Al Richter | Former Boston Red Sox shortstop passes away at 90

The plight of baseball players like Allen Richter was an all too common theme in the 1950s. Labeled as one of the best shortstops of his era in the minor leagues, Richter treaded water in the Boston Red Sox farm system while Johnny Pesky cemented his position as a franchise cornerstone. Bound to the Red Sox by the reserve clause and his path effectively blocked by Pesky, Richter played his best baseball away from the Major League spotlight, appearing in only six games during two separate stints in Boston.

While Richter’s major league career never fully materialized, he outlived most of his Boston counterparts, remaining active by playing tennis a few times per week into his late 80s. Sadly, Richter passed away October 29th, 2017 at his home in Virginia Beach, Virginia. He was 90.

Al Richter / Author's Collection

The Red Sox signed Richter in 1945 from Maury High School, where they placed him with their team in Roanoke. His time with the club was short lived, as he only played three games before he fulfilled his military duties in the Army Air Corps.

“I went in 1945 right after high school,” Richter told me during a 2009 phone interview from his home in Virginia Beach. “I got out in 18 months. They allowed me to be discharged a month early. I was in Germany. I did my basic training in Kessler Field in Mississippi and shortly thereafter I went to Denver for photography school. From there I went overseas in the Army occupation after the war was won. I was coaching a baseball team that we organized over in Germany.”

Richter returned to the Red Sox in 1947 and he moved briskly through their farm system, reaching Triple-A by 1949. He impressed with his eye at the plate, walking 100 times in 1950, while only striking out 36 times in 589 plate appearances. He took pride in the fact that he consistently put the ball in play.

“When I hit the ball, I hardly ever struck out,” he said. “If I were up 400 times, I struck out maybe 18 times and some were called out.”

Richter had his breakout season in 1951 batting .321 with Louisville while carving a niche as one of the top shortstops in the American Association. His teammates took notice of his tremendous play, including Charlie Maxwell who was another young talent that later joined Richter in Boston.

“I felt sorry for him because he hit over .300 a few years in a row in Louisville,” Maxwell told me during a 2009 phone interview. “They would never give him the opportunity to go to Boston. Finally, he went up there and that's when they had the Coast League. … There was nobody else, outside of Don Zimmer at St. Paul, Richter was probably the best shortstop in the minors and nobody would give him a shot at the majors. … It was rare a shortstop would hit .300 in the minors but nobody gave him a shot. There weren't that many shortstops hitting .300 anywhere! “

Tearing up the American Association in 1951, Richter forced the Red Sox hand, as they called him up when rosters expanded in September. They were in the heat of a pennant race with the New York Yankees, so he had to wait until their fate was determined until he was able to make a start at shortstop.

“That was the best year for me,” he said. “I was a .260 hitter, which was okay for a shortstop, but I had a great year for Louisville, I hit .321. I was really on that year. I hit the best by far I ever had. I went up with the Red Sox at the end of the year at the end of ‘51. That’s when the Red Sox was battling with the Yankees until the last two games at Yankee Stadium to see who was going to be the champions of the American League. They kept Pesky at shortstop who was an All-Star.”

Manager Pinky Higgins placed Richter in the starting lineup during the last game of the season with many of the other Red Sox rookies. He responded by getting his first major league hit off of Eddie Lopat, a memory that was crystal clear more than 50 years later.

“I was in the last game of the season that Harley Hisner pitched," he said. "That was the last [Major League] game other than the World Series for Joe DiMaggio. I got my only hit off of Eddie Lopat, a left-handed pitcher for the Yankees. … I always made contact and I hit that one up the middle of the diamond on the ground. The thing was, Phil Rizzuto was at shortstop and I thought he was coming close to it. I ran real hard down first base and I ran straight through just trying to beat out the hit. When I looked up running past first base, I discovered the ball went all the way through and it went out to center field. I should have made the turn and gone to second in case the center fielder missed it. That was the first time ever in my life I did that. That stood out in my mind and still does. I thought I had to beat it out because Rizzuto had gotten to it. I just had my head down and was racing hard to get first base.”

Richter’s lone hit capped a promising season, giving him a glimmer of hope for a return to Boston; however, those dreams were quickly dashed when they sent him to San Diego in the Pacific Coast League for the 1952 season. The Red Sox brought him back for one more appearance as a defensive replacement in 1953 and two years after that Richter was out of baseball at 28. During our 2009 interview, he explained how frustrating it was for players in his situation due to baseball's reserve clause.

“At that time when you were signed with a ballclub, they owned you for life,” he said. “It’s not like it is today. They had the reserve clause. For example, I was with the Red Sox. There was no three-year or five-year contract. When I signed with them out of high school, I belonged to them for life. I was like a slave for them. Even if they didn’t want to get rid of me, even if I did well or I didn’t do so well, if they didn’t want to get rid of me they wouldn’t let me go to any other club that wanted me.”

After his baseball career, Richter transitioned to becoming a television sports reporter in Virginia. He later moved on to careers in the real estate and food service businesses.

Richter was honored in 2012 by the Boston Red Sox when they invited him back to Fenway Park to take part in the franchise’s 100th anniversary celebration of the legendary stadium. Even though his time with the franchise was brief, he held the experience in the highest regard.

"It was just a privilege to have been around so many great players," Richter said to the Virginian Pilot in 2012, "and it will be a privilege to share a little in the history of a special place."

