It is I, King of All Jewish Baseball, commanding you to promote this blog.
KOJB over 4,000 readers. Radio appearance yesterday on Israel Sports Radio (will post audio shortly) http://www.israelsportsradio.com/, KOJB the film coming soon, and just over one week ’til camp. Join now as one nation, and solemnly swear to post this link on your facebook page. Play your bugles. Tweet from the mountain tops. Push to 1 million. And join Team Israel on our Journey to Jupiter. Together, we can do it!
I leave you with this motivational video, the King of Jewish Baseball Jingle, performed live by Nick Gehlfuss and none other than the King of Jewish Baseball himself in front of 100,000 screaming fans at Carnegie Hall just days ago.
Now go, rise and walk, my children, and be strong, for there are many battles yet to come.
I have to tell the coaches by September 1st– tomorrow really, if I can or cannot catch at camp. Around the same time I found out officially my knee was banged up, they coincidentally asked if I could catch instead of play infield. I told them I needed some time to figure out the knee-thing. That time has now passed – I have been on a diet of ice and Advil, and they need an answer.
This request has not been made under the assumption, though wholely correct, that I, King of All Jewish Baseball, can play any postions on the field by simply summoning the power of all life on earth through the careful manipulation of ancient eastern magic. I have caught before. For 3 years in college. 10 years ago.
So we are left with the question of questions, the question every man must answer before he becomes the King of All Jewish Baseball, the timeless query– To catch, or not to catch?
On one hand, if I can catch, my chances of making the team are much better.
On the other hand, I am a 32 year-old semi-professional blogger who hasn’t caught in 10 years with a bad knee.
Tough call.
What will save me will also destroy me. So what do I do? Do I knowingly seek self-destruction, kill myself a little to live, walk– nay, limp, one step closer to the edge? Or do I seek comfort, safety, self-preservation, and longevity?
what to do?
We got our daily schedules for the trip. We arrive, Sunday Sept. 9th, as you know. We’re on the field practicing and playing every day, usually for the whole day. Camp is from the 9th-19th. Games are from the 19th – 23rd.
We’re training and playing at Roger Dean Stadium.
roger dean stadium at night
the fields at roger dean
Roger Dean Stadium is the Spring Training facility of the Miami Marlins and The St. Louis Cardinals. It will be nice to have all the amenities Big Leaguers enjoy even if it’s only for 2 weeks. 2 weeks! – That’s all. 8 Months training. All for 2 weeks. Even more accurately, for 4 days. And even more accurately, for 4 days I am not guaranteed. Not even close. Can I catch?
Of course I can catch. I think. I will try. No problem.
So now, just before leaving, I need to change my training and thinking. I am a catcher, now, again. I ran and did tee work this morning. Going to Richies Gym in a bit. Gotta work on poppin’ those feet. 10 days ’til camp.
My seasons for both the Thunder Dogs and the A’s are over. Both teams were eliminated early in the playoffs of their respective leagues. But I will leave you with this memory of the Zorrilla, an incident that happened in my final game with the A’s.
We, the Oakland A’s of East New York, had a double header against the Chicago Cubs, also of East New York. We were in 3rd place. Cubs were in 1st. But if we could win both games, we’d switch places with them and be in 1st going into the playoffs.
It looked like rain.
They won the 1st game. And they were winning the 2nd game 3-0 in the 5th inning in a drizzle. We had runners on 1st and 3rd, 2 outs, none other than the King of Jewish Baseball at the plate with a chance to tie the game or at least score a run and cut down the lead. A genius base-knock, single up the middle, run scored, they’re winning, 3-1.
Now I am on 1st base. Our center fielder is on 2nd. Orlando aka Babe Ruth is up. He crushes a ball down the left field line. I start jogging, a no-doubter. We’re winning 4-3. Right?
Their dugout screams in Spanish that it was a foul ball. By the time I get around the bases to home plate, everyone’s there– both teams, coaches, umps.
Their head coach who looks like a Somali Pirate as you’ll see, goes nuts on the 3rd base umpire who called it a home-run. The umpire ejects the coach. The Pirate is ferocious and is, if half-heartedly, going after the ump. Their assistant coaches and their catcher hold him back.
Minutes pass.
He persists.
He throws a punch at his own assistant. After trying and failing over and over again to physically get to the ump, their coach walks down the left field line and tips all the temporary barriers that keep the fans off the field and disappears into the street behind the bathrooms.
