A Brief History of the CRL

(Well, if you know me, it ain’t too brief)

Disclaimer:

While the bulk of what appears below is from historical records (archived newsletters and standings), much of it is from my own memory. I don’t mean for this to sound so self-centric, but, unfortunately, my memories are the only ones in my head. So (and this is an open request to all current and former CRL members as I’m sending this to as many as I still have email addresses for) if you have memories you think should be included here, please let me know and they will be incorporated into this work.

General:

Let me begin by saying that I have so many memories that I cannot categorize by year – if I was certain of a year that a specific event happened, I included it in the timeline below. Otherwise, those memories are summarized in this catch-all section. Although they cannot be completely captured here, they include things like Sanford (may he rest in peace) stopping up the toilet in whoever’s suite we were holding the draft that year and 15-or-so guys (with a partially-drunk bathtub full of beer) needing to use the facilities on the Nteenth floor of some Vegas hotel, or Mike Look passing out in the draft room (more than once) because he’d been up all night playing blackjack. Among the memories that are flooding back but cannot be assigned to specific years include:

· Many nights at The Gardens and Spearmint Rhino (enough said – what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas). Then, as we go older, we realized two things:

o Those women were only good at one thing – sucking all the money out of our wallets

o They were young enough to be our daughters.

· Bringing your checkbooks to the draft to pay your initial buy-in.

· Everyone calling in their Monday moves to my home phone (cell phones didn’t exist then).

· The early years, before the Internet, when Ken would get the weekly stats, make copies and mail them to everyone.

· Ken spent many late nights at the office, waiting for everyone to leave, so he could make copies.

· Two-week waiver periods because of late stats.

· Dot-matrix printers.

· The old 1-900-pay by the minute number for stats updates that Ken swore Glenn on had on auto-dial.

· Hutch climbing a tree (and ending up full of pine tar and scratches) to retrieve his thrown golf club at Craig Ranch that didn’t come out of the tree (Seve Bellesteros is a liar).

· Sanford snoring on the bed in whoever’s suite we were in, waking up when Jim Lindeman was bought, and exclaiming, “Unbelievable.”

· Talking with Spencer about what to expect from the upcoming “road trip” with Scott and Griff from LA to Vegas and Spence telling me that having a beer or two on the ride out was a bad idea.

· When I said that I wouldn’t be stupid enough to drink if cops were around Spence said that other drivers would see me drinking and call 911 on their old brick-sized cell phones.

· A wag in a bar in Austin, who, after hearing the story about my conversation with Spence above, said, “No wonder they shoot people on the freeways in California.”

· Us picking up the tab for the couple sitting at the table next to us at Batista’s Hole in the Wall pizza joint because we were so rowdy.

· My putting two tee shots in the lake at the little, dinky par 3 at Las Vegas muni and watching Hutch stomp across the green with a dollar outstretched in his hand to pay someone (I don’t remember who) that said, “I bet he puts the next one in the water, too.” “Not even he can do that.” “Oh yes he can.” (It might have been the other way around, Hutch might have collected, but I’ve killed those brain cells).

· The year I got the new Maxima as a rental (still had dealer plates and less than 20 miles on the odometer) and was staying at the (then) new Luxor.

· Driving back from golf with three other guys in the car and somebody farted. It stunk so bad I immediately hit the power windows (novelty back then) and rolled them all down.

· Problem was, we were at a stoplight in the middle of the Strip (IP area?) and the porno leaflet slappers, seeing a car with four guys in it and all the windows rolled down, attacked the car and threw in reams of pamphlets.

· After I dropped those guys off, I turned around and looked at the backseat floorboard and it was literally ankle-deep in porno material. It was one of the only times I cleaned out a rental car prior to turning it in – I didn’t want to look like a pervert or something.

· Greg, Hutch and myself deciding to stay in Vegas until Monday, leaving Sunday for golf and flesh bars.

· After a stop at the Palomino, Greg leaning out the window, yelling at everyone on the sidewalk, “Hey, you got any titty-bar coupons?”

· Sanford, after breaking from Kerr, riding a bus to Vegas and sleeping in the hall, on the floor, outside Kerr’s room.

· Playing Blackjack and having casino security tap me on the shoulder, “Excuse me sir, but this gentleman says he knows you.” Turning around and seeing Sanford (looking like a vagrant) being held by Casino security. Saying something to the effect of, “Yeah, he’s OK” and seeing them let him go.

· Going out to LA first

· Figured to catch a Dodger game before going to Vegas, but flight delayed by weather. Got to LAX, found Spence, Scott and Bump in a limo, drunk off their asses, Dodger game already started. We got to the game in the middle innings

· Going to a Las Vegas Stars game with Hutch and sitting 10 rows behind home plate – two rows in front of the player wives and girlfriends.

