Last week I noted that I thought I had read my last baseball book of the year. With frost on the ground and another three (three!) months until there are baseball games that count, I find myself pining for the new season. My team has the potential to be better than last year, so that is part of it. I make no secret of my relationship with winter; there’s something about that as well. I pinpoint the main reason is that baseball has been a part of my life since day one. I am a World Series baby, born smack dab in the middle of the 1979 We are Family Pittsburgh Pirates championship, cementing me as a fan for life. Even though the Pirates are division rivals, I hold a special place in my heart for that team because they started me on my fan journey, although I hardly knew it at the time. A few years ago a member of the baseball book club noted that he had a new book coming soon, collaborating with longtime member of the Pirates and Reds Dave Parker on his memoir. The book received acclaim and got nominated for a Casey Award, but I could not find a copy at my library because Dave Parker is a Cincinnati guy and chose to make my neck of the woods his forever home. Everyone needed to read Cobra so I read other baseball books at the time. A few weeks ago, Dave Parker got inducted into the Hall of Fame by the Veterans Committee. This time around, my library put Cobra on display, proud of its native son. Timely, I decided to make Cobra my “last” baseball book of the year.
Dave Parker comes from an integrated section of Cincinnati. He noted that the city did not become known as a black city until after World War II when African Americans moved to Ohio as part of the second wave of the Great Migration. I have only lived in the Queen City during the 21st century and see the area as multicultural, but the city used to be primarily black and white in various pockets. Parker’s parents valued education for their five children and lived in an integrated part of town. Parker notes that his school Courter Tech was a practically a fifty-fifty split, and, other than a few marches during his junior year, the school was chill on matters of race. Parker and his buddies were all three sport stars, and he noted that football was his first love. Seeing running backs like Jim Brown on television made him long to play at Ohio State or Penn State and then in the pros. A knee injury derailed dreams in two of three sports. Guidance counselor Helen Kugel encouraged Parker to keep those grades up so that he could get into college, but even she overlooked the fact that Parker, or DP to his friends, still owned the baseball diamond. He and friend attended a tryout for the Pirates before the end of their senior year, and the Pirates drafted Parker as part of their 1969 class. He promised to one day buy his parents a house and thought that he was on his way to stardom.
The majority of Cobra covers Parker’s years on the 1970s Pirates Lunber Company Teams. They were in his words the most chill organization in baseball for people of color, and after the dawn of free agency all big name minority players wanted to come to Pittsburgh. After reading August Wilson’s Century Cycle of plays, I knew that Pittsburgh was another destination for African Americans during the Great Migration. The city remained de facto segregated but African Americans saw success in the city. It comes as little surprise to me that, along with the success of the Steelers, that black players wanted to come to Pittsburgh. It was the era of Afros and soul music in the club house. Lead by Pops Stargell, the Pirates challenge for a division title every year in the 1970s. Aside from Ol Scraps Phil Garner, the Pirates fielded a primarily minority team. Over time, Stargell named Parker his co-leader on the team and gave him the moniker Cobra after Cincinnati native boxer Ezzard Charles (note- I have lived in Cincinnati for seventeen years and know where Ezzard Charles Road is, but this is the first time I learned who he was). Behind Stargell and Manny Sanguillen, Parker flourished in Pittsburgh. As the Cobra he was fearless and gave 110% in every game. Hits, power, and the best arm in the majors from right field, Parker, or Parkway among his baseball breathren, was among the top players in baseball for the second half of the 1970s, earning the National League’s 1978 MVP award. In the early days of free agency and ironing out the system, Parker was about to get paid and then some.
Parker details his friendships with teammates like Larry Demery, Stargell, John Milner, Bill Madlock, and the one and only Dock Ellis. His anecdotes about Dock made this book. The story of Dock’s no hitter that he pitched for the Yankees and the circumstances behind it are unfortunately not in this memoir. Parker does note that Dock and many of his baseball family have been taken away too soon. In the 1970s no one thought about what cigarettes, drinking, and drugs would do to one’s body. It was the era of being free to be you and me. After the We are Family team won a classic seven game World Series against the Baltimore Orioles, all the accolades came crashing down around Parker. By that point he had been playing for nearly a decade on banged up knees. As the 1980s started, a party powder called cocaine helped players have fun and play through the pain. It took Parker three years to kick the habit after his agent Tom Reich warned him about what the drug did to their friend J.R. Richard. Parker needed a clean break. He was newly married to another Queen City native and made the decision to come home. In 1984, Parker signed a deal with the Cincinnati Reds. This is the year when I first became a real baseball fan, so I think of Parker as a Red first. I actually found out that he used to play for the Pirates during a trivia question on the Wrigley Field scoreboard. As a member of the Reds, he teamed up with the ultimate Cincinnati kid Pete Rose, and Parker became Pops. He wore the moniker like a badge of honor and tutored the younger players in the game that had given so much to him. His career had come full circle.
Dave Parker amassed over 2700 hits in the big leagues. He played twenty years and gave his all every day. I believe that had he played after baseball cleaned up the drug use and the National League adopted a full time designated hitter that he would have reached the magic 3,000 hit plateau. His numbers fell a bit short of hall of fame levels during his time on the ballot, but this year the Veterans Committee voted him in. It will be interesting to see if he chooses the Reds or Pirates for his plaque. Today Parker grapples with Parkinson’s Disease and uses his platform to raise money to fight to find a cure. He is also collaborating with Dave Jordan on another book that takes place in Cincinnati, so suffice to say, it might be awhile until I obtain a copy. As I wait impatiently for hope to spring eternal I know that there are plenty of baseball books out there to tide me over. None of these books are a complete replacement for the game that I love but they offer up a page out of the game’s history and bring a smile to my face. None of the other baseball books I read will give me the same joy as ones featuring the 1979 Pittsburgh Pirates. This team subconsciously started me on my baseball fan journey. To this day I get excited when I hear We are Family on the radio. With standout players like Dave Parker now I know why.
4 stars