The Ol’ Lefthander …
Posted: November 16th, 2007 | Filed under: Baseball | 14 Comments »
When I got to Cincinnati to become a sports columnist — this would have been 1994, a few months before baseball went on strike — Tim Sullivan passed down some advice he had received years before. Sully was the columnist at rival Cincinnati Enquirer then, and also one of the fine people in the business. I was 27 and looking for help.
He said: “When I became a columnist, they told me that the first thing any columnist should do is crap in the hat of the biggest man in town. Prove you’re not afraid of anybody.â€
“So, does that mean I’m supposed to rip Pete Rose in my first column?†I asked.
“Not Pete,†he said. He smiled. “The biggest man in this town is Joe Nuxhuall.â€
He was right. Not about ripping Joe Nuxhall, of course. That would have been criminal (and suicidal). The man wasn’t just the biggest man in town. He was the Pope. One thing you find out pretty quickly about Cincinnati is that it is really two towns. There’s the West side of Cincinnati and the East side. On the West side — in the grandest generalization sweep I can manage — you in large part have blue collar, Reds-loving, flannel-wearing, truck-driving, flag-waving, double-decker eating, brick and mortar Cincinnati folk. And on the East side — again generalizing beyond reason — you have plenty of white collar, Bengals-loving, suit-wearing, Lexus-driving, Starbucks-drinking mall-walking, upwardly-mobile Cincinnati folk.
It’s never that simple, of course, never that red and blue, the two sides were always more alike than people imagined. But perception is a part of reality, and in Cincinnati it is considered a local fact that there are two places — two countries, even — and that East siders would get lost on the West side of town and vice versa, I remember the brilliant editorial cartoonist Jim Borgman drawing a cartoon where he had a Berlin Type Wall separating the two sides of Cincinnati. That summed things up. There wasn’t much that crossed between the two sides. In fact, only three things come to mind:
1. Skyline Chili.
2. Graeter’s Ice Cream.
3. Joe Nuxhall.
Nuxie had been a Cincinnati icon from the day — June 10, 1944 — when as a 15-year-old, he pitched for the Cincinnati Reds. He had been signed as something of a publicity stunt while the best players were at war. Nuxhall was a hard-throwing high school pitcher whose father Orville was a pretty well known player around town (they actually scouted Orville, that’s how they found young Joe). Joe only made it 2/3 of an inning in his one Major League start, but it still made him the youngest player to play in the Major Leagues. He was then sent to the minor leagues — a major league footnote — and I suspect no one expected to see him in the big leagues again.
Eight years later, at 23, he re-emerged with the Reds. Nuxie pitched 15 seasons in the big leagues, almost all of them with Cincinnati. He won 10 or more games seven times. He had an amazing ability to reinvent himself as a pitcher. He would talk about it, if you asked him. As a kid, he said, he had no idea where the ball was going, but he threw hard. As a middle-aged pitcher, he gave up hits and home runs, but managed to tough it out and win more than his share on guts. He made a couple of All-Star teams. He led the league in shutouts in 1955. “But,†he would say, “I was still learning how to pitch.â€
And then, in 1961, after a dismal year in relief, he was traded to Kansas City. Nuxie was soon released. He signed with Baltimore. Released before the 1962 season. He signed with the Los Angeles Angeles. Released again. It all seemed over.
In June of 1962, he came back to Cincinnati. And it was like magic. Everything came together. Nuxhall went 5-0 with a 2.45 ERA the rest of the way. Ol’ Nuxie was back. There’s just something about Cincinnati. In 1963, he had his best season. He went 15-8, had a 2.61 ERA, struck out a career high 169, walked only 39 (he had found his control). He was home. He never left.
Nuxie would have become a Cincinnati icon after his playing career no matter what because he was that kind of man — kind, decent, great story teller, certain of his convictions, a real Cincinnati guy. But in 1967, just after he finished playing, he became a radio voice for the team. He would be an announcer — mostly with Marty Brennaman — for the next 37 years. And he would become even more beloved.
I’ve written here before about how, to me, the hometown baseball announcer on your radio dial is like the weather. He simply is. He becomes part of your life. Herb Score was like that in Cleveland, Jack Buck in St. Louis, Vin Scully in LA, Denny Matthews in Kansas City, Dave Niehaus in Seattle, John Sterling in New York and so on. (I use Sterling here not because I think of him as a legend but I think of him as inescapable — as Mark points out the true New York broadcast legends are Bob Murphy and Phil Rizutto).
