Furman Bisher was the best

Ed Hinton said it best for ESPN.com: Furman Bisher set the standard.

I read Mr. Bisher's 1966 collection of baseball oddities in his book "Strange but True Baseball Stories" around 1970 at Belfast Middle School. (Books that came out in 1966 typically took at least four more years to reach Belfast. But that's OK. I still have the book and my 9-year-old signature remains on the inside cover.)

In the foreword to "Strange but True Baseball Stories," Furman Bisher writes: "There is a popular misconception that baseball is a game played nine men to the side. This is for narrow people, those who believe that horseshoes can be played only by horses. Baseball can be played by any number from two on up. It can be played late at night, early in the morning, in the middle of the afternoon, even in the dead of winter, around a pot-bellied stove. As long as two people get together who like to tell stories, baseball can be played anywhere."

While not quite to the literary level of Steinbeck's "East of Eden" or even "Cannery Row," Mr. Bisher's book was – and is – a classic to me.

He wrote about a one-armed outfielder named Pete Wyshner and a one-legged pitcher and World War II veteran named Lou Brissie.

He wrote about the 1957 World Series "shoeshine pitch" and Vernal "Nippy" Jones who played for the Milwaukee Braves and proved that he was hit by a pitch because the baseball had a spot of shoe polish on it. (He came to bat for Hall of Fame pitcher Warren Spahn and helped the Braves beat the Yankees in seven games.)

He wrote about Gene Rye who, in 1930, once hit three home runs in one game for the Waco, Texas team.

He wrote about little Eddie Gaedel, who played in one game in the 1950s for the St. Louis Browns. Eddie was all of 3 feet, 7 inches tall. He walked on four pitches.

Furman Bisher died this week at 93.

Ed Hinton knew Mr. Bisher. I didn't. But 40 years ago, I felt like I did. That's what good writers can do to you. Reading men like Furman Bisher was almost as good as having a cold draft beer with them at the Eagles.

Ed Hinton wrote this week that "Judas Priest!" was Mr. Bisher's favorite exclamation. 

"He'd gotten it from Branch Rickey, the man who'd brought Jackie Robinson into baseball," Hinton said.

Of course, Branch Rickey has a well-known connection to Portsmouth, Ohio, as all baseball fans know.

Hinton also said that Mr. Bisher advised him: "Keep a clear eye on writing columns. Don't ever be steered by what others may be writing."

That is excellent advice. It's also one of many reasons I have not read one single edition of any any other newspaper publication in Highland County for the past three years. As I try to coach younger writers: Be original. Be yourself. Write what you know. And never, ever worry about what someone else is writing. 

"Furman Bisher was fearless but he was not brutal," Hinton said. "And he damn sure wasn't a hypocrite."

I knew I liked Furman Bisher for some reason!

"Written or spoken, Furman Bisher's words always resounded. Always," Hinton said. "A tiny excerpt thunders in my mind on this, the day after his passing, this past Sunday evening of a heart attack: 'I knew Ty Cobb, who fixed baseball games, and Shoeless Joe Jackson, who didn't … and Herman 'Turtle' Beam, the slowest stock car racer who ever lived … He had included a journeyman racer in a litany of dozens if not hundreds of great sports characters he'd known, in a speech he delivered upon his induction into the National Sportscasters and Sportswriters Hall of Fame."

That's class.

For me, a lasting memory of Furman Bisher will always be his story of a Daytona Beach minor league pitcher whose coach, Dickie Kerr, was a winning pitcher in two games for the 1919 Chicago White Sox in the World Series against the Cincinnati Reds. (Kerr and Shoeless Joe Jackson were teammates and had stellar Series performances amid the gambling scandal.)

Anyway, Kerr was coaching in the minors in Florida in 1940 and he had a good pitcher, who also played a little outfield because he had a pretty good stick. After making a somersault catch one day in the outfield, the pitcher messed up his arm. It would never again have the same throwing motion. The player was about to give up on his baseball career when Kerr invited Branch Rickey to see him play.

After an at-bat or two, Rickey decided that the player wasn't a pitcher. He was a hitter.

He retired in 1963 after leading the National League in hitting seven times. He collected 3,630 hits. He hit 475 homers and drove in almost 2,000 runs. In a 22-year career, he batted .331.

Hall of Famer Stan Musial was once a minor league pitcher in Daytona, Fla.

I only know this because in 1966 Furman Bisher wrote about it, the Belfast School Library promoted the book and my parents paid for it. They should be happy to know it was money well spent.

I'm glad that Ed Hinton and a few others remember Mr. Bisher. He was one of two legendary Georgia newspapermen who attracted me to this wonderful business. (The other was Lewis Grizzard, with whom I used to share space on a Saturday Opinion Page years ago.)

Godspeed, Furman Bisher. Thanks for writing about sports with real sports fans in mind. Sorry you and Paul "Bear" Bryant never worked things out. You'll have that.

Rory Ryan once struck out four times in a single game for Jim Dandy Cumberland in 1970.

