Featuring Doc Medich and her Royal Highness, Queen Elizabeth II
Memorial Stadium stood on 33rd Street in Northern Baltimore. Built in 1954, it hosted the Baltimore Orioles until 1991 and The Baltimore Colts until 1983. My memories of attending games there are special, but there are a couple that are particularly indelible.
In the 1970’s, though the Orioles were a very successful team, vying for a pennant every year, regular season games were not well attended. It was common for a group of us to decide in the afternoon to go to a game, taking the hour and and half drive, arriving well before game time. At the box office, asking for the best seats available, the response was always, “Left or right field?” Seats were always available in the bottom sections, close to the field.
July 17, 1978, was one of those instances. We chose left field for the evening’s game against the Texas Rangers. We purchased seats two rows behind the Orioles dugout, premium seats. The stadium contained only a scattering of fans as we settled in to watch the Rangers take batting practice. We soon noticed a very obese, shirtless man in the aisle, about 10 seats away. A security man stood at the bottom of the aisle, back to the field, placed there I assume, to keep any spectators from the Orioles dugout. After a few minutes, the obese man appeared to be in some distress, eventually collapsing in the aisle. The security man rushed to his side and immediately started talking on his walkie-talkie.
A few moments later, the PA system, previously silent, noticeably crackled to life. An urgent voice, not the regular game announcer’s, tremulously asked, “Is there a doctor anywhere in the stadium? Please report directly behind the Oriole’s dugout immediately.” Evidently the stadium medical personnel, or for that matter, the team announcer, were not present.
In the outfield, various Rangers, including the non-starting pitchers, were shagging fly balls, stretching, long tossing, etc. With the announcement still echoing through the empty stadium, a player started sprinting in from the outfield. Getting to the dugout, he vaulted into the stands and proceeded to administer CPR to the stricken fan. He worked on this man for ten minutes, until an ambulance drove onto the field and whisked the patient away.
The player was Doc Medich, a six-five pitcher for the Rangers, who, at that time was in residency at Allegheny General Hospital, in Pittsburgh. We would later learn that this man, Germain Languth, aged 61, had suffered a heart attack. Doc Medich’s administration of CPR, saved the man’s life and he lived several more years.
This was not the first time Doc had done this. Two years earlier, while playing for Pittsburgh in Philadelphia, he noticed a man slumped over in the stands. Jumping into the stands, he performed CPR for 30 minutes, but could not save the 71 year old man. Unfortunately, the future was not as bright for Doc as well. Shortly after receiving his medical degree, he pled guilty to 12 counts of possessing controlled substances through writing bogus prescriptions. His medical license was permanently revoked.
In May of 1991, I took Linda’s father, Gerald and his brother Harold, to the Orioles versus the Oakland A’s baseball game. Both of these gentleman were long time baseball fans, both actually seeing Babe Ruth play. Gerald loved to relate the story of sitting in the stands and yelling to the passing Babe, “Hey Babe”, to which Babe turned with a wave, “How ya doin boys?”
Uncle Harold, a life long bachelor and world traveler, had a richer baseball history. From that day, when they saw the Babe, up until the early 2000’s, he attended a game in every major league ballpark, (being a bachelor has its perks). Not only did he attend these games, he bought a scorecard, keeping score at all of them. The next day he would clip the newspaper account of the game, attaching it to the scorecard. I had the privilege of organizing this collection. That first card from Yankee stadium, was a simple, single fold, heavy stock paper. It was sold with the starting lineups pre-printed. My hands shook as I read down the lineup, Ruth, Gehrig, Dickey, still gives me chills. That collection was later sold, for a sizable donation to Harold’s nephew’s church. It is now displayed, I am told, in a beautiful room, overlooking a lake in upstate New York.
As I drive to the stadium, a police officer halts all traffic at an intersection a few blocks from Memorial Stadium. Being first in line, we see that he is allowing no traffic to cross the intersection. The intersecting street is completely free of any traffic. After a few minutes, we are becoming impatient, we can see the stadium. After twenty minutes, Harold is beside himself, his routine includes the pre-game batting practice, which we most likely are going to miss. Approximately forty minutes after we are stopped, there is some traffic on the crossing street. Police escorts, several black Suburbans with heavily tinted windows and then a series of limousines, including one with the flags on the fenders. The “Beast”, the presidential limo. After a few more Suburbans and a couple of ambulances, we are allowed to precede to the stadium. Protocol calls for the street that a presidential motorcade follows to be free and clear of traffic, for a full half hour before the motorcade goes through.
We were able to park relatively close to the stadium and as we walked to the gate, we passed those black Suburbans. The doors were open and in the dark interior you could make out various electronic equipment, Flanking the gate was a phalanx of Secret Service agents, sunglasses on, heads on a swivel, incredibly fit and extremely serious. But I think I did glimpse one slightly smile as his visage passed over Gerald and Howard. Let me say right here, that I respected these two men immensely, kinder, gentler men, you could not find. Sartorially, well, that was a different story.
Both men wore their pants high, very high, up their torso. Both had, while not huge, a substantial mid section, pear shaped comes to mind. Their belts were balanced on top of their paunch. This was topped off by flat brimmed baseball hats, worn slightly askew. I like to think that they brightened the agents day.
Getting to our seats, Harold is disappointed that batting practice is not being conducted. Instead, on the large centerfield screen we see, in the dugout a line of Orioles. There, they are greeting President George Bush, his wife Barbara, Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Phillip.
After greeting the players of both teams, the Bushes and the Royal couple, walked to the pitchers mound. The Secret Service agents are scrambling to form a perimeter, scanning the stands, constantly moving and pointing. This was clearly unexpected. Reaching the mound, the two couples turned to the stands and greeted the spectators. The Queen executing the Royal, hand cupped wave, while wearing black gloves and a charming smile.
Not surprisingly, this was the first and only baseball game that the Queen attended. They left after the second inning, as the Orioles went on to lose 6-3.
‘I’ve been playing baseball for 10 years and I’m used to a normal atmosphere. This is a lot different. There’s a lot of excitement.’
Cal Ripken Jr.’s remarks after the game
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