Last week was the end of an era for my family. For the first time since April 1955, someone other than a Dubroff owns what was our house in Brooklyn. My mother lived there for nearly 63 years, and neither my brother, his children nor I had any interest in keeping it....
Before organized sports became, well, organized, the kids in our neighborhood did it ourselves. We loved to be outdoors playing ball during the day and hide-and-seek at night. There were a lot of us close to the same age and a lot of parents who had simple rules — be home for...
During an Orioles game in the 1980s, Keith Mills, Mike Marlow and I sat toward the back of the press box at Memorial Stadium. We had worked together at The News American in the 1970s and were swapping stories as quietly as we could, although not quietly enough. We each had worked...
The Orioles’ signing of a 16-year-old from the Dominican Republic this week got me thinking about my missed opportunity. I blame it on Doc Edwards. To be honest, Edwards couldn’t have been kinder to me. In 1964, after he caught a Saturday afternoon game against the Orioles for the Kansas City A’s,...
This year has been unlike any other for me. Covering a team that has been far worse than anyone could have imagined, a midseason job switch that brought me to BaltimoreBaseball.com, and the deluge of Orioles trades and declaration of a rebuild. This was also the year that I lost my mother....
It was a 30-minute swim, but when it was over, there were ripples throughout the Baltimore baseball community. My wife, Barb, got in the water just before 4 on Tuesday afternoon to do laps while I sat near the pool on my laptop, checking for player movement as the non-waiver trade deadline...
Dr. Jon Simon was in his office late on a summer afternoon. He was there to discuss what an MRI revealed about a rotator cuff injury to a patient whose best pitching days were with a Wiffle Ball when the Orioles were winning four American League pennants and two World Series in...
Back when he was working for the Palm Beach Post, Rob Hiaasen would tell co-worker Frank Cerabino that they should go out for lunch. Cerabino knew what that meant. Hiaasen would drive to a park in West Palm Beach, open the trunk of the car and pull out two gloves and a...
Forty-five years ago this month, I attended my first Orioles game. It was a momentous occasion for any lifelong O’s fan, but special for several other reasons, too. It was Father’s Day weekend and featured a near-historic pitching performance by Jim Palmer. An unfortunate error also occurred that cost me a game...
My dad was meticulous about the work he did. There were no shortcuts. He might have invented measure twice cut once except I recall he measured at least three times before he cut. There was nothing he couldn’t do, and nothing he didn’t do right, including repairing the rain spouts. Through the...