Jim Qualls vs. Tom Seaver

Part of my 2011 Christmas haul

I finally watched the recent episode of Studio 42 with Bob Costas in which he sat down with Tom Seaver up in Cooperstown to talk about Tom Terrific's career. There was some great stuff in there, particularly Seaver's opinion of the use of today's pitchers. But he also talked about his "imperfect game" in 1969. When asked about Jim Qualls, who got the lone hit -- who was the only baserunner -- in that game, Seaver said he'd never faced the guy before, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever faced him after that.

So of course I had to look it up. I went to Baseball Reference's Play Index and drew up all of Qualls' appearances against Hall of Fame pitchers:

	PA	AB	H	2B	3B	HR	RBI	BB	SO	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	SH	SF	IBB	HBP	GDP	missG
Tom Seaver	6	6	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	.167	.167	.167	.333	0	0	0	0	0
Don Sutton	6	6	2	0	0	0	0	0	0	.333	.333	.333	.667	0	0	0	0	0
Bob Gibson	4	4	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.000	.000	.000	.000	0	0	0	0	0
Don Drysdale	2	2	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.000	.000	.000	.000	0	0	0	0	0
Juan Marichal	2	2	0	0	0	0	0	0	1	.000	.000	.000	.000	0	0	0	0	0
Gaylord Perry	2	2	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	.500	.500	.500	1.000	0	0	0	0	0
Catfish Hunter	1	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.000	.000	.000	.000	0	0	0	0	0
Phil Niekro	1	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.000	.000	.000	.000	0	0	0	0	0

Provided by Baseball-Reference.com: View Play Index Tool Used
Generated 12/28/2011.

Not much there. The hit in the ninth against Seaver on July 9, 1969, was Qualls' only one against The Franchise, and he had only three other hits -- of 31 in his career -- off future Hall of Famers. Seaver wasn't sure if he'd faced Qualls outside of that game, but he did, the following week in Chicago. Seaver allowed five hits and a walk and lost, 1-0. Qualls went 0-for-3.

But back to 7/9/69 -- how unlikely was Qualls' hit against Seaver? Qualls' career was so brief (144 plate appearances in three seasons, spread over four years with three teams) that he has no comparables on Baseball Reference. And a search of other players with 130-150 career PA and an OPS under .600 (Qualls' was .540) mostly gives you pitchers. So a present-day comparison might be Argenis Reyes -- or any number of pitchers -- breaking up a Justin Verlander perfecto with two outs to go. Or, from the last perfect game in the Majors, Roy Halladay against the Marlins in May 2010, the equivalent might be Bryan Peterson getting the hit in the ninth to spoil perfection.

Perfection is not easy -- duh -- and though the Mets one day will pitch a no-hitter (they have to, right?), there's no telling if any of us will see a perfect game from the Amazin's anytime soon. If anyone was going to do it, it probably would've been Seaver against those Cubs in the summer of '69, just one week before Apollo 11 launched for the Moon.

Yogi's the first

1969 Mets reunion

I've met Yogi Berra a couple of times but never had a chance to get his autograph. I remedied that today at a show in Secaucus, immersing myself in a sea of Yankee fans to do so.

But rather than go with a black-and-white 8x10 photo in the true Yankee Stadium or the ubiquitous Hall of Fame postcard, I had the idea to recognize his Mets tenure, hence this photo. My hope is to fill it in with the other five -- Nolan Ryan, Jerry Grote, Tom Seaver, Jerry Koosman and Duffy Dyer. I've got Ryan and Seaver separately on other items, but I'd love to get them all together here.

And so the quest begins...

Jamie Moyer HAS played a long time

I was reading this piece on Jamie Moyer over at Seamheads and was struck by a remarkable occurrence, prompted by a tidbit I hadn't remembered: Moyer was one of the players who went with Rafael Palmeiro to the Rangers in the deal that brought Mitch Williams to Chicago. Palmeiro, like Moyer, came up in 1986, but he's now been retired five years and is on the Hall of Fame ballot.

