited runners to score on a Rick Burleson walk and a two-run single by Fred Lynn. But Rice followed with a double-play grounder, and Boston did not threaten again. The Birds, however, tacked on a run in the eighth on a Roenicke single (giving him four RBI on the day) and a pair on run-scoring hits by Ken Singleton and Eddie Murray in the ninth. Stoddard finished out the game, sealing the 94th win against just 46 losses for the O's. Stone earned his tenth win and would finish 11-7. A year later, he figured a few things out and boosted his record to 25-7. The blowout win was the seventh in a row for the Birds, and put them a season-best 12.5 games ahead of second-place Milwaukee. They finished 102-57 and disposed of the Angels in the ALCS, but ran into some sort of black and gold nightmare in the World Series. Yuck.

Rick Dempsey, 1983 Donruss #329

Tough loss for the O's tonight, but two out of three ain't bad. Going back to last night's 5-4 win, Rick Dempsey made his debut as a color analyst for NESN, the Red Sox regional TV network.

No, Dipper hasn't betrayed us. Regular NESN color man Jerry Remy was incapacitated with the flu, so Rick pinch-hit for the enemy. I almost wish that I could have listened. From what I read on Camden Chat from those with MLB.TV access, he was in rare form. When Luke Scott had the nerve to be pleased with himself for hitting a monster home run off of Josh Beckett, the Boston pitcher could be seen on camera demanding that the home plate umpire give him the f-ing ball. Dempsey suggested that Beckett was actually saying that he wanted "a fuzzy ball". Take a bow, Rick.

Rick Dempsey, 1985 Topps #521

Rick Dempsey is blowing out 61 candles on his birthday cake today...at least he would be if his friends and family were sadistic enough to put that many candles on a cake. While his continued lobbying for the Orioles' managerial job throughout the years (and his complaints and laments when he is passed over each time) have gotten a bit tiresome, I certainly appreciate his decades of work in the Baltimore community, both on and off the field. He was one of the more entertaining players in team history during his playing days, but you don't stick around in the major leagues until age 42 on pranks and pantomimes. He was a strong defensive catcher and had some rare successes with the bat at the most opportune time, rapping five extra-base hits in 13 World Series at-bats in 1983 to walk away as the series' MVP. I've also met Rick a few times in recent years, and he couldn't be more patient and friendly with his fans.

Since I mentioned Rick's longevity, I'll expound on something interesting about his career. If you look at his baseball-reference.com page, you'll see that he pitched in two games...both in 1991, when he was 41 and a member of the Brewers. On July 2, he got a rare start at catcher and had a single and two RBI in four trips to the plate. But the Red Sox had pounded three Milwaukee pitchers and took a 13-4 lead into the top of the ninth. Dempsey made his mound debut (in his 23rd big league season!) and pitched to future Oriole B.J. Surhoff, who had replaced him behind the plate. It didn't go great; he yielded a double, a couple of singles, and a run. But he got those last three outs and saved manager Tom Trebelhorn from having to use another reliever. A month later, he sat on the bench (or in the bullpen) and watched four Brewer pitchers cough up 14 runs to the Rangers in the first eight innings. In the ninth, Rick once again got the call, and this time he'd learned a trick or two. After walking leadoff hitter Gary Pettis, he retired the next three hitters (including slugger Ruben Sierra) on grounders to the middle infield. Not bad for an old rookie pitcher.

Rick Dempsey, 1986 O-Pee-Chee #358

Today I was fortunate enough to attend the Second Annual Orioles Blogger Day at Oriole Park at Camden Yards. It's past my bedtime, but I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. Until then, please enjoy this photo of yours truly with 1983 World Series MVP Rick Dempsey. Don't be fooled by the fact that I'm towering over him; he was sitting and I was standing.

Rick Dempsey, 1983 Topps #138

I've only sent two cards through the mail to be autographed by former players, but I've already learned that the results can be varied and unpredictable. I sent both cards, a Mike Boddicker and a Rick Dempsey, in March 2008. I received my signed Mike Boddicker card four weeks later, tucked neatly into the plastic toploader that I'd sent with it. I just received the Rick Dempsey card you see above, nearly a year after sending my request. It came back in the self-addressed stamped envelope I provided, but with no toploader. There's one more thing...

It's not the card I sent.

I mailed off a copy of the Dipper's 1981 Fleer card, a lovely one indeed. Fortunately, it wasn't my only copy, because there's no telling what has become of it. I'm happy to have gotten a response at all; after eleven months, I'd resigned myself to an ignored or lost autograph request. So where did this card come from?

It's most likely that Rick (or a family member) opened a pile of mail and there were other cards in the batch that got mixed together. Of course, I like my mother's explanation better; she suggested that he knocked over a soda, drenching my card and ruining it, and went scrambling for a replacement. If that's the case, I hope he realized that he might be able to make some money on eBay auctioning off a Rick Dempsey 1981 Fleer card with authentic Coke stains.

Thanks for the card, Rick, wherever you found it!

Rick Dempsey, 1984 Fleer #6

In all of the grind and tedium of the work week, I completely missed the importance of Thursday, October 16. Two days ago, most Oriole fans marked the 25th anniversary of Scott McGregor's five-hit shutout of the Phillies, which clinched Baltimore's third World Series Championship. I can't help but lament the fact that I was much too young to be aware of that great team's achievements, much less to appreciate them at the time. But that doesn't mean that I can't celebrate them now.

