Sunday, June 13, 2010
By Robert Dvorchak, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
http://www.post-gazette.com/sports/?m=1
One afternoon some 30 years ago, Richard Probola was about to wash his car in his South Side driveway. But just before scrubbing away the grime with an outdated flannel baseball jersey, a dear friend drove up.
Recognizing the colors, lettering and number on the sleeveless garment, the visitor told him to stop.
"No, no, no, no, no! Are you crazy? That's part of Pittsburgh history. Give me that," Mitch Antin interrupted.
"What?" the late Mr. Probola shrugged. "It's just a rag I had lying around the house."
After the brief exchange, Dr. Antin -- now an orthopedic surgeon who lives in Squirrel Hill -- took possession. Folding it carefully into a plastic garment bag, he tucked it away for posterity in a safety deposit box kept in a bank.
"I just squirreled it away," he said.
James G. Klingensmith/Post-Gazette
Pittsburgh Pirate Bill Mazeroski's game-ending home run at Forbes Field during the seventh game of the 1960 World Series against the Yankees.
For good reason. Not only was this a game-worn Pirates jersey belonging to a Hall of Fame player, it was the jersey on Bill Mazeroski's back from Game 7 of the 1960 World Series when he smote the home run that doomed the Yankees.
One person's rag is another person's priceless civic treasure, it seems. And now the garment is the central thread of a little-known back story being told to mark the 50th anniversary of arguably the single most electrifying moment in the city's sports history.
'Worn By Me'
Is it the real deal? That's a fair question, and Dr. Antin has taken great pains to document the jersey's authenticity.
It was no big deal for Mr. Probola, a former baseball scout, to collect a bat, a baseball, cleats, hats or uniforms from players after a season concluded. He was well known in the Pirates' clubhouse and accumulated stuff from Roberto Clemente, Willie Stargell, Dick Groat and Bill Madlock, among others. He never sold a single item but was apt to give the memorabilia away to friends.
The labels on the Mazeroski jersey show that it is an official big league Rawlings model. And sewn into an inner lining -- next to the laundering instructions to wash in lukewarm water with mild soap and to dry slowly at room temperature -- is an identification tag that says "Set 1, 1960." That tag was on every player's primary home jersey worn by the Pirates that year.
Before he passed away in 2002, Mr. Probola wrote and signed a statement that said: "I gave Dr. Mitch Antin the Mazeroski 1960 World Series uniform."
In addition, the wearer himself authenticated it 20 years ago at an autograph show. In blue ink on the lower left side of the jersey is written: "Uniform Worn By Me in 7th Game of 1960 World Series -- Bill Mazeroski."
Mr. Mazeroski could not be reached for comment on the jersey. But Lisa Antin took pictures of her husband with Mr. Mazeroski at that signing, held at Robert Morris University.
"It's the real deal. Totally authentic," Dr. Antin said.
Sports memorabilia is a multimillion-dollr business these days, but back in 1960, there was no such market. Game-worn jerseys by superstar players are valued at tens of thousands of dollars on some websites, but the Antin family never had the Mazeroski jersey appraised. It doesn't intend to, either.
"It's nothing I would ever part with," Dr. Antin said. "It's very important to me and my family. It's also my link to a dear departed friend. Priceless, huh? And to think, it might have been destroyed."
Pro's baseball links
If not for a special relationship, the jersey may have been lost to history.
A graduate of Allderdice High School, Dr. Antin once had a summer job with the city parks department. He worked with Mr. Probola, who ran a traveling baseball clinic.
"Pro," as he was known, once played in Cleveland's minor league system. He later was a scout for the Indians and was responsible for the signing of "Sudden" Sam McDowell, who pitched for Central Catholic High School.
Steve Mellon/Post-Gazette
Mitch Antin, right, with sons Ben, left, and Jason and the historic baseball jersey that's been in the family's possession for about three decades. The jersey was worn by Bill Mazeroski the day he hit the home run that lifted the Pirates over the New York Yankees in the 1960 World Series.
Pro later scouted for the Pirates and Angels. Among his other baseball connections, he coached the Little Pirates amateur baseball team and coached baseball at the former St. Elizabeth High School in Pleasant Hills.
Through the years, after he graduated from medical school, Dr. Antin stayed in touch with Pro and would often drop by his apartment to visit like he did the day of the aborted car wash.
"After I stopped him from washing his car with it, he told me to take it and do whatever I wanted with it," Dr. Antin said. "He was the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back."
Or off the car wash bucket.
Dirty laundry
Even though he was 8 years old during the 1960 World Series, Dr. Antin has an impressive album of newspaper clippings from those days. He also has a highlight reel of the Series on videotape that his two sons still watch.
He understood that the Maz home run at 3:36 p.m. on Oct. 13, 1960, transcended baseball.
"It changed the image of the city," Dr. Antin said. "It was part of the renaissance that brought Pittsburgh out of the Dark Ages. It shattered the stereotype of Pittsburgh being a dirty steel town."
According to the pieces of the story then, the last time this jersey was seen in public was when Mr. Mazeroski swatted a Ralph Terry pitch over the 406-foot mark in left field at Forbes Field and jubilantly rounded the bases.
Imagine the hands that touched the flannel when teammates and well wishers slapped Maz on the back at home plate on his way to the clubhouse. Imagine the champagne sprayed and swigged because of it.
Nobody gave any thought to dirty laundry in the celebratory haze. And nobody gave much thought to saving uniforms as souvenirs.
Back in the day, major league teams would patch up uniforms and equipment to use the next season in their minor league systems, unless somebody like Pro took a jersey or two as a souvenir.
After escaping the car wash, the jersey has been tucked away in safe storage for 30 years except for the time its original owner autographed it.
"That was the only time I ever saw it," said Dr. Antin's elder son, Ben, 28. "I was never allowed to tell anybody about it, to brag about it. Honestly, I was afraid to touch it. I would have a hard time letting it go, knowing how much it means to my dad. Just because it's part of our family, part of our lives."
For the past several years, Dr. Antin has talked with Ben and a younger son, Jason, about what to do with the jersey. Then they began reading articles about the 1960 season and decided to share their story.
"I always felt it belonged in Pittsburgh rather than the Hall of Fame," Dr. Antin said, "because it's such a one-of-a-kind piece of the city's history. It's always been a problem because I didn't know what to do with it. But I brought it out because I wanted it to be part of this year's celebration."
Whether or not it gets displayed somewhere has yet to be determined.
When the jersey saw the light of day for the first time in decades, those who beheld it reacted as if it were an ancient shroud or relic from antiquity.
"The Yiddish word for rag is schmatta, and for all these years, my wife thought this jersey was a schmatta," Dr. Antin said with a laugh. "Look how excited she is now. It's like seeing the Holy Grail."
One person's rag ...
Robert Dvorchak: bdvorchak@post-gazette.com
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