So now get this: Should Roberto Alomar or Jeff Bagwell be elected when the results are announced in January, both players will have started and finished their careers and been elected to the Hall of Fame within the span of Moyer's career. That is, those players debuted after Moyer did (1988 for Alomar, 1991 for Bagwell), retired before he did (2004 for Alomar, 2005 for Bagwell) and were elected before Moyer's retirement. Even though the results are announced in January and the players are inducted in July 2011, the voting takes place in 2010. And even if Moyer's last Major League pitch came on July 20, 2010, he still pitched in the year of election for those players (should they get in). Of course, if Moyer comes back as he hopes in 2012, that will make this whole exercise that much easier.

In any case, it's pretty crazy that a player's career could see its genesis in the form of a Major League debut, conclusion with retirement and denouement in induction to the Hall of Fame. But it's happened before.

Nolan Ryan played in more seasons, 27, than any player in history. He debuted with the Mets in 1966 and retired with the Rangers in 1993, throwing his last pitch on Sept. 22, 1993. In between, five players came, went and were enshrined. Ryan's Mets teammate Tom Seaver debuted in 1967, last pitched in 1986 and was inducted in 1992; Johnny Bench came up in '67, retired in '83 and was inducted in '89; Rod Carew came on the scene in '67, retired in '85 and went into Cooperstown in 1991; Reggie Jackson debuted in '67, retired in '87 and received his plaque in '93; and finally, Rollie Fingers threw his first pitch in 1968, retired in 1985 and went into the Hall with Seaver in '92.

This is by no means a definitive list (for one thing, Roberto Clemente's untimely death and the waiver of the five-year waiting period that allowed his induction in 1973 meant that Hall of Famers Willie Mays, Al Kaline, Harmon Killebrew and Hank Aaron all debuted before Clemente and were still playing the summer of his induction), but it's pretty remarkable that the careers of some players, like Moyer or Ryan, can span the career and induction of others.

Visiting the Hall

It's Hall of Fame weekend, an event I've been to once and hope to get to again soon.

The first visit was in 1992, for Tom Seaver's induction. I'm too young to remember all but a little of Seaver's career. Though I should've been aware of his 300th win at Yankee Stadium, I wasn't, and I only remember shots of him on TV sitting in the Boston dugout during the 1986 World Series, injured and unable to pitch. And then I remember the following spring when he attempted one final comeback with the Mets. But I'd done a book report in school on a biography of Seaver and my parents had been big fans, so we took a family trip to Cooperstown 18 years ago this weekend.

I have few pictures from that weekend, most of which are from the Hall of Fame game at Doubleday Field. Instead, my friend Matt (he and his sister, Christy, came along with us) and I spent the weekend using a friend's borrowed video camera to record the events. I'm hoping to digitize that footage this weekend. The bulk of the Cooperstown photos I do have are from a previous visit, when my family stopped over for a day on the way to our usual August vacation in Maine. Unfortunately, those shots were taken with my cheap first camera, a Kodak disc contraption, and some low-quality scans are the best I could do from some low-quality prints.

I haven't been back to Cooperstown since '92, and I long to get back. I keep considering a return -- ideally in the crisp, cool fall or during the quiet, cold winter -- and may finally make a point of it before next season. I'd also like to take advantage of the research opportunities at the library, but first I'd have to narrow my focus or I'll be overwhelmed. And in addition to any visits in the near future, I've also set aside induction weekend a few years into the future, when Mike Piazza's Mets-cap-clad visage is unveiled.

Explanations out of the way, here is how I saw the Hall as a soon-to-be-12-year-old in 1988 and the Hall of Fame Game (which I've already recounted) in 1992.

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Mets -- and baseball -- history on iTunes

Happened to be browsing through the games available for purchase at Baseball's Best on iTunes and noticed these Mets-related gems:

Game 5 of the 1969 World Series

Game 3 of the 1986 NLCS

Game 6 of the 1986 NLCS

Game 6 of the 1986 World Series

Game 7 of the 1986 World Series

Game 5 of the 1999 NLCS (Ventura's "grand slam single")

Plus, these heartbreaking or bittersweet games:

Sept. 16, 1978, Tom Seaver's no-hitter

Game 4 of the 1988 NLCS (Scioscia and Gibson homer as L.A. wins in extras)

May 14, 1996, Dwight Gooden's no-hitter

July 18, 1999, David Cone's perfect game

Game 2 of the 2000 World Series (Clemens' roid rage)

And, for a bit of schadenfeude:

Game 7 of the 1993 World Series (Joe Carter's walk-off)

Game 7 of the 2001 World Series (Luis Gonzalez singles off Mariano Rivera)

The new Topps

2010 Topps 1 front

Every year, I buy myself a pack or two of the new Topps cards to see what they've come up with, and this year I may be buying quite a few more. The new design is one of the best in recent memory, and their cards of late haven't even been that bad. Compare that to 20 years ago, when the 1990 set looked like something out of the '70s (though the '70s sets weren't even that garish) and couldn't even coordinate colors for the same team.

