Besides trying to get some badly needed yard work done, and do some other work around the house, the past couple of weeks has afforded my wife and me a lot of time to watch television.

Along with watching the occasional classic Major League Baseball or National Hockey League game from the 1970s or 1980s, which I thoroughly enjoy doing, we also have watched some documentaries of baseball characters from that era.

One of those documentaries was MLB Network Presents: The Bird, about Mark “The Bird” Fidrych. This movie was done extremely well, and told of Fidrych’s meteoric rise to prominence with the Detroit Tigers in 1976, his rookie season. The documentary debuted in 2016, and shows Fidrych’s widow, Ann, and daughter, Jessica, sitting with friends at a local diner in their hometown, watching the movie on the television and interjecting commentary throughout.

The 6-foot-3 right hander was lanky, with long, curly hair. Some thought he looked like the Sesame Street character, Big Bird, thus the nickname. He would gyrate with his arms, almost as if flapping his wings, he talked to the ball, and looked as though he was showing the ball the path to the strike zone. Fidrych would smooth the dirt on the mound before each inning, filling in the hole made by the other team’s pitcher. He wouldn’t let the grounds crew manicure the mound in the sixth inning, as is common.

Fidrych’s career only lasted five seasons, because of a torn rotator cuff injury, that went undiagnosed for years. But even though he didn’t play many years, Fidrych was loved by everyone. His teammates adored his quirky, positive, child-like personality. The Detroit fans, and honestly baseball fans everywhere, loved watching Fidrych pitch. I wasn’t a Tigers fan, but I certainly was a fan of the “The Bird.”

Fidrych died at the age of 54, as a result of a freak accident on his farm in Northborough, Mass. A family friend found him dead underneath his ten-wheel dump truck. It appeared he had been working on the truck at the time, and his clothes became entangled with the drive shaft on the truck, suffocating him.

This documentary is a must watch for any baseball fan, especially if you weren’t around in the 1970s to see Fidrych play. You’ll laugh and cheer, and you may even shed a tear.

BILLY MARTIN

Another very interesting documentary we watched recently was MLB Network Presents: Billy, an in-depth profile of the complicated, brilliant and combative manager Billy Martin (2017).

This was particularly of interest to both my wife and I, since we grew up in New York state and watched the Yankees on television all the time. Martin was hired and fired by then Yankees owner George Steinbrenner to manage the Yankees, five times over a 13-year period.

The relationship between Steinbrenner and Marin was contentious at best. I think many would call it a love-hate relationship. Steinbrenner loved Martin as a manager, but hated the way his alcohol consumption kept getting him into trouble. On the other hand, Martin loved Steinbrenner because he kept giving him a job, and gave him many chances at keeping his job, but hated the way Steinbrenner wanted to make player personnel decisions and stick his nose into the business of what takes place on the field.

Martin was a fiery manager with a horrible temper. He wouldn’t just argue with an umpire, but rather get right in the umpire’s face, nose to nose, then he would kick dirt on the umpire, and throw his hat, or anything else he could get his hands on, all while shouting obscenities.

Martin’s personal life was just as tumultuous. He was married five times, and after retiring from baseball, he settled on a farm near Fenton, New York. It was there that he and his friend William Reedy went out for a drink on Christmas Day, 1989. After several hours of drinking, Martin was drunk, but to those in the restaurant, Reedy seemed to be fine, and he had the keys to Martin’s pick-up truck. On the way back to Martin’s home, the truck slid off the road and skidded down an embankment, sending Martin through the windshield. He died on the scene.

The next morning, Dec. 26, 1989, I was doing the news on KRMG and had an extremely difficult time reading the story of Martin’s death on the air, over and over. Find this documentary and watch it. You will be amused and saddened by the life and death of Billy Martin.