· We just showed up and asked what was available and the woman at the ticket counter showed us the seats down the lines for $3 and the ones in the outfield for $2. When we asked about the ones behind home plate she replied, almost apologetically, “Those are $5.” Great, we’ll take two.

· We drank big cups of $3 beer (after tiny $8 cups of warm swill at Dodger Stadium the night before), eating Polish and Italian sausage dogs for 2-3 bucks, and listening to the Stars wives/girlfriends (who weren’t at all interested in the game) talking about who would be the next guy called up to San Diego (the Pads sucked then) and what they’d do with the, then, $250K MLB minimum salary.

· Somebody (and I don’t recall who instigated or received this) sending an old, beat-up baseball (seams splitting, threads hanging out, etc.) to an owner (don’t remember the recipient either) whose pitcher had just gotten beaten up in one of the early starts at Coors Field – and the ball was “signed” by the hitters on the team that had done the beating. Update – the sender was Spence and the recipient was Fraser. Turns out the pitcher was Bret Saberhagen (reigning AL Cy Young winner) who had signed with an NL team, and didn’t get out of the first and gave up something like 8 earned runs.

· Hutch commenting, “I thought that was a quick hook. The guy’s a former Cy Young winner. Let the man pitch.”

· Batista’s Hole in the Wall closing and us having to adopt the Coca Cola museum (even though they didn’t serve real food) as our new pre-draft night home.

· Getting overrun by the gang-bangers at the Coca-Cola museum.

· Me “ordering” a drink by twirling my empty glass at the woman dining at the next table at Margaritaville. I don’t remember this, but Fraser told me about it later.

· Collecting beer money at the pizza joint and making the Saturday morning run to the Von’s on Tropicana to pick up beer and ice to fill up the bathtub in whoever’s suite we commandeered

· Fraser and Hutch having their rental car “stolen” at the Trop.

· “We always park in the parking garage.”

· Hutch on his way across the casino to catch his flight home, stopping at a blackjack table, throwing out two c-notes and saying “money plays”

· “I’m up $300. I’ll either be up $100 or $500.”

· Getting dealt an 11 (against a small card) and digging in his pocket for another $200

· Hutch got a small card and watched the dealer take a couple of hits, win the hand, and pick up the money.

Other things about Vegas in those days:

· The Trop was the last casino on the strip. And there were a lot of holes between there and Bally’s like the Tam-o-Shanter, various seedy strip malls, and a bunch of other dives that are now filled by more upscale establishments.

· Non-smoking casinos. There was at least one that we habituated in the early days, not needed as much today because there are fewer smokers.

· Cheap food: Slab o’ ham. $1.99 shrimp cocktail. Now breakfast costs $30.

· Going downtown to old Vegas – the Las Vegas Club.

· $5 tables – even $2 tables.

· The sushi bar in the old San Remo.

· Playing cheap golf (with almost everybody playing) at Craig Ranch or Parumph.

· The elevators in the IP that took forever and went nowhere.

· Bautista’s Hole in the Wall. I wonder if the accordion guy is still there and playing two bars of a song and then putting out his hand for a tip?

Again, these are just my memories and the ones that came flooding back while I was typing this. Please email me with anything you’d like added, either above or below.

Genesis:

In either late 1989 or early 1990, Steve Farabee had a going-away party at a now-defunct country-western bar in Austin. That is where I (Jim Purcell) met Ken Alexander for the first time. Ken and Steve were long-time friends.

The purpose of the party was Steve’s promotion/going away party – he was taking a job in Rochester, NY. Ken had recently read the “Bible” - Rotisserie League Baseball – The Official Rulebook and Complete Guide to Player Values by Glen Waggoner and Robert Sklar, 1989 edition, and hatched an idea about starting a league. Steve had indicated that I might be a candidate to play.

At Steve’s party, Ken pitched the idea to me and said that he, Steve and another long-time friend, Greg Fisher, were interested, but they needed a few more people to make it happen. As Ken talked, I was standing next to Otis Johnson, Steve’s boss at the time. Otis and I were both listening closely to Ken, since both of us were huge baseball fans. We both said we were in, and the league was born. (Thus, as it was his idea, Ken will forever be known as Commissioner for Life.)

Ken even had a name, the Charred Retina League. The name was not a knock on welding, which is an honest profession, but on “welderdom” in general. All of us had instances in our pasts where we (poor, broke college students) had been dumped by attractive women for a “welder” with a GED making 10 bucks an hour.

The initial plan was to play with only the National League East since we had so few owners and did not want to root against the Astros (at that time, there were only 12 NL teams, six in the East and six, including Houston, in the West).

