Dave's Place - Playing baseball with The Banana Man

By: David Cordill

Posted: 9/29/08

I never really had the talent for baseball.

Now, my second cousin, Bob Allison, he did. He was named American League Rookie of the Year in 1959.

In his 13 seasons with the Washington Senators and Minnesota Twins, he was a three-time All-Star. He also made one of the more memorable catches in World Series history, a backhanded sliding grab in left field off the Dodgers' Jim Lefebvre during game two of the 1965 World Series.

I couldn't play like Cousin Bob.

I tried out for the baseball team in junior high and again in my sophomore year of high school. Both times the coaches told me to try out for the track team, which effectively meant I was cut.

But I did play organized baseball for one year - a summer little league stint in Clinton, Mo. If my memory serves me correctly, I wasn't very good then either.

I played first base for my team, which meant I was the fat kid who couldn't play catcher.

Our coaches, The Banana Man and Jumpin' Joel, were two disc jockeys from the local radio station. Both felt it best to put me at that position because even if I couldn't catch a ball, I was probably wide enough to stop any sort of line drive hit near me.

The coaches gave a few players nicknames. This was either because they didn't remember their real names or never knew them in the first place. We had "Peewee" Deskins, Kent "The Big O" Oberkrom and several variations on "Red" for my redheaded brother to mention a few.

They chose to dub me "Slim," which I suppose was fine by me. I'd been called a hell of a lot worse on the playground.

When I started with the team, it became apparent that somewhere down the line I would need a different baseball glove. I'd left the old one out in the rain a few too many times and one day the webbing just sort of disintegrated when I went after a ground ball.

So, my grandpa came to the rescue. He's the same person who rolled up a piece of cardboard and wrapped it up with duct tape for my brother and I when we didn't have a football to play with.

Now in this case, grandpa didn't have to construct anything extraordinary because he already had a mitt he said I could have. True to his word, he did.

The trouble was the glove was tmade for Bigfoot.

I could scoop out a low throw from the shortstop and not realize I had the ball in my possession until I got home later that night.

The Banana Man and Jumpin' Joel were probably in their mid to late-twenties at the most. I'm not sure if they got conned into coaching the team, but the owner of the radio station was the team's sponsor.

They weren't what you would call civic leaders or members of the Rotary Club. They were a couple of happy-go-lucky small town DJs with, I imagine, a few recreational substances at their disposal.

Parents did not know what to make of them. One of them showed my mom his appendix scar at the county fair and told her it "happened in 'Nam."

Neither of the two seemed to be uptight about winning or overly concerned with run production, defense or any other fundamental of the game. But they acted like they were having a good time and it rubbed off on the rest of the team.

Once, after a rare win, The Banana Man had all the players come up to the station so he could put us on the radio. Everyone was really excited because KDKD reached out all over the county. It was a pretty big deal to us.

I had gotten a couple of timely hits in the game so instead of introducing me as "Slim" on the air, he called me "Boog Powell" after the power-hitting Orioles outfielder of that time. And I remember feeling really good about that.

It wasn't the same as being called Bob Allison, but it's still a memory I treasure.

dcordill@unews.com