Talking Sports: Time in the "Korner"

Somehow it seems fitting that Ralph Kiner should have died on Babe Ruth’s birthday.

Kiner, one of the great sluggers in baseball history died last Thursday, Feb. 6, at the ripe old age of 91 - the 119th anniversary of Babe Ruth’s birth.

Kiner only played 10 years in the major leagues due to constant back issues. Ten years is the minimum allowed for induction into the MLB Hall of Fame. Nevertheless, he earned his way to Cooperstown with 369 home runs and 1,015 RBI. His best years were 1947 and 1949. In ‘47 he hit .313, belted 51 home runs and drove in 127. In ‘49 the numbers were nearly identical: .310, 54 and 127.

When Kiner retired he was second on the all-time list for home runs hit per time at bat. Only Ruth was ahead of him. Kiner maintaied his position on that list until the steriod era bumped him back to sixth.

I think averaging nearly 37 home runs and 100 RBIs per year deserves inclusion into that hallowed hall, no matter how short his career was or how bad his teams performed.

While his last game was played on September 25, 1955 with the Cleveland Indians - well before I was born - I had a long appreciation for Kiner. He played most of his career with really bad teams including the Pittsburgh Pirates (1946-1953), the Chicago Cubs (1953-1954) and the Indians (1955).

But to me he wasn’t the great home-run slugger. As a boy who grew up on Long Island as a rabid New York Mets fan, Kiner was often my babysitter. He was one of a group of three broadcasters that called Mets games on television and radio throughout my childhood. While Lindsey Nelson and Bob Murphy were professional broacasters, Kiner was the only jock in the booth. I liked Nelson and Murphy, but Kiner was always my favorite.

The best thing about Kiner were his stories. He played the game, knew its players of present and past and seemed to know something about every one of them. He may have learned a lot about those who were once current players through his post-game interview show, “Kiner’s Korner.” Kiner invited the outstanding player or players of the game to his show from the winning team after each home game.

For decades, with my young eyes glued to the TV set, Kiner interviewed a who’s who of baseball greats. Just the ones that pop into my head are Bob Gibson, Ferguson Jenkins, Maury Wills, Tom Seaver, Dave Kingman, Mike Schmidt, Lou Brock, Willie Mays, Henry Aaron, Ernie Banks ... Well the list of baseball greats - whose every word I once hung on - could probably fill this entire page if printed in small enough type.

Sure Kiner was often associated with a number of malapropisms. I remember when he called Gary Carter, Gary Cooper. I even read that he called himself Ralph Korner once. That was never ammunition for me not to love listening to his baseball calls and his stories. After all, we have come to love Yogi Berra for much the same reason.

One of the jokes I remember him retelling concerned the geat Negro League player Cool Papa Bell. Kiner said, on several occassions, that Bell was so fast in his playing days he could turn off the light switch and be in bed before the room went dark. He must have told that one 100 times. No doubt he heard it from someone else first.

Since most of his career was played in the small Pittsburgh media market I never thought Kiner quite got his due. I remember having an argument with a friend when I was a kid about Kiner. My friend said he hit so many home runs because he was on bad teams. “He could afford to swing for the fences. His games didn’t mean anything,” he often said. Lot’s of ball players swing for the fences, few of them can hit 54 in a single season no matter how little their games meant in the overall scheme of things. But my friend was a Yankees fan. What do you expect.

I’m sure the great Baltimore Orioles Manager Earl Weaver would have loved Kiner on his team. One of Weaver’s most often quoted lines was, “The best play in baseball is the three-run homer.” I’m sure Kiner must have hit a lot of those.

When I was little my Dad would occassionally get Mets tickets from his office. The tickets would always come with a pass to the Diamond Club. The Diamond Club was a fancy bar in Shea Stadium that attracted a lot of big shots after the game. I was probably about 10 years old when I saw Kiner in person for the only time in my life.

Of course I was completely star struck when I spotted him. In the elevator it was me, my Dad, Kiner and a couple of people who were with Kiner. When he noticed me looking at him - probably with my mouth open - he said, “How’d you enjoy the game, son.”

Well, I don’t remember what I said or even if I was able to get much out at all. But I’ll always remember that he noticed me and how pleasant he was.

Rest in peace Ralph Kiner--and thanks for all the memories. Say hello to the Babe and watch out for that rascal Ty Cobb.