Just as politics are the last refuge of scoundrels, the internet is the hideout of dumb-bells.  And no rumor has gotten as much general circulation as the idiotic supposition that the legendary Lions quarterback “cursed” his former team when the Lions traded #22 to the Pittsburgh Steelers two games into the 1958 NFL season.

Yes, the trade came as a huge shock to the town where Layne had ruled as the premier sports figure since he came here in a trade in 1950.  And the Lions had just come off a World’s Championship 1957 season (the pre-expansion equivalent of the Super Bowl), the team’s third such championship in six years and their fourth visit to the season-ending title game in that time.  So the trade of Layne was a stunner, one that echoes down to the present day … for two obvious reasons.  One is that 1957 was the last time the Lions would come close to a league championship, and local fans have suffered through a succession of mostly awful quarterbacks in the 52 years since Bobby last took to the turf at Briggs Stadium.  And secondly, because the franchise — certainly the most entertaining and colorful; arguably the most successful NFL team of the 1950s — was hijacked in the early ’60s by a cruel (ask some former employees) and clueless owner who ran that inherited glory right into the now-dilapidated grounds at Michigan and Trumbull.

Here are some at the top of my head.  What other rules are unwritten?

BASEBALL – Announcers, players and fans do not mention a no-hitter that is in progress; a bunt cannot end a no-hitter and an intentional hit-by-pitch cannot end a perfect game; when coming to the plate you do not cross in front of the catcher; when waiting for a pitcher to warm up, the player waits near his own dugout; when blowing out a team you do not take multiple pitches; a pitcher waits in the dugout until his stat line is completed

HOCKEY — When a fight is about to begin, do not fake out dropping your gloves; do not celebrate an empty net goal; don’t shoot the puck on net after the whistle blows; do not intentionally slide snow into the goalie’s face

BASKETBALL — Do not make plays to specifically enhance your stats; do not shoot 3-pointers with a big lead and plenty of time on the shot clock; don’t use a full-court press when your team has a large lead

FOOTBALL — Always take a knee when you have the ball and the lead late in a game; never keep all of your starters in when leading by a lot; never call for a fake punt or onside kick when leading by a lot

How’d he do it?  He corked his bat.

Don’t take my word for it.  Take his.  Cash was very open and honest about his illegal use of cork in ‘61.  “I owe my success” Cash said, ”to expansion pitching, a short right-field fence, and my hollow bats.”

The 1961 season was an incredible one for the Tigers and the American League.  The Tigers won an impressive 101 games, but finished second to the New York Yankees by 8 games.  Cash’s heroics made the season magical and has made him a legend in the minds of Tigers fans to this day.  His #25 jersey continues to be among the best sellers for former Tiger players.

In 1962, Cash stopped using his corked bats because he feared being caught.  His batting average dropped a whopping .118 points to .243.  It remains the largest consecutive season BA slide in Major League history for a batting champion.

Sadly, Norm Cash’s life ended prematurely on October 12, 1986 as he drowned just off Beaver Island in northern Lake Michigan.  He was only 51 years old.

The following is an excerpt of a piece I wrote on the Lindell AC for Hour Detroit magazine.

For half a century, the legendary Lindell AC bar in downtown Detroit was a mecca for visiting athletes, sports fans, hometown heroes, and media personalities who would feast on burgers, fries, onion rings, stories and a favorite drink, while surrounded by wall to wall photographs and museum quality sports memorabilia. The forerunner of its kind, USA Today once crowned it the “number one sports bar in America.”

When Johnny Butsicaris and his son Mel closed the storied saloon at Cass and Michigan under a flourish of media coverage, mourning patrons couldn’t accept the idea of “one last call”. After all, this was the place where Detroit Tiger players squeezed behind the bar and gave out free drinks to customers on the raucous evening the team clinched the 1968 pennant.

In 1949, Greek immigrant Meleti Butsicaris and his sons Johnny and Jimmy purchased the bar located in the seedy and since torn down Lindell Hotel at Cass and Bagley.

Thanks to a suggestion by Yankee infielder Billy Martin, ( who would later create his own Lindell legend) a sports theme was created in the mid 50’s with photographs and donated game used artifacts. Visiting athletes from all four sports stayed at the nearby Leland and Book-Cadillac Hotel and joined local scribes in adopting the watering spot as a favorite hideout. Before long, sports junkies began frequenting the bar to rub elbows with Mickey Mantle, Detroit athletes, and traveling entertainers like Milton Berle who were taken care of by the street wise Butsicaris boys.