Then things got weird. (This section is almost biblical, because there’s a whole bunch of “begats” – as in Dave begat Spencer who begat …)

I had to drop out a few months before the draft for financial/work reasons (so some of this section and Year 1 may need clarification as I’m giving it second-hand – any of you who were there, please let me know of additions/clarifications).

I’m not sure who, but somebody from Austin told Dave Rosellan about the nascent CRL. Dave worked with Steve, and for Otis, in Austin. Dave, who had played softball with Ken and Steve, had gotten a prior promotion and moved to Torrance, CA. Dave was in.

Dave was playing on a softball team with Steve Spencer (and, then future wife, Brenda) in Southern California. Dave mentioned the league to Spencer (we’re about to have a glut of Steves, so I’ll use last names going forward) and he wanted in also. Turns out Spencer had been in a league before, but hated it because it drafted from both leagues and had so few owners and was basically an All-Star league. Spencer had a couple of buddies that helped him run that other team, Scott Cordova and Dan Burchfield. The three of them agreed to go in as co-owners of one team in the newly-forming CRL.

Scott worked with Glenn Cekala and mentioned the new CRL to him. Glenn wanted in – and he brought two buddies (and co-owners) with him, Dennis Cabana and Steve Torrens.

Dennis mentioned it to a college buddy, Sanford Baker, and Sanford joined with another friend and his co-owner, Steve Kerr.

So the league was set (I hadn’t dropped out yet) nine teams in a 12-team NL. To keep the ratio of drafted players to available players real (so everyone would have to draft bench players), it was decided that San Francisco would be omitted from the initial draft as they were defending NL champs. The draft was set for the weekend after Opening Day in Las Vegas.

Then I had multiple “situations” and couldn’t afford to go. So Otis swooped in to the rescue with a childhood friend, Ivan Ard, who was to be my replacement.

Year 1 – 1990:

The draft was held in Farabee’s suite in Bally’s (the Love Palace, as I heard it described. It may have had a heart-shaped bed, and it definitely had a mirror on the ceiling.) Back then, when we were drafting in hotel rooms, stat fees included beer, which someone would go buy and then we’d fill up the bathtub with beer cans and ice. The original teams were:

Tm #	Team Name	Owner(s)
1	Alexander Graham Slams	Ken Alexander
2	Johnson Otisseries	Otis Johnson
3	Royal Flush	Glenn Cekala, Dennis Cabana, Steve Torrens
4	Sharp Objects	Greg Fisher
5	Rochester Retinas	Steve Farabee
6	Thoroughbreds	Steve Kerr, Sanford Baker
7	Sex Wax	Dave Rosellan
8	Hope it's a Boy	Steve Spencer, Scott Cordova, Dan Burchfield
9	Ivan Aardvarks	Ivan Ard (drafted by Dawn Alexander)

Since I was not in the league, I do not have a lot of information on what happened that year, but the final standings are here.

I do know that Hope it’s a Boy – named because Dan’s (or was it Scott’s? Glenn told me last year, but I forgot) wife was expecting – took home the crown, edging out Otis by a half-point on the season’s final day. I also know that Glenn, Dennis and Torrens nabbed third with Ken taking fourth. Glenn filled me in on how that happened. It seems, going into the season’s final week, the Royal Flush and the Graham Slams were neck and neck in wins. Dennis suggested taking Eric Show of the Padres because Dennis knew he’d win his game that week. He did and they did and they passed Ken in wins to grab third. Glenn, who said he is not big on Christmas cards, sent Ken a Christmas card that year and signed it “Eric Show.” It’s a tradition that’s been going on between Glenn and Ken ever since.

Three draft gems I heard about:

· Dave buying Ken Griffey Sr. for 50-cents because he had read a baseball magazine and said he was supposed to be pretty good. Dave meant Ken Griffey Jr., who was in the AL and ineligible.

· Ken drafted Ron Gant for 50-cents. Gant turned into a stud and Ken ended up signing him to contract and owning him for years.

· Dawn drafting Ivan Ard’s team because Ivan had thrown out his back and couldn’t make it to the draft. Ivan didn’t make any moves all season, but still managed to finish somewhere in the middle of the pack based on Dawn’s draft prowess.

Year 2 – 1991:

I formally join the league, taking over the Aardvarks, and change the name to No Pepper. Spencer, Scott and Dan change their team name to “Three Men and a Vasectomy.”

Sometime during either the previous season or the off-season, Ken moved from Austin to Houston for job opportunities. Realizing he had no one locally to talk to about the CRL (ever notice how people’s eyes glaze over when you want to talk about your team?), Ken advertises in the Greensheet and gets Bob Silverman and Ken Pearson to go together and join the CRL as team 10, named “Panic and Frustration.” Nobody ever sees or talks to Pearson, but Bob is at the draft. (I don’t remember if we had an expansion draft or not back then as the Commissioner was still running the league.)

