The Missed Opportunity
Rich Allen found happiness in St. Louis, but the Cardinals saw him as a rental player. Their myopic opinion left the team without a true power hitter for 17 years.
By William C. Kashatus
On Friday, March 13, 1970, Rich Allen arrived at Al Lang Field in St. Petersburg, Florida, the spring training camp of the St. Louis Cardinals. Looking resplendent in a light-brown, double-breasted Edwardian suit, orange shirt and tan, high-button shoes, the former Phillie addressed the St. Louis sportswriters at a hastily arranged press conference.
Allen had been traded to the Cardinals five months earlier from Philadelphia along with second baseman Cookie Rojas and pitcher Jerry Johnson in return for outfielders Curt Flood and Byron Browne, catcher Tim McCarver, and pitcher Joe Hoerner.1 Having recently settled a contract dispute with Cards’ owner August A. Bush, Allen, sporting a smile as wide and his shoulders, assured the gaggle of reporters that he was “very excited to be a Cardinal” and that he “hoped to play with peace of mind” for the first time in many years. When asked about his controversial tenure with the Phillies, Rich admitted that he was “no angel” and that he had “taken a nip [of alcohol] here or there to calm down, but not to excess.”
Another sportswriter asked why he thought St. Louis would be a better place to play. “In Philadelphia,” Allen explained, “I was the center of attraction and that made it easy to be abused. But with the Cardinals, I can be one of the team because there are other stars like Bob Gibson, Lou Brock and Joe Torre. I expect to be booed by the fans, but not stoned.”
Allen discouraged any further questions about his tenure with the Phillies by saying, “Look, Philly isn’t a bad town. It was just time for me to move on.” Then, he became more playful. When asked, for example, what he thought of the new artificial surface in St. Louis’s Busch Stadium, Allen quipped: “If horses won’t eat it, I don’t want to play on it.” The humorous quote was picked up by NBC’s nightly news and went viral.2
It was an auspicious beginning for a gifted ballplayer who desperately needed a change of scenery.
Between 1963 and 1969, Richie Allen found playing in Philadelphia an increasingly hellish experience. The city was in the throes of the Civil Rights movement. These were the years of growing black activism. Things got especially bad during the summer of ’64 when a race riot broke out in North Philadelphia not far from Connie Mack Stadium, the Phillies’ ballpark. The neighborhood as well as local business were destroyed, resulting in three million dollars in damages. North Philadelphia never really recovered economically from the riot, which also had severe implications for the rest of the city. Fearing the worst, increasing numbers of white residents fled to the suburbs. Philadelphia became a city of minorities, the elderly and the poor. Many whites who remained were resentful towards blacks. Those who were Phillies’ fans saw Allen as an easy target to express their resentment.3
It didn’t matter that he was a regular .300 hitter who averaged 30 home runs and 90 RBI each year.4 Off the field, Allen received hate mail regularly, some with death threats. Once he was “sucker punched” by a fan appearing to want to shake his hand. The front lawn of his home was strewn with trash, compliments of disgruntled fans.5 On the ball diamond, Allen began wearing a batting helmet when he played the outfield to avoid injury from the coins and beer cans that rained down on him from the bleachers. The idiosyncrasy earned him the nickname, “Crash,” a reference to the batting, or “crash”, helmet. At one point it got so bad that some of his teammates urged the star to hire a bodyguard. But Allen took it in stride. “The fans are not the ones I want to beat,” he said. If I paid my money to see a ball game, I guess I’d raise a little hell, too.”6
At the same time, Allen fueled the conflict with his controversial behavior and inflammatory remarks to the press. He was a moody individual whose closest friends were his black teammates, members of the clubhouse staff, and grounds crew. When his repeated requests to be traded were denied by Phillies’ ownership, Allen, who did not enjoy the luxury of free agency, tried to force a deal. He resorted to unexcused absences, arriving late to games, and scrawling words in the dirt around first base. It was during this period that Allen, claiming that his manhood was being disrespected, insisted that he be referred to as “Dick,” instead of the more boyish, “Richie.”7
Philadelphia’s sportswriters were intrigued by Allen. They were in awe of his tremendous power and athletic ability but wavered in their judgments of him as a person. Sometimes the writers painted the beleaguered star as a malcontent who expected special treatment. Some even suggested that Allen was playing on the racial tensions that divided the city at the time. On other occasions, the city’s baseball writers, especially the young ones, celebrated his rebelliousness as being consistent with the times.8 For better, but mostly worse, the Philadelphia sportswriters shaped and misshaped Richie Allen’s public persona. In the end, Allen’s rebellious behavior alienated him from many teammates, reinforced the negative stereotype the fans and the media imposed on him, and further inflamed the hostility towards him.9
Allen’s experience in Philadelphia made him a role model for the loners, non-conformists and malcontents that emerged in baseball as the 1960s transitioned into the 1970s. While the sport exhibited little tolerance for self-expression, it did not know how to deal with it. Even stylistic self-expression challenged the status quo as ballplayers were expected to be clean cut. Neatly trimmed sideburns were acceptable, but facial hair was strictly off limits and hair that grew below the collar was unimaginable. Allen was the first to challenge that policy as he sported MLB’s first real Afro, as well as mutton-chop sideburns and a mustache that extended slightly beyond his lower lip.10 He even admitted that the look “represented a threat to white people” because it emphasized blackness in a predominantly white sport.11 Hairstyles were not the only thing changing in baseball, either.