When the bar relocated just down the street at Cass and Michigan in 1963, it officially became the Lindell AC (“Athletic Club”) thanks to the late Detroit News columnist Doc Greene, a regular drinking patron and the joint’s “Godfather”. It was Greene who added the moniker “Athletic Club” in a left hook aimed at the high brow Detroit Athletic Club (“DAC”) a few blocks away.

Pugilistic episodes in the 1960’s involving Lion star Alex Karras and Billy Martin along with two television films brought the bar national attention.

In 1963 NFL Commissioner Pete Rozelle suspended Karras and Packer Paul Hornung for gambling on games and ordered Karras to sell his one third partnership in the Lindell, claiming the bar was a haven for undesirable characters.

During his one year suspension Karras wrestled professionally. Six days prior to an Olympia Stadium bout against “Dick the Bruiser”, the two were involved in a Lindell brawl that tore up the bar and sent a handful of Detroit police officers to the hospital. Years later as a movie actor, Karras portrayed Jimmy Butsicaris in the CBS film, “Jimmy B and Andre”, the true story of how the tough bar owner had taken a young black ghetto kid under his wing.

Six years after the Karras-Bruiser donnybrook, Twins manager Billy Martin KO’d his own pitcher, Dave Boswell with 20 stitches in the alley behind the Lindell after the drunken hurler “sucker punched” teammate Bob Allison. A decade later, Martin and Jimmy B played themselves in the TV movie, “One In A Million: The Ron Leflore Story” which described how Butsicaris convinced then Tiger manager Martin to give Jackson Prison inmate and future All Star Leflore a baseball tryout.

A favorite pastime of Lindell patrons was walking through the bar and identifying the dozens of sports photographs and 8 by 10s of celebrities who had frequented the tavern.

With the closing of the Lindell, along with Reedy’s Saloon, and the Hummer in Corktown, Nemo’s on Michigan Avenue just east of the Tiger Stadium site is really the last of the true sports bars in downtown Detroit where players used to mix with the fans.

What a shame.

When the ballpark first opened in 2000, I went to 43 games and I sat in pretty much every seat and corner that the stadium had to offer. I frequently found myself in sparse crowds and it was pretty easy to get from one part of the stadium to the other. In those first days, I found the quiet location beneath the fountain as the best place to stay out of the heat, stay dry and get a great view of baseball.

Sometimes I become so “nostalgic,” that I can name all of the different restaurants that have called the right field location home. It is during these nostalgic moments that I recall how the centerfield “batter’s eye” had a number of spots that you could look through to watch the game from a unique vantage point. In the years that followed, crowds would begin to build up in this area and the club decided that a deep green tarp covering the fence would be the best plan of action. I no longer watch games from this location, instead this area has become a cool location to transition between left and right field.

On a side note, at Saturday night’s game I sat alongside my 3-year old nephew who was attending his second baseball game. I have mentioned previously that I am not a fan of the carousel or Ferris wheel as features at a ballpark. However, bringing a young child to a game will likely mean more times than not, that you will go round-and-round on one of these rides. Sitting for three hours of baseball is an acquired taste and I think encouraging children to enjoy baseball can come in different forms. A carousel in the middle of a food court may be one small part of Detroit’s version of enjoying baseball.

Let us know what your favorite location is within Comerica Park!

Tiger Joe let me slip through his post at Gate 13 to catch a glimpse of the action.  As soon as I walked through the tunnel leading to the field, I could hear “The Voice.”  It was the man from the radio who I listened to every time the Tigers played. 

My attention immediately turned to Mr. Harwell — and I ran right past Lance Parrish.  I was so excited to see Mr. Harwell that I went right up to him and shook his hand.  I told him, ”Mr. Harwell, I run the souvenir stand right across the street.  If you ever need any Tigers hats or souvenirs, just let me know!”

Ernie laughed and patted me on the head.  He thanked me and told me he’d be sure to do that.  I walked out of Tiger Stadium in complete awe.  Over the years, I have met many Tigers players — but the thrill of meeting Ernie Harwell tops them all.

A few years later, when my family opened The Designated Hatter (now Detroit Athletic Co.) just west of Tiger Stadium, Mr. Harwell was a frequent guest for book signings and autograph sessions.  His voice never failed to resonate throughout the building as fans lined up to shake his hand, share a story and take his picture. 

