In 1979 my life was ruled by two passions : WFTC and the Kinston Eagles. I worked at the former hoping one day to pull the kind of bucks Wolfman Jack made, and when work permitted, drove to Grainger Stadium to watch ballplayers who hoped to attain a portfolio in the neighborhood of Hank Aaron's.

It was best to go early to take in BP and look around the park for baseball men who might be visiting so I could drive them crazy with my questions. Sometimes I got lucky enough to corral a Buck Leonard , Jack McKeon, Peter Bavasi or the most famous diamond enlisted man I ever met - Pat Crawford.

A baldheaded pappy guy who limped along with one gnarled hand guiding a cane, somehow Pat walked with athletic grace belying his condition. And though he thoughtfully and completely answered my every question his eyes remained riveted to the pregame warmups he'd seen thousands of times on as many fields. Pat's preoccupation with baseball was only natural, since he'd spent about 40 years playing and scouting. His celebrity, though, was something one had to dig for, because the clues were buried in his conversation.

First base was his position and wanting to play it regularly was a painful form of suicide on the 1928 New York Giants if your name wasn't Bill Terry. Since the Hall of Famer had a stranglehold on the job, Pat spent a lot of time on the bench observing manager John Joseph McGraw. The old Baltimore Oriole had been guiding Giant fortunes for about a quarter century and was, by all accounts, not an easy man for whom to play. According to Crawford, Muggsy was known to stomp out of his office after particularly galling losses, step in the showers and turn all the water off while he ripped his players royally. When he was through,the guys would have to turn on the water and scrape the dried soap off them before they could dress.

Pat rode the bench for all of his 1928 Giant stay and in '29 was farmed out to Toledo where he encountered the man who simultaneously defined "eccentric" and "genius", Casey Stengel. This was Casey's second managerial stop, and he'd already acquired quite a reputation for crafting baseball gems from the ranks of the inexperienced. Pat was no exception. By mid June he was hitting in the .370's, and one night Stengel sat down on the end of Crawford's pullman bunk. "I talked with McGraw today about how good you're going. He told me he was worried about whether you could play well enough to fill in for Bill Terry, and I told him he'd better worry about Terry keeping his job!" Crawford was expressed back to the Giants,but his lack of height (5' 10) and Terry's prowess were against him. Pat did manage 12 games at first, did some pinch hitting, and wound up his 1929 Giant stay at .298.

For 1930 McGraw started the season with Pat at second but made him part of the deal which brought Hughie Critz over from Cincinnati to play the bag. Meanwhile Pat was placed at second for the Reds and found wanting when measured against Hod Ford and Leo Durocher. Crawford managed to hit .287, some 22 points above Critz, but his unfamiliarity with the keystone position appears to have shunted him to the minors in 1931.

In the depths of the Depression Pat found himself in the Cardinal orginization. Eventually filling in for Ripper Collins at first in 1933(.261) and Pepper Martin at third on the '34 Gas House Gang(.274), he told me Branch Rickey's label as high priest of nonpareiled craftiness was well deserved. One year Crawford was putting numerous black and blue marks on spring training horsehides when Rickey abruptly ordered him to report to their Columbus farm team. He said Crawford looked too good . Branch was afraid that some other major league team might see and acquire him and Pat would "beat our brains out". That year he was paid extra to play in double A. In the late thirties the Mahatma made Crawford a scout.

Shortly thereafter Pat saw a pitcher on a sun scorched field in South Carolina who'd just gotten married and was in hock past his eyelids for a complete suite of furniture. The guy looked like a pretty fair prospect, and for about 60 dollars(wihch the newest Cardinal "chaingang" member saw almost long enough to wave goodbye) the Redbirds signed Ernie White, a 17 game winner in 1941 and architect of a crucial shutout victory over the New York Yankees in the 1942 World Series.

Crawford had a good eye for talent, but he didn't always get his man. One day he went to visit a fine prospect in Mount Olive, set a handkerchief on a mud bank and had him throw a few into it. Liking what he saw, Pat gave this young man the sales pitch and got turned down flat. The fellow hated the thought of all the competition in the far flung St. Louis organization and elected to go with Washington, who was probably so desperate for arms their first talent test might have been "breath on a mirror". That's how Pat lost Rae Scarborough, the Senators best arm of the late 40's and greatly admired by Ted Williams.

Sure, a few people twenty three years ago who knew John McGraw, Casey Stengel, or Branch Rickey still had pulses. But how many knew all 3, AND discovered a seventeen game winner? Better yet, how many could tell a story about each that remained undrowned in repetition's whirlpool? Pat Crawford did and could. In my book, those qualities made him a star.

Couldn't tell you who won the game.