Player-management relations were also becoming contentious. In St. Louis, Allen entered a conservative organization that had been run with an iron fist by Cards’ owner August “Gussie” Busch, Jr. Busch was already facing a court battle initiated by former Redbird outfielder Curt Flood, who refused to report to Philadelphia after being traded for Allen. Flood filed a $4.1 million suit against Baseball Commissioner Bowie Kuhn and Major League Baseball alleging that the reserve clause violated antitrust laws as well as the 13th Amendment, which barred slavery and involuntary servitude. Flood v. Kuhn would eventually go all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court. Although the Court ruled against Flood in a 5-3 decision in 1972, the action set in motion a chain of events that led to the 1975 arbitration ruling granting players the right to free agency. It was a legal explosion that would rock the game for years to come.12
As a result of Flood’s legal challenge, Busch directed Devine to be tougher in salary negotiations with players like Allen, who initially held out. While the former Phillie shrugged off as “ridiculous” reports that he originally sought a $150,000 contract from the Cards, he did test Busch’s patience by seeking the same fringe benefits he enjoyed with the Phillies, who apparently placed his widowed mother on their payroll.13 Instead, Busch gave him a contract for $80,000 and a “take-it-or-leave-it” ultimatum, and Allen signed.14 Had it been manager Red Schoendienst’s decision, however, the Cardinals would not have signed the controversial slugger at all.
Schoendienst had serious concerns about Allen’s infamous reputation as a troublemaker. In fact, when asked if he wanted the Cards to trade for the Phillies’ slugger, Schoendienst told both Busch and Devine “no.” But Devine went ahead with his plans anyway, pointing out that he had traded for “problem players” in the past and two of them – Orlando Cepeda and Roger Maris – helped the team win two straight pennants in 1967 and 1968. According to Devine, Allen’s power and speed on the basepaths could return the Cardinals to the postseason after the previous year’s disappointing fourth-place finish in the newly-created National League’s Eastern Division.15 Schoendienst would now have to reconfigure his infield, platooning at first, third and catcher to make room for Allen, who still suffered bursitis in the right hand and shoulder due to previous injuries.16
The Cardinals opened the 1970 campaign against the Expos at Montreal’s Jarry Park on April 8. Allen hit a home run and two doubles, driving in three runs in the Cards 7-2 win. After the game he sat by his locker in the visitor’s clubhouse reading an encouraging letter from his mother when a host of reporters penned him in.
“Why don’t you go over and interview Julian Javier?” he humbly suggested. “He drove in the winning run. Give him a little ink. He’s been the best second baseman in either league over the last few years.” It was a shaky but genuine way to act on his belief that in St. Louis he would be one of only several stars on a team. But there was no way of avoiding the spotlight two days later when he debuted at Busch Stadium in the Cards’ home opener against the New York Mets.
