Valmeyer, And The Wizards

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August 11th, 2016

The headline to today’s blog might make a smidgen of sense to you, but only if you’ve been a longtime reader of my various blogs, including this one back when it was called “Bob On Baseball.” It’s not about fairy tales or Harry Potter stuff. It’s about a special place, a very special tournament, and one of the best groups of guys I ever played baseball with. The Valmeyer Tournament, and the Sauget Wizards.

Valmeyer, Illinois sat just a few miles from the Mississippi and about 26 miles south of the Gateway Arch in St. Louis. It was a tiny little village, really, and barely could call itself a town. In the heart of it sat a baseball field with a quaint covered grandstand, a large pavilion, and plenty of room around the fences for picnics, folding chairs, and coolers.

That was a good thing, because every summer during the 4th of July weekend Valmeyer hosted a baseball tournament for local semipro teams, and that tournament is still being celebrated and honored to this day. I played in it, managed in it, and reveled in it for many years.

Hanging with Scott Brown, waiting for our tournament game to start.
Hanging with Scott Brown, waiting for our tournament game to start.

I played for the Sauget Wizards. There was no team quite like us, and we were proud of that. During any given summer season, for the near-decade I played for the Wizards, we’d be made up of six or more ex-professional players, including Neil Fiala who played in the big leagues. The rest of the roster would be made up of former college players, most of whom should’ve been rewarded with a pro contract, and a few current college players who could give us some youth, some speed, and a fresh arm or two.

I played professionally for four different teams, in three different leagues, over the course of two years. Then, I was a professional baseball scout for four years. None of that compared to the experience of playing for the Wizards.

Sauget (pronounced SO-zhay) is also nothing more than a little village. It sits just south of the I-70 bridge near St. Louis, but on the Illinois side of the river. Rich Sauget incorporated the town, which was mostly made up of some small homes and a couple of giant chemical plants, and then opened two establishments. One was a saloon and music hall called Pop’s. The other was a huge disco named Oz. When Rich formed a high-level semipro baseball team, and built a beautiful ballpark for us to play in, we became the Wizards.

Robert Giegling and Jim Donohue. Two great guys and great ballplayers.
Ready to play in Valmeyer, with Robert Giegling and Jim Donohue. Two great guys and great ballplayers.

These days, there are independent pro baseball leagues and teams all over the place. Right here in the Twin Cities, we have the incredibly popular St. Paul Saints, who play in the independent American Association and put more than 8,000 people per game in their fantastic ballpark in downtown St. Paul. Many of their players have played minor league ball, or even Major League ball, and they’re in their mid to upper 20s, if not their 30s. It’s a way to hang on. It can also be a way to get started.

A former college teammate of mine, Bill Lee, is the commissioner of the Frontier League, another very successful independent pro league. When guys don’t get a chance to play professionally in a Major League organization these days, they have a lot of options to go play professionally elsewhere, and the Frontier League is a prime option. They don’t belong to a big league team, but they get to showcase their skills for the scouts and they often catch the eye of a MLB team to get a contract. Had it been this way when the Oakland A’s told me my services were no longer needed, back in 1980, I might have strung it out, putting off real life, for years.

I think it’s a good thing the independent option wasn’t readily available back then. It forced me to move on and continue to find fascinating things to do. Those stories make up “Bats, Balls, & Burnouts” and the Wizards are an important part of the book. I had the time of my life playing for that team, with those guys.

The 1989 Wizards. in a photo taken roughly five hours before we beat Team USA.
The 1989 Wizards, in a photo taken roughly five hours before we beat Team USA (click on any pic to enlarge.)

We played in the Mon-Clair League, in Illinois, and would also play three or four non-league games a week. One year, we played 70 games in four months, while we held down full-time jobs. In 1989, we traveled to Millington, Tenn. and beat the USA national team, which was filled with guys who would go on to great Major League careers. Bret Boone, Fernando Vina, Jeromy Burnitz, Matt Mieske, Dan Wilson, and other Major Leaguers to be, were on that team. And we beat them 6-5. That experience was priceless, but the highlight of every summer was the Valmeyer Tournament.

Spread out over three days, with eight fine teams competing for nothing more than a trophy, it featured talent that would be on a par with a lot of independent pro teams today. Maybe even better. I never played on a professional team quite as good as the Wizards.