One of the most memorable moments for me was when a young boy (probably around 8 or 9) walked up to the table where Mr. Harwell was seated and asked if he could take his picture.  The boy pulled out a camera and pointed it at Mr. Harwell — but the poor little guy’s hands were shaking so badly, he couldn’t press the button to snap the photo.   The people in line behind the boy were obviously getting annoyed and the little boy’s hands started to shake even worse.  At that moment — a moment when most famous people would lose patience — Mr. Harwell smiled at the boy and kindly said, “Now son, take your time.”  The boy’s hands immediately stopped shaking, he steadied himself, and took the picture.

I will never forget that moment as long as I live.  In an instant, Mr. Harwell provided a lifetime lesson in patience and kindness with five simple words.  Ernie had an uncanny ability to make every person he spoke to feel as though they were the most important person in the world.  Even a 13-year old street vendor – and a boy with shaky hands.

Not surprisingly, Ernie gave one of the most memorable speeches the Hall of Fame has ever heard. The text of the speech is included below along with a slide show video that includes audio footage of the speech’s climactic ending: Ernie Harwell’s poetic Definition of Baseball:

Thank you, Ralph Kiner and thank you folks for that warm Cooperstown welcome. This is an award that I will certainly cherish forever. I praise the Lord here today. I know that all my talent and all my ability comes from him, and without him I’m nothing and I thank him for his great blessing. I’d like for you to meet my very best friend and she is my best friend despite the fact that this month we celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary, Lulu Harwell. Lulu, will you stand up please. My son, Bill, right next to her, his wife Diane, their youngsters, my son, Gray, his wife Sandy, and their three youngsters, and my daughters, Julie and Carolyn.

I’m very proud of this award, but I’m even more proud of my family. You know the life and times of Ernie Harwell could be capsuled I think in two famous quotations, one from a left handed New York Yankee pitcher and the other one from a right handed English poet. The Yankee pitcher, Lefty Gomez, once said, “I’d rather be lucky than good. ” And the poet, Alfred Lord Tennyson, once wrote in his epic poem Ulysses, “I am a part of all that I have met.” Well, I know that I’m a lot luckier than I’m good. I’ve been lucky to broadcast some great events and to broadcast the exploits of some great players.

When I went to Brooklyn in 1948 Jackie Robinson was at the height of his brilliant career. With the Giants I broadcast the debut of Hall of Famer Willie Mays. When I went to Baltimore the great Brooks Robinson came along to replace my good friend George Kell at third base. Kind in my 22 years at Detroit it’s been a distinct privilege to watch the day by day consistency of Hall of Famer Al Kaline. Yes, it’s lucky that I’ve been there and I’ve been at some events too.

I want to tell you about one that Ralph mentioned Bobby Thomson’s home run October 3rd. I felt a little sorry for my Giant broadcasting partner that day, Russ Hodges. Ole’ Russ is going to be stuck on the radio, there were five radio broadcasts and I was gonna’ be on coast to coast TV and I thought that I had the plum assignment.

Well, as you remember it turned out quite differently. Russ Hodges’ record became the most famous sports broadcast of all time, television, no instant replay, no recordings in those days, and only Mrs. Harwell knows that I did the telecast of Bobby Thomson’s home run. When I got home that night after the telecast she said to me, she said, ”You know Ernie when they turned the camera on you after that home run I saw you with that stunned look on your face, and the only other time I had ever seen it was when we were married and when the kids were born.”

That other saying, I’m a part of all that I have met, I think that would have to begin with my wonderful parents back in Atlanta when I was a youngster five years old I was tongue tied. They didn’t have much money, but they spent what they had sending me to speech teachers to overcome the handicap. I know that a lot of you people who have heard me on the radio probably still think I’m tongue tied, but through the grace of God officially I’m not tongue tied any more.

Also I’m a part of the people that I’ve worked with in baseball that have been so great to me, Mr. Earl Mann of Atlanta, who gave me my first baseball broadcasting job. Mr. Branch Rickey at Brooklyn, Mr. Horace Stoneham of the Giants, Mr. Jerry Hoffberger in Baltimore and my present boss, here’s to the greatest ever, Mr. John Fetzer and Mr. Jim Campbell. I’m also a part of the partners that I’ve worked with and there have been so many great ones, beginning with Red Barber and Connie Desmond at Brooklyn and continuing on to my present partner WJR’s Paul Carey.

But most of all, I’m a part of you people out there who have listened to me, because especially you people in Michigan, you Tiger fans, you’ve given me so much warmth, so much affection and so much love. I know that this is an award that’s supposed to be for my contribution to baseball, but let me say this I’ve given a lot less to baseball than it’s given to me and the greatest gift that I received from baseball is the way that the people in the game have responded to me with their warmth and with their friendship. Yes, it’s better to be lucky than good and I’m glad that I’m a part of all that I have met. We’re all here with a common bond today. I think we’re all here because we love baseball.