Ed Hinton said it best for ESPN.com: Furman Bisher set the standard.

I read Mr. Bisher's 1966 collection of baseball oddities in his book "Strange but True Baseball Stories" around 1970 at Belfast Middle School. (Books that came out in 1966 typically took at least four more years to reach Belfast. But that's OK. I still have the book and my 9-year-old signature remains on the inside cover.)

In the foreword to "Strange but True Baseball Stories," Furman Bisher writes: "There is a popular misconception that baseball is a game played nine men to the side. This is for narrow people, those who believe that horseshoes can be played only by horses. Baseball can be played by any number from two on up. It can be played late at night, early in the morning, in the middle of the afternoon, even in the dead of winter, around a pot-bellied stove. As long as two people get together who like to tell stories, baseball can be played anywhere."

While not quite to the literary level of Steinbeck's "East of Eden" or even "Cannery Row," Mr. Bisher's book was – and is – a classic to me.

He wrote about a one-armed outfielder named Pete Wyshner and a one-legged pitcher and World War II veteran named Lou Brissie.

He wrote about the 1957 World Series "shoeshine pitch" and Vernal "Nippy" Jones who played for the Milwaukee Braves and proved that he was hit by a pitch because the baseball had a spot of shoe polish on it. (He came to bat for Hall of Fame pitcher Warren Spahn and helped the Braves beat the Yankees in seven games.)

He wrote about Gene Rye who, in 1930, once hit three home runs in one game for the Waco, Texas team.

He wrote about little Eddie Gaedel, who played in one game in the 1950s for the St. Louis Browns. Eddie was all of 3 feet, 7 inches tall. He walked on four pitches.

Furman Bisher died this week at 93.

Ed Hinton knew Mr. Bisher. I didn't. But 40 years ago, I felt like I did. That's what good writers can do to you. Reading men like Furman Bisher was almost as good as having a cold draft beer with them at the Eagles.

Ed Hinton wrote this week that "Judas Priest!" was Mr. Bisher's favorite exclamation. 

"He'd gotten it from Branch Rickey, the man who'd brought Jackie Robinson into baseball," Hinton said.

Of course, Branch Rickey has a well-known connection to Portsmouth, Ohio, as all baseball fans know.

Hinton also said that Mr. Bisher advised him: "Keep a clear eye on writing columns. Don't ever be steered by what others may be writing."

That is excellent advice. It's also one of many reasons I have not read one single edition of any other newspaper publication in Highland County for the past three years. As I try to coach younger writers: Be original. Be yourself. Write what you know. And never, ever worry about what someone else is writing. Let them worry about what you're writing. 

"Furman Bisher was fearless but he was not brutal," Hinton said. "And he damn sure wasn't a hypocrite."

I knew I liked Furman Bisher for some reason!

"Written or spoken, Furman Bisher's words always resounded. Always," Hinton said. "A tiny excerpt thunders in my mind on this, the day after his passing, this past Sunday evening of a heart attack: 'I knew Ty Cobb, who fixed baseball games, and Shoeless Joe Jackson, who didn't … and Herman 'Turtle' Beam, the slowest stock car racer who ever lived …


"He had included a journeyman racer in a litany of dozens if not hundreds of great sports characters he'd known, in a speech he delivered upon his induction into the National Sportscasters and Sportswriters Hall of Fame."

That's class.

For me, a lasting memory of Furman Bisher will always be his story of a Daytona Beach minor league pitcher whose coach, Dickie Kerr, was a winning pitcher in two games for the 1919 Chicago White Sox in the World Series against the Cincinnati Reds. (Kerr and Shoeless Joe Jackson were teammates and had stellar Series performances amid the gambling scandal.)

Anyway, Kerr was coaching in the minors in Florida in 1940 and he had a good pitcher, who also played a little outfield because he had a pretty good stick. After making a somersault catch one day in the outfield, the pitcher messed up his arm. It would never again have the same throwing motion. The player was about to give up on his baseball career when Kerr invited Branch Rickey to see him play.

After an at-bat or two, Rickey decided that the player wasn't a pitcher. He was a
hitter.

He retired in 1963 after leading the National League in hitting seven times. He collected 3,630 hits. He hit 475 homers and drove in almost 2,000 runs. In a 22-year career, he batted .331.

Hall of Famer Stan Musial was once a minor league pitcher in Daytona, Fla.

I only know this because in 1966 Furman Bisher wrote about it, the Belfast School Library promoted the book and my parents paid for it. They should be happy to know it was money well spent.

I'm glad that Ed Hinton and a few others remember Mr. Bisher. He was one of two legendary Georgia newspapermen who attracted me to this wonderful business. (The other was Lewis Grizzard, with whom I used to share space on a Saturday Opinion Page years ago.)

Godspeed, Furman Bisher. Thanks for writing about sports with real sports fans in mind. Sorry you and Paul "Bear" Bryant never worked things out. You'll have that.