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Remembering Percy Williams

Remembering Percy Williams

It’s 1928, and a Vancouverite has just won gold in the 100 and 200 meter sprints at the Summer Olympic Games in Amsterdam. Pretty cool, right? Percy Williams, who ran locally for the Vancouver Athletic Club, achieved this feat, one that no other Canadian – not even Donavon Bailey – has matched in the many years since.  Williams’ rise was meteoric – he started training seriously only four years before his gold-medal performance, at the age of 16. A year before that he suffered through rheumatic fever, which damaged his heart, and was given instructions to not engage in strenuous physical activity. So, to summarize, a weak young boy from what was then a backwoods city with no real track and field history disregards medical advice and rises to the very top of world-wide athletic success in only a few short years. It’s amazing, really. We don’t know much about Williams’ youth in Vancouver, but, as stated, he was a member of the Vancouver Athletic Club. The VAC was located downtown at Dunsmuir and Beatty streets, across from a field called the Cambie Street Ground. Various sports were on offer, such as soccer, baseball, boxing, and, of course, track. Indoor sports were played in the clubhouse itself, while the fields across the street were for everything else. Another site was Athletic Park, a wooden stadium located at what is now 5th and Hemlock.  Fortunately there are a some of photos of Williams with the VAC; The club had a great logo, a V with wings on either side, which is emblazoned on his chest. It’s a nice window into this Olympian’s local, grassroots beginnings.  Fast forward to the Games in ‘26... Williams tied the 100m Olympic record (10.6 seconds) twice leading up to the final. And in that final, though he wouldn’t reach that time, he led start to finish. The 200m was two days later, and it was not as easy; Williams found himself trailing behind German runner, but with a late burst he was able to snatch double gold. It was the first and only time a Canadian had won both at the same Games. Upon his return to Vancouver, Williams received a hero’s welcome. It’s reported that over 25,000 people were there at the downtown train station to celebrate his arrival.  In the following years, Williams toured the Eastern United States on an indoor running circuit, keeping up his world-beating form. He also set a World Record at the Canadian Track and Field Championships in 1930, and won gold in the 100m at the first Commonwealth Games (then known as the British Empire Games). Williams’ last major appearance was for Canada at the 1932 Summer Games in Los Angeles, though he didn’t metal.  Williams’ star fell as fast as it rose. After a short eight-year spell at the top of his sport, he retired from athletic competition, becoming an insurance salesman back in Vancouver. He also flew for the Canadian Air Force during the war, though not in combat. The one-time star led a quiet life, generally, living out of the spotlight with his mother.  Shockingly, Williams died by suicide in 1982, at 74 years old – a tragic end to a life of much importance to sport in Canada.  Today, those looking to learn more about Williams will be a bit hard-pressed. There is a statue in honour outside of BC Place stadium, showing the great runner in his starting pose. Apart from that, limited information can be found through the BC Sports Hall of Fame and the Vancouver Archives. We do our part at The SPORT Gallery, working with hat makers Nine O’Clock Gun Co. to produce a VAC piece each season, which is displayed with information on and photos of Williams. There is a fair share of folks that learn of his golden feats through visits to our gallery, something we’re proud of! 