Back in 1955, Ralph referred to this, I sat down and wrote a little definition of baseball to express my feelings about this greatest game of all. And I know that a lot of things have changed since then. Especially in this strike filled year but my feelings about the game are still the same as they were back then and I think that maybe yours are too. And I’d like to close out my remarks for the next couple of minutes with your indulgence to see if your definition of baseball agrees with mine:

Baseball is the President tossing out the first ball of the season and a scrubby schoolboy playing catch with his dad on a Mississippi farm. A tall, thin old man waving a scorecard from the corner of his dugout. That’s baseball. And so is the big, fat guy with a bulbous nose running home one of his (Babe Ruth’s) 714 home runs.

There’s a man in Mobile who remembers that Honus Wagner hit a triple in Pittsburgh forty-six years ago. That’s baseball. So is the scout reporting that a sixteen year old pitcher in Cheyenne is a coming Walter Johnson. Baseball is a spirited race of man against man, reflex against reflex. A game of inches. Every skill is measured. Every heroic, every failing is seen and cheered, or booed. And then becomes a statistic.

In baseball democracy shines its clearest. The only race that matters is the race to the bag. The creed is the rulebook. Color merely something to distinguish one team’s uniform from another.

Baseball is a rookie. His experience no bigger than the lump in his throat as he begins fulfillment of his dream. It’s a veteran too, a tired old man of thirty-five hoping that those aching muscles can pull him through another sweltering August and September. Nicknames are baseball, names like Zeke and Pie and Kiki and Home Run and Cracker and Dizzy and Dazzy.

Baseball is the cool, clear eyes of Rogers Hornsby. The flashing spikes of Ty Cobb, and an over-aged pixie named Rabbit Maranville.

Baseball just a game as simple as a ball and bat. Yet, as complex as the American spirit it symbolizes. A sport, a business and sometimes almost even a religion.

Why the fairy tale of Willie Mays making a brilliant World’s Series catch. And then dashing off to play stick ball in the street with his teenage pals. That’s baseball. So is the husky voice of a doomed Lou Gehrig saying, “I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this earth.”

Baseball is cigar smoke, hot roasted peanuts, The Sporting News, ladies day, “Down in Front”, Take Me Out to the Ball Game, and the Star Spangled Banner.

Baseball is a tongue tied kid from Georgia growing up to be an announcer and praising the Lord for showing him the way to Cooperstown. This is a game for America. Still a game for America, this baseball! Thank you.

In 2009, the Red Wings by some miracle were able to sign both Henrik Zetterberg (12 years, $72 million) and Johan Franzen (11 years, $43 million) to essentially finish their careers in a Red Wings uniform. When league officials were asked about these long-term deals, the usual response was one of indifference and disgust. With these deals, players can essentially make all of their money up front, with relatively little impact on the team. The two Swedes combine to a salary cap hit of under $10 million/year which is unheard of with two high caliber players like #s 40 and 93. Franzen and Zetterberg joined players like Marian Hossa and Rick DiPietro in receiving contracts that deserved at least a second look.

Ilya Kovalchuk, however, will forever be known as the individual who made the difference in the way that NHL teams sign their athletes. The New Jersey Devils forward on Tuesday signed a 17-year, $102 million contract and the league had finally seen enough of the contract horse play. Within minutes, the NHL voided the contract and sent the league into a quandary, wondering if any of the past deals will still stand. While the Franzen and Zetterberg deals will likely not be impacted, it seems that all future deals will have to make more sense than a top NHL player making $500,000 when they’re 44.

That the game took place nearly 53 years ago, and at the time it was played the NFL was enforcing its infamous home “blackout” rule, forbidding the local telecast of home games, made my recent viewing of that classic contest especially fascinating and rewarding to me.  I remember that game – as the useful cliche goes – like it was yesterday … even though it was played in October of 1957 (a vintage year for wine and Detroit Lions fans).  And it evolved into living history before 55,764 astounded onlookers … on a downtown parcel of scarred and forgotten local land that today is covered with weeds and littered with rocks and debris of varying sizes and sources.

An odd location for one of the greatest National Football League contests of all time, yes?  Yes.

The video below is a tribute to Greenberg featuring the song, “Goodbye Mr. Ball, Goodbye” sung by Pirates co-owner Bing Crosby and comedian/actor Groucho Marx.  The images featured in the video are priceless and smack of one of the most magical eras in baseball history.