Latter-day O's fans might only know Rick Dempsey as the goofy, slightly muddled broadcaster who has a talent for putting his foot in his mouth. But two-and-a-half decades ago, he was the hardscrabble backstop for the Orioles, a talented defensive player whose offensive contributions weren't much to write home about. He played an important role on the team, but he certainly wouldn't be high on your list of potential World Series MVPs. On a team with Cal Ripken, Jr. and Eddie Murray, who finished 1-2 in regular-season MVP voting, who would pay much attention to a 34-year-old catcher with a .231 average and 22 extra-base hits?

No one could have predicted that Dempsey's pitchers would completely shut down the Phillies (1.60 ERA in five games), or that Rick himself would hit a powerful .385, with all five of his hits going for extra bases. His solo home run, double, and two runs scored in the deciding game gave McGregor plenty of breathing room. So it was that the Dipper got the Pontiac Trans Am, dinner at the White House, and a Sports Illustrated cover.

As a final note, the Angels batter pictured above is former O's second baseman Bobby Grich. He was one of the team's first losses in the free agent era, and he never made it to the World Series with the Halos. Do you think he ever had second thoughts about leaving Birdland?

Rick Dempsey, 1987 Donruss #294

As I drove home in the pouring rain this evening, peering through the drops that pelted my windshield and braking as my car hydroplaned through the puddles that gathered in the road, I thought of Rick Dempsey making the most out of his rainy days; while other players and coaches paced around the dugout or the clubhouse like caged animals, eager to resume the game that had been halted, the Dipper would put on a show for the stubborn fans who likewise waited for the skies to clear, running across the rain-slicked tarp before doing a full headfirst slide, a mammoth belly-flop, soaking up the pooling water and making exaggerated swimming motions with his arms and legs, delighting in being the center of attention.

Rick Dempsey, 1981 Fleer #177

Who better to ring in April Fools' Day than the Orioles' own Clown Prince? Friday night I caught a replay of the final game played in Memorial Stadium on MASN's Orioles Classics. I'd only seen clips and pieces of the postgame ceremony before, so it was a transfixing experience to witness the whole scene unfold.

The Orioles did a fantastic job of keeping their plans close to the vest. After home plate was dug up to be transported to Camden Yards, the field was cleared and some dramatic, "Field of Dreams"-type music began to emanate from the PA system. A familiar face appeared at the foot of the home dugout in a full vintage Orioles uniform with #5 on the back. As Brooks Robinson jogged out to rousing applause, he was already welling up with tears. He took his rightful place at third base, exhibiting all of the same mannerisms he had for twenty-three years. He was followed by #20, as Frank Robinson loped out to right field one more time. Next came Jim Palmer, the handsome righthander who had won 268 games in orange and black. As he stood on the mound, he too was crying. This really affected me; for some reason, I didn't expect that much emotion out of the polished and suave Palmer.

One by one, and sometimes two at a time, the players kept coming. No introductions were given; none were necessary. It seemed like they'd gotten every player in Oriole history to return and suit up; there was Boog Powell, soaking in one more "BOOOOOOG!" chant. Doug DeCinces strolled out to third base and shook the hand of the man who had moved aside for him, Brooksie. Davey Johnson, Jim Gentile, Bobby Grich. Mike Cuellar, Milt Pappas, even Dennis Martinez, who was still an active player in Montreal. Some of the very first Orioles, guys like Bob Boyd, Joe Ginsberg, and George Zuverink.

It was sobering and almost surreal to recognize several old heroes that have passed away in the seventeen years since that October day in 1991: Mark Belanger, Pat Dobson, Dave McNally, Steve Barber, Elrod Hendricks, Cal Ripken, Sr., and certainly others. It truly was like seeing the old White Sox players emerge from the cornfield as Kevin Costner looked on in amazement.

The final man out of the dugout was Earl Weaver; as the dozens of Baltimore's household names moved away from their old positions and formed a circle around the infield for a 360-degree photograph, the legendary O's manager wandered over to the empty hole where home plate had just been uprooted and kicked at the dirt for old times' sake. As the ceremony came to an end, the players milled about; old friends and teammates reminiscing and current, younger players like Mike Mussina and Arthur Rhodes introducing themselves to their predecessors. Scott Garceau and Keith Mills sat in the TV booth and observed that none of these men seemed like they wanted to leave.

It was abundantly clear that Rick Dempsey didn't want to go. The "Dipper", who had spent 12 seasons as a defensive specialist behind the plate in Baltimore and had been embraced by the city and its fans for his infectious enthusiasm and offbeat antics, wandered over to the third base side of the field and led one more crowd cheer, contorting his body to spell "O! R! I! O! L! E! S!". He reappeared a few moments later, his jersey stuffed with padding, and brought his famous rain delay pantomime out of mothballs. He stood in the batters' box, mimicked a mighty swing of a bat, and took off around the bases, imitating Babe Ruth's iconic home run trot. As he came down the third base line, a mob of former Birds dissipated just enough for him to belly flop dramatically home. The crowd, which had been on its feet and in full throat through it all, roared their approval.

There may be a time and a place to play the fool. But on a day when many were struggling to say goodbye to their home away from home, a building and an atmosphere rich with nearly forty years of baseball history, Rick Dempsey left them laughing.