Live Like Reggie

Live Like Reggie

I’ve decided that Reggie Jackson is my spirit animal. Which Reggie Jackson? Well in my world that question isn’t necessary. But, based on what I’ve seen from some internet surfing, there is a current NBA player, for the Pistons, of that same name. I’m sure this guy is great and all but come on, there’s only one Reggie Jackson and that’s Reginald Martinez Jackson, former MLB slugger.   Reggie Jackson is actually best known as “Mr. October.” He acquired this title in one night, after hitting three home runs – on three pitches – in consecutive at-bats during game six of the 1977 World Series, which clinched it for the Yankees. This game was not the beginning or end of the man’s prime-time heroics, though. In 27 total World Series games, between 1971 and 1982, Mr. October hit 10 home runs, knocked in 24, batted .357, and slugged .755 for the Athletics and the Yankees. It’s quite the resume, and is a large reason why he was a first-ballot Hall of Famer.  But Reggie Jackson is not my spirit animal because of his successes. It’s because of his failures. He is the only batter in baseball history that is celebrated for striking out. Go to eBay and you’ll find a number of autographed photos of Jackson in that signature swing-and-a-miss followthrough, his legs all twisted up and his face grimaced. Reggie is, in fact, the all-time MLB leader in strikeouts, with 2,597. Some traditionalists criticize Reggie for being the “K” king. They argue that he was selfish. That going for ultimate glory – the home run – was everything. Hit for contact and advance the runners? That just didn’t play into Mr. October’s “ego trip.”  In reality this is an oversimplification. As Joe Posnanski explains in a piece on Reggie for The Athletic, the “strikeouts were simply a part of his brilliant calculations.” Some hitters try to rely on instinct, to hit what they see. They look for the fastball and adapt to slower breaking pitches. Maybe they choke up on the bat and have more of a hack swing. You get less power from this approach, but it means the strikeouts go down and the batting average goes up. You keep baserunners moving. But this wasn’t Reggie’s style.  Reggie was a guess hitter; he would look for a particular pitch. “If he got the pitch, he destroyed,” says Posnanski. “If he didn’t get the pitch, he flailed.” You might call it high risk, high reward. Reggie’s process was thought-out, though, as mentioned. These weren’t random attacks. They were planned. He would try to get a step ahead of the pitcher, using previous at-bats as data. He “goaded pitchers into throwing the pitch he wanted,” according to Posnanski, “sometimes pretending to be fooled by that pitch in an earlier situation.” Reggie’s game was hitting homers and he did what he needed to hit them, strikeouts be damned.  But why did he settle on homers? By all accounts Reggie was capable of being an all-around player. He was strong, had great bat speed, and a smooth swing. He could have played the game however he liked. Well, part of it was that Reggie knew home runs had the greatest impact on the fans; yes, they call the triple the “most exciting play in baseball,” but “chicks dig the long ball.” Mr. October did want to win in the grandest way possible, and he wanted to entertain… there is truth to that.  There’s more to Reggie, though. He’s intelligent (his IQ is 160, apparently). He's a man of poetry and art. There’s a particularly good quote that sums up this depth of character, in Roger Kahn’s book October Men: “If my team loses a big one,” Reggie says, “and I strike out with the winning runs on base, are you aware that one billion Chinese don’t care?” This nihilism may sound depressing, but it’s actually freeing; widen the scope and our lives prove to be small and fleeting, so there’s no sense in making a big deal out of everything. If the games we play don’t matter then there’s nothing to be afraid of, so go ahead and swing big. There’s nothing to lose.  Swing big he did. Sometimes it paid off – like in game six of the ‘77 series – and sometimes it didn’t. But in the end, either way, Reggie became the biggest star of his era. People came to see him do anything. To illustrate this, I’ve pulled a reader's comment on Posnanski’s piece:  Reggie was the most exciting ball player I’ve ever watched. There was always a sense of drama when he walked to the plate, and even his missed swings were more exciting than just about anything you can see in today’s game. Detractors can say “overrated” all they want, but Reggie always delivered when it mattered. While the three homers in Game 6 of 1977 (which I was fortunate enough to attend and will never forget) is the most memorable example of him in the clutch, other key but often overlooked instances are his game-tying single in Game 5 of the ‘77 ALCS against KC and his home run in the ‘78 one-game playoff against Boston, which turned out to be the deciding blow. Reggie was simply a player who made the game more fun to watch, and who helped his teams win everywhere he played. – Richard W. Sometimes the fans say it best. Reggie didn’t always do what he “should have,” nor did he make everyone happy. But, as he said himself, “fans don’t boo nobodies.” Reggie was exciting, and he tended to come through when it mattered most – all because he wasn’t afraid to fail.  We could all do to be a bit more like Reggie Jackson. I, for one, have certainly worried too much about striking out – literally and figuratively – and about what others think of me. From now I'm going to take big swings in life, because, you know what? Failing is just fine. It's normal. And, most likely, nobody is paying attention anyway. 