When Jack Buck announced Allen’s name over the public address system, a record first-night crowd of 45,960 rose to their feet and began to applaud. The cheering was deafening, “almost as if [Cardinal Hall of Famer] Stan Musial was making a comeback,” quipped New York sportswriter Jack Lang. Standing at his first base position, Allen doffed his cap to the fans in the left field area, then he turned to acknowledge the fans on the right side of the field. “That’s’ the greatest thing that ever happened to me,” said Rich. “I never thought it could happen. I just wish Mom could have heard it…I usually have a heart of stone,” he added. “But [the reception] almost brought a tear.”
That night, Rich went 0-for-3, with a strikeout a walk and a fly-out. “He was just trying too hard,” explained Cards’ coach, Dick Sisler. “He wanted so much to get a big hit that he could taste it. He kept swinging at bad pitches.” The Cardinals still defeated the Mets, 7-3. After the game Allen told the St. Louis scribes, “No wonder they win here. I just hope I prove worthy of playing here. I know I’m going to like it now.”17
On April 12, in the series finale against the Mets, Allen hit a majestic 450-foot run in the bottom of the eighth off Tom Seaver. After circling the bases, he tipped his hat to the Cardinals’ faithful and retreated to the dugout. But the applause continued. Rich finally acknowledged the reception by blowing kisses from the top of the dugout steps.18
Allen was much happier in St. Louis than he had been in Philadelphia. He took batting practice on a regular basis. He praised the Cardinals’ fans and beat writers. He even showed up for an early season work-out scheduled on an off-day, though manager Red Schoendienst excused him from it. “My Dad was happier in St. Louis than he had been in years,” recalled Richard Allen, Jr., his son. “I was five years old, and I went out and spent the summer with him there. I had him all to myself. It was just the two of us. We’d go to the ballpark together every day, then back to the hotel, and do the same thing all over again the next day. Every day was like Christmas.”19
Allen also mentored the younger players on the Cardinals. “He was a very private person,” said Jose Cardenal, who replaced Curt Flood as the Cards’ centerfielder. “Everyone on the team liked him. He treated me with respect and I considered him my best friend…Dick was also a very smart and knowledgeable baseball man, something that many people wouldn’t know,” Cardenal added. “Talking with him and watching him perform on the field definitely made me a better player and person. He may have taught me more in one year than I learned in the 48 years I was involved with professional baseball.”20
Allen’s on-field performance reflected his positive attitude. By mid-May, Rich had slammed 11 home runs and was off to the best start of his career. “I was relaxed at the plate,” he explained, “maybe for the first time in my professional career. The result was that I could stay with breaking pitches longer, and that gave me more options. I could still go long ball, but I could also hit a flare down the line, and I could make the decision to do either in a microsecond with a downward flick of my wrist.”21
Rich returned to Philadelphia for a four-game series from May 21-24. It was the first time he visited the City of Brotherly Love since being traded to St. Louis. Twelve-thousand fans turned out to Connie Mack Stadium to boo him, and they weren’t disappointed when he struck out in his first at-bat. But when Allen came to the plate in the top of the ninth with a runner on base and the Cards down, 3-0, it was a different story.
Jumping on a first-pitch fastball, he smashed a home run into an empty seat in leftfield. When he reached home plate, Rich instinctively raised his first in the air, as if to say, “Take that.” Naturally, he was booed. While the two-run homer cut the Phils’ lead to one run, the Fightins held on to win the game, 3-2.22
Two nights later, Rich would smash two homers against Phillies ace, Jim Bunning, a future Hall of Famer, to pace St. Louis to a 3-1 win as the Cards and Phillies split the series, two games apiece.23
Allen would hit a total of 34 round-trippers and 101 RBI that season, despite playing a good portion of it with an Achilles tendon injury that was aggravated by the Cardinals' new artificial turf. Among the most dramatic homers was a 450-foot shot off the Phillies’ Lowell Palmer that ricocheted off the façade of the left field upper deck in Busch Stadium on May 12, and a 500-foot tape measure bomb off the Expos’ Mike Wegener that sailed over the centerfield fence Montreal’s Jarry Park on July 3.24
Redbird fans loved Allen for his sheer power. Through mid-August, he was hitting homers at a 46-a-season pace, threatening the club record of 43 set by Johnny Mize in 1940 at the old Sportsman’s Park.25 There’s no doubt that Allen’s offensive prowess was a huge factor in the Cardinals’ impressive home draw of over 1.6 million that season.26