Nuxie was even more than that in Cincinnati. Together with Marty, they did not just call Reds games. They defined Cincinnati. There was Marty telling you the umpire was off that night or that someone did not run out a ground ball. There was Nuxie telling everyone that “If you swing the bat, you’re dangerous.†They always seemed to be talking about something a little bit more than baseball. People have all sorts of opinions about how a sporting event should be announced, and I will admit being more susceptible than most to those opinions. But Nuxie’s broadcasting wasn’t about style or form or any of that. He made his mistakes, mispronounced some names, whatever. His humanity always came through. At the end of any broadcast, you would think: “Wow, that’s a great guy. I’d love to have a beer with him and just talk baseball.â€
I had that chance a time or two during my Cincinnati columnist days. And if you’ve ever heard Joe Nuxhall call a baseball game, you already know what it was like. Everybody loved Nuxie.
Joe Nuxhall retired in 2004, but he would pop back into the booth every now and again. He had a lot of health problems in his final days, — he was in and out of hospitals — but he still made his way around town, working the endless number of charities that wanted his name connected to their causes. He died late Thursday night. He was 79.
Nuxie used to end every broadcast the same way — he used to say, “This is the ol’ lefthander rounding third and heading for home.†When you heard that, I don’t know, it just made you feel like you were home too. Sully was right. He was the biggest man in town.
For another take on the Ol’ Lefthander, here’s my friend Todd Jones.
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Another legend passes on. Very moving tribute, Joe.
Nicely done, Joe. One minor correction – 1967-2004 is 37 years, not 27.
Joe: thanks so much for this excellent tribute for a great man. I have to admit that once I heard the news of his passing, your blog was the second website I visited (after the Cincy Enquirer’s).
Anyone who ever had the pleasure of meeting or talking with Joe knows what a wonderful man he was. He was truly a Cincinnati institution…check that…a baseball institution. I hate to hear of his passing, but I know that he is in a far better place…rounding third and heading for home.
I googled that Borgman cartoon, and you can find it here:
http://borgman.enquirer.com/gallery2/borgmaneastwest1.html
Thanks for the column. I did a brief stint in Western Ohio and remember well what a big deal Joe & Marty were.
One quibble: I can’t believe you brought up ‘New York’ and ‘broadcatt legends’ and used John Sterling as your example rather than Bob Murphy (Scooter need not apply). If you just fix that, this will indeed be a Happy Recap.
Once again, a very fitting tribute for a baseball icon. Thank you.
There’s something about a late June evening, when the sun’s still out and it’s not too hot yet and you’re changing the oil of your car in the garage and Fred and Denny are watching the ball game for you and tellin’ you about it.
I’ve developed an aversion to a lot of sports broadcasts, finally, because so many of them seem intent on shouting at me. Okay… hype the game, promote the team, boost audience involvement… But the best thing about going to a game is sitting next to a pal — male or female — and getting excited when the game gets exciting.
In some respects, there’s nothing more beautiful than listening to Vin Scully broadast a meaningless game in late September between the Dodgers and the Pirates. You might get a graduate school-worthy lecture of the fine points of the Trojan War, from Vin. But you’ll always know what’s happening on the field. Listening to Scully is like watching Picasso paint.
People carp about Ken Harrelson’s homerism for the White Sox, or about Joe Morgan who’s still vicariously playing second base and second-guessing everything. Sounds like Nuxhall was not only the voice of the Cincinnati Reds, he was the voice of Cincinnati.
I admire Denny Matthews, but on some level he’s always seemed like the voice of Overland Park. I can’t quite explain it. All those years with Fred White, Fred seemed like the voice of outlanders… of small town fans… And I can’t explain that either.
I’ve always wished George Brett would consider broadcasting, but during his last year as a player he was pretty passionate about how he hated all the travel. So he’s not gonna go that way. George is such a great potential voice for Kansas City, since he adopted this town and means so much to old Roylz fans like me.
It’s a different era in broadcasting. Splitt is probably my favorite broadcaster in recent years. He’s been there, done that, and still appreciates the t-shirt. But I doubt if he’s changed his own oil lately.