A Numbers Game

A Numbers Game

What is the most iconic uniform number in North American sport? The easiest way to find out is by looking at the “G.O.A.T.” – Greatest of All Time player – for each major league; a number always becomes iconic because of the athlete(s) that wore it.  Basketball and hockey are unique in that each has a somewhat-universally-agreed-upon G.O.A.T. You can probably guess who those athletes are: Michael Jordan (No. 23) for basketball, and Wayne Gretzky (99) for hockey. Yes, there’s still debate on this, it depends on your generation and what you value. But, generally speaking, there’s consensus.  It’s hard to pin down one G.O.A.T. for football as each position is so different. Jim Brown (32) is widely seen as the greatest running back of all time, for example, but that title doesn't expand to the sport as a whole. Baseball is a little easier – many would say Babe Ruth (3) is the greatest as he was a revolutionary hitter and also a strong pitcher, early on. He did play before integration, however, which for some is an asterisk. Others might say Ted Williams (9), but he was really a pure hitter. Willie Mays (24) has a very good case for G.O.A.T. He did only win one title, though, which could be a problem for some.  Of course, baseball does have one number – Jackie Robinson’s 42 – retired by all Major and Minor League teams, a significant fact. Robinson was an amazing athlete, but this act was largely due to the significance of him breaking the colour barrier in 1947. Robinson’s feat of strength – not only physical, but mental and emotional – transcends sport and is rightly a human rights landmark.  In my mind, based on what Robinson achieved, and on the fact that his number is off-limits to baseball on the whole, 42 is the clear winner – it is the most iconic uniform number. It’s also very much tied to Robinson; when you think of 42 you think of him. (The only other notable player to wear that number would be Mariano Rivera, the all-time-great closer, to whom it was given before being retired.) But, there is something interesting to consider: 42 is not the only number that has seen league-wide retirement in North America. Wayne Gretzky’s 99 has been retired by the NHL. This was surprising to me, especially when you consider Gretzky’s contemporary, Michael Jordan, has not seen a similar honour bestowed upon him by the NBA.  Both athletes made their uniform numbers iconic, and yet only one is off limits. And these numbers did not always have the cachet they do now… 23 and 99 are eternally tied to Jordan and Gretzky because of Jordan and Gretzky. You can’t avoid the connection. Even David Beckham, the first European soccer star to break it big in the North American pop-culture scene, “chose number 23 [while with Real Madrid and LA Galaxy] because of Jordan.” (It’s understood that while growing up, Jordan actually wanted number 45 because it was what his older brother wore while playing varsity basketball. He ended up going with 23 as, according to Russ Bengston for air.jordan.com, it “was as close to half of 45 as he could get.” Gretzky had the same idea. Gordie Howe, who wore number 9, was his hero, so Gretzky wanted to wear it too. Nine was already taken by another on his team, however, so, after stints with 19 and 14, he settled on 99.)  Jordan and his number have the advantage over Gretzky when it comes to global recognition and branding. Both athletes transcend their sports, but basketball has a bigger following worldwide. Jordan was part of the ‘Dream Team’ that took part in the Olympics, and he starred in a feature flick with the Looney Tunes, Space Jam. Then there’s the Air Jordan brand. MJ signed a shoe deal with Nike back in the ‘80s and, as we all know, it became massive. Jordan sneakers are their own phenomenon; people line-up overnight for new releases and build crazy collections. Gretzky now owns a line of whisky and wine, but it’s got nothing on Air Jordan. So why hasn't the NBA retired 23? Michael Jordan has done as much if not more for the sport of basketball than Wayne Gretzky has for hockey. You could easily argue that the NBA would not be the hugely popular, trend-setting league it is today without the 23.  Is it because too many other players, current stars like LeBron James, have worn it at this point? According to basketball-reference.com, 236 players have worn No. 23 in the NBA and ABA. That’s a lot. By contrast, you can count on one hand the guys that have worn 99 in the NHL; three different players wore the same 99 sweater for the Canadiens in the 1930s, and two more had the number at the same time as Gretzky. So, because so few have worn it – and because The Great One was, well, so great – retiring 99 was an easy move. Retiring 23 is obviously more complicated. Try looking at it a different way though: Jordan was so talented, so influential, that he still made 23 his own despite the 235 other guys in the room. That’s impressive.  Again, for me, Jackie Robinson’s 42 is the clear winner of Most Iconic Uniform Number in North American Sport. But 23 and 99 are there too, filling out the podium, and so it feels wrong that Robinson and Gretzky have seen the honour of league-wide retirement while Jordan hasn’t. The NHL and NBA are entirely different entities, of course, but to make things right, Jordan’s number should be retired. Come on, Commissioner Silver, get to it!