This Prince Fielder card happens to be No. 1 in the set, starting the collection off with a bang by using a great photo from Fielder's walk-off shot on Sept. 6 last season. This card didn't come in my first pack; after that initial purchase, I bought a small box -- I think it was the "cereal box," the one with Gehrig on it, it turns out -- and when I got home to open them, I noticed that each one contained a Gold Refractor card. "Hope I get Seaver," I thought.

And then I got it. Sweet!

I also found Jeff Samardzija, Carlos Delgado('s last card/last card as a Met), Victor Martinez and Andrew McCutchen, among others. The team logo -- taken from the jersey front, it seems -- as a means to ID the club is unique and one of the first things that jumped out at me, especially on the McCutchen and V-Mart cards. The backs are sharp, too, with the hat logo and a clean, easy-to-read design, especially on one loaded with stats like Delgado's.

But these days, it seems the point of collecting isn't the cards of current players; it's the subsets and bonus cards in each box. The Seaver in the "cereal box" was a good start. As I went through the cards, I found Peak Performance cards of Ty Cobb and Tris Speaker, History of the Game featuring Cal Ripken and Bill Mazeroski, Tales of the Game reminding us of Wade Boggs' chicken infatuation, Legendary Lineage linking Roy Halladay (thankfully in a Blue Jays uniform) with Seaver and pairing Frank Thomas with Fielder, and something called the Turkey Red subset (from which I got Mark Teixeira and Johnny Bench). My favorite is probably the When They Were Young group, depicting today's stars as children -- and it's not even limited to Little League photos.

The big subset/promotion/gimmick this year, though, is The Cards Your Mother Threw Out. My first one? A 1993 Chuck McElroy! Score! At least, that's the first one I got with the code, allowing me to have the actual card sent to me if I choose. (I suspect I'll pass.) But in the "cereal box," I did get two replicas. The cool one was a 1974 Dave Winfield, his first card. The front is a high-def reproduction of the card itself; the back, which I didn't scan, describes the history of the card and/or player that year. The second I opened wasn't as exciting -- a 2008 Tim Lincecum. I mean, those cards are two years old! I bought some that year. I think I may have this actual card. I understand the idea of including every year in this historical promotion, but it just seems funny to me. Though, I shouldn't complain (and I'm not, really); that '08 Lincecum is still better than a '93 McElroy.

Unfortunately, I don't know how many of these cards I'll eventually get. The price today is just too prohibitive. I can't imagine being a kid today and finding myself that interested in baseball cards. Unless allowances have kept up with the rate of inflation, how can a kid afford to collect cards on a summer-lawn-mowing income? And for the completists, how can you ever feel satisfied about collecting an entire set when sets these days include so many rare and valuable cards, from autographs to relics and the like, that anyone who manages to legitimately collect a full set probably spent as much money doing so as the most valuable piece in the set is worth. Still, I'm sure I'll buy a few more packs, another box or two. I'll keep the purchases to extra additions when I'm at Target or some place for another reason -- no more walking down to the corner drug store for the sole purpose of buying baseball cards. Sadly, those days have gone the way of my dirt bike and, well, the corner drug store not named CVS or Walgreens.

I'm askin', can you see?

Been a bit busy the last couple of days. On Monday, I only got four hours of sleep, took care of some things in the morning, then napped in the afternoon before work. Tuesday, I was out of the house all day, then did the same on Wednesday, when my wife, a friend from work and I drove to Philadelphia for the Mitchell & Ness sale. (I went in without a wish list, figuring I'd see what was available, and came away with three jerseys, three hats and a pennant of the Colorado Rockies -- not the baseball team, but the hockey team that would one day become the New Jersey Devils. One of the jerseys is right up there. I never really considered it, having only seen it online, because I have a current road jersey featuring David Wright's name and number and figured that filled the need. But seeing this one in person -- the blue and orange of the "NEW YORK," sans drop shadow, standing out so nicely from the gray flannel -- had me hooked. Then I went onto eBay and bought the home version of the Tom Seaver for $100, shipping included. I even saw the strangely numbered Tug McGraw, but had no desire for it.)

