One national pastime arrives around springtime each year, while another one never goes away. Yes, baseball’s return is a cherished annual ritual, but one might argue the real national pastime is watching television. Baseball and television together is a powerful combination.

Here, then, is my All-Star team, by position, of major league players based on their appearances in classic television. We’ll focus on the days before everything was changed by rampant commercialization and ridiculous salaries. Baseball was pretty different then, too.

Let's start in the outfield with a trio of Hall of Famers who were New York superstars and national icons. Instead of going with a strict left field, right field, center field arrangement, I couldn't resist choosing, as the Terry Cashman song puts it, Willie, Mickey, and the Duke.

OF: Willie Mays (Bewitched, 'Twitch or Treat'): Many consider the 'Say Hey Kid' the best all-around player ever. Me, I'm just happy to see Willie smiling in this episode. These days the legendary Giant has more or less settled into a bit of a grumpy old man, though I think when you hit 660 home runs, you're entitled. In his Say-HeyDay, though, Willie was dynamic and exciting, and fans thought he was full of pep!

Willie made several appearances on The Donna Reed Show, but he makes my team with a delightful cameo on Bewitched. Endora throws a Halloween party in Darrin and Samantha's home, and the invitees are all witches and warlocks. Darrin is stunned when he sees the Giants outfielder mingling with Endora and Uncle Arthur (Paul Lynde, as usual, provides most of the laughs in this one). 'You mean he’s a…too?' an incredulous (as if he’s ever NOT) Darrin asks, to which Sam replies, 'The way he hits home runs? What else?'

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, long before PED’s infiltrated the game, we had the great forgotten baseball scandal of the 1960s: A warlock using magical powers to enhance his performance. The commissioner’s office launched a half-hearted investigation into the use of magic in baseball, but the public didn’t seem to care as long as players kept knocking them out of the park. Plus representatives of stars like Mays accused officials of conducting a “witch hunt,” and the uproar quickly died down. Of course, even with alleged spell casting, Mays was not nearly as powerful as the likes of Endora and Sam; witness his sad performance in the 1973 playoffs.

OF: Mickey Mantle (Home Run Derby, “Mickey Mantle vs. Willie Mays”): Mantle made several appearances on Home Run Derby, the 1960 ZIV syndicated half-hour program pitting players in a head-to-head long-ball-hitting tournament. Best of all is his titanic match against Mays. I can only imagine how cool this episode must have been to a 10-year-old kid watching two of the all-time greats locked in mortal combat, launching long ball after long ball, leaving nothing on the field, in a game that went to the very bottom of the ninth inning.

Only it isn't quite like that. The series is laid back, and the players don't really treat the show as mortal combat, though I’m sure they appreciate the ,000 check they got for winning. Actually, this particular episode may indicate Mantle treated it just like any other off day (and quite a few 'on' nights) by showing up...Well, I don't know for sure, but let's give the Mick the benefit of the doubt and say his dazed, goofy, off-kilter persona is just a manifestation of his country charm.

In Derby, each player takes his swings off a batting practice pitcher, and as we are constantly reminded by announcer Mark Scott, “It’s a home run or nothing.” A slugger gets 3 outs in each half-inning, and the contest lasts 9 innings. While one guy is hitting, his opponent sits beside announcer Mark Scott for a little chatter. The first time I saw this episode, my friends and I assumed the worst based on the Commerce Comet’s odd grins and occasional monosyllabic responses to Scott’s comments.

Watching it again today, though, I believe we were projecting a bit based on what we knew about the Mick’s infamous lifestyle. After all, he belts a lot of home runs, and there are moments he seems lucid. Sure, he takes some wild swings and sometimes seems a bit out of it in the booth, but really you can just see him as the good ol’ country boy his fans loved him for being, or for wanting him to be. His charisma shines through the whole time, and it’s easy to see why he was such an icon.

The series’ format is a tad repetitive if you watch it in batches, but this standout episode goes down to the wire and features two of the all-time greats. I highly recommend it to fans with a love of the game’s history. You tell me if the Mick is all there.