We're, Like, Literally All Canucks

We're, Like, Literally All Canucks

Something happened in the gallery the other day... A small group came in, and, judging by their conversation, they weren’t from around here (Canada). No surprise there; Granville Island, where our gallery is located, is a very touristy area. It’s actually the second-most-visited public place in the country behind Niagara Falls. We get people from all over the world, but a lot of Americans, especially.  I heard one guy in the group ask aloud, “Hey, what’s a Canuck?” Also common here – I wouldn’t expect anyone from outside of Canada to know that term. Most guess it’s some sort of animal, usually a whale or a shark, which they get from looking at the Canucks’ current logo, an orca.  At that point I’ll fill the person/people in – “It’s slang for a Canadian, like how an American is a ‘Yankee’” – and then ask where they’re from. I did that with this group, as I always do, and a woman amongst them said, “Oh I’m from here, they’re visiting from Seattle.”  Me: “Got ya… so why didn’t you tell them what a Canuck was?”  Her: “I didn’t know!” WHAT?! You didn’t know? Shocking… truly shocking. Ok, maybe if you’re a younger person from somewhere else in Canada and don’t watch hockey at all – maybe then I’d give you a pass. But, if you’re from B.C., even if you don’t follow Vancouver’s NHL franchise, you must know what a Canuck is. Surely. When the Canucks are winning their stuff is everywhere. People wear jerseys, put flags on their cars. They put signs in their windows. You’d have to work hard to ignore it. And the Canucks went to the Stanley Cup Finals in 2011, so if you’re over 20 you’d remember what it was like. This woman was definitely over 20. Maybe I’m being harsh. I’ve been known to be a little snobby at times when it comes to sports and music. I expect people to know things. You don’t have to share the same views, necessarily, but you’ve at least got to know. To me, a Vancouverite not knowing what a Canuck is is akin to a Western person not knowing who The Beatles were. It’s just common knowledge.  But, it’s 2019, and I’m trying to be better – a better human that doesn’t judge people and expect them to be a certain way. I’m trying to be compassionate and accepting. I know a lot of people are turned off by sports, by contact sports especially. The competitive nature, the aggression… I can see why it wouldn’t be appealing and therefore why you might not know what “Canuck” means.  In any case, no matter what a person’s reason is for not knowing something, if I can’t say anything nice in response maybe I should just not say anything at all. Kindness is key. And so why did I take the time to write this, then? Well, initially I felt like ranting a bit, but then I also saw it as an opportunity to educate myself, and others, in a couple of ways. I’ve just buried the lead a little... It’s okay to not care about sports. Sometimes people actually apologize to me when they come in, about not being a “sports person.” Or they just turn around and leave. One of the things that I love about the gallery is that it can actually appeal to all kinds of people. The vintage photography, especially. You can take an interest in the history of it all, in the antiquated uniforms and equipment. You can get a sense, through a sport like baseball or tennis, of how much things have diversified over the years. Or, you can just take a liking to a particular logo or colourway, for no real reason at all.  It’s also okay to like sports, but to not know a lot about them. Competitiveness isn’t restricted to athletes. Sports fans can be the same – they want to be the best, most knowledgeable fan, and they’ll easily ridicule others they see as lesser. I myself have been guilty of this in the past. Oh, well I’m a season ticket holder, and I got my first jersey when I was a baby, and I know X’s stats from 1977… Wait, you’ve only been a fan for two years?? Talk about jumping on the bandwagon. I see it all the time, in person and online.  Making someone feel bad for being new to a team or sport isn’t helpful. We all have to start somewhere. Not everyone is so lucky to have a parent that plays catch and that buys their kid jerseys for Christmas. And the whole bandwagon thing – of course winning gets people involved. That’s the whole point! When a local or national team is doing well, it gives people a reason to band together. To be upset about having more people wanting to cheer on your team is something I’ll never understand. I guess, in short: we all don’t have to agree, but we can still be nice about it.  So, if you, like the woman that was in here earlier, don’t know what a Canuck is – well, you’re in luck. Here’s some information from the always-handy Wikipedia, which will get you even more in the know about all things “Canuck.” Here ya go! "Canuck" /kəˈnʌk/ is a slang term for a Canadian. The origins of the word are uncertain. The term "Kanuck" is first recorded in 1835 as an Americanism, originally referring to Dutch Canadians or French Canadians. By the 1850s, the spelling with a "C" became predominant. Today, English Canadians and others use "Canuck" as a mostly affectionate term for any Canadian [...] Johnny Canuck [is] a personification of Canada who appeared in early political cartoons of the 1860s resisting Uncle Sam's bullying. Johnny Canuck was revived in 1942 by Leo Bachle to defend Canada against the Nazis. The use of the term as a nickname in hockey actually dates back to a Pacific Coast/Western Hockey League team, also called the Vancouver Canucks, who were founded in 1945. Their logo was based on the original Johnny Canuck cartoon. This franchise didn’t carry over into the NHL, but the 1970 Vancouver expansion franchise took on the name. The Canucks brought back Johnny Canuck in 2007, though on NHL ice it’s only been used as an alternate logo.  So, there you go, that is the short-hand history of the term/nickname “Canuck.” I hope it felt like what I wanted it to be – a celebration of acceptance and of all levels of sports knowledge. Funnily, at the end of the day, what may bring this all home best is Vancouver’s current hockey slogan: We Are All Canucks. If you’re a Canadian then you’re, like, literally a Canuck. We’re all different, yet we’re all “Canucks.” Amen.