The little ballpark at the foot of the river bluffs would be decked out in red, white, & blue, with bunting and banners all around the place. A Budweiser beer truck would be parked behind the concession stand, selling 12-ounce draft beers in plastic cups. The concessions were hot dogs and hamburgers, and the open grill sent the aroma of summer picnics wafting through the whole park, even into the dugouts. The P.A. announcers were more like hilarious radio play-by-play guys, introducing the hitters but also rambling on and announcing raffle numbers. It was as American as apple pie. It was as American as baseball. It was everything you’d ever imagine in a tiny midwestern town with a bunch of guys who loved the game, being cheered on by families and fans who loved to watch it.

The Valmeyer team was always the host. We knew them well, and played them often in the Mon-Clair League. Just up the road sat Waterloo, Illinois, where the Waterloo Buds were also in our league. They were our biggest rivals. A Sunday double-header at the Waterloo ballpark felt like the Yankees playing the Red Sox. The Buds were always in the tournament, as well. The rest of the tournament field would be made up of other talented semipro teams from the St. Louis area.

Every day, for three days, the place would be packed. From the main grandstand to the smaller open bleachers, and down the grassy stretches behind the foul lines, people flocked to the Valmeyer Tournament, and they saw some great baseball.

My two biggest fans at the tournament. Big Del and Taffy Wilber
My two biggest fans at the tournament. Big Del and Taffy Wilber

My dad didn’t get to a lot of games then, but he and my mom made a point of coming to Valmeyer. To “go deep” and hit a big home run with my dad watching was as big a thrill as I ever experienced. To later manage the Wizards to a tournament championship, with Big Del Wilber in attendance, was nothing short of a pure honor. I still have the trophy.

In my early Wizard years, I worked for Converse Shoes and my boss asked me to deck out the team with matching blue spikes, duffel bags, and Converse batting practice t-shirts. I happily did that, and the guys all loved it. We were one of many very good teams in the area, but when it came looking like pros no other team came close to us.

Bob Hughes, Jim Greenwald, Robert Giegling, Neil Fiala, Rick Fiala, Jerry Pitchford, Jeff Junker, Joe Mehallow, Dave Kassebaum, Dan Nicholson, Jim Donohue,  John Parke, Pete Delkus, Scott Brown, Ron Rohlfing, Lance McCord, Mike Rogers, Reid Hartmann, and a bunch of other great guys shared the Wizards’ dugout with me over the years. I’ve never played with a better bunch. We had backgrounds that included stints with the Detroit Tigers, Oakland A’s, St. Louis Cardinals, Minnesota Twins, Cincinnati Reds, Los Angeles Dodgers, Pittsburgh Pirates, New York Mets, and Philadelphia Phillies. We all went on to fine careers, in business and in sports. And, we played as hard as we could every time we stepped on the field.

We played because we loved the game, and we loved the camaraderie. We didn’t play in a beer league. We took it as seriously as any professional player would, and more seriously than some of them. We got there on time, and gave it everything we had. We took 90 mph fastballs in the ribs, we slid on rock-hard dirt and tore our legs up doing so, and we dove for sinking line drives as if the World Series depended on it.

It was marvelous. Nothing short of marvelous.

When we won the Mon-Clair League championship one year, Rich Sauget asked us to drive straight to Pop’s after beating the Alton team on their home field. When we walked in, to applause, we saw 16 bottles of champagne lined up on the bar. We had a heck of a celebration, with very little of the bubbly actually going into our mouths.

League champions, dressed to the nines.
League champions, dressed to the nines.

The league always held a banquet after the season, and most of the attendees came in casual clothes. Wearing a jacket and slacks would’ve been considered “dressy” for the affair, held annually in an American Legion hall. To accept our championship trophy, we went in matching tuxedos. Because we could.

It was an honor for me to land a full baseball scholarship to Southern Illinois Univ. Edwardsville, and my years there were precious. It was a privilege to play minor league ball for the Tigers and A’s, and I played alongside some fabulous guys who went on to amazing careers. Playing for the Wizards was different. It was pure joy. No stress to “make it” or move up. Just the joy of playing the game I loved, at a very high level. I was a better ballplayer for the Wizards, by a lot, than I ever was in college or pro ball. I was a “late bloomer” in that regard, and I took my game to a whole new level under the guidance of Bob Hughes, who made me into a real hitter.

But mostly, I had more fun than I ever imagined I could have. Even in the 9:00 a.m. game on the second day of the Valmeyer Tournament.

Valmeyer, as a village, still exists but not in the same place. It was effectively erased from the map during the great flood of 1993, when the Mississippi broke the through the levee and inundated everything below the bluffs. After that, the villagers agreed to move the town. It now sits on high ground, atop the bluffs. It will never be the same.

And those days will always make up many of the best memories I have. I can still vividly hear the P.A. announcer in my head.

We need to figure out a way to have a reunion.

Bob Wilber, at your service as a former Wizard.

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