I did not think order would ever be restored. But somehow, after 15 minutes, both teams return to their dugouts, and the game is back on.
Jose Reyes is up. 1st pitch curveball. Strike 1.
After the pitch, their assistant coach takes all of the bats and all of the helmets in their dugout and kicks them and even picks some up and throws them.
The home plate umpire ejects him. The first coach, the Pirate, comes running back on the field with a garbage can over his head and throws the can behind 3rd base. There is garbage everywhere. All players and coaches and some fans now pour back onto the field. It’s people restraining people from other people restaining people. It is madness, a battlefield the likes I have not witnesses since the Great Collision of Tel Aviv in 2007.
But I digress, for after checking the magical YouTube, I, King of All Jewish Baseball, deem this, what will be known going forward as THE EJECTION, or THE GREATEST EJECTION OF ALL TIMES, abbreviated simply GEAT (pronounced JEET), a grade A, world-class tirade of genius magnitude.
We are lucky to have had the King, Ruler, and Sovereign Leader of The Softball Team The Shatters, Aaron Wolfe www.aaron-wolfe.com, in attendance, bravely huddled under an umbrella, risking his camera in the name of a possible outburst. It is true what they say, if a picture is worth a thousand words, then a video, which is literally just thousands of pictures, is worth, if my calculations are correct, yes, they are, 1.3 million photographs. So, without further use of many more words, exclusively from the King of Jewish Baseball, in accordance with the King, Ruler, and Sovereign Leader of The Softball Team The Shatters, we bring you, THE EJECTION. That’s me on 1st base!
We apologize and warn you about the face-to-face contact you are about to have with the King of All Jewish Baseball, for it has been known to cause blindness. It was not his intention to interfere or put your health at risk, he simply lost his head momentarily and spoke directly to the camera trying to provide commentary as is his habit. And we beg of you just one more consideration… Keep in mind the video is two minutes. The actual delay was thirty. High theater with an overhand garbage can toss finish (you see the can at the end of the video).
Roll it…
But, alas, we lost both games.
One of their guys hit an almost identical 2 run-homer down the left field line tying the game, 5-5.
What seems like hours later, still drizzling, we’re in the bottom of the 10th inning of game 2. They have 2 runners on base. Ray divises an elaborate bunt coverage. But it does not matter. Bunt goes back to the pitcher. I roll to the ground to get out of the way to give him a throwing lane to Ray covering 3rd base. Pitcher mishandles the ball, rushes a throw to 1st base, throws it into right field, runner from 2nd base scores, game over.
My final thought on the Zorrilla, after this incident, and after the season, is that the winning the Zorrilla means something. There is a sense, even if false or somewhat inflated, that the games are important. And so they are. Our second baseman made and error in the first game that cost us two runs and was benched. And our manager was fired after the game because we lost both.
Just as the winning run scored, the rain came down from the sky above, and everyone ran for their cars.
And that’s how it ended, suddenly, without discussion.
I got home from Chicago yesterday. Another great trip for the King of Jewish Baseball and Savvy Traveling– six days of Magic and Jewish Baseball tryouts. It was my second annual unofficial appearance at the Chicago Air and Boat Show. I spent mornings wrapped in babies, afternoons betting wildly at the Chicago Board of Trade or racing boats on Lake Michigan, and nights with fighter pilots swapping stories about what it’s like being one of the most dangerous men on the planet.
boat racing
The real reason for my being in Chicago, besides the general recognition and celebration of all things, were team Jew.S.A. tryouts. It was the midwest addition on Sunday, 10am, at Glennbrook High School about half an hour north of the City. 15 kids came from as far away as Kansas City, Florida, and California. New York tryouts this weekend. Then the roster for the United States Junior National Team for the 2013 Maccabi Games will be set and ready to rock. We seek gold in 2013.
Saw Youkilis too in his temporary home, his hotel room. The White Sox had flown in from Kansas City still in 1st place in the AL Central despite the Royals sweep. Youkilis, King of All Batting Stances, seems to like it in Chicago. We went to the game the next night to see him play against the Yankees.
youk in the dugout
He was 1 for 4 with a single and hit-by-pitch. Chamberlain hit him, again. Being a baseball genius, you can hear me say in the video below, “Watch for the hit-by-pitch here”. And in the 2nd pitch of the at-bat, boom, he hit him.