Who Were They? The California Golden Seals

Who Were They? The California Golden Seals

You know how some musicians can become even more legendary after death than they were in life? Well that can certainly be the case for sports teams, too. I’ve already talked about the unfailing interest in the Hartford Whalers and their genius logo. Well, there’s another hockey team that never achieved on the ice, and that died, but that's a hit with fans today. I’m talking about – drum roll, please – the California Golden Seals!  Before we get into the Seals and their appeal, we have to address their name. It went through many minor, and arguably irrelevant, changes over their life-span. Born as the San Francisco Seals in 1961, the club were also known as: the California Seals (1966-67), the Oakland Seals (1967-70), the Bay Area Seals (1970), and the California Golden Seals (1970-76).   Alright, we’ve got that down, good. So, the Seals, as mentioned, were founded in 1961. They started as a Western Hockey League franchise before moving to the NHL as part of the 1967 expansion, which doubled the size of the league. The Seals were actually a good team during their WHL days; they won two titles, in 1962-63 and 1963-64, and made the playoffs every year but one. Unfortunately, that success would not carry over to the NHL.  In those early expansion days of the NHL, the Original Six teams and the ‘67 class were split into two divisions. This would guarantee an expansion team a spot in the Stanley Cup Finals. Even with that helping hand, the Seals would never muster much. They made the playoffs in their second and third seasons, but lost in the quarterfinals both times. Outside of that they finished fourth or worse every year, and were cellar dwellers four times. Before the 1970-71 season, the Seals were purchased by the owner of the Oakland A’s, Charlie O. Finley. This transaction would not lead to wins – the opposite, actually – but Finley did plant some seeds that have bloomed all these years later. The Seals were a green and blue team initially, but Finley swapped blue for a golden yellow, after his A’s. This colour combo was bold, but nothing could measure up to his next move: white skates. The A’s were/are known for their white cleats – so much so that it became part of their “Swingin’ A’s” logo – and thus the Seals had to match. Rumour has it that the team staff had to paint the skates in between innings to keep them bright. The Seals’ eccentric look is what has stood the test of time – it’s what people in 2019 love about a team that hasn’t played since 1976. As with the Whalers, those who have never heard of the Seals gravitate to their aesthetic. It’s significant considering how bad the team was, and is a testament to the design trends of the ‘70s.  They could have used the support back then, the Seals. Their stay in the Bay didn’t last long. After nine seasons of losing, the still-fledgling NHL club packed up and headed to the Midwest, becoming the Cleveland Barons. They wouldn’t spend much time in their new home either, folding after two years. Well, technically the Barons merged with the existing Minnesota North Stars, though there wasn’t made much of it. What is worth noting, though, is that the owners of the San Jose Sharks franchise actually bought part of the North Stars’ shares, which means there is a wee connection between the Bay’s past and present hockey clubs. While the Sharks have become popular in their own right, they don’t hold a candle to the Golden Seals in my books. The latter are certainly the more asked-after team here at the gallery, which is significant considering the Sharks debuted in the ‘90s and have been relatively successful. The Seals, though, are a cult classic. They have that great mix of being old yet bold, and have the lovable-loser title to boot. May their unique glory live on forever. 