OF: Duke Snider (Father Knows Best, Hero Father): There's something so clean cut about Dodger legend Duke Snider in this appearance that it makes you think…what’s he hiding? Actually, it makes him a perfect fit with this seminal 1950’s sitcom. Although Father Knows Best was much more sophisticated and clever than some critics of that era of television would have you think, it does have an undeniably wholesome center.

In Hero Father, Bud Anderson brags that his father, who can do anything, can get Duke Snider to bring his barnstorming all-star team to Springfield to play an exhibition game. Jim gives up before even trying--it's actually Mother who knows best and convinces him it's worth a shot--but he eventually works it out with the help of guest star Kenneth Tobey. Along the way, we learn a little about civic values, integrity, and parent/child relationships. Baseball itself makes out pretty well, too, as Bud reminds Jim that he once said the world would be a better place if more people went to games. Yep, world peace, the elimination of hunger, and stronger attendance at Tampa Bay games are pretty much the best shot Earth has of long-term prosperity.

Snider only appears in a cute tag at the end playing catch with Kitten and in an earlier sequence of him 'negotiating' over the phone with Jim. Since the game is for charity, Snider says, he'll lower their usual rate from 50% to 25% of the gate if Springfield can guarantee their expenses up front. Today, of course, it would cost a lot more to get a player like the Duke to show up to such a small ‘burg, and he wouldn’t be risking an injury by playing a full game, but rather managing, waving to the crowd, and signing autographs. It was a more innocent time then. Still, you can’t help but wonder, couldn’t he go lower than 25% for charity?

1B: Dick Stuart (Home Run Derby, multiple episodes): Stuart's colorful nickname of 'Dr. Strangeglove' makes him sound like a cool Jonny Quest villain and not just an atrocious first baseman, but he makes my team because of the way Derby announcer Mark Scott pronounces his last name. In Scott’s stiff but earnest delivery (he reminds me of a young Vince McMahon before the WWE impresario moved from Serious Sportscaster to Insane Villain character), it comes out rhyming with 'Hurt,' which always amuses me. Is this a flimsy reason to name someone to an All-Star team? Maybe, but I don’t want all New York and Los Angeles players on my team, and besides, is it really worse than when, say, Joe Shlabotnik makes the All-Star Game just because the Royals need a representative?

2B: Bill Mazeroski (Gillette ad): A brief but brilliant performance. Watch the way Maz, known for his slick fielding, gives himself an equally smooth shave with his Gillette razor. Admire his convictions as he tells us how clean and refreshing it feels. Marvel at the way he sells the—OK, I’m cheating by including a commercial, and it is pretty much just a 30-second shill, but the guy led my Pittsburgh Pirates to an upset over the Yankees in the 1960 Series by hitting arguably the greatest homer in baseball history, so I'm making room for him.

SS: Phil Rizzuto (The Phil Silvers Show, “Hillbilly Whiz”): There is something about the classic character of Ernie Bilko, so masterfully played by Phil Silvers, that seems a perfect fit for baseball. There’s the industriousness, the guile, and the never-say-die attitude that seems to epitomize both America and its national pastime. And, well, let’s be honest, the conniving, the hustling, and the deceit aren’t out of place, either, when you consider a sport that has spitballers and sign stealers in its Hall of Fame. But Bilko is such a great match with the game that it’s no surprise that Hillbilly Whiz is without a doubt the single best episode of television on this entire list.

There is a lot to enjoy here, including guest star Dick Van Dyke as the title character, an amazing pitcher from the South who Bilko contrives to get onto the Yankees. Van Dyke’s Hank Lumpkin doesn’t want to play for the Yankees, though, as he’s a true Southerner, so the gang collects a group of real players and introduces them as real Southern gentlemen. Just take a look at the honorable “Phillip Calhoun Rizzuto”:


Perhaps the best scene, one that still resonates for fans frustrated by the perpetual success of the Yankees, is when Bilko negotiates a pro contract for his new pitcher with team executive Dan Topping (played by an actor). Before their meeting, Topping brags that he’ll sign the pitcher for 10 grand. After the off-camera session with the Sarge, a dazed Topping is pleased he “only” paid 25,00 for him! The Yankees got off lucky, the exec claims. “He wanted a piece of the stadium!”