I will not say it was on purpose. It was a bad time to hit a guy. It was a tie game, 6-6, in the 7th inning, 1 out, no one on base, Dunn and Konerko coming up. But I will say, Major League pitchers do not miss that badly that often and Chamberlain has hit or almost hit Kevin a lot.
The videos are short, just a few seconds. And they are not great. The first video is Strike 1. And the second is the hit-by-pitch. Strike 1 is a slider. The HBP is a fastball. Roll strike 1…
And then… Listen, Joe calls it.
We apologize in advance for the abrupt ending. We got a little fired up.
Then Chamberlain threw over to first base twice to either give a guy in the bullpen time to warm-up, or to continue f—— with Kevin. Girardi agreed it was a bad time, and came out of the dugout and took Chamberlain out of the game. It is unusual to see someone removed after throwing a pick-off.
Kevin hit a go-ahead grand-slam the following game.
***
And now, after momentarily being swept away by the drama of the Major Leagues, the love of a million babies, and the majesty of a clean city and its airplane tricks, I am back, back in new york, on the grind, pounding the pavement, baseball bag in tow, causing problems on the trains, preaching the gospel in the streets, as it were. I worked out today with Shlo and Alon.
alon leichman
Alon will be at camp too. He, like Shlo, is a right handed pitcher. And is, also like Shlo, Israeli. He is currently playing baseball at Cypress Community College in California, and is the best player to come out of Israel yet. He just finished his season playing for the Menlo Park Legends in a summer collegiate league in San Fransisico. Here is a recent article about him. Keep in mind, Alon is great, the writing is not. Clearly, not everyone can be a deadly literary weapon like myself.
In Chicago. It’s Saturday. Tryouts for Team Jew.S.A. tomorrow morning.
I saw Alfred “Fredo” Cohen for breakfast this morning. Alfred, besides the inconsequential fact that he does not make art, is, in my humble and completely accurate estimation, an artist of the highest order– The King of All Logo Chairs and Self Portraits if you will. When I saw him last year, he had without explanation been wearing only florescent green for months. So allow me, ladies and juju-bugs, to now, using only the power of digital photography and the interconnectedness of all things, profile for you the one, the only, Alfred Cohen.
alfred cohen, yesterday, on a boat, at the annual chicago air show
Alfred comes from a long line of magical russian cantors, Jewish singers, synagogue divas so to speak– 5 generations long until Alfred broke the streak electing to instead become a ballplayer, and a human genius. He was raised in Highland Park, an affluent Jewish neighborhood just north of Chicago. By the time he was in high-school, his baseball talents were shining like the multiple suns of a parallel earth from another dimension. He was dominating.
alfred flying high
And another…
fredo pitching, looks good, blocked front side, late rotation with the lower half
By his senior year, he was in a dog fight for the city batting title with this guy, Randy Poffo. If you look just to the right of the picture of Poffo, you can see under “individual batting”, they are #1 and #2.
randy poffo
Fredo ended the season with the higher average. Poffo went on to play for the Reds…
poffo with the reds
But Poffo didn’t last in pro baseball and had no choice but to change his name, answer the primal call of destiny, and become this guy…
randy poffo aka the macho man randy savage
Insane Hard To Believe But True Jewish Baseball Magic Fact of The Day… The Macho Man Randy Savage was Jewish. Look it up.
Alfred got a baseball scholarship to the University of Arizona. But, like Poffo, and so many of us, the Big Leagues weren’t in the cards for Al, so after college he returned home to Chicago, got married, and invented logo chairs. That’s right, the genius Alfred Cohen had unknowingly become the first person to ever put a team logo on a fold-out-chair and ended up supplying the NBA and NCAA with customized sideline chairs for years, a scientific accomplishment no doubt on-par with the theories of Relativity or Evolution.
one of alfred’s logo chairs
I will leave you with a sampling of what may be Alfred’s greatest, most mature work, his self portraits, pictures he takes of himself in front of the worlds most beautiful buildings and women and sunsets and sports stars. I could not show you all of them, for you do not have the time or mental prowess it would take to understand a body of work so profound and powerful and strange. But here are a few, a reminder if you will, so no matter how hard your days or lonely your nights, you will be comforted knowing the genius Alfred Cohen, King of All Logo Chairs and Self Portraits, is out there, pure of heart and unsound of mind, protecting us all.
at a white sox game
at a wedding
at maccabi games opening ceremonies
a beautiful sunset
going strong, forever, alfred cohen, riding in the back of a taxi
It’s Wednesday August 15th. I am flying to Chicago in a couple of hours. We have midwest tryouts for Team Jew.S.A. on Sunday, so I am going a few days early to see friends.