Super 'Stache Bros: The Monumental Return of Hair to Baseball

Super 'Stache Bros: The Monumental Return of Hair to Baseball

You’ve probably never thought to notice, but try to think of the last time you watched a game of baseball that did not include at least one player with facial hair. You probably can’t, even if you’re weird and obsessive like me, because it hasn’t happened since the turn of the century.  Generally, in today’s society, facial hair is in. Men in hipster bars and boardrooms alike don beards. A man can wear long hair too, down brushing his shoulders or up in a bun. This follicle freedom didn’t start so recently, of course; hippy culture brought hair to the masses in the 1960s, and there have been times before that, at the end of the 19th century, say, where facial fuzz was en vogue. But the 2010s might be special in that men in more “professional” occupations have been free to grow, providing they’re well groomed.  Major League Baseball, however, currently has one team trying to upkeep more traditional values. The New York Yankees have long enforced an “appearance policy,” which instructs their coaches and players to keep their hair cropped and their faces clean. A tidy moustache is allowed, but that’s all. No beards, no matter how well groomed, and no long hair. When a hirsute player gets traded to the Yankees, he must shave and shear before taking the field.  This sounds crazy, and in today’s age it is, but it was more the norm than not for a long time. Listen to this: When the Oakland Athletics’ Reggie Jackson went into the 1972 season with a moustache, he was the first MLB player to do so since Wally Schang (who was also an A, incidentally) in 1914. That’s 58 years between!  Many players would let their hair grow in the offseason, but after Spring Training it always got shaved. MLB never had an official, league-wide rule requiring clean faces, it was just known to be preferred. And back then, before collective bargaining and the player’s association, the owners had all the power. It was better to not test the system. But, Mr. October, as he was not yet known, was never one to follow along. He knew he was special – a star – and wanted to stand out.  Initially, the A’s owner, Charles O. Finley, did not approve of his slugger’s ‘stache. Apparently he ordered the rest of his men to grow their hair out too, to make Jackson feel less special and therefore less inclined to see his growth as a stand-out feature. But, Finley, ever the profiteer, realized that there was money to be made here. With a whole team of moustachioed ballplayers he could market them as such, as a sight to behold. Plus, Finley was already making bold moves, like introducing baseball to all-yellow uniforms, and to a robotic rabbit ball-fetching machine. Moustaches weren’t so wild, all things considered.  The A’s did go forth, becoming the outcast rebels of baseball, and soon some made a point to stand their ground in opposition to the idea. Yankees owner George Steinbrenner was the man behind their appearance policy, establishing it in the ‘70s. And the Cincinnati Reds had the same policy, unofficially. When the A’s and the Reds faced off in the 1972 World Series, the press dubbed it “the Hairs vs. the Squares.”  In the ‘60s, the Reds went so far as to remove the handlebar moustache from their mascot, Mr. Red, who wore one since his creation in 1953 as an ode to Cincinnati’s old-time baseball roots – a previous iteration of the Reds, the Red Legs, were the sport’s first professional side. Facial hair was in then (the 1880s), and so Mr. Red was given a curly, black moustache as a throwback salute. Eventually, this did not match the team itself, and so the mascot was reborn as a “square.”  Many other clubs followed the A’s lead, however, and pretty soon a moustache or beard was nothing to take note of in the Majors. Fast-forward to the present day and you’ll see all sorts of styles; bushy beards, “chin-straps,” goatees, and, yes, moustaches. Even Mr. Red has been freed from his no-hair prison – the mo’ is back.  The Yankees still make the news now and again for their continued hair policing. Most famously when Johnny Damon, who was known for his beard and long hair with the Red Sox, went to the Bronx and got sheared. Losing his signature hair was losing his soul – at least if you asked Sox fans. That was a while ago now, but you’ll still see some before/after content circulate when a player is traded to the Yankees.  But perhaps the most interesting development in this baseball-hair world has been Don Mattingly’s ideological turnaround. Now manager of the Marlins, Mattingly spent his entire playing career with the Yankees. He was known for his contempt of the grooming rule, frequently taking fines for his bushy moustache and long hair. But as a manager, Mattingly did a 180. In 2016 he implemented – you guessed it – a no-facial-hair policy. Even moustaches were banned. The rule breaker became the rule maker.  That lasted just the one season, at least. For whatever reason, Mattingly backed off. Maybe he realized that he had forgotten who he was deep down. Or, perhaps a few players pointed out the obvious: that telling grown men how to groom is an outdated move. Even the army now allows short beards. Whatever the case, Mattingly gave up, and the Yankees once again became the only team in baseball – in all of North American sports, really – with an appearance policy.   Lately, MLB has been trying to modernize in order to attract and keep younger athletes and fans. We Play Loud is the league’s new slogan. These days you will see bat flips, colourful cleats, gold chains, and… facial hair. In spite of complaints by old-timers who say this new generation is “disrespecting the game,” these changes are fun and have been building for a long time – just ask the Reggie and the A’s! ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––For more stories on the A's "Moustache Gang," look to Jason Turbow's book Dynastic, Bombastic, Fantastic. This piece would not have been possible without it.