With 10 teams, we added San Francisco back to the pool of available players and drafted from the entire NL. We had the draft at Otis’ suite at an all-suite hotel off the strip (no casino, pretty close to where the Hard Rock is today). After the draft is over, one owner notes that Bob, who is South African, didn’t draft any black players.

It’s my first time in Vegas, so I get a cheap room at the Stardust. Rather than cab it to Batista’s to meet everyone else for pizza and beer, I look at the map and realize it’s only four blocks and decide to walk. I didn’t realize the “blocks” were a mile long (or more) and it takes me over an hour to get to Batista’s. When I get there, I find a few pieces of cold pizza and everyone else about two sheets to the wind.

Immediately after the draft, I trade Brett Butler to Sex Wax for Barry Bonds. Dave says “I love Brett Butler.” The amazing thing is, I hesitated, because I’d drafted Butler for steals, and not being in the league the previous year – and not having studied players already on teams – didn’t realize Bonds could steal bases. I end up owning Bonds for years.

Bob gets upset at some point during the early part of the season because he can’t just replace players because he doesn’t like them, quits paying his tab, and drops out.

Spencer, Scott and Dan win again, this time edging out Glenn, Dennis and Torrens. I finish 5^th, just out of the money.

Year 3 – 1992:

Johnny Green, a friend of Otis, takes over Panic and Frustration and renames it “Green Machine.” Johnny makes several off-season moves to prepare for the coming season. Unfortunately, just days before the draft, Johnny has a medical issue which forces him to back out.

At the 11^th hour, just when it looked like we’d have a nine-team league again, Jim Fraser accepts our offer to take over the team. Jim renames the team “Nada Clue.” With no time to prepare for the season (he buys one fantasy baseball magazine and drafts by speakerphone from Otis’ kitchen – our first speakerphone draft), he ends the season in last place. But he did end up having a clue – he’s been in the CRL ever since, only finished in the second division four times, and is the CRL’s best owner statically.

Otis renamed his team the “Johnson Magic” and Spence, Scott and Dan choose the moniker “3 Peters.” Farabee also moved back to Austin and renamed the “Rochester Retinas” the “Austin Retinas.”

We have the draft in a suite in the Trop (Scott’s?). Spencer is there, but has to leave early because he just returned from his honeymoon in Mexico and has a horrible case of Montezuma’s – he almost looks green.

Farabee also had one of the best teams in his history. He finished second, even though the standings have him first. If you look closely, the Retinas and the 3 Peters had the same number of points, but the 3 Peters were ahead in more categories, meaning they took the title.

Before the season starts, Ken tabs me as League Secretary – meaning I get to send out all the newsletters, updates and screw-yous. Sometime around midseason, Ken’s first child, Tracy, is born. Ken hands off his transactional duties to the single guy (me), where they’ve been ever since. (I may not be here all week, but I am here on Mondays!).

Year 4 – 1993:

Greg Fisher decides he doesn’t want to be a solo owner anymore, so he becomes a co-owner of Ken’s team. They change their team name to “Gypsum Miners” in their first of many annual name changes aimed at defining welderdom. Johnny Green, now fully recovered from his episode the year before, joins the league, takes over Greg’s team, and renames it “Green Machine.” The Rockies and Marlins join the NL, so we expand to 11 teams and add Steve Hutcheson as the owner of team 11, “Pray for Rain.” Spencer, Dan and Scott, ever arrogant, change their name to “Foreplay” and show up at the draft wearing matching hats emblazoned with “CRL Champs 90-91-92.”

This is the year that I nearly won. I was ahead by a half point going into the season’s final day. In the last game Mike Piazza went nuts and had something like 6 RBIs and Dave passes me in RBI and Kerr and Sanford call me from a pay phone in Dodger Stadium to give me shit. Unknown to any of us – this was in the days before instant stats – they’d picked up a point somewhere else (either ERA or Ratio) and ended up beating me by 1-1/2 points. I’d waited until Sept. 1 to pick up Rafael Bournegal, who proceeded to have 3 RBI the rest of the way. Randy Ready, who was best at the time I had the hole a week earlier, had 8. Had I made that move, Dave wouldn’t have passed me in RBIs.

I don’t have much else from that season because I do not have hard copies of newsletters in my files. I think they are on floppy disks in a drawer somewhere. That means I have to figure out two things – how to get them off the floppies, and how to convert them from whatever format they are in.

Year 5 – 1994

In progress – I was obviously a bit more verbose and acerbic back then. I wrote 5 newsletters in 1994 and another 3 in 1995. I haven’t even read all of the 1994 ones yet. After these two years, things should be a piece of cake because all of the newsletters are posted on the site.