Day 13: Catfish

It's a Friday Night Fish Fry and today's special is the "Million Dollar Catfish." A steep price to pay sure, but when you see what you get, it's well worth it. It's all you can devour and it's coming to you freshly caught from North Carolina, via some circuitous routes of Kansas City (A's), Oakland (A's), and New York (Yankees). This ain't the farm raised stuff that Mr. Finley tried to buy and sell cheap, this is the genuine mucker, a catfish born to be free and fighting his way through anyone or anything that gets in his way.

Today's Baseball Song of the Day is "Catfish" by Bob Dylan. Unreleased until his box set "the bootleg series volumes 1-3", this twangy back-stream song saunters its way through, lazily and properly describing Catfish" Hunter, who was elected into the National Baseball Hall of Fame in 1978. Catfish won 20 games five years in a row, was an eight time All Star, won five World Series, was the "Pitcher of the Year" and American League Cy Young Award winner in 1974. As a side dish, Catfish served up a "Perfect Game" in 1968, at the age of 22.

Due to complications from ALS, Catfish died at the age of 53. Please consider donating to ALS (link at bottom).

From the ALS Association; Jim "Catfish" Hunter Chapter's web site:
http://www.catfishchapter.org/ourchapter/tribute.html

“Catfish” wasn’t always “Catfish.” To his older brothers and high school teammates, he was just “Jimmy.”

He never played in the minor leagues. When he was recruited out of high school by the owner of the Kansas City Athletics’s (soon to become the Oakland A’s), Charlie O. Finley said, “Do you have a nickname?” Catfish said, "No." Mr Finley said, "What do you like to do?" Catfish: "Hunting and fishing." Finley: "You ran away from home when you were six to go fishing. You caught two catfish and were bringing in the third when they finally found you. That's your nickname. Now, repeat it back to me."

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BSOD 13: Catfish
Artist: Bob Dylan
Album: The Bootleg Series Vols. 1-3
Released: March 1991

Catfish Lyics

Lazy stadium night
Catfish on the mound.
"Strike three," the umpire said,
Batter have to go back and sit down.

Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like Catfish can.

Used to work on Mr. Finley's farm
But the old man wouldn't pay
So he packed his glove and took his arm
An' one day he just ran away.

Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like Catfish can.

Come up where the Yankees are,
Dress up in a pinstripe suit,
Smoke a custom-made cigar,
Wear an alligator boot.

Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like Catfish can.

Carolina born and bred,
Love to hunt the little quail.
Got a hundred-acre spread,
Got some huntin' dogs for sale.

Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like Catfish can.

Reggie Jackson at the plate
Seein' nothin' but the curve,
Swing too early or too late
Got to eat what Catfish serve.

Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like Catfish can.

Even Billy Martin grins
When the Fish is in the game.
Every season twenty wins
Gonna make the Hall of Fame.

Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like Catfish can.


Please consider donating to the ALS Associaton to help find a cure in Catfish Hunter's name.



click here to donate: http://www.catfishchapter.org/help/donating.html