As a kid, I remember the Baltimore Orioles had a devastating pitching rotation that included Jim Palmer and Mike Cuellar, the best third baseman in baseball, Brooks Robinson, as well as the other Robinson, (the slugger)Frank. They also had the unbelievably fast,Paul Blair, in the outfield. My friend, Vince Keuter, the poet says, “Two-thirds of the earth is covered by water– the rest of it is covered by Paul Blair.”
They were an exciting team and one that, thankfully, wasn’t the Yankees, or the Dodgers, or the Red Sox, or the Cardinals. . .or any of the other teams that routinely came to town and beat the holy dogshit out of the Cubs and Sox.
Baltimore is an odd city; the kind of place where a guy named “Boog” can be a superstar and the deliriously odd and wonderful John Waters can be an auteur. It is a town of square pegs and the plucky oriole is a perfect bird for this place. It is a fruit-eating, gorgeous, gregarious bird that I, once in a great while, see in Chicago, usually around berry and fruit trees. They are intensely beautiful and cannot be mistaken for any other bird. You mostly find them in the eastern part of the United States.
I always loved the old Orioles ballcap with the whole bird on it; the one Hoyt Wilhelm wore when he was the ace fireman of that team. Somehow I knew when I decided to make a Baltimore Oriole that this drawing would somehow turn into an avian tribute to that great team. Any ballpark that can have Boog Powell next to his sandwich stand (BBQ sandwiches) talking with fans is doing something right.