Talk:Bobo Holloman

In 1953, my grandfather, Bruno Betzel, was the manager of the Syracuse Chiefs, the AAA minor league club in the New York Yankees organization. I had the distinct pleasure of living with my grandparents that summer, and on several occasions actually was the batboy for the Chiefs. But even more lucky for this 11 year old was the ability to shag flies during batting practice, generally run errands for the players, and even the butt of jokes; Carden Gillenwater, a slender centerfielder from Tennessee whose wife complained that my grandfather didn't play him enough, sent me out to the clubhouse (behind the right field foul pole back on the fence ) to find the key to the batter's box.

Half way through the season came this garrolous, big looney of a man who called himself Bobo. I thought it was odd that a man with a real name of Alva Lee would take some sort of a clown's name. But in fact he was a clown, laughed a lot, goofed around in the dugout and on the field. He took a special delight in throwing his glove up in front of me as I was about to haul in one of the fly balls hit during BP by the guys out in left field. I'll never forget the day, when he found out that I pitched about every 4th game in the youth league I played in, he said "come here kid, I'll show you how to throw the butterfly". I threw the knuckleball - one of his best pitches that he used with devastation - so much following that summer and later on that it caused my right first finger to be permanently bent.

I used to type up the reports my grandfather wrote to support moves of ball players up and down from AAA. I recall typing the one that sent Bob Keegan to the Yankees; and the one that supported Nestor Chylak becoming an American League umpire. I'll never forget the description Bruno told me to type about Bobo Holloman. It went something like this: "If any major league manager can learn how to live with this nut, he might make a big league pitcher. He has great stuff, can place the ball well, has a motion that will confuse the hitters, and throws an almost unhittable knuckleball. But he is as looney as a lark and has to be watched all the time". Bruno told me of the train ride the Chiefs took somewhere on a road trip when Holloman stayed up the entire night drinking beer and eating hot dogs; in fact he so overindulged that he couldn't pitch his next start.

So, imagine how impressed this young buy was when he was told that Bobo pitched a no hitter in his first start with the Brownies...