Nebraska Minor League Baseball
Walter "Wolf" Montgomery
Omaha Cardinals 1952 & 1953

A Problem With Spoonerballs
    by Walter Montgomery

Carl Spooner was a hard-throwing pitcher for the Brooklyn Dodger organization. He toiled for their Pueblo, Colorado, Western League club in 1953. If the radar guns of today had been available, I'm sure they would have clocked him in the mid to upper '90s.

To add intimidation to fear, he was wild and the ball moved. His teammates would tell you he was also blind. The visitors' trainer's room was always crowded on the days Spooner was to pitch. Any excuse to stay out of the lineup.

Our manager held two clubhouse meetingsÑone for the first four hitters in the lineup, the other for the last five and possible pinch hitters. The idea was to get out of town with your good hitters in ambulatory condition. It made little difference if a .150 hitter ended up on the disabled list.

Under the best of conditions, the lights in Pueblo's park were terrible. The first four hitters were told to watch Spooner's movements closely and swing when they thought they heard the ball go by. Do that three times and sit down.

The last five hitters were told to stand deep in the box and swing at good pitches only. You might get a walk or something. Something was a code word for the phrase getting hit with a pitch and having someone run for you while you're on the way to the hospital to find out what was broken. The manager made you feel better by saying "We'll call and let you know what happened."

Spooner did go to the National League with the Dodgers. He didn't last long because of his wildness.

The longest hit I ever surrendered was to Jim Gentile, a first baseman on the same Pueblo club. Gentile was a super long-ball hitter and was a big part of every pregame strategy meeting in Pueblo.

The way to keep him in the ballpark was to change up inside, let him pull it foul, get ahead in the count, pitch him outside and make him hit to the deepest part of the park for an out.

Gentile was the number three hitter in the first inning. First pitch, change up, whoops, out over the plate, good-bye. As a matter of routine, I left the mound to back up third base. As I passed our third baseman he didn't make matters any better by asking "Do you think it will come down in town?" As it turned out the ball landed considerably short of a mile and made a crater no more than three inches deep.

My ego was upgraded some years later when he was hitting dingers off of major league pitchers who were much better than I ever was.


Thanks to the generosity of Walter's brother Gary, here are some of the stories of Walter Montgomery when he was playing for the Omaha Cardinals.

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