Ed Mickelson Was Big League All The Way

Former U. City High star Ed Mickelson takes a stance as the Cardinals go through pre-game drills at Sportsman’s Park in 1950.

You don't know the difference when you’re 17, at least I didn’t.

I knew Ed Mickelson had been a major league ballplayer, knew it because his picture in a Cardinals uniform adorned the wall of his office at University City High, which was eye-catching.

But the fact that Mickelson was a player of distinction never registered with me. The fact he had been a member of the 1953 St. Louis Browns, and he had driven home the final run in Brownie history on Sept. 27, 1953, was more than my muddled high school mind could comprehend. 

The Browns were 17 years gone at the time. For a teenager focused on digesting Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, that basically meant they never existed. That team bolted after the 1953 season, becoming the Baltimore Orioles. The final game Mickelson played at first base had 3,174 faithful in the seats.    

It was 50 years before that team returned. In June, 2003 the former Orioles haunted the old neighborhood and met the Cardinals in a three-game series at Busch Stadium. The teams wore 1944 retro jerseys to capture the flavor of the ’44 World Series, i.e. the all-St. Louis Fall Classic. The Cardinals took two of three on that 2003 weekend, like they took four of six in ’44.

Long after his playing career had ended, Mickelson was my high school counselor, which was something like being Whoopi Goldberg’s hair stylist. The fact “Mick” was unable to deter this high school stumblebum from a career in sportswriting speaks to the communication breakdown. 

Then again, some people are just destined for irrelevance. Truth is, it is the stumblebum who should apologize, for not paying attention, for not getting to know Mickelson better, for nat taking more advantage of his mentoring.     

“Mick” represented a more genuine era in baseball, a romance and commitment the game has not known for some time. If his timing had been better, if his baseball career had happened in the 1970s or thereafter, everyone might know of him.

But he played from 1947 to 1957, after being a three-sport star at University City High, after serving his country in WWII. He played when there were 16 teams and 400 roster spots in the big leagues - as opposed to 30 teams and almost twice as many spots now. He played when there were countless minor leagues and teams and legions of wide-eyed young men filling their rosters. 

He played when talent alone didn’t get you a seat at the table. He played when getting to the majors meant beating out people like Ted Williams, Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle, Hank Aaron, Frank Robinson … or in Mickelson’s case, a guy named “Musial.” 

It meant playing in places like Decatur, Ill., Shreveport, La. Or Pocatello, Idaho. It wasn’t “paying dues,” it was giving blood, and praying someone noticed when you did, someone with with pull. 

In 1948, a 21-year old Mickelson batted .372 at Pocatello with 143 RBIs. In 1950, he batted .417 with 21 home runs and 102 RBIs in just 300 at-bats at Montgomery. That earned him a promotion to Lynchburg, where he batted .393 with a .534 on-base percentage in 16 games. 

Then he got lucky. The Cardinals called him up for 10 ABs late in the ‘50 season and he got a start against the Boston Braves and 20-game winner Warren Spahn. Mickelson was nervous as could be before the game at Braves Field, and a Hall of Famer could see it. Red Schoendienst approached, sat on the bench next to Mickelson and said, “Don’t worry kid. I’ve seen you play. You’re a good ballplayer. Just go out there and play.”

His first time up, Mickelson pulled a single to left off the great Spahn for his first big-league hit. Think about that. Mick did, he cherished it.

The following summer, Mickelson was back beating the bushes. In 1953, he batted .296 at Class AA Houston and the Browns brought him up. That time he got 15 ABs, two hits and the aforementioned final RBI. “I guess you could say that’s my claim to fame,” Mickelson told me. 

He batted .334 with 17 HRs and 139 RBIs at Shreveport in 1954, .308 at Portland the following year and .309 with 21 HRs and 101 RBIs at Portland in 1956. All those numbers could do was percolate one more cup of coffee with the Chicago Cubs in 1957. He went hitless in 12 at-bats, finished his coffee and went back. 

Ponder that for a second. Consider that Cardinals “phenom” Jordan Walker has never had more than 68 RBIs in any professional season., At last look, he was batting .210 with three home runs and 23 RBIs in 176 at-bats this season - and he’s still in the big leagues!

The point is not to disparage Walker. He is a product of his era, which rewards promise as much as performance. Walker has one thing Mickelson didn’t - timing.

For Mickelson, there was no "Minor League Prospect of the Year" recognition, no “get out of jail free” Rule 5 Draft, no Winter Warm-up hype, no chance for major-league millions as a "utility player," no perks or pensions. 

There was just 11 years of packing bags, riding buses and playing hard ball - thank you very much. Mickelson finally gave up the ghost at the age of 30. He put the first baseman’s mitt aside and became a school administrator. He coached baseball at U. City, where he tutored Ken Holtzman, who threw two no-hitters for the Chicago Cubs and won 174 major league games.

Later, he went to the Parkway school district and coached football. Along the way, he coached and counseled kids of all ages at the Jewish Community Center. He had a big-league impact on a lot of young lives, in terms of sports, in terms of life. One might suggest that is his real claim to fame. 

In that final Browns season of '53, Mickelson was at first base behind starting pitcher Satchel Paige as St. Louis played Detroit at Briggs Stadium. Mickelson’ run-scoring double sparked a three-run fifth for the Browns, and Paige took a 5-1 lead into the eighth. The Tigers rallied, chasing Paige with two runs in the bottom of the eighth. Don Larsen came out of the bullpen to douse the fire.

 But with two outs, and the tying runs aboard, Fred Hatfield pulled a Larsen pitch toward right field. Mickelson went to his right, backhanded the smash and beat Hatfield to the bag to end the inning. 

After the game, a teammate passed by Mickelson’s cubicle and stopped momentarily: "Kid, that was a great play you made out there,” Paige said, before moving on.

"I'll never forget that," Mickelson said. "I didn't have much of a big-league career, but for someone like that, for Satchel Paige to come up and tell me I made a great play. That was special. It almost brought tears to my eyes.”

Ed Mickelson was 98 when he passed away on Friday, June 27. He made a great play on that day in 1953, and he made this world a better place. He was big-league all the way.