Rich also earned another All-Star berth and his personal problems seemed to abate. There were no controversies with teammates, or with management. No reports of excessive drinking or a divided clubhouse. With the exception of one case, Allen arrived at the stadium on time, if not early. The Cardinals even acceded to his wishes regarding his name, as team broadcaster Jack Buck made a point of calling him "Dick” Allen, though the press, opposing players and fans continued to call him “Rich” or “Richie.”27
Despite Allen’s hot bat, the Cardinals got off to a terrible start in 1970. But they regrouped and by August St. Louis had gone from last place in the National League East to fourth, just 9 ½ games out. Instead of pressing forward, though, the Cards seemed content to be respectable. Then, Allen, during the second week of the month, tore a hamstring legging out a two-base hit. He wouldn’t return to the lineup until September 8 for one last game at Connie Mack, which was going to be abandoned by the Phillies in 1971 for a new stadium in South Philadelphia. “I didn’t belong on the field,” he admitted. “My leg was throbbing. I had a few drinks to dull the pain. I had a lot of mixed emotions.”28
Rich’s last at bat came in the eighth against Rick Wise and he nailed a second-pitch fastball into the leftfield bleachers. It was his 90th homerun at Connie Mack Stadium, and his last.29
“As I rounded the bases, I took one last look around,” recalled Allen in his autobiography years later. “I looked up at the press box, where so many negative stories had been written about me. I looked up at the Cadillac and Coke signs, where I had hit so many home runs. I looked into the stands, where they had called me every name known to man. I touched home plate and kept running. When I got to the clubhouse, I showered and left before the writers got there. I had nothing to say. I wanted to let that home run stand on its own.”30
The Cards would go on to win the game, 6-3, behind a solid performance by starting pitcher, Steve Carlton. Allen, hampered by the torn hamstring, would play in only two more games that season. Rich completed the campaign with a .279 batting average, 34 home runs and 101 RBI in just 122 games. And still he led the team with a dozen game-winning RBI.31
When St. Louis finished a disappointing fourth in the National League’s eastern division, however, Bing Devine traded Allen to the Los Angeles Dodgers for infielder Ted Sizemore, the 1969 National League Rookie of the Year, and catcher-outfielder Bob Stinson, the Dodgers’ first round pick in the 1966 draft.32 There were reports that Allen hurt team morale by “showing up late for games” and “keeping to himself.”33 If that was true, Schoendienst did not see it. When asked about Allen, the Redbird manager said, “Allen was great in our clubhouse. He got along with everybody. He wasn’t a rah-rah guy, but he came to play. The team respected him. They liked him.”34
The trade was simply a matter of numbers. Schoendienst had to resort to platooning with Allen in the line-up. If Rich played first, Joe Torre, the team’s other potent bat, had to play third or catch. If Allen played third, Torre could play first, but it left Mike Shannon, previously the team’s regular third baseman and a solid bat, on the bench. Complicating matters further was Joe Hague, who was only 26 and had just hit .271 and slugged .417 in 451 ABs as an outfielder-first baseman. The Cards were justifiably high on him and his playing time at first would be limited if they kept Allen. 35
“Allen did everything we could hope for and more,” admitted Devine. “But we had to get someone for second base because Javier is 34 going on 35 and has a bad back. Joe Hague has established himself at first base, which is Allen’s best position. Besides, middle infielders who can do a good job are scarce. Sizemore can do everything at second base and can move in at shortstop. Now we can have a set line-up and won’t have too many men playing out of position anymore.” 36
In St. Louis, Rich Allen distanced himself from the infamous reputation he had with the Phillies. He worked hard, set a good example for teammates, willingly mentored young prospects and continued to put up impressive power statistics. But he viewed his time in the Gateway to the West differently. “The Cardinals only wanted me for a quick fix,” said Allen many years later. “I was in my eighth season in the majors and putting up good numbers, but baseball had become nothing but a fast shuffle to oblivion for me.”37
Sadly, Allen believed he had become a “rental player,” one who had the potential to help a contender clinch a pennant, or a world championship, but whose controversial past did not warrant a long-term commitment. Major League Baseball might have even encouraged the Cardinals – and later the Dodgers – to sign him for a single year as the only way to treat a player with a reputation as a malcontented superstar. It would serve as an example to other African American players who were also beginning to speak their minds like Alex Johnson of the California Angels, Dock Ellis of the Pittsburgh Pirates and Reggie Jackson and Vida Blue of the Oakland A’s.38
If that was the case, the Cardinals not only rejected a player who could have been the cornerstone of their franchise for years to come, but a Hall of Famer and one of the greatest power hitters in the history of the game.