Good news… KOJB skyrockets over 3,ooo readers yesterday. Only 996,968 hits away from a million! Let’s pump this thing up. You. Me. Us. Together. Follow KOJB on twitter @kingofJbaseball.
Bad news… went to physical therapy yesterday and they think I have a meniscus tear in my right knee.
We all have two menisci in each knee, or a total of four, as you see above– the blue “c” shaped discs– a lateral meniscus, and a medial meniscus. It is my lateral, or outside, meniscus on my right knee. The menisci are essentially pads between bones so they’re not rubbing against one another. This sort of sucks, but goes mostly without meaning. I maintain that I cannot be stopped. I don’t have anything to preserve myself for. If I were younger, maybe I would rest, or get surgery. But, alas, I am not, so I’m simply going to proceed as if nothing were wrong. Fact remains, we have a baseball tournament to win in Florida in a few weeks. In the meantime, have to go to Richie’s to lift before my flight.
We again thank you for your interest in joining Team Israel in the World Baseball Classic Qualifier in Jupiter Florida. MLB has now asked us to provide objective proof of your eligibility to be part of Team Israel, in addition to the affidavit that we asked you to fill out. As you are aware, your eligibility stems from the ‘heritage’ rule. Because of your Jewish heritage you are eligible to be a member of Team Israel.
The tournament committee is requiring an objective document to verify your Jewish heritage. This process is the same for all teams who have players whose eligibility is a result of the heritage rule. For example a US citizen who wishes to play for the Spanish team must produce a document that proves that his parent or grandparent was a Spanish citizen.
In your case we must prove that you are Jewish,or your parent or grandparent is/was Jewish. We will need one or more of the following documents from you:
A Bar Mitzvah certificate given to you or your Jewish parent or grandparent.
A ketubah (wedding contract) for you, your parents or grandparents.
A letter from the rabbi or community leader of your local synagogue or other Jewish organization (e.g. JCC, college Hillel).
Another form of written objective proof.
We thank you again for your cooperation and timely response to this request. Your eligibility to participate in this tournament is dependent upon procuring one of these documents.
***
What’s this? The King of Jewish Baseball’s Jewishness being questioned?
The community is outraged.
I happened to be at my parents house (aka the “synagogue”, or the holy shrine to Judaism), so decided to take a moment to ponder, what makes a Jew? And dig up, for Major League Baseball, if that is your real name, some proof. Before I begin, allow me to state my full name.
Nathan Israel Bloomberg Fish.
Here is a picture of me and my sister, Hadassah Naomi Fish, on the cover of our parents Childrens Judaica Catalogue, Mail Order Maven. A very popular genre.
dasi fish and nate fish aka the king of all jewish baseball circa 1982
Now what type of non-Jews in their right minds would be walking around doing that!? We either are Jewish, or I am an unknowing participant in an elaborate, pointless con.
The document specifically asks for a ketubah, a Jewish marriage certificate. So let’s get that.
one sweet ketubah!
Now, the people from the document above, brought to life using only the power of the internet and the mind of a genius, landies and geetles, my mom and dad.
Check the Shnoz, MLB.
Should I even continue?
Yes. I should.
Here he is at his Bar-Mitzvah.
Jerome Phillip Fish, age 13
My mom, aka the mind behind the scheme, raised us jewish and covered our home with Jewish literature and art in order for me to one day play for Israel in the World Baseball Classic. She went to Brandeis University and worked diligently for the Jewish Community. And to think, all in order to deceive us! You are looking at a sick, devious, genius, people.
i see clearly now, the prop mug has been a lie all along
I will spare you most of the tour and will just tell you the whole house looks like this…
so jewish it hurts
Here I am rocking the mic at my Bar Mitzvah August 14th 1993 also known as, “the day the King of Jewish Baseball descended on a charriot of fire”.