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Hank Workman recalls the overlooked talents of Yogi Berra

Hank Workman was just a wide-eyed rookie with the New York Yankees when he was called up in September 1950. The University of Southern California star only played two games for the eventual World Series Champions, spending most of his time watching Yankees legends Joe DiMaggio, Johnny Mize, and Phil Rizzuto lead the Yankees to the pennant. Despite being surrounded by those established veterans, the player he was most impressed with was their upstart catcher, Yogi Berra.

The famous catcher was a sportswriter’s dream. His quick and witty takes on life and baseball lightened up the often serious accounts of a long season. For almost seventy years, his famous quotations have endured and transcended the sport. Sadly, there will no more new “Yogi-isms” to add to the lexicon. Berra passed away Tuesday evening in New Jersey at the age of 90.

Standing 5’8” and weighing 190 lbs. in his playing days, Berra didn’t fit the typical physical profile of a major leaguer. Come to think about it, most of what Berra did on the field was atypical. A notorious “bad ball,” hitter, Berra broke all convention when it came to managing the strike zone. If a pitch was anywhere within reach, it was in Berra’s wheelhouse.

Save for nine at-bats with the New York Mets in 1965, Berra spent his 19-year Hall of Fame playing career with the New York Yankees starting in 1946. One of baseball’s most celebrated champions, Berra helped to lead the Yankees to 10 World Series victories in 14 appearances.

Playing alongside the likes of Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle, Berra’s skill and accomplishments were often overshadowed by their iconic status. Yet for those that played with Berra, there was a keen sense of his heightened acumen on the field that truly elevated his abilities.

Hank Workman

Hank Workman was a teammate of Berra’s on the 1950 Yankees. Despite only playing with him for one month that season, Workman gained a tremendous appreciation for the breadth of Berra’s skill set. Speaking with Workman in 2008, he was quick to acknowledge the nuances of Berra’s talents that put him in the upper echelon of baseball royalty.

“That guy was a great ballplayer,” Workman said. “He was built like a middleweight prize fighter. He was very athletic and he had great baseball sense. He always knew what to do and the right base to throw to. He could play third base and outfield; he didn’t that often, but he could. He was one of the best late-inning hitters. Nobody says anything about that. He didn’t have a super high average, but he never struck out much; he swung at everything. He was a guy you wanted up there in the clutch in the late innings. He was a fabulous ballplayer, the best catcher I think.”

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Remember when the Yankees actually developed home grown talent?

Following the reports of the New York Yankees losing Robinson Cano, one of their homegrown talents, to the Seattle Mariners for the sum of $240 million over the course of ten years, the future looks slim in the ranks of the Yankees' current minor league system.

"While the Yankees' minor league system is not quite as bare as it once was, more of the talent currently sits at the lower levels," Jonathan Mayo MLB.com's prospect expert said in November, 2013. "As a result, it's difficult to see many impact players ready to contribute in 2014."

There was a time; however, when the Yankees had one of the richest farm systems in all of major league baseball. Starting in the late 1940s and going through the early 1960s, the Yankees had 22 catchers behind Yogi Berra that eventually became major leaguers, many earning All-Star selections. The following is an excerpt from Phil Rizzuto's "The October Twelve," that lists all of the catchers who left the New York Yankees' organization for greener pastures.

 

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Scooter: The Biography of Phil Rizzuto

Scooter: The Biography of Phil Rizzuto

Carlo DeVito

Triumph Books, 2010 

368 pp.

 
"Holy Cow!" The trademark line from one of New York's most beloved baseball figures resonates vividly in the minds of fans across the country, long after his days in the Yankees broadcast booth. If Phil Rizzuto was still alive, it would be likely that he would exclaim his famous catchphrase after reading Carlo DeVito's “Scooter.”

DeVito provides in-depth detail of the entirety of the Hall of Fame shortstop's life, a career that was almost derailed when Rizzuto dropped out of high school in 1936. Deemed “too small” by the Dodgers and the Giants, Rizzuto was put back on track to embark on what would be a 60-year journey through baseball with the help of his high school coach Al Kunitz and the watchful eye of Yankee scout Paul Krichell.

Signed by the Yankees in 1937, Rizzuto's career was almost over before it started. During his first season in Class-D Bassett, Rizzuto tore a muscle in his leg and was told that his baseball playing days were over. Miraculously, he recovered quickly enough to return that same season and finish with over a .300 batting average. He would go on to hit over .300 at every stop in the minor leagues before debuting with the Yankees in 1941.

DeVito explores the high regard in which Rizzuto's teammates and opponents held his talents. Often overshadowed by the prowess of Yogi Berra, Joe DiMaggio, Whitey Ford, and Mickey Mantle, DeVito illustrates how many in baseball felt it was Rizzuto that was the vital cog in the seven Yankee World Series championship teams he played for. He would stay with the Yankees through the 1956 season, with his career being interrupted from 1943-1945 due to his service in World War II.

The second half of the biography focuses on Rizzuto's storied broadcast career, which endeared him to a whole new generation of fans, many of which only know Rizzuto from his work behind the microphone. Starting in 1957, with the urges of Yankees' sponsor Ballantine Beer, Rizzuto began a 40-year journey in the booth. DeVito expertly chronicles Rizzuto's ups and downs as one of baseball's most recognizable voices and his ever changing partners in the booth.

The final two chapters in “Scooter”, which detail his playing and broadcast careers respectively are over 100 pages each. In these lengthy chapters, the stories switch so much, that it is difficult to find continuity among the tidbits presented. The book would have been better served to be broken into smaller chapters to enhance the flow of information and keep the reader focused on what DeVito is attempting to illuminate.

Small criticisms non-withstanding, “Scooter” is a great look inside the career of one of New York's most cherished and respected homegrown baseball figures, that will please even the “huckleberries” who choose to pick it up.

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