William Kashatus was a personal friend of Dick Allen’s and the author of two books on his boyhood hero: “September Swoon: Richie Allen, the 1964 Phillies and Racial Integration (Penn State Press, 2004), which won the Elysian Field Quarterly’s award fir Best Baseball Book of 2005; and “Dick Allen: The Life and Times of a Baseball Immortal” (Schiffer, 2017).”
Endnotes:
1. “ ‘Unhappy Man’ Goes to Cards in 7-Player Swap; Phils Get Flood, McCarver for Allen, Rojas, Johnson,” Philadelphia Daily News: October 8, 1969; and
2. Dick Allen quoted in Bob Broeg, “ ‘I’m No Angel, But I’ll Play Ball,’ Says Allen,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, March 13, 1970; and Dick Allen and Tim Whitaker, Crash: The Life and Times of Dick Allen. (New York: Ticknor & Fields, 1989), 123-124.
3. Joseph S. Clark, Jr., “Rally and Relapse, 1946-1968,” in Philadelphia: A 300-Year History, edited by Russell F. Weigley. (New York: W.W. Norton, 1981), 662-679; and Bruce Kuklick, To Every Thing a Season: Shibe Park and Urban Philadelphia, 1909-1976. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), 154-156.
4. Rich Westcott & Frank Bilovsky, The Phillies Encyclopedia (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2004, third edition), 125.
5. Allen and Whitaker, Crash, 58.
6. Interview of Dick Allen, Wampum, Pennsylvania, September 15, 2002.
7. Bill Conlin, “Richie Is Beautiful, He Don’t Give a Damn for Nobody,” Jock Magazine (January 1970): 88-94.
8. For most controversial columns, see: Larry Merchant, “Two Games and an Apology at Richie Allen Dell,” Philadelphia Daily News, July 8, 1965; Merchant, “”Psst, Larry . . I Heard A Story,” Philadelphia Daily News, July 9, 1965; Merchant, “Allen v. Thomas, Round 10,” Philadelphia Daily News, July 12, 1965; Stan Hochman, “Sleepy-time Superstar,” Philadelphia Daily News, July 10, 1967; Hochman, “AWOL Allen: ‘I’d Be Different on Another Club,’” Philadelphia Daily News, March 9, 1968; Hochman, “Even Allen’s ‘Manager’ Wishes He’d Grow Up,” Philadelphia Daily News, March 12, 1968; Bill Conlin, “Allen Answered to Boos: ‘I Think I Might Like to Be Traded,’” Philadelphia Daily News, August 18, 1967; Conlin, “After the Big Fine, More Pampering?” Philadelphia Daily News, March 9, 1968; Conlin, “What If Allen Were White?” Philadelphia Daily News, July 3, 1969; and Conlin, “Richie Is Beautiful,” 88-94.
9. For the most complete account of Allen’s early career with the Phillies, see: William C. Kashatus, September Swoon: Richie Allen, the 1964 Phillies and Racial Integration. (University Park, PA: Penn State Press, 2004). The racist treatment suffered by Allen began in July 1965 after he was involved in an on-field fight with teammate Frank Thomas, a popular white veteran. Since Allen was a younger star, the Phillies released Thomas, who went to the media and blamed Allen for the fight and the club’s preferential treatment of the young black ballplayer. Manager Gene Mauch threatened to fine Allen if he gave his side of the story to the press. Instead, Richie remained silent and suffered the wrath of Philadelphia’s baseball fans and sportswriters. [See Kashatus, September Swoon, 149-161].
10. Dan Epstein, Big Hair and Plastic Grass: A Funky Ride through Baseball and America in the Swinging ‘70s. (New York: Thomas Dunne Books, 2010), 171-172, 179.