Anyway, I have three of the next four days off from work, so I hope to catch up on some posts, both timely as the news of the days warrant, and others I've saved drafts of with the intention of filling them out eventually. That list of drafts has gotten a little long for my tastes.

So we'll get to that, soon. For now, MLB.com columnist Mike Bauman seems to have decided that if MLB is going to try to speed up the pace of games from the first pitch to the final out, why not try to pick up the pace on the national anthem, too. Really? That's the column you felt had to be written? I find some anthem singers grating, too, but it's not the cause I'd choose if I had that kind of a platform.

Baseball history in living color

Love this photo of former teammates Tom Seaver and Nolan Ryan at the 1972 All-Star Game in Atlanta. The pic comes from the outstanding Steve's Baseball Photography Pages, which I've casually browsed through before but had not fully investigated. This morning, I merely scrolled through the main page, but there are still the links to team galleries left to explore.

Last year, I made a resolution on my photo blog to take at least one picture a day and post it. I kept to that promise and enjoyed both the process and the results. My hope for 2010 is to be more active on this blog and my personal one (I like to keep the baseball and photos separate from everything else, for some reason). And one way I hope to generate new content for myself is to finally sit down and scan in all the photos I took with my SLR back in the days before I went digital. There were a lot of baseball pics in particular (from the '90s on), so hopefully I can post some of those here.

But for now, there's plenty to see on Steve's pages.

Acing Opening Day

After losing their first eight Opening Days from 1962 to 1969, the Mets finally got their first W on the season's first day in 1970, when they beat the Pirates, 5-3, in 11 innings. From that day forward, they're 31-9 on Opening Day following today's game in Cincinnati, and that .775 winning percentage is baseball's best in that span. Add in those eight losses for a 31-17 mark, and the .646 winning percentage still leads MLB.

Unlike some won-loss records in baseball, this one has some weight to it. Whereas some team-vs.-team records (or pitcher-vs.-team records) are a bit hollow -- because the players on both sides change, rendering the numbers little more than uniform-vs.-uniform -- the Mets' Opening Day mark is an indication of just how strong the front of their rotation has been over the past four decades. If the franchise has come to be known for developing a certain type of player over its nearly 50-year existence, starting pitching is it.

A look at their Opening Day starters shows a few Hall of Famers or potential Hall of Famers (and one who was believed ticketed for Cooperstown before derailing his career with substance abuse): Tom Seaver, Dwight Gooden, Tom Glavine and Johan Santana among them. Seaver started 11 openers, including 10 straight from 1968-77; Gooden had eight scattered from 1985-94; Glavine took the ball for four of the five from 2003-07, with Pedro Martinez getting the other one; and Santana has had the last two.

Those five hurlers account for 26 of the 48 openers including today, and with this afternoon's win, the Mets' record in those 26 games is 19-8. Also scattered in there are starts by Bobby Ojeda (a win in 1987), David Cone (a win in 1992), Al Leiter (a loss in 1999, wins in 2001 and '02) and Mike Hampton (a loss in 2000). Those arms don't belong to journeymen, at least not at that stage of their careers (particularly in Hampton's case, who was an ace when he arrived via trade but quickly fell to journeyman status when he signed with Colorado). They were all considered solid No. 1 starters, if not traditional aces, and their Opening Day starts led to a 4-2 mark, bringing the team's record in this selection of games to 23-10.

With that kind of pedigree on the arms the Mets have sent to the hill for the first pitch of the season, it's no wonder they've won more than 75 percent of their season openers since 1970 and 64 percent overall.

Stories of Seaver and Ryan on the Network

I've been watching MLB Network here and there, both at work and at home, and I really should start keeping it on in the background or as my default channel for idle loafing. ("Idle loafing" -- not oxymoronic, just hyper-loaf-like.)