Yankees vs. Dodgers – the Classic World Series Match-Up

Yankees vs. Dodgers – the Classic World Series Match-Up

The New York Yankees and Los Angeles Dodgers are two of the most iconic teams in baseball, if not all sports. Their respective interlocking-letter logos – the famous "NY" and "LA" – transcend the game and stand on their own as iconic fashion emblems.  It's no surprise, then, that the Yankees and Dodgers come together to make our ideal World Series match-up, from a visual standpoint. The two teams have a long history of playing each other in the Fall Classic, but haven't done so in a while. They met every decade from the 1940s to the '80s, including five times in the '50s. It's been 11 total, and the Yankees have won eight of those series.  The Yankees-Dodgers rivalry started as a local one, of course, with the Dodgers being in Brooklyn until 1957. It was very much David vs. Goliath at that time; the Bronx Bombers won the first five meetings before the "Bums" could squeeze out a win in seven games in '55. As you might imagine, the borough of Brooklyn – which had a close connection with their team – went wild, celebrating what seemed like an impossible victory. Then, as quickly as the good times came, they left. With Ebbets Field falling apart and restless owners looking for greener pastures, the Dodgers moved West with the Giants to California. The Yankees were suddenly the lone New York club. But, this change wasn't all bad. It meant the Yankees-Dodgers rivalry gained new meaning: East vs. West.  The Dodgers found success quickly in their new home, winning the World Series only two years in (against the White Sox), in 1959. Four years after that, the cities of New York and Los Angeles played for the first time in the Majors. LA won that one, then New York took back-to-back in '77 and '78. The Californians then retook the crown in '81.  The two clubs haven't met in the World Series since. Regular-season interleague play has scratched that itch a bit, providing 16 games. There was a three-game series in LA this season, but that was a phallic victory as both teams were subject to the all-black/all-white "Players' Weekend" uniforms, a tragedy considering how wonderful the uniform match-up usually is, and how infrequently it occurs.  In any case, it's the weight of the World Series that gives this rivalry its magic, and if you're a '90s baby like me, there's been no chance to see it live. But there is hope. This season the Yankees and the Dodgers are two of baseball's best teams. Both won their divisions and racked up over 100 wins. Anything can happen, obviously, and there are other good teams out there (the 107-win Astros spring to mind and the Nationals have pushed the Dodgers in the NLDS), but we could finally get that classic Yankees-Dodgers World Series match-up.  Is your mouth watering yet? If not, here's some beautiful photography from our archive to set the mood: 

The Right Look

The Right Look

Sometimes you see an athlete that just looks right. Writer Paul Lukas explains this idea in a February, 2019 Uni Watch blog post. "I was talking with a friend a few weeks ago about football," he says. "We agreed that whatever else you might think of Tom Brady, he looks like a quarterback. His posture, his body proportions, the way he stands tall in the pocket — there’s a physical charisma to him. He looks like the dictionary definition of the word quarterback, straight out of central casting." You may not agree with Paul's choice, but I'm sure you understand the sentiment. I certainly do. I'm more of a baseball guy, and when it comes to baseball, in my mind the "right look" is someone with with good facial hair, broad shoulders, and stirrups. Their face would give a tough-yet-wise vibe; of someone that chews tobacco and drinks beer and gets dirty, but that, in their spare time, thinks deeply and read books. You see this player and a scene almost gets painted in your head... Off a cobblestone street in the old part of town, you step into the smoky haze of a dive bar. Low lights glow off the jukebox, which twangs sad country. There's barflies dotting the tables. There might even be sawdust on the floor. You grab a seat at the bar next to a ruggedly handsome man. He's got big shoulders that move big arms that move big hands that grab cheap beer. Brow furrowed. Moustachioed. Hair thinning, but it suits him. Wearing denim. There's a copy of The Old Man and the Sea face down on the counter.  He stands up. "Time to get to the park?" says the barkeep. "Yep," says the man.  Later that night, this man, who turns out to be Major League Baseball star Kirk Gibson, hits a very important home run for the Los Angeles Dodgers. Yes, Gibson meets the description for me. Now I can't say whether the guy actually drank beer at bars before games, or whether he's a voracious reader. By all accounts he was an intense ballplayer, but has now mellowed into the role of colour commentator. To me it doesn't really matter; it's more that Gibson is a muse for my own daydreaming.  Another guy that fits the bill for me is Jim "Catfish" Hunter. And Luis Tiant. All... have moustaches. Apparently that's what I look for in a ballplayer. Generally I think it's the right look that I want, more so than a certain style of play. At least when it comes to baseball. With other sports, like hockey or soccer, the movement of a player can captivate. Think Wayne Gretzky; it's not the way he wore his helmet – can you really wear a helmet well? – it's how he weaved in and out of the opposition, curving around the post before fooling the goalie and rippling the net.  In baseball, the action is more direct. Pitcher throws, batter hits. The beauty is in the details; how the uniform hangs on the player, or his facial hair. Always the facial hair. 

The Greatest Logo of All Time?

The Greatest Logo of All Time?