11. Dick Allen interview.
12. For Flood’s challenge of the reserve clause, see: Brad Snyder, A Well-Paid Slave: Curt Flood’s Fight for Free Agency in Professional Sports. (New York: Plume, 2007); and Alex Barth, Stepping Up: The Story of Curt Flood and His Fight for Baseball Players’ Rights (New York: Persea Books, 2006). When he refused to report, the Phillies traded Flood to the Washington Senators. After losing his court battle, Flood played just 13 games for the Senators before retiring in 1971. Although unsuccessful, his historic challenge paved the way, for federal arbitration of salary demands, which MLB agreed to in 1973. Two years later, an arbitrator effectively reversed the court’s 1972 verdict, throwing out the reserve clause and opening the door for the modern free agency that exists today.
13. Dick Allen interview. For report that Allen demanded $150,000, see: Bob Broeg, “Cards Order Allen, Carlton to Report,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch: March 6, 1970.
14. Broeg, “ ‘I’m No Angel,’”
15. Leggett, “Bird in Hand and Burning Busch,” 22. In 1969, the National and American leagues were divided into eastern and western divisions of six teams each to accommodate expansion. Each league held a best-of-five League Championship Series to decide the pennant. The American League was divided purely along geographic lines. But when it came to assign divisions in the National League, the Chicago Cubs and St. Louis Cardinals insisted on being placed in the same division with the New York Mets and Philadelphia Phillies, on the basis that a schedule with more games with eastern teams would create a more lucrative schedule. Thus, Atlanta and Cincinnati were placed in NL Western division. This alignment also addressed concerns that putting the league’s three strongest clubs—St. Louis, San Francisco, and the Cubs—in the west would result in divisional inequity.
16. Broeg, “ ‘I’m No Angel.’” Allen severed the ulnar nerve in his right hand in 1967 when he was pushing his car and the hand broke through the headlight. In 1966, he suffered a shoulder separation. Both injuries left him with bursitis, which diminished the quality of his field play, especially in colder weather.
17. Neal Russo, “When Richard the Stone Heart Almost Wept,” The Sporting News (April 25, 1970): 5. For Allen, Lang and Sisler quotes, see: Neal Russo, “Allen Debut: Loud Bangs,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch: April 9, 1970.
18. Ed Wilks, “Carlton Shows Enough to Remain in Rotation,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch: April 13, 1970.
19. Interview of Richard Allen, Jr., Williamsport, PA, November 10, 2015.
20. Interview of Jose Cardenal, Hazleton, PA, December 15, 2015.
21. Dick Allen interview.
22. Sandy Padwe, “Fans Cheer, Jeer Allen in Return,” Philadelphia Inquirer: May 22, 1970.
23. Allen Lewis, “Cards Beat Phils on Javier’s Double, 6-3,” Philadelphia Inquirer: May 23, 1970; Allen Lewis, “Allen’s Two Homers Rock Phils, 3-1,” Philadelphia Inquirer: May 24, 1970; and Frank Dolson, “Saturday’s Hero is Bum on Sunday,” Philadelphia Inquirer: May 25, 1970.
24. Bill Jenkinson, “Allen’s HR log.” Unpublished handwritten manuscript.
25. Neal Russo, “Richie Could Need Big September to Top Mize,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, August 21, 1970.
26. Carl Nesfield, “New Team, New Town, New Richie?” Black Sports (July 1971): 63.
27. Neal Russo, “Cards Give Fast Shuffle to Allen,” The Sporting News (October 17, 1970): 5.
28. Dick Allen interview.
29. George Kiseda, “Allen’s Blast Sinks Phils,” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, September 9, 1970.
30. Allen and Whitaker, Crash, 130.
31. Dick Allen, “1970 Hitting Statistics,” Baseball-Reference.com. Retrieved, December 20, 2024.
32. Neal Russo, “Cards Trade Allen for LA’s Sizemore,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch: October 5, 1970.
33. Neal Russo, “Allen Expected Trade, Denies He Hurt Morale,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch: October 6, 1970; and “Hague Not Sure Allen a Winner,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch: November 1, 1970.
34. Schoendienst quoted in Craig R. Wright, “Another View of Dick Allen: The most misunderstood player of his generation,” SABR Baseball Journal. Issue 24 (1995): 8.
35. Russo, “Cards Trade Allen for LA’s Sizemore.”
36. Devine quoted in Russo, “Cards Trade Allen for LA’s Sizemore.”
37. Dick Allen interview.
38. Epstein, Big Hair and Plastic Grass, 36-37, 58-59.