3B: Jackie Robinson (What's My Line): Jackie integrated Major League Baseball as a second baseman but ended his career at third, so I'm comfortable installing him at the hot corner. I'm almost afraid to focus on how humble and dignified Robinson is in this episode for fear it might sound patronizing, but he really is a class act here. However, he's not too humble to resist calling shenanigans on Soupy Sales.

After the panel tries to identify Robinson, Sales recalls “one of the great thrills” of his life, when he was in the Navy and saw Jackie play football for UCLA against USC at the L.A. Coliseum in 1944. 'Should I contradict him?' asks a chuckling Robinson. Turns out Robinson left UCLA before World War II even began. “You had the right college, anyway, Soupy,” he says. Host Wally Bruner (this is the 1960s version of Line) and the panel handle it well, but Sales does look foolish. Look at it this way, Soupy, at least he didn't throw a pie in your face.

C: Johnny Bench (Hee Haw): Last year, a photograph of Bench playing a guard on Mission Impossible in 1971 made its way around the Internet (inset above)

This stoic performance alone might be enough to vault him over the likes of catchers such as Roy Campanella, Yogi Berra, and John Roseboro. But the best thing Bench ever did on TV (off the diamond, that is) was sing Bad Leroy Brown on Hee Haw. Come to think of it, I'm not so sure this doesn't surpass his Hall of Fame playing career.

OK, so Johnny isn't exactly a superstar singer, but he delivers the song with a certain attitude that somehow makes this cool. When you watch him standing there, occasionally patting his thigh, snapping his fingers, even loosening up and sort of dancing a bit, you're looking at a man who is confident in his own skin, even when it's not draped in a Reds uniform. Bench's expression says, 'Yep, I'm Bad, too. I'm Bad Johnny Bench, I'm gonna be one of the best catchers of all time before I'm done.' it says, 'I'm gonna come on Hee Haw and sing whatever I want.' Perhaps more significantly, it says, 'Yeah? Well, I'd like to see Jim Croce hit one out off Bob Gibson.'

Or maybe it just says, 'I have no idea how I got booked to do this.'

LHP: Sandy Koufax (Mr. Ed, Leo Durocher Meets Mr. Ed): For years, this outstanding southpaw has remained reclusive, shunning the spotlight and declining most interviews. Is it because he is a quiet man who treasures his privacy? Or is it because he dreads being asked about giving up an inside-the-park home run to Mr. Ed?


Sure, he’s smiling here; sure, manager Leo Durocher (who is great in this and many other TV appearances) tells him to throw it in there nice and easy, but still, it has to be humiliating to give up a dinger to any horse, even one that doesn't clear the fences. Plus, as Wilbur points out when Durocher mentions what a smart horse he has, he's not that smart--'He forgot to touch second base.'

That one has to hurt almost as much as the balky left elbow that cut short Koufax's career. No wonder the guy has avoided the press for decades.

RHP: Don Drysdale (The Joey Bishop Show, “Joey and the L.A. Dodgers”): Drysdale sure made the rounds in his prime. He could easily earn a berth on my All-Star team for his performance on The Brady Bunch, his guest shot on Leave It to Beaver, or his work on The Donna Reed Show. In most of those appearances, though, he just plays himself or at least a baseball player. On The Joey Bishop Show, he gets to sing!

Yep, it's Drysdale front and center with a group of his teammates, but he is the one clad in a tuxedo while they are in their uniforms, and it’s Don who sings lead on a takeoff of High Hopes built around how great the Dodgers' starting pitching is (''Cause we've got Kooooou-fax, We've got Kooooou-fax...).

Unfortunately, this episode isn’t on DVD, but there’s plenty of Drysdale on classic TV. It’s just that he’s usually playing, not singing. This guest shot proves that as a crooner, Don was clearly a great pitcher. He’s no Johnny Bench, that’s for sure.

DH: Ted Williams (What's My Line): There's not much remarkable about this appearance, but I just think it's funny to imagine Teddy Ballgame revealing himself as the mystery guest by shouting, as he used to do in the batting cage, 'My name is Ted Williams, and I'm the best hitter in baseball!' (He said it in a bit more colorful manner, but this alone would be enough to get a rise out of John Daly and company.)

Rick Brooks is the proprietor of Cultureshark, a blog in which he uses an often irreverent approach to express his reverence for the classics and the un-classics.