frankbmd
01-08-2014, 09:09 AM
There have been threads recounting personal experiences with major leaguers and threads of recollection of our individual collecting histories. Most prewar collectors, I’ve come to learn are also historians of the game. This true story is a bit different though, although it touches on all of the above. I don’t expect it to provoke an overwhelming response or even other similar incidents, but I may be surprised. Thank you in advance for your indulgence of.......
My Afternoon with Ziggy
The nickname “Ziggy” is probably not unique in the lore of baseball. Though I doubt that many of you can name a ball player named Ziggy. I certainly couldn’t then and haven’t encountered any others since.
Some of us have jobs that are directly related to the sport, but I would guess that most of us have a clear separation between our vocation and our avocation of baseball. As many of you know I am a retired physician. During my training I had the opportunity to work for three months at Wrigley Field covering the stadium, both fans and players, during Cub games for the team physician. Other than that brief period, my vocation and avocation have not intersected.
In the early 1980s an elderly black patient came to my office with a hernia that required surgical repair. The hernia was unremarkable and the medical and surgical process was totally uneventful. He could have easily been in and out of the office and in and out of the hospital in one day without any discussion of his past. Here today, gone tomorrow.
Something quite different occurred however, as I always had the tendency to try to connect with my patients on a topic extraneous to their medical problem. The patient’s name was Everett (the Ziggy thing came later) and I can’t recall exactly how the conversation started, but I must have asked something about Everett’s past when the subject of baseball came up.
Soon Everett became Ziggy, his nickname as a player and the stories began to unfold. Always a student of the game and its history, Ziggy mentioned that his father was also a ball player. The plot thickens. Everett’s father was named Oliver. That’s when the bell rang in my head and I started to put the pieces together. We then talked baseball for a good part of the afternoon (in the hospital after surgery with my schedule open, or at least I hope I wasn’t keeping anyone waiting.)
His father Oliver, you see, was Oliver Marcelle, generally considered to be one of the best, if not the best, thirdbaseman in the history of the Negro Leagues. Ziggy’s pedigree was immediately established as the name Oliver Marcelle was familiar to me.
Ziggy’s career was much briefer than his father’s, but one of the story’s he told was memorable. Ziggy was a catcher with a good arm but was not a very good hitter. In 1939 he recalled his experience trying to get the job of back up catcher on the Baltimore Elite Giants managed by Biz Mackey, the first string catcher. Losing that job made Ziggy smile, when he told me why didn’t make the team. It seems there was another younger catcher in camp that Mr. Mackey preferred. His name was Roy Campanella. When Ziggy saw what Campanella could do, he knew that he would be playing elsewhere that year.
The next year Josh Gibson left the Grays and went to the Mexican League. Ziggy tried out for the Gibsonless Homestead Grays, but once again failed to make the team. Never more than a backup catcher in subsequent years Ziggy’s memories were far brighter than his career in baseball, that ended with the Farnham Pirates of the Provincial League in Quebec in 1948.
In the off season Ziggy played basketball and according to him, basketball was his best sport. I believed him. He was a charming gentleman, who was truly impressed with my knowledge of his father. My afternoon with Ziggy I may not recall completely, but I will never forget.
Footnote: Ziggy spelled his last name Marcel. His bio is included in Riley’s book on the Negro League players. That bio although brief is included in the Baseball Reference Bullpen.
http://www.baseball-reference.com/bullpen/Ziggy_Marcel
My Afternoon with Ziggy
The nickname “Ziggy” is probably not unique in the lore of baseball. Though I doubt that many of you can name a ball player named Ziggy. I certainly couldn’t then and haven’t encountered any others since.
Some of us have jobs that are directly related to the sport, but I would guess that most of us have a clear separation between our vocation and our avocation of baseball. As many of you know I am a retired physician. During my training I had the opportunity to work for three months at Wrigley Field covering the stadium, both fans and players, during Cub games for the team physician. Other than that brief period, my vocation and avocation have not intersected.
In the early 1980s an elderly black patient came to my office with a hernia that required surgical repair. The hernia was unremarkable and the medical and surgical process was totally uneventful. He could have easily been in and out of the office and in and out of the hospital in one day without any discussion of his past. Here today, gone tomorrow.
Something quite different occurred however, as I always had the tendency to try to connect with my patients on a topic extraneous to their medical problem. The patient’s name was Everett (the Ziggy thing came later) and I can’t recall exactly how the conversation started, but I must have asked something about Everett’s past when the subject of baseball came up.
Soon Everett became Ziggy, his nickname as a player and the stories began to unfold. Always a student of the game and its history, Ziggy mentioned that his father was also a ball player. The plot thickens. Everett’s father was named Oliver. That’s when the bell rang in my head and I started to put the pieces together. We then talked baseball for a good part of the afternoon (in the hospital after surgery with my schedule open, or at least I hope I wasn’t keeping anyone waiting.)
His father Oliver, you see, was Oliver Marcelle, generally considered to be one of the best, if not the best, thirdbaseman in the history of the Negro Leagues. Ziggy’s pedigree was immediately established as the name Oliver Marcelle was familiar to me.
Ziggy’s career was much briefer than his father’s, but one of the story’s he told was memorable. Ziggy was a catcher with a good arm but was not a very good hitter. In 1939 he recalled his experience trying to get the job of back up catcher on the Baltimore Elite Giants managed by Biz Mackey, the first string catcher. Losing that job made Ziggy smile, when he told me why didn’t make the team. It seems there was another younger catcher in camp that Mr. Mackey preferred. His name was Roy Campanella. When Ziggy saw what Campanella could do, he knew that he would be playing elsewhere that year.
The next year Josh Gibson left the Grays and went to the Mexican League. Ziggy tried out for the Gibsonless Homestead Grays, but once again failed to make the team. Never more than a backup catcher in subsequent years Ziggy’s memories were far brighter than his career in baseball, that ended with the Farnham Pirates of the Provincial League in Quebec in 1948.
In the off season Ziggy played basketball and according to him, basketball was his best sport. I believed him. He was a charming gentleman, who was truly impressed with my knowledge of his father. My afternoon with Ziggy I may not recall completely, but I will never forget.
Footnote: Ziggy spelled his last name Marcel. His bio is included in Riley’s book on the Negro League players. That bio although brief is included in the Baseball Reference Bullpen.
http://www.baseball-reference.com/bullpen/Ziggy_Marcel