Me and Joe Benz

Maybe football works the same way, but I doubt it.  I was reading the box scores at breakfast this morning and came across a note that on this date in 1914 Joe Benz of the White Sox pitched a no-hitter against the Indians.  Substitute Benz for Kevin Bacon, and I’m connected to a whole bunch of people in Cooperstown, this even though Benz has been dead sixty years and counting.

Allow me to explain.  In an earlier incarnation, I freelanced pointed-headed, highbrow features (eventually, too highbrow for editors) to the Chicago Tribune.  In 2000, when the Cubs opened the season against the Mets in Japan, I thought it would be fun to do a story on the 1913-14 world tour organized by Sox owner Charles Comiskey.  Benz was among the players who made the trip.

An earlier story for the late and lamented Elysian Fields quarterly brought me in contact with one of Benz’s children, who happened to be a nun.  She’d read something I’d done in the magazine and wanted to do a story on her dad; from where I come from, you never say No to a sister.  The one thing I still recall from our conversation was her telling me about a quilt made out of team sweaters from the time her dad played (1911-1919, 76-75 lifetime record, all with the Sox).  Oh, to bring that quilt on “Antiques Roadshow.”

For the world tour story, I got in touch with Benz’s son, also named Joe, and 82 at the time or 99 now, God willing.  The younger Benz had a picture of the touring players taking in the sights of ancient Egypt; at one point, catcher Ivy Wingo tossed a ball over the Sphynx to outfielder Steve Evans.  Benz gave me a copy of the photo to use in my story.

Given that Joe Benz pitched one inning in 1919, I figure that connects me to Shoeless Joe Jackson and the rest of the Black Sox.  So, there you have it, a magic carpet ride fueled by memory and encounter rather than mushrooms.