It’s August 9th. Exactly one month before we leave for camp. I have hardly missed a day in the last 8 months. But I need to recommit myself to my training. It suddenly struck me, I’m a long shot, a no one– not Israeli enough to be considered for one of the few roster spots reserved for Israelis, and not good enough to be considered for one of the spots reserved for Americans. And my knee hurts. I didn’t want to say anything, but ever since I caught those 4 innings (just 4 innings!), it’s been giving me fits. I can’t squat. And after I run it tightens up and aches like hell. I am going to see Doc Root about it. But my spirit is strong. I cannot be stopped. I am the Jewish Mohammed Ali, the Black James Brown, and the Asian Shirley Temple. I am the Champ. The buddha. I am free! There have been people that are better at baseball than I am, better at writing, and better at dancing and painting rocks with better collections of gold jewels, but there has never been anyone better at all of these things. I am the only one. The King of Jewish Baseball. So kiss my ass. Who needs a knee? A little pain never hurt anyone. You’re going to have to put one in my head and nail the coffin shut to keep me off the field. I’ll lubricate my knees with the warm blood of the defeated and move forward. I’ll eat rocks and shit dirt. I’ll show this world what love is. Jupiter, Florida, prepare yourselfs, KOJB is coming!
I’m baaaaaaaaaaack. In New York. On the internet. KOJB. Posing for my photos. Pondering all of my options. Running sprints in Maria Hernandez Park. Lifting weights at Richie’s. Preparing. Group workout tomorrow in the park with the High-School Crew. Ground balls. Boom! Fly balls. Boom! Tee work. Bam! Sprints. Bucky! Soft toss. Bang! Double play feeds. Boom! There will be fireworks and magic, people.
In serious news, we had tryouts Sunday for Team Jew.S.A. 16 kids showed up. A manageable number. But not enough. One came all the way from Kansas. One from Oregon. One from San Fransisco.
We will take between 15 and 18 players to Israel next summer for the Maccabi games. Of the 16 kids that came to the LA tryout, depending what happens in Chicago and New York, 5 will likely make the team, and 2 or 3 will be named as alternates. Chicago tryouts are in two weeks. And New York the week after that. We should have a total of between 50 and 75 players trying out.
Tryouts were at a high-school field in Encino. Josh and I got there early to set up the registration table and get the field ready though it was already good-to-go thanks to Rocco who takes care of the facility. From the first workout, it appears most of the kids who make the team will be able to play some level of college baseball. I was so feverishly focused at tryouts that I forgot to take a picture. If I had remembered, it would appear below.
***
I got to be a Dodger for a day Saturday. Matt got me an all access field pass. Can you believe it? – it was the King of All Jewish Baseball’s first time on a Major League field during batting practice!
We arrived around 1:30 and walked into the clubhouse. It was modest compared to the clubhouse in Minnesota where Matt played before. I wanted to stare at everything but knew I should not so mostly refrained. Matt had a lot of gear in his locker– uniforms, 8 pairs of spikes – and he flipped me a brand new Nike glove with his name on it. Kershaw was starting that day and was sitting at a chair in front of his locker two spaces down from Matt. Matt walked me out to the dugout. He had to get ready to throw his bullpen so I sat and watched some of the guys do their work in left field.
The Dodgers recently aquired Shane Victorino, Hanley Ramirez, and Joe Blanton. Blanton was running sprints in the outfield. Jerry Hairston was playing with his son in center field. Hairston’s grandfather, father, and brother all played Major League Baseball, and he was prepping the next generation for what seems to be his inevitable fate. Some fans who were on a tour of the stadium spotted Matt in the dugout and screamed, “Holy Shit, Bro, It’s Matt Guerrier. Can we get a picture with you man?” I watched Matt’s pen. He threw 30 pitches. He looked good and said his arm didn’t hurt.
Game time was 6:05. I kept an eye on the clock to see what the daily routine is like for these guys. Most of the players arrived by 2pm, 4 hours before game time. Next guy out, after Blanton, was Treanor (His wife is currently playing beach volley ball for the United States in the Olympics, and her match was playing on the TVs in the clubhouse after the game). Treanor threw about 20 to seconds base, getting faster and stronger as he went, 10 to third, and blocked for another 10 minutes. Steve Yeager, the Dodger’s catching coach, came out early too to work with Treanor, and I talked to him in the dugout.
Yeager caught for the Dodgers for 15 years. And he appeared as third base coach Duke Temple in Major League, the film! Here he is waving Willy Mays Hayes around to score at the end!
He is also a Jew! He told me he converted 22 years ago. Jesus. How does this keep happening to me? The power of my Jewish Baseball Magic has grown too strong. Even crazier, he had a 17 year-old son, who, after explaining why I was in California, being the King of Jewish Baseball that is, came to Team Jew.S.A. tryouts the following morning.
