"Joey never told his mother all the curses he was learning," Grzenda said.
But as Washington's last season approached, the team's restless owner, Bob Short, already had his eyes on Texas. As for Grzenda, "I had things going right in Washington. I wanted to stay there and work for the club in the winter. I was planning on staying there, living there. Then we had to pack, we had to go. It was hard."
Grzenda's son, Joe Jr., suggests the final ball used in a Senators game should be used for the ceremonial first pitch.
(John Mcdonnell -- The Washington Post)
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He was out in his backyard now, on an overcast day with rain threatening and a chill that hinted already of winter. He likes to be outside: He chops wood for his fireplace, he walks 3 1/2 miles almost every day, he hunts deer in season. He has shied from many old-timers gatherings, mostly because golf is usually involved and he doesn't play. But he still gets letters from staunch followers of the game that "warm" him, and often they mention his fine time in Washington.
By 1971, he had gotten his fastball back up to 90 mph, still well short of the speed he originally had when he called his arm "a whip." But the way he pitched after the injury, the ball had plenty of movement. His best pitches sank wickedly, down and in or down and out. And on the last night of the last season that's what he was about to throw to Horace Clarke, a sinking fastball.
But he never got the chance.
He was left holding the ball.
It crossed his mind to throw it at the burly fan running at him, but, no, he held it, and when he ran from the field, he said, "The ball was in my glove."
Here's the Pitch
Joe Jr. had a suggestion. He believed that next spring his father should go to Washington with that last ball ever used in a Senators game and make a ceremonial first pitch with it before the new team's home opener. Grzenda could return to the mound at RFK where he was when baseball in Washington left off, and complete, if only symbolically, what he was doing when interrupted, perhaps with a toss to the catcher of the new club. The ball would travel not just from the mound to the plate but across the ages to connect the franchises.
"He'd throw a strike, about 80 miles an hour," Joe Jr. said.
There's an idea.