First, there was the second part of an interview with Tom Seaver on "MLB Tonight" in which he talks about the Hall of Fame's Induction Weekend. The best part -- his favorite part, he said -- is the Sunday night dinner. There are only three types of people allowed into the room: Hall of Famers, the Commissioner of baseball and the president of the Hall of Fame (and, presumably, the catering staff, so I guess that's four types).

If I could have access to any room anywhere in the world -- perhaps at any time in history -- that room would be in the top five. Off the top of my head, I'd add: Independence Hall when they were hashing out the Declaration of Independence; the Oval Office at some seminal moment in history, perhaps when FDR learned about Pearl Harbor (or when, if the legend is true, he learned of a possible attack ahead of time and decided to let it happen to justify entering the U.S. into World War II); a pop-culture moment or two, like when Bruce Springsteen met Clarence Clemons or played "Thunder Road" for the first time, or when Jack Kerouac met Allen Ginsberg or Neal Cassady; and the ballroom or wherever Martin Luther King Jr. gave his "Mountaintop" speech the night before he was killed.

But back to the Hall of Famers dinner. Can you imagine that room? Seaver, Bob Gibson, Stan Musial, Reggie Jackson, Mike Schmidt, Ralph Kiner, Hank Aaron. And so many more. But maybe I wouldn't want to be in that room some day -- because it would mean I'd have to leave.

Later on the Network -- now, actually, as I wrap up at the office -- is a re-airing of Nolan Ryan's seventh no-hitter, from May 1, 1991. I remember reading about it the next morning. In New Jersey, of course, we didn't get the game on TV, and there was no MLB.TV or Extra Innings package on cable (not that my family had cable in 1991). It doesn't even appear that it aired locally in Texas. I've only been half-listening, but I got the impression that this was the Blue Jays broadcast. Part of what led me to that conclusion was one announcer -- the color commentator, so presumably a former player (he sounds young, and not like a veteran TV/radio man) -- noted how Ryan grunted when he threw his fastball. "Nolan only grunts on the fastball. As a hitter, if you can pick up on that, you know it's a fastball. He doesn't grunt when he throws a curveball."

But then there's the matter of physics -- light travels faster than sound, so by the time the batter hears the grunt, it's too late to catch up to the fastball.

Looking back on the 1992 Hall of Fame Game

Like most of baseball, I went about my day last Monday as I normally would. I didn't take any time out of my day to visit MLB.com and listen to the coverage of the Hall of Fame from Cooperstown, the annual exhibition that used to be played the Monday following Induction Weekend. The Cubs and Padres were to play, but Mother Nature had other ideas and washed out the game.

At first, I didn't care. It didn't bother me that an exhibition game I had barely paid attention to over the past 15 years wouldn't be played anymore. It wasn't until I read Tom Verducci's "Requiem for the Game" that I realized that I will miss it, even if I rarely acknowledged it was there.

The truth is, the Hall of Fame Game has changed twice recently and wasn't what it was in 1992, when my family and I saw the Mets and White Sox face off following the inductions of Tom Seaver and Rollie Fingers. The first was in 1997, when Interleague Play came along and made a Mets-White Sox or any other NL-AL matchup less unique. As a result, baseball relaxed its rules on choosing one team from each league for the game, bringing the Dodgers and Padres to town that year. (In 1986, the Royals and Rangers played the first intraleague HOF Game, but it didn't become a frequent occurrence until 1997.) The second change was in 2003, when the Phillies (with minor league lefty Cole Hamels on the mound) and Rays played on June 16, moving the game off of Induction Weekend.

I was 15 in the summer of '92, so there was no widespread internet, let along blogs (we called them "diaries" or "journals" back then), so I don't know that I've ever written down my memories of that weekend. I do have video of it. We borrowed a camera from a family friend and my buddy Matt and I used it to record some of the induction (it was the first held at the Clark Sports Center on the outskirts of Cooperstown, instead of at the actual Hall of Fame, because of renovations there) and our tour through the museum. Not adept in video editing -- and, again, not having the computer technology of "digital" and "iMovie" -- we created a soundtrack by ... fastening headphones to the camera's microphone with rubber bands, and playing a cassette tape in a Walkman. We called it "Coop '92," and I really need to find out where that is and watch it again.