At 3:05, 3 hours before game time, all the pitchers came out together to warm-up, run, and throw before going back into the clubhouse for their daily meeting. After pitchers, position players came out slowly.
BP started at 3:45. Ramirez and Victorino came out together and stuck close, the new guys. Dee Gordon, the starting short stop until a few days ago when Ramirez arrived, was taking ground balls when they came up the dugout steps and the two of them exchanged a look without any friendly acknowledgment. Mattingly came in the dugout and a group of reporters surrounded him for their feed, a media briefing on the state of the team– Kershaw, the new guys, the San Fransisco Giants who are 1/2 a game up on the Dodgers in the NL West.
The players both did and did not work hard during warm-ups. It appeared very casual. But was not. They have different gears. These guys are special. They have a gift. And they do this every single day. Most of them wore sneakers during batting practice. Matt shagged fly balls in right-center field. The fat, gay guy from Modern Family was throwing out the first pitch so I hung out on the top step of the dugout with him and watched home-runs fly.
Rizzo from the Cubs looked best in BP. Guy’s a monster and was just smashing the ball the other way with ease. Hitting group #2 for the Dodgers wasn’t bad either– Kemp, Ethier, Ramirez.
hanley ramirez gets ready for batting practice
I sat behind home plate in the second deck for the game. Kershaw threw 7. Kemp homered. Dodgers won 3-1. Matty’s spot came up in the 8th inning, Dodgers winning 2-1. He normally would throw that inning. But he was in the dugout in a sweatshirt with some other pitchers and watched Ronald Belisario throw a 1,2,3 inning.
I just looked up Belisario. You’ve got to check out this guy’s wikipedia. It reads like a wrap sheet. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ronald_Belisario. Between 2009 and 2012 with the Dodgers, he has shown up late to Spring Training every year. He failed a drug test for cocaine. He has been issued a DUI. And he’s served multiple suspensions for failing MLB drug tests for unspecified substances.
belisario throws a pitch, that crazy bastard.
After the game, we took the elevator up the the top floor to the players parking lot, and headed home. Just another day for a couple of Los Angeles Dodgers like ourselves…
King Of goes over 2,000 readers! Boom. Follow KOJB on twitter @kingofJbaseball. It will drastically improve your lot in life, promise– after all, you will be in the company of royalty. We’re taking this all the way to Jupiter, and back. 1 million readers is the goal.
Not a lot of team news. MLB.com ran this story a couple days ago about Coach Green and the team…
It is true, what you’ve heard, I left the comforts of my palace in New York City to fly on my aircraft, Jew Force One, across the land all the while looking down on my minions.
I ask you now, what is better than this place? – this Los Angeles, as it’s called, with its wide boulevards lined with impossibly tall trees that look like dinosaurs and its perfectly manicured lawns and its white people. It’s like a heaven. I am considering ordering my concubines here to build me a new palace, with a baseball field in the middle. We’ll call it… Yankee Stadium.
LA, the land of dinosaurs
I have some shocking news. It turns out I am not the first Baseball King. In fact, as most young royals eventually come to terms with, I am simply one in a long line of hilarious, sick, self-obsessed demigods. There have been two men before me who shared a similar title, Clown Prince of Baseball. And here’s the kicker. They were both Jews. So now I, current sovereign leader of Jewish Baseball Clowning, must pay my respects to those that came before me, KOJB the 1st, and KOJB the 2nd, if you will.
First, there was this fella’, Al Schacht…
Al Schacht, the 1st King of Jewish Baseball.
Schacht played three years in the Major Leagues compiling a perfect 14-0 record in his career. But he was best known for his ability to imitate other players and entertain the crowd from the third base coaching box earning him the nickname, Clown Prince of Baseball. He coached 13 in the Bigs.
Then, there was Max Patkin, the real Clown Prince of Baseball.
Max Patkin, KOJB, the 2nd
Patkin performed over 4,ooo times in 51 years as the Clown Prince. He even appeared as himself in Bull Durham. Here he is, doing his thing… the one, the only, Max Patkin.
They don’t understand, Max– the love, the pain, the tears of the Jewish Baseball Clown. But I hear you. Brother, one day we will unite in the Great Baseball Hall of Fame in the Sky, Los Angeles I believe it is called. I’ll see you there. Until then, I’ll make sure the legacy of Jewish Baseball Clowning is safe. Humbly, KOJB… the 3rd.