Work the floor at one of our galleries and you will get all sorts of opinions on various sporting topics. These opinions, naturally subjective, will vary, but can usually be placed under one umbrella header: "The Greatest." The greatest team or era, the greatest player, the greatest uniform or logo, etc. People don't go on about mediocrity. You might have a debate over who's worst, but being the worst is still being the best at something, technically... Sometimes you'll see a general consensus develop, especially with uniforms and logos. People's opinions on players and teams are often the product of their generation and therefore vary. If you grew up watching Howe or Orr, one of them will be your GOAT (a commonly-used acronym for Greatest of All Time). If you're a little younger and were around for Gretzky, he's your GOAT. But the aesthetics of sport are different, they seem to transcend generational divides. With results, more is always better. More points, more wins, more trophies. When it comes to uniforms and logos, simplicity is key. Less is more. This is why "vintage" looks are best loved, they come from a simpler time and therefore hold up better. Sticking with hockey, look at the Original Six; none have changed their uniforms or primary logos beyond a few tweaks and they continue to be seen as best in the league. Sometimes a look can be so good it transcends the team itself. One such example is that of the Hartford Whalers. The Whalers, who played from 1972 to 1997 before becoming the Carolina Hurricanes, are sadly a footnote to most. On ice they are best known for being home to Gordie Howe post Red Wings. Mr. Hockey played with the Whalers in the WHA and then for one season in the NHL – in his 50s! – when the team moved leagues. The logo Howe wore became iconic, but it wouldn't be because of any goals scored or games won.  The logo the Whalers would use for their NHL tenure has become an all-time great. To call it a cult classic would be wrong; it holds its own with the best. If I were to make a list based on the number of customer comments and apparel sales – based purely on the logo and not a team's or athlete's success – it might even be the very best. I had one woman say the logo was the thing that inspired her to go to design school. Tourists gravitate towards it, despite having never heard of the Whalers before. Up comes the person to the desk saying, "I'd like this, please... and by the way what is it?" Let's talk about the logo itself, made by graphic designer Peter Good. It is, after all, his sublime work that makes it so enduring and desirable. You have the two obvious pieces, a whale tail up top and a trident/spear below that doubles as a "W." But then there's that little open secret, the "H" that's formed by the negative space between the tail and spear. It takes some serious vision to develop such a simple logo and have it hold a wonderful easter egg. All together, it's perfection. Everything fits just right like the pieces of a puzzle.  Is it The Greatest Logo of All Time? That cannot be said definitively. There's always going to be people out there that disagree, especially when it comes to something as partisan as sports. But the Hartford Whalers' logo is up there. Try walking down the street with one emblazoned on your chest, you'll see. The bright light of a championship never shone upon it, and many don't even know the team. But the logo will live on forever, and with good reason. 

Who Were They? The Toronto Maple Leafs Baseball Club

Who Were They? The Toronto Maple Leafs Baseball Club

We all know the Toronto Maple Leafs, one of hockey's Original Six franchises. They haven't won the Stanley Cup in a while, but they're still an iconic team with an incredibly dedicated fanbase. Even the average joe could point out their famous blue and white leaf logo from a crowd.  What many don't know is that there was another team in the city called the Maple Leafs, and they date back way earlier, to the 19th century. This team played a different game; not hockey, but baseball. The Leafs baseball club were a minor league team, playing in the International League for their entire history (1896-1967).  The Leafs aren't as well known as some other minor league teams, like the Montreal Royals for example. The Royals were the team that Jackie Robinson broke in with before being promoted to the Dodgers, so they have a bit more cultural cachet. The two teams actually played in the same league and went head-to-head in the finals of 1943, '52, and '58, with Montreal taking two out of three. Though the Royals had their rival's number both on and off the field, the Leafs do have a few stories to tell. Before moving into Maple Leaf Stadium, where they spent most of their history, the Leafs played at Hanlon's Point on Toronto's Centre Island. And in 1914, that would be where Babe Ruth hit is very first professional dinger. Because the Bambino, then with the Providence Grays, was focusing on pitching at that time, it would be his only minor league home run. He would go on to hit a few more in the majors, though.  Hitting fast forward, the Leafs had coaching legend Sparky Anderson on their side as both player and manager in the 1960s. He would go on to lead the Reds to back-to-back World Series titles in 1975 and '76, and won with the Tigers in '84 as well. Other notable players for the Leafs were Elston Howard, who went on to have a good career catching for the Yankees, and Al Cicotte, the great-grandnephew of one of the infamous "Black Sox," Eddie Cicotte.  The Leafs even got their own Jackie Robinson moment, though it was brief; number 42 donned their uniform for a media event at Maple Leaf Stadium in 1962. There is photo evidence of this, though Robinson doesn't look particularly pleased about the experience. Perhaps he felt like he was cheating on the Royals!  Despite a high level of play and some notable names coming through, the Leafs struggled for attendance in the '60s, mostly due to the increasing age of Maple Leaf Stadium. With costly renovations needed, ownership instead decided to sell the team to an American businessman, who moved the team to Louisville after the 1967 season. Toronto would not be without baseball for long, however, getting the Major League Blue Jays ten years later. 

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