But as for the HOF Game itself, we hadn't been able to purchase tickets before they sold out, so my mom volunteered to go over to Doubleday Field the morning of the game and wait on line for standby tickets, should any be released because of cancellations or whatever causes people to pass up an opportunity to see Major League players at a town ballfield. While she waited, Matt and I continued to explore town, particularly shops selling baseball cards, and walked around the ballpark. We met up with Mom at a designated time (because, say it with me, no cellphones then, either) and she announced that she had secured three tickets. That's all we needed, because my sister and Matt's had no interest in going, and since they were two years younger, couldn't really be allowed to roam Cooperstown by themselves for three hours, so my dad volunteered to chaperone them.

While standing in line, my mom took note of all the uniformed Mets personnel who walked past her on their way from the dugout to the only men's room at the ballpark, a park-like facility with concrete floors and, I imagine, troughs that was accessible only from the parking lot. I think she was most excited to see Howard Johnson. She was also soon approached by a man who had come to turn in three tickets he couldn't use. There were two pairs (probably a purchase limit) that weren't together, and his wife would be sitting in one of the seats, so after chatting up my mom, he felt comfortable having her sit with his spouse. "It's better than turning them in and not knowing what she'll get," he said. So Mom became friends for an afternoon with some guy's wife, and Matt and I sat only a few rows up from the field down the left-field line.

Bobby Jones -- that would be Bobby J. Jones, the Mets' first-round draft pick the previous year -- was called up from nearby Double-A Binghamton to make the start, and he carried a perfect game into the seventh inning. He and two other hurlers combined on the only one-hitter in HOF Game history. The Mets won, 3-0, on a solo home run by Chico Walker (who, until I looked up the history of this game, I didn't not recall as a Met for a single at-bat) and a two-run double by Daryl Boston, both of which happened in the eighth inning.

Boston played left field, so we saw a lot of him -- particularly late in the game, when he started acknowledging us and getting the crowd along the line to chant his name. He and right fielder Dave Gallagher were engaged in a competition to see who could get the fans on his side of the field to cheer his name louder. I'm pretty sure we won it for Daryl.

Other than wanting to see Seaver (he ignored me on his way into the ballpark -- my closest chance at getting his autograph in my lifetime) and White Sox third baseman Robin Ventura (who won the pregame home run derby, which I don't remember, so we might not have had our tickets yet), I don't recall what my expectations were for the game. (It wasn't the best of Mets teams, though they did have a former Yankee starting at second base -- Willie Randolph.) I marveled at the houses just beyond the outfield fence, clearly the best real estate in Cooperstown, I believed then -- before I became a homeowner and would have to be concerned about things like broken windows. But if you're going to have your windows broken by an errant baseball, wouldn't you rather it be from someone in a Major League uniform than the neighbors' kid? And before the game, when Matt and I were for some reason separated inside the ballpark, he recounted a scene he witnessed along the right-field line, when the Mets' John Franco took a liking to one fan's hat commemorating the game and traded his team-issued on-field cap for the fan's commemorative lid. Even though he was a Yankees fan, I think Matt felt a little disappointment that Franco didn't notice his hat first and offer the trade.

But now those moments are gone forever. As Verducci and Hal Bodley lamented, the HOF Game was an important link of baseball's present and past. Both writers alluded to the big-shot player who expresses disdain at having to trek to upstate New York during the middle of the season, yet once he arrives and gets a tour and sees the quaint field nestled in the center of the quaint town, reverses course and voices his appreciation at having made the trip.

It's a shame the game has to die, but I can see why. Verducci touches on all of them. But why can't baseball fix it, instead of pulling the plug? The NFL has it right, but making the game a preseason exhibition tied to its inductions. But baseball can't have a preseason game in upstate New York, not when local residents haven't put away their shovels for the season yet in late March. What MLB could do is extend the All-Star break by a day -- some teams get both the Wednesday and Thursday after the game off anyway -- and stage the game on that Thursday. Every team would be off, making scheduling easier. Or simply choose from among the teams that have that extra day after the Midsummer Classic. There are only four games -- that's 22 teams off -- playing that day this year.

Baseball keeps moving further and further away from the small-town, easily accessible game it was long before I was born. Many of these changes are natural, necessary and inevitable. But some of them -- like bringing the big stars of the Cubs and Padres, or any other combo of teams, to a small town in upstate New York where the game is celebrated year-round -- don't have to be made. It's a shame that this one was.