I suspect Joe Nuxhall changed his oil as long as he could. With the Reds game playing in the background.
For a year I commuted every week between my home in Indiana and Columbus, Ohio. The AM radio in my car had some connection loose, and couldn’t pick up my Braves broadcasts out of Atlanta (which i could pick up on AM 750 in my other car, even 600 miles away, after dark). So instead, when I left Columbus at 9pm on a Thursday night, I’d switch on the one AM station I got, 700 out of Cincinnati, and listed to the Reds broadcast. It wasn’t my team, but it was baseball on the radio for most of the long drive home, and I loved it.
This is my own story, but I would bet my three-way there are many others like it. I’m from Cincinnati and went away to college out of state. Well, one evening I was driving with a friend somewhere when I thought that it was late enough that I could pick up the Reds game on WLW. (of course, you can pick up WLW on the Moon if it’s late enough) Well, I turned the dial and we didn’t hear much, just something that sounded like static. My friend showed some mock sympathy towards me and motioned to put on some music. I stopped him, and said, “give it a second, that’s just Joe” Sure enough, Nuxhall’s voice chimed in and started talking if nothing wrong had happened. My friend started droning on about how he couldn’t understand how an announcer would just leave the airways empty and not even say a word. I didn’t care, because as soon as I heard Joe’s voice I was no longer driving along a road in a distant place, but I was at home in Cincinnati listening to the Reds.
Joe let you listen to the game, and we he spoke, he spoke as your friend.
He was the sound of summer, as much as crickets and the warm rain, as familiar as Ohio Valley fog.
He’ll be missed, but not forgotten
I may have grew up with Denny Matthews, but I was surprised that he won the Ford Frick award over Joe Nuxhall last year. I guess that shows you what sort of a reputation Nuxhall had. Thanks for the great tribute, but then again what more can I expect from Joe Posnanski?
As I watched and listened to the numerous tributes I was truly surprised at the tears that flowed as freely as those words from Nuxhall before which you never, ever turned off the radio broadcast of yet another Reds game. After all the games I attended I remember how important it was to get out of the park quickly enough to get to the car for the ride home in time to hear the ol’ lefthander say those words, and then to once more wish us all a “goodnight everyone.” School night or not, it was like you wouldn’t dream of going to bed before Joe said that.
On a day when Barry and ‘roids is all the rage on ESPN and sports talk radio, it was so good to be reminded of a beloved “icon” for whom all the best accolades and words of praise ever spoken would not be enough to express how we truly feel about him and what he has meant to us for all these years. It has been more than a lifetime of memories. For me, I remember my first trip back home to visit the new ballpark a few years ago and how moved I was when I saw his statue there on the plaza. What a great choice it was. The only one really. I mean, it could have been Pete sliding in head first, or Johnny with his helmet off throwing out a runner, or Joe flapping his elbow while standing at the plate with that long bat of his in his hands, or Tony with his huge smile as he told us as only he could just how “hoppy” he was about yet another home run he “heet”, or Junior leaping above an outfield wall to take away a home run, or I suppose a lot of other great stars that had played there and a lot of other scenes from great moments that had been played there too. But none of them – not Rose, not Larkin, not even Junior, and certainly not Oester – ever symbolized in the way Nuxie did, and only a true “icon” can, just what it means to be not just a Red, but a Cincinnati Red.
For one whose been away from town for over 30 years now, it was like coming back home again to hear his voice in the tributes over and over again telling me that he was heading home. To steal a line from the history books about another “icon,” maybe Marty’s line should be changed to “and now this one – this ol’ lefthander – belongs to the ages.” For Reds fans of our generation, that will always be true.
Reds Country has truly lost one of it’s great citizens. I was born in southwestern West Virginia in 1980, I moved to southern Ohio in 2002, and then to Manhattan, Kansas with XM radio in hand in 2004… Joe Nuxhall and Marty Brennaman have been constants on my radio. I will miss Nuxie’s wise country philosophy – “If you swing the bat, you’re dangerous.†It’s so true!
http://sports.aol.com/fanhouse/2007/11/17/the-dugout-joe-nuxhall-rounds-third-heads-for-home/
Go Joe.