(or 2001 a Strat-O-Matic
Odyssey)
by Phil Trygar
As I mentioned in the Preface, I have been playing Strat-O-Matic Baseball for 26 years, since 1976. I began with the 1975 season, a memorable one for Major League Baseball and for myself. I also made a reference to Extra Innings. You see, originally I entered the world of baseball simulation by purchasing and playing a game called Extra Innings. It was a friend of mine, Jeff Kirby, who introduced me to Strat-O-Matic. Jeff…I salute you and thank you for setting me in the right direction. Over the years, I have dabbled with APBA, Statis Pro, Pursue the Pennant, and a few others, but through them all, Strat-O-Matic remained a constant.
In the early years especially, Strat cards went every where with those of us who played. They went on road trips to each others houses during the season obviously, but they also found themselves in many other interesting places as well. They went in gym bags, so that before and after gym class in school or basketball practice, they became the subject of many an interesting conversation. They went on vacations, since no Strat Fanatic feels complete without them somewhere close by. You never knew if you might have a free moment (I’ve played Strat on the beach, believe it or not), or if you may run across another Fanatic. They especially went to school with you, hidden in between pages of books, to be studied while an unsuspecting teacher looked on and thought how studious you looked. As in other aspects of life, appearance can be everything. But a 1977 Jim Bibby card may have gone where no card has gone before.
I attended 12 years of Catholic schools, so I’ve had a lifetime of experience with priests and nuns. Father McGowan taught the 6th period Religion class, which was held from 1:15 to 2:20 during my freshman year of high school. The high school I attended was small by today’s standards. My graduating class was only 107. Accordingly, if you were a boy going to school there, it was more than likely that you played some sport. If it was your last period class, as Father McGowan’s was, you were excused from it early if your team was travelling that day to a road game. Since this was the case a lot of days, the class itself was not taken particularly seriously. But the good Father did have to put his foot down one day when he discovered that 6 of us were not in fact debating the virtues of Jonah and his whale, but were playing a Strat-O-Matic Baseball league in the back right corner of his class.
Jeff George (no, not the NFL QB) and I were locked in a tight pitcher’s duel in the bottom of the 7th. His team, the modified Oakland A’s was taking on my team, the modified Cleveland Indians. What I mean by modified, is that we all took an existing Major League team and then held a draft of 3 additional players from the unpicked teams. The A’s had the bases loaded and 2 outs in a 2-2 game. Jim Bibby was on the ropes, but with the likes of Don Hood, Sid Monge, Rick Waits and LaRoche LaLob waiting in my bullpen, I decided to stay with him. It was too early for Kern and I had to hope Bibby could gut it out. Rodney Scott stood on 3rd, Manny Sanguillen at 2nd, Tony Armas at 1st, and the dangerous Mitchell Page stood at the plate with a chance to bust the game wide open.
As the dice tumbled through the air, Father McGowan chose that moment to turn from the blackboard to ask a question of his ever attentive pupils. The hard smack of the ivory against the wood of the desk sounded louder than ever as his eyes widened at what he was seeing. Now I was still searching throught my bullpen pitcher’s cards and did not know he thought we were up to something. Bibby sat on the corner of my desk glowing as white as a beacon. Jeff deftly scooped his team into the back of his text book and shoved the dice up his shirt sleeve. “Hey!” I yelled. “That was a 6-5 flyout! What the hell are you doing!” It was this outburst that sealed my, and poor Jim Bibby’s, fates.
“And what exactly do you gentlemen think you’re doing?” the priest asked. “And I never want to hear that kind of language in my classroom again, young man!” Father McGowan strode down the aisle way between desks. Bibby still hung just out of reach of my fingertips at the corner of my desk. The jig was up. “What is this?” he asked me. “It’s a betting card of some kind, isn’t it?” he accused. “No…it’s not….it’s a Strat-O-Matic card.” I stammered. “Strat-O-What?” he inquired. “What on earth is that?”
Just then, the bell rang. I reached for my books and then looked imploring at Father McGowan, trying to will him to hand over Jim Bibby. Without another word, he turned and headed for the front of the class, Bibby still clutched in his hand…never to be seen again. I wonder what ever happened to that card.? But maybe…just maybe…Bibby went on to a better place…